Stalking yellow corpulent machinery has hoovered up all the ripe rapeseed. Heat steams up in fabulous clouds, or fabulous cloud buildings are built on strong thermals, I’m not sure. I’m hot to a point of malfunctioning.
Washing is pegged, boldly, outside.
My car is languidly crammed with expedient items. Tent. Stories. Clothes that will be unscathed when soaked in a mass water fight. Torch. Notebook. Pen. Coffee. Sat nav. Address to input to sat nav. More coffee. This weekend the tent will pop up in a field with 130 children. On Friday- today! - I need to find the field. On Saturday I am reading a fire lit story. On Sunday- I really should have read the memo. On Monday, catch up sleep. Regale tales of my fireside debut.
Leaving Mr at home with a cooked chicken and a vision of attic storage.