V

Nancy has turned five. In some style. I'm sure my yearly June post restates my own shock that our daughter is X many years old and that it is frankly indecent. And my initial urge is to do much the same here as it does remain totally bonkers. It is made all the more bonkers by the fact she spend some of Sunday riding a horse. A ridiculous preposterous horse called Ruby which made Nancy so gloriously happy it makes one combust with paternal joy to recall it for even a second.

That said it did take some rather serious cajoling to get her to mount her trusty ride, but after some highly skilled good cop, bad cop from her parents (having explained what good cop, bad cop was to Nancy) she was lead round the enclosure by one of those odd manboys with squeaky voices that only ever seem to found in the Essex hinterland. But squeakiness aside, he was stellar. Watching Nancy trot around the arena on a small pig disguised as a pony was delirious lovely. The photos below attest to her glory.

Indeed, it has gone some of the way to lighten the darkness cast by more recent events. And regardless of our own jaundiced discourse, Nancy is thrilled by difference, having asked Maddy to learn Arabic on her day at home, told us all about the call to prayer and is generally fascinated by all things. Which is the perfect antidote to all else.

And, God willing, by the next blog post she will have fully mastered cycling adding another form of locomotion to her repertoire. Joy.