What’s worse than a dead mouse on your front step? I’ll tell you. Half a dead mouse on your front step, complete with detached stomach and a back leg. All laid out as if it was due to be an exhibit at the Tate Modern. It would probably be the best exhibit at the Tate if indeed it was. A bad plaster cast of half a buttock “clearly demonstrating the existential angst of the artist” is not for me. I like stuff to look like the thing it’s supposed to, call me old fashioned. I digress….. The bloody thing was missing from the bottom of the ribcage down with it’s tiny little drummer behind it, while the murderers purr/snored like the cutest little kitties they are 70% of the time, inside the house. We were on the way out and decided to remove it when we got back, though after a heavy shower and a couple of hours of direct sun, it was a job that was reserved for the man of the house. I’m going nowhere near that!
We left all 4 furries in the house together for a fair few hours today without incident. It was throwing it down and kitties seemed quite worn out from their assassination related fun so we thought we’d try it. I bought them a scratching post treehouse climbing thing that is behind my big Monstera plant where Barney likes to hang out in the corner of the living room. I also bought a new dog bed for my Shellyboos which seems to be a little too small, and also loved by a podenco, so the cats will inherit this, and we will go back to get a couple of larger ones for the dogs later in the week.
We went to get a new mobile phone for me which we’ve been meaning to do but not quite gotten around to. Of course the electrical shop was closed as it’s non essential. We thought it might be. However we could go to the chocolate shop next door (totally essential) and could go and buy more vinyl for our growing record collection. Do I want to live in a land where chocolate and music are classed as essential? Yes, yes I do. Especially when I can buy a Fleetwood Mac LP on green vinyl and the truffles are Speculoos flavoured.
Had a customary wander around Grand Frais which is like a theme park for my currently under stimulated mind. We bought fresh chillis, a big bunch of coriander, spring onions, Oyster Sauce, Soba noodles and other joyous things that are rarely (if ever) available from our local supermarket. I so wish I lived within 15 minutes of a Grand Frais, I’d be in there daily buying just the things I needed for dinner, skipping about through the mist like an 80s music video, perusing guava and shiitake mushrooms with gay abandon. I honestly think they should add a proximity to Grand Frais filter on immoblier websites when you’re searching for a property here.
We also grew a pair, and did our first ever French Mcdonalds drive through, all the restaurants are still closed, including outside seating, and it feels like the most decadent of treats at the moment. Yes, that’s what we’ve become. We timed it super badly so the drive through was busy, we had to wait at the other side of a junction in the car park to join the queue, otherwise we’d block the pelican crossing and the road. Of course this led to a French driver cutting ahead of us and my husband saying a very bad word. As it was busy, they had sent a member of staff out into the traffic to take orders, rather than at the usual window or intercom. This meant that that the menus showing what you could actually order, were after the point of ordering. We panic ordered a Big Mac meal and some nuggets in the absence of knowing anything about the Wasabi chicken wrap or anything else vaguely Mc-exciting. I forgot to order mayo, thinking it would come in the bag anyway. It did not. We sat in silence regretting our life choices as Craig accidentally swept the overly lettuce laden contents of his big mac into both his own coat pocket and the footwell, and I gnawed like a fuming squirrel on my dry, mayo-less chicken nuggets. Like childbirth (I imagine) you forget how bad it was the last time, and still somehow, want to go through it again. You head for the Golden Arches once more with a foolish optimism. Maybe this time, it’ll look like the picture / not be cold / be someone else’s order / come with mayo. Sigh…….
Laters…… V x