Friday, May 23, 2014

To do, my girl and chef's salad.

1. Now that I've told the other mothers that I'm going to work on my course this afternoon, I've got to.

2. "I want to show you something. Look at the table. Look at the rocket. There, now look at both. That."
That is a girl from pre-school who Alec often talks about.
"She's my girl," he says with warmth in his voice.
I look away because I don't want him to see me laughing. I meet the eyes of one of the staff.
"What? What did he say?"
"She's my girl," I reply.
"No," Alec interrupts, "She's not your girl, I said she's MY girl."

3. When I come down I find Nick eating his supper and looking very proud and pleased with himself. Instead of his usual cheese and biscuits he is enjoying a salad he has made out of leftover pasta, some sausage and the last of the lettuce.

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