A year ahead of change. To a bathroom disintegrating at the seams, and single glazed kitchen windows which retain no heat.
Workmen and mess. But worth it in the end. For tiles and taps and solid feet. And warmth. In the coldest rooms of the house, where - when sub zero - we may regularly watch ourselves breathe.
The 5 year old, loathe to change, wishes not to trade our broken room for a deeper tub in which to play.
I remind him of a bathroom in another house. Where, a sometime guest, he lays bare feet on cool tiles, and cleans teeth by a shallow square sink. And a bath - free-standing and deep. Proportions befitting a whale shark to keep.
A boyhood holiday home, big and square. A hungry horse and new spring lambs - Mum and Dad and Papa and Gran.
A bathroom like here he agrees. This building he loves, which - these days - we should burst at the seams.
A farmhouse cottage built of stone - like home. With a new bath deep enough for any boy. To soak and to dream and to swim. To escape. From the world and from change. From growing too big. The common problem that childhood brings.
This year my boy wants nothing more than to stay the same. His people, his places, his 5 year old games... x