This morning I did something that I rarely do, for fear of inducing a full-body cringe the likes of which I have not experienced since, aged 10, I jumped on my dad's back in the local swimming pool only to discover that it wasn't him: I read one of my old columns.Written nearly a decade ago under the headline I'll drink to child-free pubs and cafes, my twentysomething self grumbles about the presence of kids in adult spaces.
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