Green wing

Tom spotted this parakeet feather while he and I were walking round Crystal Palace Park, trying to kill time before our holiday tomorrow.

The last day before a holiday seems very, very long when you're 12. All your clothes are either being washed or are already packed. Everything you want to do ('can I make an obstacle course all around the house??' 'NO' 'can I make flapjacks? 'NO!') is banned, and the grown ups are having endless boring conversations ('can you remember if there was a peeler at the house? I think there was a peeler, can you remember if there was a corkscrew? Shall we take the knives/a pillow/the coffee machine/the gin?')

We don't travel light.

He put himself to bed at 7.30 pm saying 'it's better if I just go to sleep. Then tomorrow will come quicker'.

We need to get up at 4.30 am. Tomorrow will come quicker than he thinks.