Just before I begin-I must write a ‘note to self’ and it is thus: do not forget about quiche in oven. No doubt I shall get carried away blogging, and end up burning it. And the hungry boys need their quiche. Yep, I’m still at it, baking away, feeding the 7 people here who are eating like anteaters in an ants’ nest. Any way I shall continue bloggin till I see flames…
|I am BAD...|
|1, 2, 3…Ahhhhhhh |
Welll yeasterday I went to a friend’s for ‘Gouter’ the French Gouter/snack is around 4 pm every afternoon, and we have been invited to attend their festive four o’clock snack traditions a few times. My friend who gave me the chickens, and who we will be getting the ducks from next week , quack quack (TOO excited!), invited us. Her entire family are there, aunts, uncles, mother, great aunt, sister, they were all there, and us. The ‘we’re not inviting them for gouter again Frederique’ brigade, en mass. It went surprisingly well, I stood and made them all pancakes for 2 hours, and all the various kids played and fell over, fought, laughed cried and spat (not mine, mine are not spitters, thank the Lord up above, the seas down below and welly boots for their ‘practicalness’). Her mum was wonderful, but was obviously having ‘bogey ‘ issues. It went from having a little pick, a blow and a snort, to full on snorting and that revolting back of throat coughing to gagging noise as she swallowed and regurgitated god only knows what. Vile, quite frankly, and thoroughly uneccessary in public. I was gaily chatting away flipping pancakes and lightly sprinkling sugar please with my friend, but just was so stunned by the snorting old lady behind me, finally my friend looks round and tells her mum ‘er now come on…I know you’re old, but, nonetheless’…her mum scowls and mutters something like ‘silly b*tch’ under her breath…asides that, it was a thoroughly merry occasion, what fun was had by all!
Oh, I said it went oh so well, but I was forgetting the initial conversation, or my one way conversation upon arrival. My friend’s mum says to me that the kids are good kids, I obviously keep them in line well (ha, we all know better, but I’m going with it..) then she hits me with, quite honestly hearing it was like being walloped in the face with a rubber glove full of omlette by a human sized badger (which are now extinct, sad), unexpected, and not nice, ‘do u whack ‘em? That sorts them out I bet’ she says ..Errr, hello?? We don’t live in the Bible, love. And I thus launched into a huge great long spiel about using physical authority on a small child, in my eyes is completely unnecessary, not to mention violent, damaging and reaps what it sows…also I have seen some ‘no, Eric, we do not hit’ *smack*, thus teaching Eric what?? But in France, smacking your children is still openly practised and not illegal. I chewed this poor old grandma’s ear off for a good 15 minutes, she was semi-closing her glazed eyes by half way, but I battle on, her head on her hand jolting from time to time as she dozes off with boredom. I imagine she pleaded with my friend after we left to never let us back. Yet another house where we have ruled out being invited ever again as long as they live and breathe on the same planet…she gave me 3 goose eggs as punishment!…check em out...
|Ouch, nice work geese...|
Oh f*** and b******* and s***, you know what I’ve just done don’t you…? Yep, burned the bloody quiche. Fook’s sake man. Right, off to burn insense to disguise the burning smell, and bake, again…NIGELLAAAAA!!!
See ya tomorrow,