Moving stuff

Last night I knew I had a busy day ahead, but without time to think it was even better than I could have planned. Boys to tennis, their penultimate day ( a word much more common in Spanish, maybe a hangover of the mañana thing?) and then a thoroughly pleasant morning in Palma to pick up the prints I ordered yesterday and something to put them in. M great company, and it's been so lovely to have some time together, for all our reasons.

This is the lovely waitress in the café where we stopped to breathe. Palma is such a friendly and beautiful city, I wish I could have captured her spirit a little better. She apologised for not being able to move the sun.

We had a picnic at tennis, and Noah swam for the first time, with rather an alarming start at the deep end, but by the end of the afternoon, he was playing water polo. Not bad for four.

After all that triumph, my boys did me proud and we packed up for home, they entertained themselves whilst I made some sushi (a pile in the fridge for them tomorrrow) and then I went off to be a poet for the first time.

Tonight was my first ever 'performance' of any real kind, and I was nervous as a very nervous thing, but a brilliantly organised evening by the hosts Paul and Fiona, who know their guests so well, was a blast. For me at least.

I made some people laugh and I made someone cry. All for their own reasons, but from something I wrote. I don't think I could have imagined being able to do that a little while ago.