Spend the afternoon in the freezing cold a-perched upon the highest hill we have for miles around, watching Shark, Squirrel and Tiger tear downhill on their grand sledging adventures.
The damage cost is not high, considering the enthusiasm with which they throw themselves downhill. They only bust two plastic sledges out of the three. They recruited the pack Labrador to tow their stuff back uphill, which probably saved the third, and they conducted a sort of practical pioneering test by crawling up the 45-degree incline of the hill, back to the start line, supported only by a broken hazel stick which doubled as a not-very-good climbing iron.
(Okay, I tweaked one bit of that tale of the afternoon for dramatic effect. I did not stay for the full three-hour ice experience. After the first fifteen minutes I legged it to the safety and warmth of a nearby Village of the Damned, aka, Shopping Centre, where I spent two hours in Paperchase fondling pencils.)
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