Pointy end up

The other day, the grandchildren were getting a bit wild and woolly so we went out into the garden and I set up an obstacle course. It wasn't a very difficult one - we are not, in our family, naturally athletic - but the children enjoyed it and it worked off some of their energy. My part consisted of sitting on a garden chair holding a skipping rope which was tied to a bench - jumping over the rope was part of the course.

I was congratulating myself on the success of this until Grandson said to me, "Now I'll sit on the chair and you run round the course, Granny." How could I refuse? I discovered, however, that this variant of the game wasn't quite as restful ... .

In other news... in what used to be our son's bedroom is this little door. It leads into the eaves, where the pump for the central heating is, and it only gets opened when the heating's being serviced. I was very surprised, the other day, to open it and find, lying on the floor inside: eight towels, one facecloth and some children's books.

Thus.

We couldn't think how they had come there, but it explained why I had felt some time ago that we had surprisingly fewer towels than I had thought; and bought some more.

None of the family could think of an explanation. We wondered if the culprit could be a gas engineer, but... why would he seek out some perfectly good towels to lie on when he serviced the pump?

Then Mr Life remembered the family who came to stay in our house to catsit nearly three years ago. They had two children of about 7 and 9, and the boy slept in our son's bedroom. He must have made a little den for himself in there. Problem solved! (we assume).

That doesn't, however, explain this note, in my handwriting, which I found the other day under a pile of documents when I tidied my desk. But Daughter 2 says it's generally good advice, so I think we'll have to leave it at that.