Zoltan Vinaigre, inventor of the Adjustable Wench

Ode à toilette

I'm sitting in the same old park with last week's dejà vues ♫
It's the same old curly slide whether I win or lose   ♪♪

Too young to wipe my mind with a glass of deja booze ♫

I've got the seen-it-all-before dejà blues   ♪♪
But all this can be changed by the addition of one football. After I'd shown Bud and Jof my new school playground game of "Coconut Crack" (they were both highly suspicious until they discovered it was much like Eenie Meenie Minie Mo) we arrived at a typically buzzing park by scooter. Ben arrived by bike. The JBs arrived on foot: thus we were all differently abled in speed terms and the races we tried didn't work out. Next time it must be all-bike. Ben and I did explore the rest of the park on our wheels but eventually the football won out and we started.

Unfortunately so did everybody else: we gained a pair of Junior schoolers, a little kid with a black face who was far too good, and Ethan who goes to school with the JBs. Also we were honoured by armies of kids of various sizes who wandered in and out: this made keeping track of teams and refereeing and red cards and scores was a challenge. By the time hometime was eventually called after 530, the score was in the region of 28-25 and we'd pretty well all had damages and huffs and chocolate mini-rolls. But I'd never do without my Wednesday park.
At home I helped unload a second batch of wood from Elizabeths' front garden: it's quite naily but I'm highly qualified so it wasn't waily naily. I continued to design and draw invitations to the pretend Easter party in my head. When I finally realise it's all in my head, I may in fact go mad.