It's cold and spitting with rain. I can see Owl is cold. His hands are rammed into his pockets. Neither he nor Apple are wearing coats. We are walking to the pedalos in Hyde Park. Dad is looking very ill. He is deathly white with blood spots on his face. He knows this is the last chance he has to be taken out on the pedalos. He has always loved the water and boats. The children know that is how it is for him. I'm chilly and I have my coat on and three warms layers as well. I understand the problem, but sitting in a pedalo without the sun shining isn't much fun. The boys are braver and less selfish than me. When Dad asks for a vote on who would like to go out, the boys raise their hands, and so does Dad. Peachy, I and Ma keep ours down. The vote is equally split. Dad sees sense and gives the queue as an excuse not to sit on choppy water under leaden skies. I am sorry and so is he.