The Disappearance Of Josh Bennett & The Arrival Of Someone Who Looks Just Like Him.

As if it's not bad enough listening to the usual suspects moaning about Prince Andrew all day, things are getting out of hand at home as well.

I'm hovering in the kitchen talking to Max about the changes to pensions, while he makes *pancakes and tries to ignore our resident pensioner, aka Dad. Who is, as usual, shouting updates on something sports-related and terminally boring from the comfort of the sofa in the living room.

I may have to kill him if he doesn't hand the remote control over before the start of tonight's Channel 4 News. He's behaving as if he is the Slightly Overweight Controller of TV viewing and it's driving everybody nuts.

Josh got so fed up with it yesterday that he decided he'd go and stay at Holly's, just so that he could watch a programme all the way through for once. He didn't say when he'd be coming back, either.

That was the worst bit, actually. It's bad enough Connie being away at university, let alone the baby of the family moving out - despite the fact that said baby is almost six feet tall. I feel utterly bereft.

I bet this is only the start, too. Before you know it, I'll be in the throes of full-on Empty Nest Syndrome - and I bet my hormones will go berserk at the same time. Just to add to the joy.

I groan at the thought of how fast the hairs on my chin will grow when that happens, and then I bang my forehead on the kitchen counter. Not too hard - just for effect. Or that was the intention, anyway.

"Ow," I say.

"Mol, you're getting in the way," says Max. "That last pancake would have landed on you if I hadn't caught it. And what's the matter, anyway?"

"My son is being driven out of his home by a sex-mad pensioner with ADHD, and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it," I say. "And we've become the kind of people who talk about pensions, too. Before you know it, the kids will be grudgingly visiting us in our cabbage-scented care home, and having to remind us who they are."

"I don't think you need to worry about that just yet," says Max. "Listen!"

I've never been so relieved to hear the front door open, and Vans-clad footsteps clonking along the hallway. At least one of my children still lives at home!

"That you, Joshua-wa?" I say. (Nicknames are big in our family, except when you're in trouble.)

Josh stops short in the doorway, and looks me up and down. His expression is completely blank.

"No," he says. "It's Frank Stephens to you."

See? Exactly what I was worried about. Though I had no idea pre-senile dementia came before the empty nest.



*Pancakes - today is Pancake Day. Which is some sort of religious festival, though I can't recall the detail, other than it's about giving up something you like. Religious Studies was very, very boring when I was a child.