I took a reluctant dive into the cold and choppy waters of a new half term and conditions remained inclement for the rest of the week;
Chanone threatened to cut, Lou-Anne rocked backwards and forwards in a little ball, inconveniently beneath the black board and Rayan tried to run off with a fire extinguisher.
I washed up on the weekend shore with a headache and a glass of beer at Atmos and involuntarily spun a web which reeled in a small group of people, including the Boss Rousseaux.  
Back home, Ben was back up in the trees.
Mu went into synaesthetic overdrive; a year's a slap, a month's an itch, a week is drinking water from a plastic bottle and a day is scratching your eyebrow with the nail of your little finger.
Josette's just turned up.  
This spider's done with spinning.