In the swim

The trouble with having a swimming pool is that all sorts of people just pop in to use it.

Meet M. L'herrisson who was enjoying a, no doubt, unscheduled dip in the pool yesterday.You can't quite see from the photo but he's in about 4cms of water and was quite terrified. He desperately wanted to curl up but when he tried he put his nose in the water and his little head shot up again.Today I found the cutest little vole doing the doggy paddle around in circles in the deep end. He was in extremis and taking in water so I didn't think it fair to rush back to the house to get my camera. He was safely extracted from the pool and returned to dry land.

M. L'herrisson, much recovered from his attempt at learning to swim, has taken up residence in the garden of our cottage and has been spotted several times today.


I think it's fair to say it's been a bad weekend for him. First he gets trodden on, then he falls in the pool. Let's just hope that things don't go in threes in Hedgehogworld. What next?


The lovely Debs from Lehners in France have given me a splendid 'Just plain fun to read' award which I must pass on two three other fabulous bloggers. So, from me to you Jaywalker for keeping me amused with your Belgian Waffles, blogthatmama, who's blog I enjoy immensely and Hadriana, who I think is still on her hols, so hopefully it will be a nice suprise for her return.

Friend from Guyane has now left thank God. (Hey, who said that? It must be my evil twin) I do find French children hard work not least because they expect to be fed three courses at lunchtime. What person in their right mind cooks at lunchtime. I barely even eat and my children rarely expect more than a bowl of cereal. Hopefully a different cereal to the one they had at breakfast.

How did it get like this? I lived, breathed and occasionally ate Annabel Karmel when they were littlies but now, living in the real world, I seem to hardly managed 5 a week, never mind 5 a day, unless of course, we are talking flavours of crips.

Mind you, I was always a failure at the Alpha Mummy routine, lingering generally somewhere around Omega. I always forgot Harvest Festival and DS and DD were shoved through the door with a can of beans in an old carrier bag (not even a Waitrose one), while the real mummies reversed their 4x4s up to the school gate and unloaded beautifully wrapped fruit baskets and home-made (by the daily help at least) bread. I even forgot to go to Speech Day on the day that DS won two prizes.

Even here in France where the concept of the Alpha Mummy doesn't exist (tant mieux pour moi as they say) I send DD to school when it is a day off, forget to pick up DS when he finishes early and never have a sports kit ready or available.

I guess some people have it and other just muddle along in their own little way to the sound of lots of tutting and shaking of heads from the ones that ALWAYS get it right.

On a more positive note, tomorrow I'm going for an age defying facial. I've defied the beauty therapist to make me look 21. If she fails, when, you don't want to be there.

Next time you see me I'll be unrecognisable for the exhausted old hag that I am today!