Portishead

A trip to the pool, racing around the park. Too few clothes for the weather. Den building and complicated menageries of talking dogs, flying horses and baby lions.

Barely able to keep my eyes open and they're still going at the top of the stairs. Creeping about and calling down for one last glass of milk. Weeping and moaning.

At about three thirty this afternoon there was almost a full minute of silence. Almost.