Fete Fete Fete

Yes pop pickers the party season continues:

The end of term show. Somewhat nerve-racking as B claimed after the dress rehearsal that his class show is truly terrible, nothing more than total humiliation on front of the whole school. Once he was safely out of earshot I asked the girls in the car what they think - perhaps B was feeling overly sensitive.

'PPWAAAH, ppsss - the worst sketch we have ever seen' they replied, unamimous (although L was kind enough to say the decorations were nice).

However, on the day, the influence of parental prayers or some other miracle caused the event to go well, the teacher's faith was restored and B begrudgingly admitted it was ok.

The municipal picnic in the park - the Marie (local council) provides the tables, we come with our food and friends, and at 11pm, FIREWORKS. B's friend D is staying the night. We find a spot on the banks of the Seine and lie down on a blanket, musing about stars, shooting stars and constellations. A tug boat has pulled a platform out onto the far side of the Seine, at 11.19 pm the tug boat chugs off, and the show begins. The rockets dive deep into the water, some disappear, some reappear and charge to the surface, and dandelion clocks of undreamed of colours and lights widen and widen above our heads. Home after midnight yet again.

Shared lunch at the chapel, then home for the last three days of term:

St John at school, bring a small log

Visit to the local fire station

Visit to museum of music

Visit to museum of plants

School picnic

B does magic show for his class

My neighbours are, as I write, charring food in the garden and shouting loudly, it is nearly midnight.

And then, and then, watch out, July is coming, and once the school holidays begin...

NOTHING HAPPENS!

crash