We arrived home, all alive.
There. That should be my diary entry for today.
I should leave it there.
No, really, I should.
We arrived home from holiday, and we were all alive.
OK then.
We arrived home and on the journey decided that the following steps were logical and sensible solutions to the dreadful conditions created by this dysfunctional family when they are all strapped together in a tin box and the story CD has ended.
1. The children are going into care.
2. Me and Dig are going to divorce.
3. One of the children, we will push off a cliff. Just for the heck of it. We do not know which one. We do not care.
4. We will sell the car and rip up the cash in front of the remaining kid faces just to show it was NEVER AN ARGUMENT ABOUT THE CAR.
5. We will demolish the family home. The explosion will be cathartic and that will solve the argument about the bedrooms. Forever.
6. I will saw myself into bits with a blunt hacksaw blade.
7. I will attack Dig with a kitchen table and a lampshade, bury his body, dig him up again, and push him off a cliff.
8. He will do the same to me.
9. Then we will turn to the kids and say THERE. SEE WHAT BAD THINGS HAPPEN WHEN PEOPLE FIGHT?
10. Tomorrow everyone will forget about the four-hour screaming fistfight over godknowswhat and your sister will forgive you the bleeding claw marks down her face.
