Saturday, October 11, 2014

Rascal, not open and refuge.

1. Bettany stands on a rock chanting not quite the words but the noises of 'I'm the king of the castle, you're the dirty rascal!'

2. When I discover that I've lost my keys next door's builders come up and try to get at the latch through the letterbox. This is beautiful because it was very kind of them; and because they failed.

3. We arrive at Carluccio's dripping wet (luckily our waterproofs were stowed in the bottom of the pushchair) and very wretched. The children are hungry and tired and I have no idea how I'm going to make them sit for an hour until Nick gets home: it's too wet to wait outside. The manager welcomes us as if we were the most important customers ever. Things look much better after some juice, pasta and ice cream (them) and a glass of wine, a larger portion of pasta and a plate of tiramisu,

3b. Bettany squawked at Alec and signed please. He understood immediately and leaned across to spoon some of his ice cream into her mouth.

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