I’ve just returned from my sons’ sports day. It was hot, there wasn’t much shade, and he didn’t win. Good job it’s all about the taking part.
I took refuge in the biscuit tent and there I met a mum a few years older than me which would have put her at around 50. She held in her arms the bonniest baby I have seen for a long time. In fact, I haven’t seen many babies for a while, what with them all being aborted.
“I want to keep her in the shade,” the mum said. “Would you hold her for me while I go and watch my son race?” I didn’t need to be asked twice. I happily grabbed little baby Maria and sat her on my knee, me with my seven biscuits and her with her slobbery one. I told her all about how when I hurdled for Hertfordshire I fell over at the final hurdle. She laughed. I couldn’t be angry with her for finding it funny, she was just too lovely.
