the sum­mer hat

I could­n’t resist post­ing this pic­ture, although it’s not a great pho­to per se. But the hat is so cute. You should just see about 20 of the lit­tle gulls run­ning along with their hats, swing­ing their ruck­sacks (do not even think about call­ing them back­packs, you Amer­i­can ninnies).

I’m at my desk in com­plete denial that my func­tion for the day is meant to be installing the indi­vid­ual shelves in my book­cas­es in my study, and fill­ing them with the mys­te­ri­ous con­tents of all the box­es still on my floor. I just don’t feel like it! Avery and I felt that our morn­ing cud­dle this morn­ing was quite a nice lit­tle cocoon from which it was entire­ly unnec­es­sary to emerge to go to school. How­ev­er. This evening her beloved babysit­ter Erin (a dead ringer for Katie Couric, which is quite odd, right down to the gig­gle) will come and do cart­wheels with her and eat fish fin­gers, while John and I go off to the King’s Col­lege Form Four admin­is­tra­tive meet­ing, at which no doubt major deci­sions regard­ing Avery’s future will be announced. Most­ly I think the staff are befud­dled as to what to do with a child whose ver­bal skills are off the chart, but who shows no marked bril­liance at any­thing else. A mys­tery. But all the par­ents are going and so shall we.

OK, no more excus­es. The shelves beck­on and so off I go.