“I can do it myself!” I insisted as my mother appeared to be preparing to give me a bath. My mother said she wanted to make sure that I’m nice and clean, and the minimal fuss method is if she does it. I felt like a little kid as my mother washed and rinsed my hair before scrubbing my arms, shoulders, chest, back and belly with a luffa. Then she stood me up and scrubbed my bits, my bum and my legs. I complained the the luffa was hurting me but Mum said it’s only because I’m not used to having a proper wash. I couldn’t wait to hide myself beneath the foam topped water, where she scrubbed my feet and toes. Mum rooted beneath the bubbles for the big pink sponge and gave it to me. “Here, you sponge yourself off.” she said before leaving me alone in the bath. At least the sponge felt a lot nicer than the luffa did. In fact it was very soothing after the vigorous scrub my mother had given me.

I dried myself and got dressed. I noticed that my skin smelled like the bath did and turned my nose up at it. Mum asked if I was ready and I asked if I could watch the rest of the Saturday morning TV show I always watched. “No.” was her reply.

As she drove us to town I felt more than a hint of defiance growing in my belly. “So what we gonna do?” I grunted. “Go round loads of girl’s shops?”

“Is that what you’d like to do?” Mum asked in a cheerful tone

“No!” I retorted.

“Oh.” Mum replied, pretending she was disappointed. “Well in that case, you’ll be glad to hear that we’re going to a petticoating shop.” she informed me, adding that only in such a shop would we find some dresses as nice as the ones Peter has.

I didn’t have anything to say on the matter, apart from ‘blue’ when Mum asked me if I preferred pink or blue. She drove into the centre of town and right out the other side. “Where we going?” I quizzed as we left the town centre behind us. “That’ll take hours!” I whined when she told me that we’re going to Brighton.

“Hence me not wanting you spending all morning watching TV.” Mum replied.