It’s winter in Wanstead. Clouds hang low and grey; it’s cold enough to threaten snow.
We layer the kids in quilted jackets, hats and gloves, until they look like inflated dolls. Their pink faces glowing, we hit the park.
Not even the cold link chains of the swings can deter their play.
Kids’ warm breath streams in the frosty morning air as they run, whilst their parents shiver and stamp their feet like petulant children. Even the see-saw’s creak sings an icy refrain.
The skies open. Children laugh as they dodge “raindrops as big as acorns!”
It’s time for home.