The apartment opens to a small private garden, which unfolds into a huge community garden, enclosed by Georgian terraces. It is a ten minute walk around, with huge plane trees, a playground and landscaped shrubberies. And a squirrel!
As we walked around, Hughie kicking his three euro irish foam soccer ball, we came across a group of kids playing football. Hugh introduced himself - with help - and it was game on. I have been delighted by the way Hugh has made soccer friends everywhere we have been. It has been striking for me, a shy, un-sporty boy, to see how the world opens up.
I watched the game and the girls set off to provision the apartment. These kids were good - it was a serious game and I was enjoying their enthusiasm. And the kids were delightful - praising Hugh's efforts, congratulating each other, stopping the game with very genuine concern when there was any injury. It is a beautiful game.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman approach, walk through the play. She paused - I thought she had dropped something - then unfolded a mat, took a book from her bag and plonked herself down in the middle of the game. It ground to a halt as a circle of kids formed round her to remonstrate. They were joined by a carer for one of the children, who tried to engage the woman, to no avail. Her unyielding view was first, that they were making too much noise, second that they were stopping her from working in the terrace adjacent and third, that the garden statutes specified that only children younger than ten could play there. Hughie and I were gobsmacked!
It was a protest! She was glued to her mat, cranky and inflexible. The kids tried everything - they knew her and this was a familiar game - and the carer tried reason. Nothing worked. In the end, with the carer's blessing, the game restarted and they played around her - literally.
Yes, she was mad, maybe sick mad, but it made a fascinating spectacle!
We'll go back tomorrow to see what happens.
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