Life's a Beach

Today we took a school trip to the seafront. The teachers vacillated (somebody has to) and changed plans many times, due to competing weather reports. In the end, we came back for lunch as the school hall was the only guaranteed shade (apart from all those lovely trees by Lumps Fort) but the whole procedure took us so long, we were out for 4 hours anyway.
On the way, we met a man with a chicken which is allowed to roam free in his front garden, and another
man who was not paying attention to his sprinkler hosed us down liberally (which was actually nice on such a hot day).
We visited the model village which is possibly past its prime.
It is getting to "Last" things. I have only 4 days of school left, having graduated with a degree in Lego. Then it was my last Trampolining session. For a change, we went up the back stairs which is where Jof emerged once when lost (she can get lost on a motorway) and went through the cantinos di muerte (refectory) and along the sky-walkway past the giant indoor tennis courts. This brought us up the back end of the trampling room. There was no Poppy.
At picking-up time, I nipped out the back door before he'd seen me and it would have been a police childhunt alert if he hadn't guessed correctly where I'd absconded to. I now have a leash, picked out in yellow and green nylon from Pets'R'us.
The hot weather has forced a decision. For 18 years in the last house, we had a supremely productive compost heap at the end of the garden which provided compost that was so good you could practically eat it, although we generally ate the vast fruit and vegetables that grew in it. In this house, we have no garden, but thought we'd try mini-composting to fill up big plant pots and maybe grow a few daffodils and sweet peas. But this weather has made our giant funtub of festering plant matter (aka the bluebottle factory) into an open sewer of disgustimentos that you can smell from Aylesbury. So it had to be ladled into 6 different binbags and put out for the dustmen tomorrow, leaving a huge smell just when the estate agent was coming around to value the house. With a clothes peg attached to her nose, she did admit we'd made a slight profit on all our hard work.
Then I played Monopoly with Jof.