We’ve got some house martins underneath our eves. It’s that time of the year when eggs that have become chicks get that one chance to learn to fly.
My son, Ben, visited his school this week. He starts nursery there in September. He’s full of enthusiasm and could have started at Easter but we didn’t think he was ready.
I’ve scraped up five house martin chicks in two days. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
It’s easy to see when something physically dies. It’s less easy to see confidence shattered, an internal fire put out, inquisitiveness squashed.
It’s not easy being a parent or a teacher. Remember Icarus? It works both ways.
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