To the school on Friday morning, to see Secundus and his class dressed as Greek gods, the culmination of a project on Greek mythology. Secundus is an eight-year-old Apollo -- type casting -- with a lyre that we made together from a small, gilded display easel found in the local art supply store and an old set of guitar strings. It is a sign of my pathetically non-misspent youth that I have no idea how to turn a bedsheet into a toga and had to resort to the internet for instructions.
The kids read us salient facts and then ask us to guess who they are. I get the obscure ones -- Iris, Orion -- but not, as I confess to the teacher, because I studied the previous evening, as requested. I just retain it from my passing childhood interest in the subject, which, along with heraldry, stage illusions, horror movies, typography, Lewis Carroll and many other totally nerdy obsessions, filled up my mind when other, normal British kids of my vintage were memorizing the line-ups of soccer teams.
Best costume (and one put together on the fly, because the family weren't expecting to be there): Cerberus, the three-headed hound of Hades, accomplished by a Scooby-Doo Halloween costume adorned with a dinosaur head on each shoulder.