1. I especially loved the bit of today where the Beast chased me through the woods (sounds like a derivative horror film 15 rated by a solemn Simon Bates) shaking its ice cream cone accusingly at me and shrieking NOOOOOON I WANTED THE GLACE AU CHOCOLAT ON MY WAFFLE. Waffle, waffle waffle, waffle echoed round the woods.
2. Searching for six small brown tortoises who enjoy digging in a brown garden full of interesting piles of earth, leaves and organic detritus (an activity which never gets old for me) takes on an extra frisson of excitement now that you might, at any moment, find yourself handling a dog turd.
3. Do not let your existentially troubled six and a half year old read cartoon strips from the 1950s.
Because, quite apart from the constant denigration of water ('pour les poissons!') in favour of le Whisky Soda, characters to whom you have had time to form an attachment (say, an Apache elders called Buzzard, for example) will DIE. DIE, I tell you! From 'une balle dans le dos'. This will be representing pictorially, with the fallen Apache elder slumped next to a cactus. There will be blood. And there you are, right back in the sodding Café Flore with Jean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus debating whether the inevitability of death renders all life meaningless, or conversely, infinitely precious. When all you really want to do is eat a slice of crappy pizza, take half a temazepam and sleep. Thank a bunch, Bob Morane.
4. However, if he does, introduce him to tektonic tutorials on You Tube and allow yourself to be soothed into a stupor by hatchet faced French youths dancing nonsensically around their grandparents flats/their bedrooms/in front of mirrors. Then because your life is just ridiculous, you might find yourself watching the German equivalent all by yourself. And then, hopefully, you will remember your earlier plan to take half a temazepam and sleep. And you will stop typing and close your browser and go away.
That last bit is important.