The Children’s Entertainer smiles brightly.
“And does your granddad still do that?”
“No. He’s dead.”
There is a short pause whilst the Children’s Entertainer processes this information. “Shall we do the Hokey Cokey now?” she concedes.
I turn to the Chipper Barman, who has the face of a man who would rather be in the Village Pub. “Did you ever consider Children’s Entertaining as a career?” I ask.
His detailed reply is cut short by the approach of one of the Village Young Mums. “We saw you going for a run the other day,” she offers, clearly impressed by my sporting athletic prowess.
I shoot her one of my best wolfish FILFy smiles. “I…”
“We did wave, but you didn’t wave back. I’m not sure that you could lift your own arm.”
I am crushed by this, and it renews my determination to get my body back to its previous tempicular state. Somebody approaches with left-overs; I take a hot dog and a slice of pizza. It will not be easy, but it will be worth it.
A small child approaches and grabs the Chipper Barman.
“These are our Saturday afternoons now,” I call after him, as he gets pulled away screaming into a swirling morass of children.