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Photo from UK Telegraph.
Saturday at Chez Nous
Indeed, Today is Saturday, slap bang almost in the middle of the week it feels with time flying past at a pace, so when the phone rang this morning I nearly said the name of the slave compound.
May I speak to Mary?
Mary who?
Don’t f&ck with me!
Listen dickhead, who the hell do you think you are talking to?
Oh, shit, sorry, wrong number.
And with that the phone got slapped in my ear without much ceremony.
Who was that?
Mary’s friend.
Probably. Could be her boss too, who knows.
So Niles, just because I am so insistent and he thought it prudent to humour me on this Saturday eventually agreed to go and get some hot croissants on the corner – I suggested he takes Fifi and Frufru for walkies.
(Niles does not like croissants.)
Fifi and Frufru do not do walkies, they do street fighting.)
I went to put on face and comb hair, eagerly awaiting promised fresh croissants.
When I came down Niles was eating cereal.
And now, this?
What you expect from me, to walk on empty stomach?
O K so for lunch?
Cold croissants with ham, cheese and tomato, gherkin on tooth pick on the side just to be fancy.
Eat a sandwich and save an animal’s life !
Right, so we will skip the ham then!
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