Altogether Anal

I had dinner with one Father, one half-brother, and one-stepmother last night.

This is what we were.

Inching towards the SUV

A family of four

gingerly picking their way

across road and grass

avoiding the stuff

that comes out of a dog's arse

We are anal. All of us, in our own way. We are 6, 21, 33 and 52.

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"Watch out for dog-shit," says Daddy, " No one gets into the car with dog-shit."

" No touching the tables, chairs, door-handles with your hands: GERMS!"

"I really hope you're not letting people sip from your straw at school, imagine the deseases you could catch"

" Oh, dear god, please don't sit on my bed in your outside clothes! Now I will have to change all the sheets, duvet and pillowcases!" (me!)

"Please open the door for me, I can't bear to touch the handle"

" Mummy, I'd rather fall off the escalator and break my nose than hold on"

" Smoke, someone is smoking! Gosh smokers are sooooo inconsiderate, if I were prime-minister I would pass a law to shoot all smokers immediately"

"You can wear your " inside-of-the-house" slippers out in the garden but please don't wear your "farther-outside-of-the-house-than-the-garden" slippers inside the house."

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While we dined silently on white asparagus flown in from Germany, Frog's legs and Fried Chicken, I listed it out in my head.

All I really wanted right then was a ciggarette.

And yes, they know. This means my family will shoot me if the law is ever passed.

Anal-retentiveness is always thicker than blood.