Breath of fresh air

There can be only one route for a child who has spent the weekend forcibly locked inside the belly of the Royal Albert Hall being delivered an intensive dose of religious nineteenth century choral culture. It's to get outside into the open air as quickly as possible.

The semi-feral child wolves can here breathe again, then go off to satisfy their juvenile animal urges, i.e. think up improper uses for several varieties of grass, consider how the physical properties of trees might be employed to no good purpose, upset the inhabitants of bushes, ponds, trees and rocks, and wonder whether in the next life it would be a good idea to live as a sheep.

Enjoy, my children. The good news is, you don't have to grow out of the urges.