The end of the birthfestival

Thank f*** for that.
I'm knackered.

16 girls aged 6 to 11 (and two bros)

And a massive sports hall, with bouncy things of all shapes and forms.

Tons of crisps and popcorn and sweets and jellies and other assorted shite.
I was convinced that Mrs Raheny was overdoing it. But in the end there was enough leftovers to feed a mouse and two ants.
These young ladies can surely put the E111s away. And the cheese and onion flavoured slivers of potatoes deep fried in recycled engine oil. And the strawberry-flavoured jelly made from cows' cartilage.

I am so totally exhausted that I reckon that I could