Onion and Garlic Tales

I realise that both Julie and I usually turn up in JB looking ragged and weary for Mum to minister to. (Mum's usual comment is aiyo, I wanted to cry when I saw her!)

And despite the fact that having one of us (OK having me, not Julie so much) around means double or triple work for her, she is usually quite cheerful about it.

Last night I crawled into Mummy's bed cos I was pretty cold. It had been raining incessantly. Now if you're going to crawl into somebody's bed at four in the morning, one would think you would do it discreetly, or rather silently.

Not me. She doesn't call me baby elephant for nothing. So it's pound, step on, oops, every step of the way. Mummy wakes up and asks what the matter is. I say I'm cold. So she cuddles me. And I warm up real fast. (I know, I know, disgraceful 36-year-old, but what to do? some of us never grow up)

Then I proceed to sleep till afternoon. I am aware of some vague ineffectual attempts to get me up, but I'm not budging.

So I come downstairs past noon to listen to tales of Elliot's latest misadventures. Apparently he stretched from where he was tied up to get Mum's slippers and chew them. She is livid.

"He's not a puppy anymore."

Then she ponders on it and decides he was demonstrating his displeasure not at her, but at me. For not taking him out for a walk yesterday. I was busy sleeping, remember?

"Ivan let them go the whole night and only tied them up when he was going up and he still does this!"

I am intrigued. Our two doggies are mortal enemies and cannot be freed together as fur and blood tend to fly. "He let them go together? And they didn't fight?"

"Not with Ivan around. He holds a broom and warns them first. They know what they'll get."

Now Mum is making chicken rice. And the kitchen smells very yummy. Chubs asked if I could make the lemon curd cake but I forgot to bring my recipe book. At least, I think I forgot. Must go look. Or ask Jackie if she has the recipe.

I like baking.