We British “sit” everything, from pets to houses to plants. And, apparently, the only things that the French “sit” are babies. Yet this hasn’t stopped me from referring to Équipe Une and Équipe Deux as “les chat-sitteurs”, with “chat-sitteur”, rather like “professeur”, being an invariable noun, as “chat-sitteuse” sounds somewhat absurd despite both Équipes being female. (This was the basis of my conversation with Cat Daddy on the flight back from Belfast, until he put on his headphones a few minutes in and pretended to be asleep.)
We are back from holiday and, whilst it didn’t go entirely to plan, with both lost luggage and injuries preventing us from doing all that we wanted to do, it was a relief to escape the heatwave that has only just relinquished its hold on London. And it was nothing short of delightful to be able to sleep in without being jolted awake by screaming, rodent deliveries and suchlike.
That said, we did miss Louis Catorze, although he has had an absolute ball over the last couple of weeks and probably didn’t even notice/care that we had gone. Apart from bringing Équipe Une a rat* on their very first morning, he seems to have been the perfect host.
*Oui, Équipe Une: I may have given the impression that it was a mouse, but only because I didn’t want to scare you with the awful truth. When I saw the long, rangy limbs in your photo, I KNEW. Je suis désolée. Cat Daddy and I are still wondering how on earth Catorze managed to haul a beast half his body weight through the cat flap, and we are just grateful that it didn’t end up on your bed. Erm, see you again next summer?
So life has resumed as normal. Cat Daddy and I are facing the mammoth task of undoing all the damage caused by eating our weight in potatoes for a fortnight (which will be a challenge, as my leg and his back are still done in). And Le Roi, no doubt, will go back to doing whatever it is that he does, although Cat Daddy’s too-rude-to-publish remark suggests that perhaps the little sod doesn’t contribute an enormous amount to the planet.
This image shows one of the places that we visited, whose name had a certain air of familiarity:
3 thoughts on “On est de retour!”
My father, and back et al, was considered Black Irish I think. Perhaps some distant ancestor swam ashore from the Armada. But I don’t think he was An Fód Dubh/BlackSod. Which of course has noting to do with Le Roi noir, but Dubh stuck out right away on the map as my computer, an iMac Pro is space gray and its name is Pangur Dubh (black cat).
I Like maps. 🙂
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Reading that was a great start to my day 🙂 Thanks for the laugh – you write superbly. So sad for your holiday injuries and airline-related inconveniences, but very glad you were able to make the best of it xxxx
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Actually, if I am away, Les deux divas are pampered by friends in a nearby village and when they are away, I go there. I will be heavily armed with a book or two for some serious cuddling… 😉
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