When it ends I hope they insist that I take one. Red geraniums –

not white, pink or even a mix. I wonder who chose them, so vibrant

against the pale blue crockery? The village chinks its presence in

the three o’ clock sunshine, and we’re lucky with the weather this

year, so very lucky, and as I never do anything useful with my time,

I know how to make the most of it, I really do. But it is good that

I’ve stayed at home with the children, yes – see how tall they’ve

grown on maternal attention, and polite too, despite the obvious,

you know… Such a good job. Maybe they could manage another

slab of cake or some squash? The Victoria sponge looks lovely

and Shirley makes the jam herself, at her age. I don’t bake, no,

I’m all about preserving really, like Shirley I suppose, but mostly

just my sanity. I’m not sure how many balloons are in the Bentley

and frankly I don’t care – besides, several balloons have burst in

the heat so it’s not really a level playing field, so to say, I mean

will deflated remains be counted at the end of the day, or only those

still buoyant? The rules aren’t clear. And we don’t even win the car?

I suggest that next year you stick to sweets in the jar… But the red

geraniums are lovely, so vibrant against the pale blue crockery.