1. Alec has a rotten cold and is being very stoical about it, but his attention span is even shorter than normal. He is starting to demand new entertainments. It occurs to me that he hasn't seen bubbles before. There's plenty of washing up liquid, and I hunt around for a suitable wand -- wire?... and then I remember using a drinking straw. It keeps Alec's attention from his suffering -- he surveys my efforts seriously and with heavy brows. If he could talk he would probably pronounce it "tolerable". I think he was copying my face -- it's hard to look delighted when you are concentrating on creating bubbles, even if you feel it.
2. "Look," says my mother to Alec. "Fairies." Dandelion seeds are flying, fragile aeronauts bobbing in the still hazy air.
3. Earlier today, I found my rainbow crystal in the garden (I have no idea how it got there. I suppose it must have got mixed up with my gardening box when we moved). I hung it on the washing line. When I come to do the early evening feed in the front room, there is a rainbow playing on the front door. It has come the length of the yard, through the french windows, through the kitchen, through the hall and right across the room.