Mr B and I are watching the Grand National. The race actually finished two and a half hours ago but we were out enjoying ourselves when the race was run so we are now in catch-up mode.
We have made our choices but we are not sure we really want either of our horses to win, on the basis that if they do we will wish we had wagered a pound or two on victory. We need not have worried unduly. Mr B's takes a tumble and mine comes in a creditable
eighth so I am claiming the upper hand in our own personal Grand National duel.
We had arrived home to watch the Boat Race in real time. Cambridge came second. In case you didn't know. When they left us, three
of our lunch companions were off to watch the race from a bridge somewhere. They will have been cheering Cambridge on from above but obviously didn't cheer loudly enough to will them over the line in first place.
It's quite a sporting weekend, isn't it? I have promised Mr B that I will watch the last day of the Masters golf tournament with him tomorrow. He likes the idea in theory though he will doubtless regret it when I start asking questions all through the
play and commenting on the sartorial choices of the master golfers.
We spent the best part of the day having a long and leisurely lunch in Wimbledon with the Middle and Youngest of the Darling Daughters, my
best friend from schooldays and her own two Darling Daughters. Plus Young Faris and The Twinkles, of course. Faris was in his best Rampaging Rascal mood; Wagamamas didn't know what had hit them. To be fair, it wasn't Our Boy's fault - he hadn't had his daily
nap and being confined to a high chair was just no fun. So tired was he when his Mamma gave in and took him home, that he has even passed up the opportunity to write today's Daily Blog - though he would doubtless have had plenty to say about the free gift
of a small net and two plastic ladybirds which came with the magazine I bought him. One of the ladybirds went missing (possibly seeking asylum?) while Faris tossed the net over into the kitchen where the chefs were cooking up Noodles and Other Nosh for their
clientele. What has become of the last surviving ladybird is anybody's guess.
My old school friend still lives in the town where we went to school and can be relied upon to fill me in on the latest news of
Former School Pupils We Have Known. I have to rack my brains trying to remember some of them. Well, it was such a long time ago. We recall the days when pupils who could sing were privileged to join the lads from the Boys' Grammar School in annual productions
of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. Neither of us made it through the auditions, though Pat, being of an artistic bent, was sometimes allowed to paint scenery. Mr B, who met us both on the same day, listens to us rambling on, as he has done for the last fifty-two
years, with a bemused expression on his face. There's nothing quite like a good old catch-up. We must do it again - and soon!
Tala and Lilia say: We were adorable today. Though we say so ourselves, as shouldn't
(as Nanni would say.) But don't just take our word for it - everyone said the same thing. Pat who is Nanni's friend, Pip and Cheryl who are her little girls, special Auntie Karen and, of course, Nanni and Grandad. They all said we were adorable and we reckon
they must know what they are talking about, as they are Ever So Old, especially Nanni who, according to Faris (who is both our Big Brother and Our Hero) has reached a Great Age.
Soon we will be able to sit
in two high chairs, side by side, and throw our food at each other and say "Cheers!" before we drink from our cups. Nanni will buy us magazines with free toys on the front and we will try not to lose them. We expect we will have different magazines, with different
toys stuck on the front but, because we are twins, we will share them. That's what twins do. Mummy says so and Mummy knows everything. Almost as much as Faris.
One day when we are older, say five months or
so, we feel sure we will understand some of the things that puzzle us at the moment. Such as why, when we go to a restaurant, are we always shown to a table right at the back, out of everyone's way? And why do Mummy and Nanni think this is A Good Thing? Why
is Faris given crayons so that he can do some colouring while we have to make do with being cuddled and drinking our milk? We noticed that Cheryl did some crafty colouring when nobody was looking, so she probably felt it wasn't quite fair too.
And, while we're about it, what does "adorable" mean, exactly....