Day off

Booked the griblets into build-your-own-robot session at the British Museum, then they called to say it had been cancelled.

Suddenly offered a day without their mother, the British Museum, Samsung, or a robot kicking off and making pointless demands of them, Shark, Squirrel and Tiger disappear to amuse themselves with teenage stuff, probably play the horse game that I see has now taken over their young developing brains.

I don't over-scrutinise their online time but, driven by a vague idea about parental responsibility, I ask what it is for, this horse game.

I am answered by a stare that mixes bewilderment with pity. How can I ask such a stupid question? I slope off. Maybe if it involves developing strategies for buying and selling horses it will come in handy one day when they're involved in high finance, or trying to reach rock-bottom price on a used battery down the local car boot trading floor.

I have my monthly craft stall coming up anyway, so am quietly grateful. I can blame Samsung, say typical of the British Museum, ignore the griblets, and spend my time stitching delightful new confections to lay before the feet of my customers; the bizarre, the bold, and the beautiful.