Monday, September 24, 2012

Entente cordiale, first run and cheese on toast.

1a. I come down and find Nick and Alec down on the floor drawing on a sheet of newspaper.

1. The little girl at the other table waves at Alec, and as soon as she is allowed down, she comes over to see him. "Say hallo, and come straight back," her mother tells her. Alec hides his face, but warms up when she returns with a toy train. She is nine months old, and French. Her aunts egg her on: "Get his number, get his number."

2. I take Alec in the pushchair with me for my first run: I've got a lot to do today, and it just seems efficient. He laughs at the running bits, and shouts: "Quickly, quickly!", which is encouraging. It's not as shymaking as I though it would be: I think because I'm concentrating on Alec, rather than on myself.

3. Nick and Alec watch the grill intently, with Alec standing on one of his little chairs. We are having cheese on toast for supper. We cut thin crustless fingers for Alec to nibble. He eats them all, except the last one, which he throws grandly on to the floor.

Done, moon and Irish fairy tales.

1. A meeting that is over by 9.30am. 2. A big full moon is stuck on next door's chimney pots. 3. By my bed is a large and comforting boo...