Making a meal out of a maggot.

“Excuse me, I am sorry, but would you mind very much serving me before I have a cardiac arrest, or walk out and leave you to adopt my four kids” I gesticulate, arm flailing around demonstrating the numerous infants trapped in the waiting room corridor, with but 2 chairs and a toilet for entertainment, as I waited to see the ear specialist. My ‘challenge all the limits and beyond’ toddler is up to her tricks. She has discovered the loo roll, and does her deranged Andrex puppy trick, de-papering the roll. Monty, bless him, is doing his responsible role, he must sense at such a young age that mummy always needs help, medical help even…! But help, nonetheless, for a broken mummy, and he assists Esmie in re-rolling the de-rolled paper rolls. I would like to hear Jonathon Ross say that sentence. Mitzi is sat upside down on chair practicing her alphabet, which would have been cute, were it not for the fact that her and Lola were trying to ‘burp’ it. The burping alphabet. Nice. Es kicks off when a lady shuts door of toilet, ushering her out (nicely) and in all fairness, why would she want someone else’s child in the waiting room toilet with her? I am semi ‘on them’ but having to listen carefully to the extraordinarily complicated instructions as to the medical procedure Mitzi would be undergoing, what to do, what not to do, who to ring, what to eat, what not to wear. It’s only grommets for god’s sake. Typical French making a meal out of a maggot (is that a real live saying?). So there we go, that was how Tuesday after school went.

Wednesday was hot, 23 degrees, chilly-ish wind, but full blown summer for England! For France, it was a mild day! So we hit the beach, running and screaming and losing the dog, who ran off after a boy-dog, and would not stop trying to ‘mount’ him. So we had no choice but to tie him up on a log next to us, by his paws. Really, Oliver, too gay. I find loads of drift wood (you're driftwood floating on the water...dar di doo di dooo dooo dooo dooo, always, that Travis song haunts me whenever I am at the beach), huge great big bits of it, and bat my eyelids at Alex, yes, bat, rather than flutter, as the wind was making my face scrunch a bit, and my eyes blink hard and frequently in truth anyway. He sees the tree stumps, and concedes…three trips it takes him to get from the small driftwood forest I have collected and ferry them to the car parked over the back of beyond. My own personal Hulk. It’s very handy for my crazy projects. It’s all to do with me restarting my hobby, art. And I am now well equipped with wooden subjects for my muse.  Watch this space…! I also decided, foolishly, and man am I suffering the after effects now, to display my secret gymnastics’ antics to the kids and Alex on the beach. Sprinting like a mental woman, with all the grace of a 'wasted' Ostrich, leg up, and throwing myself into a full-on cartwheel, legs outstretched taking the will of all my life was worth, and triumphantly land on my feet. *Self-applauds*. Nice, I’ve still got it-I am planning the print I would like on my leotard for competitive events…

We bought some lovely Spring flowers to pot, and had great fun chucking the mud at each other rather than potting the flowers, I really enjoyed having mud thrown in my hair, no really…So it’s time for a bath, de-tense my aching strained thigh muscles, courtesy of cavorting cartwheel antics earlier today. (Bit of alliteration there, my old English teacher would be impressed).