To the garden centre for Greenies. Cut into seven or eight slices a Greenie can keep Bob quiet for twenty minutes. At the rugby stadium he settles down on the bleacher next to me, head on my knee. That imploring ' could I just have some now ? ' look. His tail wags like a metronome on steroids. The thwack-thwack-thwack loud enough to make the father and son two rows ahead of us turn round to see what the noise is. At half time the young Sapeur Pompier and the Gendarme from St.Etienne with a neck thicker than his head come over to say hello. Bobs tail goes again.
The garden centre is selling centenaire olive trees. Bob carefully christens them while I check the price. €2,370. There must be sixty of the things. Who buys them ?
Sophie has stayed at home to learn Mandarin. On our return she smells her brothers breath then gives me a withering look. '' You've been having treats while I've been slaving away ! ".
This is an ad for a British supermarket chain portraying the Christmas 1914 'football' truce. Some think it's tasteless . Others think it sums up the spirit of the season . Are you a nay or a yea ? : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWF2JBb1bvM
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