…used to be Wednesdays were as simple as double French in the mornings, triple English in the afternoons and just a bit of maths in the middle to be endured.
I’m sure it seemed much more complicated at the time. And I remember curling tongs having a significance beyond just ‘did I remember to turn them off’. But from here even the eternal embarrassment of being the fifteen year old ThirdCat doesn’t seem so bad.
Still, it’s nearly Easter. Eggs to be eaten, fish to be caught, beaches to be walked. It looks like the sun will be out, and at night, the glorious moon.