Noise

We've trimmed the sails, stowed all things moveable, battened down the hatches and dropped anchor in readiness for the influx of five grandchildren under 10 this afternoon.

We're hoping that there will be no squalls of rain and we will be becalmed, although a light and variable wind would just be acceptable.

Having lived for countless years in a household full of children and noise, I am amazed how readily I have become used to silence and my own space.
 His Lordship is even more used to silence and his own space, so I predict he will be squirrelled away behind  'TheDoor' after the initial greeting.

I have requested the bringing of a ball so that the hyperactivity produced by the unhealthy consumption of E numbers and biscuits provided by an unsuitable grandmother can be worked off outside in a strenuous game of football, rather than in the confined space of the Dower House.

But the time will fly by in half finished conversations with their mothers conducted in the general hubbub of laughter and tears, and before we know it they will be gone, taking with them their enthusiasm and energy, leaving us to vacuum up the crumbs, plump up the cushions and miss them.

Notice seen on the window of a University Department facing Middle Meadow Walk