Chariots of Fire, this is not.

Oh, what an interesting hour that was. At quarter past 12, I thought to myself, better go and pick up S from her sports activity. I couldn't find my house keys, so thought "Oh well, I'll only be a few minutes". I remembered I hadn't asked if I could borrow mum's car, but was confident she was home today, so ambled down with T to help myself.

But they were out.

So I jog-trotted back to the house with T in my arms, shovelled him into the pushchair and made a desperate search for the keys. Found them. The house clock said 12.25. My mobile said 12.20. I decided to believe my mobile. I needed to change my shoes as I was wearing my grown-up-woman boots, but decided I didn't have time. And the pain would teach me a lesson. :D Shut the window, put in a change of clothes for S, wondered where my twenty quid note had gone, decided M had probably nabbed it, grabbed my cards and was away.

My mobile said a few minutes had passed and looked scarily close to half past 12 (pick-up time). So off we went, attempting to do 3/4 of a mile in four minutes, the first leg of which was uphill. A steep hill. It started a light drizzle as we reached the top of the hill.

There's something very odd in being a woman running with a pushchair. You're conscious that you don't see it very often. T likes it, the wind in his hair, the need for speed! :D But my boots are really not suitable for such activities.

I was glad I had on my sports bra today. :D

I was the last parent there, but people were still leaving, so I wasn't radically late at least. I took her to her best friend's house to play from there. On the more leisurely walk home, it absolutely piddled down.

Ah well, it's me, T and the bubble machine this afternoon.

Bubble machines are great, I recommend them to all parents. :D