The Cross

On collecting a grinning Owen from after-school club this evening, I was quickly informed that his lacrosse team had won their match by five goals to four.

That will surely be one of the most middle-class sentences I will ever write. It could only be elevated if Owen were named Tarquell and had a hyphenated surname like Hyperbaric-Chambers. The Third.

Anyway, he was justifiably pleased with himself as he’d scored four of the goals, set up the fifth and been named man of the match for his efforts. Being British and devoid of emotion, I gave him a firm handshake, slightly firmer punch on the arm and said something like “bully” and “solid chukka”. No high-fives or hugs here….

We decided to collect The Youngest too, who was grumpily reprimanded by the facilitator as she’d slipped out of the door without her permission. I was grateful for the mask covering my grin as I mentally added another grown-up to the list of those whom Matilda has outwitted (I’m on the same list many, many times).

It’s been a busy ol’ day though as we’re through to round two of a tender and needed to discuss a slightly nuanced strategy, The Eldest needed dropping back home post-exam, I squeezed in a run and also fell asleep during a webinar shortly after this photo was taken, which as it happened was the only one I took today.

Only 3 days to go before a well-earned break!!