Making it Up

I went to a bullfight today, or at least it seemed like it. Here was the slim, elegant matador, agile and balletic in his movements, and there the chunky, heavy, thickset black beast trying to manoeuver his body away from danger. It was of course Hugo and his friend Gemma, a very stocky labrador whom we met on our walk this morning, re-enacting the corrida de toros in the field. Hugo spotted his target from a long way off and charged, flying across the winter wheat at speed, and taking Gemma by surprise. The two faced each other, tails wagging madly, then they spun round a few times before Hugo whizzed off and then zoomed back in a flash. Again and again he taunted, he teased, he flaunted himself and his swiftness, and poor Gemma didn't know which way to turn. Eventually the show stopped and the two rubbed noses, or whatever dogs do. And then he was off again like lightening because now he had spotted Ember, or Amber, running in the next field. For a moment I thought she was a hare and I held my breath, but it was OK. How he loves these encounters with other dogs, and how mischievously he plays with them. Fair lifts the old spirits it does, watching him socialising with not a trace of reserve or modesty.

Italian was a hoot today as one of us, who shall remain nameless, decided to respond to the question "Come passi ti tempo libero" by regaling us with tales of mysterious lovers, glamorous clothing, romantic trips to exotic cities and what she got up to there, having us in stitches. Our Italian was the best ever as we sought to find more imaginative ways to get her to expand and she hunted for ever different means of describing her antics. It provided a rich seam of material, and we've decided to keep it as a weekly staple, this creative make believe. I wonder what Patrick will think of our sauciness when he joins us in the new year.