The great escape

Eight years ago, in a village not terribly far from here, a woman went into labour, and the labour went not terribly well. But at the end of the labour, a beautiful bonny baby was born.

It was a rocky start, and it's been a rocky road ever since then, but hey, Mog, you made it to eight! Happy Birthday, sweetheart.

It's been a week of celebrations; various different family and friends visiting at Helen House, and presents from them and from Helen House too. Today we'd planned a big celebratory day with an Awfully Big Adventure involving trains under the sea. But it also involved a Very Long Time sitting in a wheelchair, so we decided to shelve it for another time.

So, no Great Escape to France for the day - and several adults very relieved about that. But, one trip to a little sister's school Fete,
One Skype session with an Uncle and Aunt overseas. One lovely Birthday Lunch with nibbles of buttery bread and a lick of icecream (and three hours of hiccups, but perhaps we'll pretend the two were unrelated). And then, inspired by Little Fish singing songs from Mary Poppins, we decided to go fly a kite.


Big fun all round, and just the right amount of wind. And then great big wild excitement; Little Fish let go of the string!

Run, Grandad, Run! And put the video down, Mummy; Run, Mummy, Run! And the kite disappeared over the trees and landed in a garden. Grannie and Grandad pushed their way through the trees, trying to memorise the shape of the back of the house, in order to walk around to the fronts and beg for the kite's return. A white house, apparently - with runner beans in the veg patch far inferior to Grandad's.

And then, oh happy day, a gust of wind, a tug on the string, and the kite was suddenly free from the beans, and soaring back up and over the trees, and free again! Too free; it took three of us, several shoes and a piece of bark to manage to wind the string in and subdue the kite sufficiently to collect it up and take it home.

We dropped the kite off with Grannie and Grandad, and then came back to our house for Birthday Cake.
Happy Birthday, Mog, and many happy returns of the day.

Love,
Mummy Tia