In the good old days of legal social distancing

Around five in the morning, at least, it felt like five in the morning, although it might have been nearer 10, there came a banging on the door that reminded me I still need to fix the doorbell.

It was the Saturday social distanced fly-by croissant drop-off from Mitch. I hauled my aching body from bed - the day and a half for the books was going to be wildly optimistic - and shuffled down the stairs to open the door, grunt a welcome of some surprise, and then buggered off to make some coffee.

In the end, Mitch stayed for a couple of hours and a lovely time was had by all. Except for Ottawacker Jr. who was the recipient of his mother's frisbee. Right in the mouth (see extra photo). And he wants to be a goalkeeper. 

He was so miffed at this comment that he refused to help me on the second day of the book sort. I blame his mother.