Peculiar people around here. Last night at about 10 o’clock we got a potato thrown through the small window above our front door. Said potato then proceeded to smash one of the panes of glass in the interior door as well. I’d like to think that whoever threw it realised we had just run out of potatoes and was feeling generous. Could have put it through the letter box though...
Huw and Manuela and little Morgan (he’s a child not just small) have just left after coming over for tea and cake, a very nice cake at that from Monica’s Danish cookbook. Very tasty it was too. We don’t get many day time visitors out here so it was really nice to have them pop over for a bit and we all sat admiring the garden in the sunshine. I think that I shall have to bake another cake because it is Rhysaurus’ birthday tomorrow and we are going to the beach to play cricket and everyone knows you need cake to play cricket. I hope everyone knows this otherwise there will be a lot of people wanting cake but not many eating cake. Let them eat bread, I suppose. It is also another good excuse to break out the picnic hamper and use it in anger.
Our new bird has still not got a name although we are considering Malcolm or Marlowe. I suggested Poo Tube but that was not on the shortlist after the judges had finished their deliberations. Should have helped them come to the right conclusion by baking them a cake as well.
Rhys has left two long and rambling messages on the answer phone this afternoon, about the forthcoming cricket and something about Portugal, music and publishers. It all sounds exciting, so when I know more I’ll let you know so that you can feel included.
2 comments:
So what happened to Stephen Fry? We're you concerned that by naming the bird after an over-achiever you might give it a complex if it doesn't reach his high standards of erudite output?
He'd probably bugger off to hide in Belgium after performing his first trick.
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