This post was going to be about a dreadful incident we encountered on the way to school today; 2 white vans and a car damaged beyond repair plus four dead sheep, blood and fragments of their bodies strewn across the rural road. I've decided to write no more than that because it was too sad for words.
Slow down people, particularly on rural common land where gentle creatures graze!
As I began to write this post the 8yo appeared, PJ'ed and clean but with a wobbly lip. He felt sidelined today by pals at school and, though he is big now, tall as my shoulder, he sat astride me and wittered his woes. I remembered advice given to me by a very wise woman.
'When people tell you their troubles don't give them your advice, just say oh dear a lot.' I did just that and the outpourings kept coming.
After ten minutes of oh dearing and stroking his furry dressing-gowned back, he jumped up.
'Can you read to me now?' he asked brightly, his troubles stroked away.
'Sure, but only if your wild, discarded underpants are tamed and herded towards the washing basket.'
His grumps almost returned.
So now I must go to read the next thrilling instalment in Stormbreaker... can't wait.