ACTS OF GOD
We went to see Peppa Pig today with D and T. It was great fun and X enjoyed it, singing along and seeing her TV friends in real puppet life. On the way out there were glistening bouquets of Peppa balloons on sale for a disgraceful price. I yanked X through the vale of temptation but D was much nicer and bought both children one. We tied the cords to the children's wrists and they watched the balloons with eyes as round and glistening as the balloons. The disembarkment from the car at D & T's home had its normal complications of coats and lunchboxes. During the confusion the two mummies looked up to see that one of the balloons had escaped. It was already hundreds of feet in the air, off to meet its celluloid maker, glinting in the late afternoon sun in the middle of a big blue sky. We said nothing to the children and it wasn't until X and I got home, some hours later, that it's absence was missed. X was strangely sanguine about it, I think she was tired, it had been a big, fun day. By that time I had bumped the car into a post and inflicted damage which, though not act of God, is still not worth my while claiming for on insurance. This is the first bump on my car and means that I will probably now never sell it as it will be yet another depreciation and so will have it for the rest of my life: therefore a turning point. Not necessarily a bad one, just a deciding moment. We got into bed and I discovered that, through some incomprehensible act of i-photo I have lost the pictures of X's first day at school. I am determined to be as sanguine as X was about the balloon: the first day was nothing special in itself, it is only because I am sentimental about pictures of my first day at school. In reality X looked better in the pictures of the first day at nursery, where she was in a sweet little uniform. Why spoil a lovely day, when the sun shone on golden autumn leaves, and we were with great company and Peppa found the treasure, just because a couple of bits of celluloid were lost?
We went to see Peppa Pig today with D and T. It was great fun and X enjoyed it, singing along and seeing her TV friends in real puppet life. On the way out there were glistening bouquets of Peppa balloons on sale for a disgraceful price. I yanked X through the vale of temptation but D was much nicer and bought both children one. We tied the cords to the children's wrists and they watched the balloons with eyes as round and glistening as the balloons. The disembarkment from the car at D & T's home had its normal complications of coats and lunchboxes. During the confusion the two mummies looked up to see that one of the balloons had escaped. It was already hundreds of feet in the air, off to meet its celluloid maker, glinting in the late afternoon sun in the middle of a big blue sky. We said nothing to the children and it wasn't until X and I got home, some hours later, that it's absence was missed. X was strangely sanguine about it, I think she was tired, it had been a big, fun day. By that time I had bumped the car into a post and inflicted damage which, though not act of God, is still not worth my while claiming for on insurance. This is the first bump on my car and means that I will probably now never sell it as it will be yet another depreciation and so will have it for the rest of my life: therefore a turning point. Not necessarily a bad one, just a deciding moment. We got into bed and I discovered that, through some incomprehensible act of i-photo I have lost the pictures of X's first day at school. I am determined to be as sanguine as X was about the balloon: the first day was nothing special in itself, it is only because I am sentimental about pictures of my first day at school. In reality X looked better in the pictures of the first day at nursery, where she was in a sweet little uniform. Why spoil a lovely day, when the sun shone on golden autumn leaves, and we were with great company and Peppa found the treasure, just because a couple of bits of celluloid were lost?
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