Squizz has been working away (well, he's had his minions working away) to bring you two new online games, take a look at;

• Sonic the Hedgehog
• PacMan

Have fun!

“It’s your own fault, David. After all, if you’d let her sit and watch it on the TV with you, she’d have got it out of her system by now and we wouldn’t have this problem.”

    My mother’s lips parted thinly in a knowing, told-you-so smile. “You’ll just have to take her with you.”

    “Fine. Then I will.”
   
    My father, the eternal martyr, dejected, beaten again by my mother’s logic and calm.

Emma lay on the bed wondering when someone would come. She moved slightly from one side to the other but, whichever way she turned, her arms soon became prickling stumps of pins and needles. She realised now that she shouldn't have refused the Happy Meal she'd been offered. She hadn't thought at the time how hungry or thirsty she was, only how insulting it had been - a girl of her age being offered a child's meal. Now, what felt like hours later, she longed for the clammy, sticky sweetness of the cola drink and the reassuring blandness of the burger meal. She could smell the spilt cola in the room, mingling with the smell of sweat coming off the sheets in the July heat. It was the first day of the school holidays and Emma knew she was being punished.

He dislikes lying to matron. She is, after all, a decent enough person. But if he told her the truth, she would never let him come here. Not that she knows where he really goes. If she knew the truth, she would probably force him to join in more of the activities at the nursing home. He thinks activities a strange choice of word when the home has neither gym, snooker table or football pitch. It only really has a dimly-lit television lounge, a large, light sitting room filled with green high-backed chairs and another activities area with card tables and board games. Bill spends his time meandering between these three rooms in the daytime, sitting for a while, watching and listening, before he moves on. He does this every day unless the weather is fine. Then, if it is warm enough, he likes to sit on a bench in the garden. He chooses one halfway across the lawn under some birch trees. He sits and listens to the sound of the leaves rustling overhead and the wood pigeon's occasional plaintive call.

I am looking forward to stretching my legs. One of the good things about Heathrow is that they insist on you walking miles to passport control and baggage collection after a flight. Strangely, I find this walk one of the most enjoyable parts of any journey involving a flight. It allows me to people-watch at my leisure, as the plane empties and everyone makes their own distinctive way to customs and the baggage hall.