Monday, January 30, 2012
Mustard and marzipan .
Cold but no sign of the snow that had been forecast . After lunch our weekly trip to the Rugby ground . A poor turnout. The chill northern wind putting off all but the most enthusiastic of spectators . Perhaps a dozen hardy farmers, three hyperactive Jack Russells, Yours Truly and Wilf .
Angus raids various bedrooms and ventures out in a Princeton hoodie and a lululemon bobble hat . ' The font ' decidedly unimpressed with this recycling of the Cost Centres cast offs . Wilf sits on the bench next to me . Head on my lap , snoring softly, happily ignoring the shouts from the pitch . At half time we share a hot dog. Wilf remembers that he likes mustard . I get a tartan blanket from the back of the car and lay it over him . A contentedly loud '' this is what living is all about " snuffle from the small polar bear as he settles down again.
To the bakers on our way home . A marzipan cake chosen and carefully wrapped . We stop outside the town hall to read the notices . A large photo of an accordionist looks back at us . He seems to be grinning maniacally rather than smiling . The most interesting part of the poster the jovial 1950's dancing figures at the bottom . They could be straight out of ' I love Lucy '.
The Christmas decorations are still hanging on the box hedge around the war memorial. Oversight or French custom ? A mental note to speak to the secretary of the Beautiful Highways Committee to find out . After dinner Wilf discovers he likes marzipan . Mustard and marzipan in one day. Old PON's know that life rocks.