Elder son’s school friend has part in village production of Journey’s End, so we go off together to Village Hall to watch final performance. Son confides that friend popular with all the teachers because he does drama; discussion of son’s own popularity with teachers cut short, perhaps luckily, by Curtain Up. Find play almost unbearably poignant; friend plays keen young officer, very well, and am soon in predictable floods of tears.
Recognise younger son’s English teacher in audience, and introduce myself to him during interval. He looks at me, pauses, and remarks that son is very keen on cricket.
Cry even more in Acts 2 and 3, and am glad of lengthy ovation for chance to wipe smudged mascara before lights come back on. Son also moved (though in rather more dignified fashion than me). Walk home through the warm summer night and catch up on all the latest World Cup news.