So, just then we were talking about how you can be having such a good time that you forget to take any photos. (Yes. I know it was a fortnight ago. But time travels faster as you age, and I defend my right to refer to June 19 as 'just then'.)
At the weekend we spent three glorious days and nights at the Beyond the Border storytelling festival and I left my camera in the tent almost the whole time. No, hang on. Wait. I think I have a picture of a massive big bird on fire around here somewhere.
Just excuse me whilst I rummage around for it.
We came home all full of stories, of stories and circus and shadow
theatre and music and sunshine. Our heads are crammed with macabre finds
in castles, tightrope walks, princes setting out on quests, pumpkin
giants, gnomes in cellars, talking fish, magic swords and homosexual
foot fetishists (homosexual foot fetishists! I know! don't worry - the
guy had a really thick accent so the kids couldn't understand it).
Also I have the obligatory blogger's photo of my feet. I know these
images are important to bloggers, so I took one, before the foot fetishist thing even happened so it didn't seem at all ironic at the time. These are my feet, and Eldest's
arm, listening to Nick Hennessey playing harp in the sunshine, and thinking that everything was all right with the world.
I've spent the day washing the mud off our clothes and trying to hold on to that feeling.
*Thanks for the post title, Britney.