Once they were cooked, we sat by the window with a scone watching the rain come down and the birds flitting across the garden for juicy worms and the odd snail. We sat with our RSPB book and identified those we didn’t know.
And it was nice. So rarely, as a family, do we just sit and watch. I sipped hot, steaming tea as the boys flipped through the pages of the book. I listen to them talking between themselves.
‘No, it’s not that one. It’s got an orange beak.’
‘Maybe. I’m not sure though. These two look similar.’
‘Look! The pigeon! We don’t need to look him up!’
And as they continued their chatter the rain fell seamlessly into the edges of the day. The garden is waterlogged and the hens cower in the coop looking decidedly dejected.
The afternoon brought swimming – 3 boys splashing wholeheartedly in the water, their confidence growing as they dive under the water, twisting ‘like whales’ over and over.
We return with family, spending the afternoon with damp hair and warm clothes, sheltered from the rain that never relented.