They may not mean to, but they do.

A pair o’ ragamuffins tredin’ de tidal flat. Five Mile Beach, February, 2010.

I need sunshine. I need a clear blue sky. I need less of this cold.

In order to cheer you up, I’ve dug out this fine old Philip Larkin poem.

This Be The Verse, Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Oops.