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Afore ye go

The Boy has been enjoying that rarest things in a modern family: the undivided attention and company – for days – of both Mam and Dad.  We’ve built lego models, watched films, gone on trips, kicked footballs, met his mates, and generally ignored the outside world.  It’s been good for the soul, particularly ignoring the soul-destroying Labour leadership contest.

He goes on his hollybobs tomorrow.  Wellies, swimsuit, sandals and sun hats are all packed.  So too is every possible variation of waterproof clothing needed for a British Summer.  He’s raring to go.  With his grandparents, for Two Whole Sleeps, he’ll be building sandcastles, munching ice cream, and generally not doing as he’s told in the grand tradition of little kids everywhere.

We’ll miss him, none more than his Mam.

This, dear friends, is a cwtch.

Personal views of a wordsmithing, sartorialist, horn-playing, state school Oxonian dad, rugby ref, recovering politico, and fan of vintage tailoring, Ralph Lauren style, and sharp writing.

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