Status Anxiety: When life gives you lemons …

When my son Ludo first suggested selling lemonade outside our house in Acton as a way of earning some extra pocket money, I was a bit dubious. Don’t you need a licence from the European Union before you can set up a stall in your driveway? And what about ’elf and safety? I could picture some busybody from the council, armed with a testing kit, reprimanding my six-year-old for not using organic lemons.

Then I thought, ‘Sod it.’ If he wanted to earn some money instead of depending on handouts from his parents, then good luck to him. He set up his stand at the end of our driveway at around 1 p.m. last Saturday, complete with a handwritten sign, a pile of cups and a jug of freshly made lemonade. I advised him that he’d need his money box in case people needed change.

Five minutes later, I was pottering about in the garden when my wife Caroline came running out. ‘Quick,’ she said. ‘Someone’s stolen Ludo’s money. You need to get after him.’

‘How big was he?’ I asked.

‘Don’t be pathetic,’ she said. ‘Go.’

I raced outside to find Ludo standing behind his lemonade stand in tears. Apparently, a teenage boy had cycled past, then doubled back and asked Ludo if he could speak to his mum. Ludo came in to find Caroline and when they headed back outside the money box was gone.

I ran back into the house, got my bike, and tore off in the direction I thought he was most likely to have gone in, but there was no sign of him. I doubled back and began searching the surrounding streets. Nothing.

It’s probably just as well I didn’t find him. Later, when I asked Ludo for a more detailed description, he told me that the man was big — ‘bigger ’n you, Dad’.