Ten thirty am. We were due to have set off half an hour ago to meet up with some friends in Homfirth, to go for a gentle relaxing bank holiday stroll. But we are running late. The kitchen looks like a feeding station in a war zone. Mrs BW wrestles with a beetroot salad. She is coming down with the virulent strain of man flu that laid me low last week. The fledglings are protesting. They have discovered that meeting up with our friends involves going for a walk. They don’t like walking. Its boring and pointless they say. “Whats the point of having a car if we are going to walk” etc etc. Well rehearsed arguments that fall on the deaf ears of their cruel and unreasonable parents.
We check the day sacks that they have packed. For once the youngest has put in his hat, gloves and waterproofs. Amazing! Our daughter has not however. Mrs BW reasons with her.
“But its not raining” she protests.
“Look at the sky and tell me what you see” Mrs BW is adopting the “I am going to allow you to arrive at the right decision all by yourself with a little bit of prompting approach.” I prefer the more direct approach.
“Its grey and cloudy” she concedes. Large drops of rain start to fall. The water proofs are stuffed with a certain vehemence into the day sack. Mrs BW seems satisfied. One small victory
but we brace ourselves for the counterattack.
We are ready! As we set off Stephen Fry booms out from the cassette player “Harry Potter….” I suspect it will be a long day.