- Sat Jun 24, 2017 4:00 pm
I've just spent the afternoon with the friends I mentioned earlier who had their six year old grandchild with them who for some bizarre reason thinks that I'm great.
He's a six year old who likes dinosaurs and enjoys kicking a football.
He's a six year old looking forward to the next Cars movie.
He's a six year old who thought I was fifty.
He's a six year old with an impressive talent for decorating gingerbread men.
He's a six year old who was telling me that he misses his pets as he's not allowed to take them to the hotel he's staying at in London.
He's a six year old who is having to stay in a hotel at the moment as his actual home is adjacent to Grenfell Tower.
He's a six year old who saw things a couple of weeks ago that I hope I never have to.
He's a six year old who explained that he couldn't get to his school at the moment because of all the policemen.
He's a six year old who said to me "I have friends in Grenfell Tower, and they're dead."
He's a six year old who said that he'd been up to the 18th floor before, but knew that if he'd been there, he'd be dead.
He's a six year old who explained how some of his friends were really happy to see him as they thought he was dead.
He's a six year old who says things like that and make you realise how lucky you are in life.
"He's the leader of the gang. He's the top, he's the tip, he's the championship. He's Top Cat. And he's scum!"