Stop greeting or I’ll give you something to greet about. Or regional variations of the same. Fall over, get up, dust yourself down. All without greeting.
That seemed to be the way in the good old days of stiff upper lips. Toddlers publicly following the coffin of their parent. Or, more likely, banished. Put to play in a room of silence.
Hugs and comfort or stoicism and a pat on the head. Or a clip round the ear. Seen and not heard. Not so long ago.
All foreign and far away now. Like twin tubs and mangles. Wooden tongs for removing scolding nappies. Belts for skelping legs.
No longer children or even, really, parents. Do we call it resilience? Now we’ve been given something to greet about.
