Wednesday, 6 February 2008
I Hear The Hills Call My Name.
What a beautiful day. Days like these I really hate school as much as the kids do. I'd love to take off and just keep going til we are somewhere that we can breathe and shout and run and laugh and laugh. To have a day where we don't have to shout hotly at one another because time is snapping at our heels. We would pack a picnic. A proper Famous Five picnic with 'lashings' of all those things that only taste good on a blanket on springy grass. The air would whisper in our ears when we lie down to watch the clouds. There would be a rushing icy stream that makes our feet go numb in minutes, and sloping fields to roll and roll and roll down to warm up. And we would laugh til our sides ache. And in the car going home all would be quiet, as each child drifts away in some golden reverie that fills their hearts with such clean, fresh-air joy-ness.
But there's that snapping-yapping time-dog at our heels. We are still slaves to it, for now. So after school, pending darkness wags it's finger at me and I meekly bow my head and do not head for the hills.
Instead we go to Dundrum. Why?
They had a little bit of money they wanted to spend, but after arguing, hanging around while each other tried, and failed, to decide what to spend it on, bickering, and generally getting hot under the collar, we ate, came home and immediately felt better.
Oh, I know what to do next time. And I'll never go there again without a plan...