Story of Matilda.
I grew up on a farm one of three girls, a strong mother imbued with a good dose of feminist values and a father whose response to a friend in the local pub one night when we were having a knock off drink – beer for him, and raspberry lemonade for me, aged seven – was as follows:
Dad’s Friend: “You’ve got three lovely girls, mate, but who’s going to take over the farm? You need to have a boy.”
Dad: “Why would I need a boy? I’ve got three girls.”
Stony, awkward silence followed.
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