Smashed and trashed

It took the Boy two days at camp to sculpt and paint a clay model of a narrow-boat-on-the-canal-at-Watford. And it took his mother a mere fraction of a second to smash his masterpiece to smithereens. I dropped it. There were tears, oh yes - and the Boy shed a few, too. I have patched the bits of clay together again as best I can with glue.

A fair portion of the rest of the day was devoted to tidying up the garage. At some point (specifically, this point) our lives became overwhelmed by boxes. You'd have thought we'd have got a handle on it all by this time - or perhaps you know us quite well? Anyway, I have finished the job of flattening the empty packing boxes, and also the other myriad boxes that seem to come with any item we ever purchase. A whole carboot/trunkful of cardboard and paper has gone to be recycled. There are about a dozen unpacked boxes still, but they are mostly books and just waiting on us buying some bookcases (which will no doubt come in yet more boxes - just what we need!).