Despite the grey sky it hasn't felt that cold today. I taught in the afternoon (art again) and I have found that being among young children who know nothing about my personal sorrow has been incredibly healing. Because I haven't been around for a few weeks quite a few of them have run up and given me a hug, simply because that is how they express their feelings. And their excitement when they know I will be teaching them that afternoon, though it is mainly due to the fact that we do fun stuff like art and drumming, still makes me feel that bit better. Then there is the routine and the mundane to keep me grounded. 'My dog eats poo' was one 4 year old's comment yesterday after I read a funny poem about a goat. Thinking quickly I responded by saying that's what some dogs do so we don't let them lick our hands or faces and then went straight on to another poem before we had any more revelations about dogs or especially poo.
This evening I had to laugh when Patch, the greediest of all cats, launched himself towards a counter where he thought I was about to pour some milk into the cats' bowl. Unfortunately in his haste accuracy got lost and for a few moments he was hanging by his front paws, frantically scrabbling with his hind paws before falling in an ungainly heap upon the floor. Not a cat's graceful fall, landing on his paws but a splat onto his side.