My mum was on the phone, complaining that people never used to
photograph her on protest marches, but now they do, "because I'm
so old. They're saying, 'Look, even old people are against
climate change!'" "That's not true," I said, soothingly. "What
about the time you dressed up as a peasant to march against the
poll tax, to recall the medieval tax-induced hardship that led
to the peasants' revolt? You were on the cover of the Wandsworth
Borough News." "Ah, that was different," she said. "That was a
tableaux."  I want to make a long and involved point about how
one's own memories differ from those of one's parents, and what
impact this realisation will have on my own parenting style, but
in fact, it is just a long-winded explanation for the fact that
I didn't notice what T was doing because I was too busy gassing.
And when I turned round, he was drinking water from the dog's
bowl, but he hadn't picked the bowl up and tipped it into his
mouth (this would have been messier, but ultimately more
dignified). He wa