A Bad Day at School

School has started. We have within walking distance of our flat two primary schools and an after-school play area. (This last is why the ice-cream truck comes by every day at 5 or so, even in the winter when it is dark and raining. I guess if British ice-cream trucks only circulated when it was nice out, they’d go out of business.) The children are of various sizes and wear brightly colored uniform sweaters.

When I walked past this morning at recess-time, one small boy was lying face-down on the asphalt with his face buried in his arms - the immediately recognizable pose of someone having a Very Bad Day. The other children pretty much ignored him until three little girls descended, patting him with apparent intention to comfort and then trying to roll him over by main force. This never helps.