When we got outside, the wind had subsided (a bit, not enough), and we met our friends at the playground. The kids ran off together to dig a giant hole in a sand pit, a task which occupied them for over an hour, while the adults gathered around a wooden table and pretended it wasn’t too cold to be sitting down outside.
“Beer?” my mate asked, placing a bag for a life full of bottles on the table.
“Sure.”
Despite being unable to feel my hands, it turned into an enjoyable afternoon and the bag of booze served as an impromptu (necessary) pre-drinking session before the family disco. Last year, Jacob scurried off and I momentarily lost him, pacing around the packed dancefloor, heart pounding, until Louise found him underneath a table. She did not need to report my ineptitude back to her WhatsApp group as it had been witnessed, IRL, by all members.