Rascals

As Curls + I were enjoying the depths of the green pool of leaves at the end of Si's garden relishing in a quiet moment, we heard male sniggerings behind us and then; stvooooom! A descending thud of a plummeting water bomb that had been catapulted from Si Si's new toy, targeting the two poor unaware nattering women. And so. That's how the late afternoon evolved, a bunch of folk approaching thirty- more like thirteen, filling up frying pans of water bombs to eagerly take it in turns to hop around the extensive garden in comic avoidance of a soaking : bliss! It was a great contrast as I'd spent the morning with my supposed professional head on at a school trying to come across as though my brain wasn't still completely occupied with Alps Air in an attempt to negotiate a load of summer painting work- looks like I pulled it off, as I'm going to be working with six hundred children before the school term is out. Now then, what's a paint brush again?