Was Julie Lawrence an ‘obnoxious’ mother to send the parents of the little boy who didn’t turn up at her child’s party a bill for £15.95?
The boy’s dad thought so. Derek Nash told Radio 4: ‘He’s a five-year-old boy. He decided on the day where he wanted to be. Am I liable for the decision my five-year-old makes?’
Well, yes, you bloody well are. Your son is five: nowhere near as intelligent as a border collie, and far less endearing. You are teaching your son to be rude and wasteful.
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Alex Nash, 5, and his father Derek - Liz Jones believes he is teaching his son to be rude and wastefulBut then, children these days are rude, spoilt, obnoxious, and loud. I gave a teenage boy £100 for Christmas, and didn’t even receive a card, let alone a thank you letter.
This young lad will grow up into the type of man we are all too familiar with: someone who never sends Christmas or birthday cards, leaving this task to his wife, who forges his name.
LIZ JONES: Want to complain? Wait till I put on a slashed tuxedo like Rita Ora 11/01/15 LIZ JONES: Goodbye death row hair, hello super-sleek soon to be First Minister Nicola 16/10/14 LIZ JONES: Sorry sisters... but some women really are nasty 12/10/14 LIZ JONES: I'm so short of cash, I've just stolen a glass of Prosecco 21/09/14 Can Mel B iron her hair straighter than Cheryl's?: LIZ JONES asks the biggest question on X Factor opening night 30/08/14 LIZ JONES: Starving, broke, afraid... oh, the joys of being a student 17/08/14 LIZ JONES: Listen up, men: dusting is NOT the key to more hanky panky 02/08/14 LIZ JONES: Oh for a real holiday, clutching a cardie in freezing Frinton 26/07/14 LIZ JONES: We've done the girls (and quite right, too) so here's... My guide to the beardy, fat, ill-dressed men in politics 19/07/14 VIEW FULL ARCHIVE It nurtures an attitude that men are above such things.
Parents are the rudest people on the planet. I once invited a mum and her baby to a villa in Tuscany. I hired a cot for her room, at a cost of €20 a day, and she never used it!
The baby, apparently, slept in her bed (the now oh-too-familiar child as substitute husband scenario).
I should have sent her a bill. I remember going to my (now ex) friend’s house for dinner, and she had put a note on the door: ‘Do not knock or ring the bell, as my sons are asleep. Text me!’
I had brought flowers, and navy cashmere for each child, and she hadn’t even wiped crumbs from the dining room table!
When you are child-free, you are presumed, by your planet-destroying friends and family – who made the decision to have children without consulting you or anyone else, least of all their husbands – to have masses of disposable income, and a yearning need to spend money on children whose names you very often can’t recall.
A friend’s daughter has just had a baby, and I was sent not just a photo of the new arrival – a blob – but her address!
Presumably, I’m supposed to ship Brora at the earliest opportunity. Another friend, with four children, queried the need for my large garden.
The father of my nephew transported some furniture for me – and do you think he said: ‘D’you know what, Liz? Seeing as you gave your nephew, my son, a holiday in Africa learning to scuba dive, a laptop, iPad and currently pay for his iPhone, why don’t you have this on me?’
Did he hell. He charged me £220 cash.
Over-nurtured children, who get dressed up as princesses and are taken on holiday abroad and who expect goodie bags and indulge in sleepovers, become adults who never try, who are not geared up for the inevitable challenges life throws at them.
Was it always thus? There was a scene in the gripping Wolf Hall where the daughter of Thomas Cromwell dresses up in fairy wings made from peacock feathers: a 16th Century version of the modern-day pink princess. Cromwell warns her not to go near the fire.
This didn’t ring true. Even 50 years ago, children didn’t have birthday parties, or balloons hung on trees, or Halloween costumes, or goodie bags, or touchy- feely fathers.
I’m talking about me, of course. I never had a birthday party as a child, and was invited to only one, which I arrived at late as I had a riding lesson (paid for by washing up in a pub).
I wore my jodhpurs (second-hand and threadbare) to the party as I didn’t possess a party dress, only my school uniform.
I didn’t have riding boots, but merely wore plimsolls provided by my primary school.
Liz believes children who are taken on holiday abroad and who expect goodie bags and sleepovers become adults who never try and who are not geared up for the inevitable challenges life throws at themMy dad dropped me off, but I walked home afterwards along a busy A-road with no footpath. I didn’t give the birthday boy a gift, and there was no food, just a game of musical chairs.
Never mind the hoo-hah over Page 3, or the myriad strident female columnists who bemoan the lack of women in the boardroom, who rail at the glass ceiling rather than, as my mum would have done, cleaning it with newspaper and a bit of spit.
The real enemies of female empowerment are mums who refuse to instil values into their children. They are so intent on being seen to be good parents they over-invest in their offspring, which turns them into ungrateful, selfish, over-confident nightmares who will never possess a backbone.
At least as a child I was well versed in boredom, physical hardship, failure, poverty and disappointment...
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