This time I mean it, the little horrors at Cutting sprout girls school. Motto, Homo sum; humani nihil a me alienum puto. Rough translation; Since I am human, nothing human can be alien to me. In this village it seems so apt sometimes but even though this is my old school (now I think of it I don't remember ever turning up) I still find Mr Misery completly alien to me as he storm through the scout jamboriee shouting " This is debauched, so debauched I can hardly speak!" and the tears roll down their little faces.
Now I should'nt have been the one being carried off the field by the W.I ladies first aid but the way the swing those rackets. As I recuperated later in hospital I turned my head ( with great pain) towards Moony (eating my grapes, no surprise) and asked if we had been like that as young girls. She sighed stubbed out her ciggy before matron saw it and her eyes clouded over with memories. After a few moments she shock her head and said dryly "You were'nt." and then a moment later "Your late husband liked sporting girls, Harlot Harley was a member of the hockey club ." Moony poor demented creature that she is seems to see some kind of similarity between my beloved Woger, as he introduced himself that fateful night in 1922, the moon was full the stars were out cest la vie, and Harlots hubby Roger. But of course she's wrong my poor dear I hope he has'nt run out of sandwiches, glad I packed extra always aware of how lengthy commutes are . Ahh wel next year its her turn to keep an eye on the little "Darlings"