Scrapes & cakes & karaoke

I just heard the voice of an angel! A 9 year old angel singing at a street party on a karaoke machine whitney houston:- iiiiiiiiiiiii-iiiii-iiiiiiiiiiiii-Will Always Love youuuuuuuuuu!
We all thought it was the record - Get that cheese off! And then saw this little girl standing stiff as a board, except for her vocals warbling away, like a 9 year old whitney. Unfortunately no one wanted to follow in her footsteps so she did 6 songs in a row. and then definitely no one wanted to pick up the mike... so she sang on, and on and on..... And then Mol said. But mum, I can sing really well too. i'd sing baa-baa-black-sheep. (yes dear, that would really get the crowd roaring for more...)
Anyway. So we were on our way to a local street party (with home made bunting and real tressle tables loaded with slightly melting cakes and 3litre bottles of sprite and popcorn scattered everywhere and a dog eating everything it could (its owner looking anxiously as it scoffed another plate of jelly...It'll do a fucking massive shit later, she said eloquently...) as small children covered in chocolate and sand dropped more chicken bones on the road, and this kid singing karaoke way too well, plus a raffle - I won a candle! - all wholesome goodness) and Mol in her haste to get her face painted as (another) butterfly was running down our road which is a bit like a not-quite-as-steep-ski-jump-run-up and she totally wiped out.
Sharp intake of breath. Short pause. Mol flat on stomach on filthy pavement, her head near someones gate-post (probably covered in dog-pee) legs and arms a-kim-bo. Deluded I take my time heading down because the pause leads me to believe no damage done! Ha STUPID Mothers Ruin! The Pause is the dramatic effect kids like to embelish - post pause, its all lung space to the deck and out comes a blood curdling ROAR - windows shattering, old ladies running for cover (its another doodle-bug dear), people on mobile phones up in the Virgin 1st Class Cabin wonder what the interference is?
I scrape Mol off the stinking pavement and there, officially, is a nasty graze on the knee. It re-opened an older wound too. Oh bad luck old chap. Come on, lets go find the face-paint.
Liz tries to touch the gushing scrape. Mol recoils and screams some more. (Lace curtains twitch on the street...) And I wonder whether to abandon the whole trip out...
Meanwhile Husband on Fathers Day, fair-do I guess, took himself off to watch men in white pads chuck balls very fast at each other and run to-and-fro to earn points (But why do they run back and back again all the time Mummy? Excellent question Mol).
I even accept defeat in the tiredness test.
If anyone out there is interested, the spot which was so volcanic last week has quietened down. Having scabbed over on Thurs/Fri, the weekend has been a joyous time of picking very slowly at the scab to reveal the new and a bit pink skin below.
Skin review: clear for the next couple of days, possible smatterings later on in the week.