Bouncy bouncy

When was the last time you got to play in a playground? I pass by them with a relatively high frequency, but it seems I rarely get the chance to play in them. Without a niece or nephew close to hand I'm warded off by the inevitable signs banning adults without an accompanying munchkin. I'd stand at the gates and stare forlornly at the fun to be had on the other side on the gates, but sadly society has labels for grown-ups who do that and I rather not be tagged as such.

But lo, for an all too brief time this morning my flat was transformed into a playground of sorts all over my very own. In lieu of swings and roundabouts and climbing frames I made do with a sudden surplus of sofas crammed into my living room. With little floorspace clear, crossing the room generally involved bouncing from one sofa to another and half the fun was plotting out the best (bounciest) route to take, whilst clambering over sofa after sofa. Unfortunately, in a rather poor piece of forward planning, I managed to wedge the fridge shut which made extracting milk from the fridge a rather vexing experience.

It didn't last for long, though. Old sofas are now gone and new sofas are in place just where I want them (and looking rather swish I might add). I'm entirely happy with the result, but thinking back to this morning I have to confess that I miss the absurd amount of clutter a little. I'm sure it would have worn thin after a while, but it was fun whilst it lasted. On the plus side though, at least I can get milk from the fridge again. Always a good thing that.