The Friday Game: Little Wheel
Edge: Not that you asked, but I think I’m getting broody. Some ancient genetic switch must have flipped deep within me, and I’m suddenly excited about collapsible buggy designs, suddenly strangely worried by air-borne kitchen germs, and suddenly planning a careful slipstreaming of nieces’ and nephews’ possessions, hoping to time the arrival of my new family to ride a wave of cast-offs from the cradle right through to university age. It makes sense, really: I’m in my early thirties, so it’s about time I started thinking of an heir. Who else will inherit the many boxes of old bottle tops, bent paperclips, amusingly shaped chunks of granite and rusty doorknobs I’ve accrued over the years, the spoils of an illustrious Western life?
