It is deeply impressive
how far a small child can project vomit: the length of our stairs, splattering
walls and balusters. Having given up blogging, then restarted, I haven’t done
much since, despite many newsworthy events but details of yesterday evening’s
disagreeable disgorgement need sharing.
Gabrielle has one
daughter, Christina, who turns 26 next Wednesday. I don’t have children but
think I understand the basic concept: they’re like grown-ups, just smaller and
slightly less developed. Less developed, for example in that, feeling bile rising , young children are
less inclined to raise a hand to their mouth and remove themselves rapidly to a
bathroom; spontaneous expression is more their game.
We thought we’d give our
friends Mélanie and Bruno some precious time off running up to Christmas, and
take their delightful children out for the afternoon. The plan was to have a
look at the lights and decorations around town, help them buy presents for
their parents and have afternoon ‘tea’ (goûter).
We walked around cold streets, went into warm shops, drank hot chocolate and ate sticky cakes. We mixed that all together on a merry-go-round, drove them home, excited but tired and sat them in front of our warm wood stove.
We walked around cold streets, went into warm shops, drank hot chocolate and ate sticky cakes. We mixed that all together on a merry-go-round, drove them home, excited but tired and sat them in front of our warm wood stove.
Dad came to take them
home, elevated Jeanne onto the crook of his arm, giving her extra potential for
parabolic projection and then, with absolutely no warning … bluuaaaagh ! I feel that
it just added to the afternoon a realistic authenticity to the pleasure of having children.
Other-news-wise, we’ve had
gold-star* volunteer Andrew here and, with his help, the new gite now has stairs, front door
and window in and the building site is now closed until after the festivities.
During these works, I had a nasty encounter with an angle grinder, which
involved a dash to casualty and a visit to theatre, with my arm anaesthetised,
for a deep clean and stitch-up. The latest of our pigs have gone to slaughter
and we’ve made and ‘canned’ pâté for the first time as another way of storing
meat outside of the freezer. Details of these and other happenings very soon.
(* To qualify as a
‘gold-star’ volunteer, you should work as hard as a Roman galley slave flogged
with freshly-picked nettles, smiling throughout and keep coming back for more. Click for details of volunteering opportunities.)
