Some Bangs, and the Occasional Whimper

Phew. So that's Fireworks night over and done with for another year. The little'uns stuck it all out, hooray (I love fireworks, and definitely consider it the short straw if I have to take a bratlet home halfway through the show), Beri's only, though not inconsiderable, concern being that the fireworks might land on his head, and Sid telling me that I didn't have to say 'Oooh!' every time, and that I should just say it when a firework was 'specially beautiful. After the show, a houseful of people, with the children, some of them really quite small, whooping it up until about 10. And we still hadn't had supper.

Jane and Ian visited for the weekend, and Jane awarded all the children hand-drawn stars for chewing with their mouths closed. You have to take the victories where you find them, don't you!

Wonderful, wonderful Freecycle had enabled me to find a home for a blanket which had developed a split down the middle. (A woman with puppies, which were going through their bedding faster than she could wash it.) I wrapped the torn blanket in a plastic bag, and stuck a big label on saying 'Puppies', so by leaving it outside the front doorI didn't have to be at home for her to collect it. You would not believe the number of people who asked me if there really were puppies in the bag. Including a girl in a Chesham High uniform (local grammer school. You have to pass an exam to get in). Really? Puppies wrapped in a plastic bag?!? Maybe that's an additional question they should include in the 11+ . . .