Running away to join the Circus

The day started with a blast from the past.  "Mammy, I feel poorly." And so a somewhat hot CarbBoy joined us in bed, with Calpol to ease his pain. Happily that was the peak of his illness, and after the Calpol he picked up dramatically, ate some breakfast, was not sick (those of you who know CarbBoy through these pages will know that vomiting has always been pretty much a given for any slight health hiccup) and headed off to school quite happy with life.  (Of course, Mr B and I were shattered.)

TallGirl had one of the infrequent religious days at school, where they spend the whole afternoon on hard benches in church listening to stuff they don't understand.  (This one is not linked to a religious festival like the other 'pastoral' days but seems to be a reminder to the kids not to get up to anything naughty in the long holidays.) I only allow it because it seems the easiest way to keep her turned off religion.  Anyway, it is all prefaced by a hotdog lunch in the quad of the nunnery, so it's not all bad.

Later, in the short gap between CarbBoy coming home from school and going out to his end of year show (a circus affair, did you guess?), I had a crash course in face painting, a parenting skill I seem to have avoided until now by always surrounding myself with parents who are really good at it. Today, it was all down to me and I think it was judged a tolerable performance.  So our clown juggled while rolling on a huge bodkin, while his classmates tossed sticks (don't ask), did very impressive trapeze stuff and stood on huge balls.

I want to, but cannot, gloss over the fact that a couple of neighbours who are clearly not seeing eye-to-eye with me over the weekend meeting, studiously failed to clap when CarbBoy's group was on.  I am a little pissed off with quite a lot of humanity at the moment, to be honest.  A little more understanding, thinking of others and keeping the kids out of it might be in order.  (This fabulous plate spinning trapeze artiste is one such neighbour's daughter.  I clapped and cheered all the kids.  Because that's normal, right? Because they were all brilliant.)  And don't get me started on MPs being shot, lies about the referendum, Syria (again, again, again) and just generally anyone in the whole world thinking they have the right to tell me I'm not European any more.  Especially not my own parents.

Now I will go and lose myself in the slightly disappointing (but not as bad as billed) Top Gear series, see off a delicious glass of Fitou and see what the rest of the evening brings.

If all that fails, I might just run away to join the circus.