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 ?

Comments

Un Peu Loufoque said…
darling if you had only asked I would have popped my giant paella pan down to you !!!

what a trial of a day !!
Pondside said…
Rustling up dinner for 14 doesn't sound very holiday-like to me!! I guess we should all have a Spanish grandma on holiday with us.
Fresh figs, swimming pool and heat - it all sounds like heaven.
I mostly got away with standing and watching football games in the cold.

I hate cooking so dinner for 14 is pure torture.

As for the dog you can be forgiven not knowing which breed was eyeing up your ankles.
ChrisH said…
Oh thank goodness I didn't have boys (Stepsons are past the watching on sidlines stage - hurray!). Would have opted for the pool everytime... and would have opted for pool when faced by hungry dog slavering at ankles. You get a 'Brave Blogger award' if there is one (and there probably is).
Suffolkmum said…
I bet Mrs Bekham takes pics of her boys playing though! Yes, I think a Spanish grandma rustling up dinner for fourteen would be just the thing.
Anonymous said…
Jolly glad someone still uses those old coppers - but think of the polishing!
lampworkbeader said…
Couldn't you have just dropped the big pan accidently on
pit bull/bull dog. If it wasn't stunned the crash would have scared it away.
annakarenin said…
Ha ha we are actually having some decent weather here too. Hubs did pealla for our anniversary this year it was yum and thankfully for the mo none of my boys plays football or rugby because on the one occasion I watched Mike(hubs)play it was far too b***** cold. Thankfully he went off injured for the first time in 8 or more years of playing so would never let me watch him again.
Sally's Chateau said…
Ah yes anonymous huge old copper pans, they look so good in my French country kitchen but it's finding the time to polish them !! I'm cooking for tonights guests, divine little lamb chops slightly pink, a delicate onion sauce, pommes de terre persillées, plump fresh raspberries and meringues.... washed down with some merlot from Le Fort I guess, oh well someone has to do it eh ?
Un Peu Loufoque said…
oh dear you sound as if you might need some extra staff !! Shall I send Madame Grogonne down she is awfully good with copper bottoms...
Inthemud said…
Pit Bull, Bull Dog, when it's charging to wards you with teeth, who's to know!

Good for you watching the football.
Least the weather is good !
Grouse said…
Ah!...remember well the hour upon hour of being gently steam-cooked on poolsides across the UK whilst son and daughter competed....and have endless photos of water-droplets as I tried to catch them flashing past......

Please do ask Grandma whether she would fancy a week in the Peak District...(Major Ratter would soon deal with the dog..)
ChrisH said…
Hi Sally, if you click on Tom Tomos on my links it takes you to his website. You'll have to pick your way through the empty wine glasses and Japanese rice crackers left by the drunkards, sorry, artists, on Saturday.
So why didn't you just drop the paella pan over little dog ...that would have been good for a laugh...would have saved your ankles as well..but may have ended diplomatic relations with Spain!
Anonymous said…
Boil the dog not the shrimp (nod to Dickens there), nothing better than a paella de perro, methinks

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