The Oak

As the sun rises upon bonnie Bolton, the light tears through the cracks in the curtains, the grumble of bellies growl through the corridors.
The staff has sausages sizzling, sending the scent of warmth throughout the home.

The young people stir, stretching their arms above their head, toes pointing, morning breath spiralling in the air above them.

Staff smile, wishing them a good morning, asking if sleep had been kind to them. They smile in return, inhaling deeply asking for breakfast as they get ready for the day.

The hustle and bustle of a busy home starts, voices boom as all gather in the dining room, smacking their lips as breakfast is served.

Putting their thoughts and feelings together they decide to head to the allotment for the day, a day of graft in the fresh air.
The metal beast outside roars into action, the radio blare, and the chatter increases.

Pulling up, seeing the grass had grown, bramble bushes overlap. The imagination of the boys excel. they speak, discussing what plans they have.
They want a chicken hut, fresh eggs on demand, a shooting range for them to practice their armed skills safely, a caravan where they keep their tools and chilled drinks on those summer days. They set to work, team work prevails pushing and pulling the wheel barrow, flags lay flat as body bang on top to bed them in. Smiles are wide, manners are in full swing. One takes lead, others follow, communication is key.

The allotment takes shape, self-esteem is soaring, confidence booming, work ethnic seeping from every pore. Puffing and panting, they succeed in their self-set challenges.

As the day draws in, they sit in the car, slurping drinks, devouring warm pasties travelling back home, they speak of over flowing hot chocolates with the bobbing marshmallows, content smiles fill their faces as they rest their heads back for the journey home. A successful day at the Oak