Remember a little while back I introduced you to a new family addition called Mr Potato? He first came into family life not long after lockdown started, when Mumma B found a misshapen potato in the shopping. She took a liking to the vegetable and before you know it you’re fighting for parental love from a flipping potato.
Well patience has finally paid off and it’s now with a heavy(-ish) heart that I have to report Mr Potato is no more.
He’s wrinkly, he’s shrivelled and, in Mumma B’s own words, it’s started sprouting stuff from the back of his head.
(And technically his bum, but lets not dig too deeply into that.)
Mr Potato is now in the compost bin. Actually, given the rate of decompostation for your average potato, I’d probably say he’s more likely to be feeding Papa B’s runner beans in the polytunnel. But again, we’re really splitting hairs here.
If you are just as upset as Mumma B over this development can I kindly suggest you invest in a new hobby. Also, I have reason to believe that during his/its lifetime Mr Potato was a little bit right wing…
And trust me, in our household there are enough personalities going on to then try and fit a Boris lover in there as well.
So, in short, Mr Potato is gone and life is certainly no worse for it. Lets just leave it at that (please, Mum?)
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