The birds and the bees - part two

I'm back at work and have exchanged whinging children for whinging clients. There's a kinda bush telegraph within the prison system, so word got out that I'm back the minute I walked through the door, and the phone started singing like a canary before I could make it to the GT memorial coffee machine. I escaped for a KFC fillet burger lunch (I know it's foul - pardon the bad pun). The staff have clearly been sent on a customer relations course. The beaming smiles and repeated requests from repeated staff if they could help me with anything else was truly unsettling. I did wonder whether to ask them to come take some phone messages at the office, or clean my car, but didn't want to risk facetiousness with staff for whom English was clearly a second language. There was a stupid new sign in the "restaurant" too: now made with 100% real chicken. Is KFC finally admitting that they previously fed us finger lickin' deep fried Ferrel cats? Probably best not to think about that.

Last night I made some progress with Eve and the birds and the bees. We watched a documentary about a baby being born. My tack tics are to work slowly back from birth to conception. Very very slowly indeed. She asked me if it hurts having babies. I was honest, perhaps too honest, and gave my best basilisk stare to Spouse whose only contribution thus far was to suggest that it may have smarted a bit. I didn't realise her eyes could actually occupy her whole forehead before. She has decided that adoption is the way forward. My work here is almost done.