Another day goes by

The weekend saw the first 'friendly' football match for 2b and his team. Being forever the dutiful Mother I had forsaken the enticing clear blue pool that beckoned to me on a hot Autumn day and trotted along with The Small Cross One. We found a spot in the shade and were joined by friends. She pulled out a bag of pains au chocolat and I squinted at the mass of enormous brutes frantically running up and down and swearing wildly as though their lives depended on it. From where I sat playing with my camera it was just a game of football. When 2b went to take a corner and I took up the pose to take the shot of all shot's I was hissed at to sit down. 'You think Victoria Beckham keeps taking pictures of David' The Small Cross One said between mouthfuls. 'I'm his Mother' I hissed right back. Really and honestly.

This morning started off incredibly well insofar as it was promising to be another scorcher and the guests had left early for the market in the medieval town of Mirepoix. My scheduling of 'tasks' were falling nicely into place, in my mind at any rate. I ambled down into the garden and picked a ripe juicy fig. I was idly minding my own business and lazily flicking a few leaves out of the pool when suddenly a small furious looking dog launched itself towards me growling furiously. I wouldn't dream of repeating what I was thinking but the two words pit bull had certainly managed to lodge themselves into my subconscious whilst in a two way sort of conversation with my delightful Spanish guests. It seemed to think the net was some sort of toy but once that kill was over it was eyeing up my ankles. Thinking that the guests must all be out and had left their gentle doggie to house sit I may well have let my demur slip. The option of throwing myself into the pool was looking a good one. Suddenly Grandma came charging out of the house, sturdy arms waving frantically and issuing forth expletives in rapid Spanish. My grimace hastily turned into a smile and I beat a hasty retreat and wondered if my pulse rate was normal.

Meanwhile an unperturbed Grandma busied herself in the kitchen, and having taken total control of the Aga on arrival, required an enormous Paella dish with which to rustle up lunch for 14. There was a huge pan of fresh prawns boiling away and a phenomenal pile of fresh bread. I heaved the largest copper pan you ever did see right off the top shelf of the kitchen whilst pit bull continued to eye up my ankles longingly adopting the 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' pose. I suppose I might be being slightly unfair here, the wee doggie probably just wanted to lick them slavishly.

Finally I flopped down in the sanctuary of myspace and glanced at the clock. It was lunchtime and I had achieved precisely nothing yet felt exhausted.


PS. I've just had the sudden realization that pit bull might have been bull dog but I can hardly go and take a close inspection now can I ?