Swansong

The last train to Pooh Central has departed.

Today was like an episode of "This Is Your Life" in microcosm.  The Boy treated me to three sloppy and stinking poohs, and cried pitiful, huge tears as I took him up to be changed.  Rushing from the morning job, I missed my tram and walked to Montgomery in heat so oppressive it was like a gravitational force, pulling my VERY SOUL to the ground.  Ahem.  The escalator at Schuman was out.  68 steps on the hottest day of the year; fine, just watch me.  Only mildly puffed.

Sandwich, crisps, ten minutes, Ambiorix, you know the routine.

H refused to talk to me for about half an hour.  I wondered gently aloud if she was feeling sad (and silently wondered if it was due to my leaving) but she just said "Nah."  Playground.  That see-saw in this heat is like a bad dream where you are pushing something huge through treacle.  I got some lovely pics of the girls on the big slide.

Then the usual frenzy of home, yoghurt, biscuits, waffles, cherries, paddling pool.  At around 6, little C, who had been running round naked in the garden, looked very anxious and announced "ca-ca!".  Before anyone could catch it she went on the grass, amid much congratulation for letting us know first.  And picking up pooh from a lawn was how my day ended.  Well not quite.  I have champagne and fancy chocolates.

Here is a picture of A85, to whom I nodded goodbye this morning.  He didn't say much back.  I think he was choked with emotion.