This year has been a strange one in our house. Big decisions have been made, goodbyes have been said and the world of school has been left behind. There have been bittersweet moments, and lots of those sort of round-the-middle-hugs that only children can do. There was an amazing flash mob thing where they all danced on the playground for me and I thought it was some sort of new aerobics work out that Ofsted had introduced to make us work even harder. There were cards and letters and presents and tears. And cake. And gin.
Now we’ve had to say another goodbye – this time to beautiful Phoebe who’s lived in this house for nearly 20 years, almost as long as I have. Phoebe has had way more than her quota of lives. She’s shared her fleas with us, done numerous surprise piles of sick and so on, developed her own special set of smells and yowled for Britain. Last time she keeled over and played dead, we took her to the vet’s, nerving ourselves for the worst, and she hopped out of her basket and did a lap of the surgery. We brought her home again.
So, it’s time for new beginnings. There’s time to write these days. Also, it’s probably time to get fit and lose some of these spare tyres and chins. I’m moving on to the next chapter. Farewell, lovely Phoebe. Missing you already.