Spot the Glasses

With the holiday over, it was time to return to the tribulations of ordinary life.

The glasses which were lost and replaced by new ones, worth hundreds of pounds, chose this morning to reveal themselves on the stones beside a window ; stones we have walked over many a time since they were first lost, and never noticed the oculars lying there.

St Anthony, the patron saint of lost things has been playing a mischievous game with us for sure. It is impossible that they were there all the time, and I think what has happened is that they have been blown off the window ledge above and maybe then been stood on by one of our stalwart holiday plant waterers, oblivious to their presence.

However they got there, they were in a sorry state and proved impossible to mend.

This was the last day of primary school for the Edinburgh granddaughter and I was there with her Mum and little Glasgow cousin to watch as the P7's were clapped out of school for the last time.
There was the ritual sob -in when there were red eyes all round from the leavers and we spectators could only wonder why we never thought of doing that years ago, what was in store for these children at their new schools.

The afternoon was full on in the play park with a frisky nearly 3 year old; she has apparently fallen asleep on the way back to Glasgow, and I'm exhausted and feeling my age.