The school run

Walking down the nearly trafficless road to the bridge, school children cross into my path, like flocks of brightly coloured birds.

A mother hen nervously shepherds her four green and yellow charges, wobbling and racing on bicycles down the road. Her red skirt too long and tight for cycling really. The job is not made easier by having two toddlers under her own wing, one before and the other aft on her sensible bike. She shouts fruitlessly as the ducklings chatter along ahead.

Next: a navy uniform, with long bright red legs, like a wading bird. Heard before being seen, her huge backpack is adorned with dozens of ornaments and soft toys on chains that ring and jangle as she runs.

A brother and sister kick a hazelnut down the pavement, scuffing their school shoes. Their father walks ahead, ignoring the time wasting antics, is surprised as they rush him all at once, grabbing his arms and swinging them.

Finally, just before the bridge, the regular sight of a tandem bike, the back seat lower than the front. Parent and child in perfect, silent synergy with crash hats and high visibility jackets.