The Country Mice

After more than a dark week’s worth of sullen cloud and mould-inducing wet the sky’s single golden orb came out to play.

So too did a class of ten-year-olds.

In behind the fish hatchery where the Princess takes her classes on Mondays (yes, in a little decked-out room adjacent to the tanks of salmon-steaks-to-be; we’re into collaboration and co-operation on our little isle) is a flat! piece! of! land!

On this rocky Pacific outcrop, very few pieces of grass and bushy bits have the luxury of sinking their hairy little roots into anything more substantial that a couple of centimetres of earth.

These few acres of meadow are therefore a popular meeting place for dog walkers and equestrians — there’s even enough space for a white-fenced riding ring.

And on a sunny school day, what better place to refresh one’s lungs than with an impromptu mushroom hunt and soccer match.

And then, when the lunch hour is up, to follow the teacher — and her dog — back to the fish hatchery.

Fish, school… ahhh, I get it now!