Sometimes I moan about it, sometimes I rant and GRRRR and roll my eyes, but actually, I love it when it’s my turn to wash my son’s rugby team kit.
Little shirts drying in the autumn sunshine: All those hopes and dreams embedded in the fibres, fluttering in the breeze.
Those clean little shirts all folded up neatly, ready for the next battle of wills.
And once again they will run run run through mud and rain and opponent. Battling away together on the pitch; fierce friends off it.
Long may his love of sport continue!
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