Oh no, I'm fine. I've just got something in my eye.

Today is Eldest's last day at primary school. About an hour ago, a bunch of parents straggled away from the Leavers' Assembly, weeping and occasionally clutching at each other.

Emotions are running high. This morning, Eldest said "O!M!G!" about a hundred times whilst getting ready for the day.There will be tears before bedtime, and not all of them will be hers.

This summer we'll buy new uniform; but also we'll do craft, yoga, camping, cycling - all the usual things. There's still a summer, but both Eldest and I are in danger of forgetting that today.

In an odd twist of fate, we'll be needing the basement room this summer as an actual spare room, rather than a place where we file things away that we don't want to deal with. The last few weeks I've spent hours down there, shredding and tossing pieces of Eldest's childhood - three lever arch files full of Statements of Special Educational Needs, ten years' worth of physiotherapy and occupational therapy and speech therapy, including exercises for a tiny child who could be persuaded to reach in any direction as long as someone was blowing soap bubbles. I've kept precious paintings, some project work, school reports - but her primary school days are over, and I need to let go of them.

My basement is clear. We're in the moment. We're all so Zen over here.

This was my grandmother's doll's house; it's falling to bits, painted with who knows what kind of terrifying poisonous paint. When I was a child I called it the Haunted House. Sometimes I think of painstakingly restoring it and then I remember that a) I don't have the skills and b) I don't have the time.