Colours in the grey

It’s raining (again), and grey, and it’s just the two of us. I’m not inspired to go far and he is reluctant to leave the house. A six year old, leaping at increasing speed backwards and forwards across a confined living room, via the medium of cushions, is the tipping point which suggests that we need to escape our four walls.

Boots on and armed with a scooter, we head to our favourite cafe (different from ‘my’ favourite cafe). We like a window seat and the games that are piled up on a small table by the door. Hot chocolate, toasted tea cakes and fries, which I figure is carbs plus fruit and that makes a balanced late lunch.

On the walk between here and there, to brighten the grey and cancel out the drizzle we find colours. Shouting; “red”, “yellow”, “pink” cheers the soul on a rainy day and is a focus beyond the cold and damp. Best spot is the winner. I spot obvious flowers. He spots, less obvious, cables on motorbikes.

Winner gets first dips on the fries. Having the appetite of a small dormouse, he takes the first chip/fry and waves it around in one hand, while emphatically explaining something that happened at school or in a cartoon. Half listening, I remind myself; must. not. eat. all. the. fries. ‘Wolfing’ all the fries is easily done. He still hasn’t eaten his first one.

Eventually, fries eaten, games played, tea cakes consumed. We amble home, less bothered by the rain or finding colours.








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