Dogs no longer frighten Boy One. For years his typical AS aversion to unpredictable, noisy, messy mutts made visits with canine cousin Pinto the Dog a little trying. It was a joy to see him puffed with pride as he walked P the D back down the hill.
You’re never too young to know that there’s no place like home. Boy Three, fresh from charming West Yorkshire and scooting laps round Granny’s kitchen in his super look-what-we-found-in-the-garage wheels, settled into his own cot with a wiggle, a smile of recognition and a deep sigh.
The old rhyme “there was a little girl and she had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead” was surely written for Boy Two – apart, obviously, from the girl bit and the curls.