Monday, 22 August 2011


We are wrapping up England. But we can't take it with us. We can transport only the words, We did that.

The kids wanted their friend Am to sleepover. We did that.

Am came round. The kids did what they wanted to do. They ran around, made pizza, played unicorns in the garden, watched a DVD, fooled about, freaked themselves by conjuring zombies in the dark, laughed long and hard, then at midnight Am laid down, exhausted, on the inflatable mattress in Tiger's room, and blew out like a light.

Her mum Jol came with her; she had a sleepover too. We're both mothers. We dressed in straps, heels, and stuff unwise, found ourselves a bistro, drank too much wine, laughed too loud, screamed in delight at the taboos we could break, said What the hell!, stayed out late, came home by taxi, giggled and tiptoed back into the house at 4am so as not to wake the kids.

We didn't. But I wanted to say, We did that.