The daffs are out

Delivered back to nursery the large loose-limbed teddy bear with his duffle bag of clothing changes that was N’s and everyone’s constant companion throughout the weekend. The nursery mascot. Photographs of him posed on the bar at Chapter, by the swirling Taff, on the approach to the Castle, against a bank of daffodils, and in the museum cafe eyeing a plastic tub of orange jelly. N unwilling to grace these pics with even a glimpse of her face let alone a wish-you-were-here grin. 

A narrative supplied for the little fellow’s diary, with pictures pasted in, along the lines of earlier weekend narratives written there by previous weekend foster families.  

In the evening a delicious dinner then a tummy-full return upstairs to confront the beast. The wardrobe beast. Completed the assembly of one whole glass and aluminium sliding door before packing it in for the day.


The daffs are out

in swathes. Only one word does them justice:


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