The paper in the printer goes zip, zip zip…

I feel old.

You’re only as old as the woman you feel, so they say (which actually makes me older than I am), but the context for my decrepit feelings comes, once again, from Playschool.

Back in “my day”, youngun’s such as myself made drawings of Little Ted (the foul impostor!) and Jemima using not much more than a splodge of paint and a badly carved potato… if we were lucky. Thankfully, none of the insane paintings I undoubtedly created as a four year old still exist, otherwise I could be in for some serious psychoanalysis…

Today’s Playschool kids? A digital camera and dye sublimation printer, if you please. Hence, why I feel old…






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