A young man made my day yesterday. A very young man. I'd just given him a book for his third birthday (one by the incomparable Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler team) and he came up to me with his arms out, said 'cuddle' and gave me a bit wet sloppy kiss. I don't usually like big wet sloppy kisses, by the way, but that one was a high point of my day.
This evening has ben raw cold again. The snowman thawed enough for his carrot nose and mouth to fall off, then solidiifed into ice. In these extreme conditions another of my small friends came to the door (with his wind-up torch and his mum) to personally deliver a thank you letter for his fifth birthday present. I felt he was ready for the bear from darkest Peru, and he loves Mrs Bird because she looks after Paddington.
When I looked out half an hour later, the face was back on the snowman. Readers, in this village we are rearing the next generation of gentlemen.
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