I had a very happy half an hour this afternoon, sitting in the restaurant which is going to host Lucy’s wedding in November.
It is a very nice restaurant indeed, with the added bonus that it is a mere three minutes walk from our house, less if you are hurrying up because it is raining, which was what I did this afternoon.
Also I like the owner very much. He happens to live not far from the taxi rank, and so often stops for a chat. It turns out that we are in agreement about all sorts of things, like the tiresomeness of customers and the brainlessness of current economic policies in relation to the tourist industry, there could be no higher recommendation in my eyes.
Better than that, he is a very good chef.
Even better still, he has entirely civilised ideas about drinking. We discussed the role of alcohol at the event, and were in agreement that the most important detail was that there should be a lot of it. He explained that the Prosecco they use tastes rather better than the house champagne, although it doesn’t say Champagne on the label and so looks less middle-class. I liked the sound of this, I don’t want to be middle class nearly as much as I would like to drink splendid fizzing alcohol, so we will be having it anyway, and if he turns out to be right I will be buying a couple of extra bottles to take home for breakfast.
He suggested that we sampled some there and then, and I was very tempted, but reason prevailed. I do not need to be intoxicated at lunchtime when I have got four dogs and a leaking cat waiting at home.
Sometimes it is very dull to be a responsible grown-up.
I could not become intoxicated because I had got to take the dogs to the vet. As you recall, Tonka and Poppy had haircuts yesterday, leading to the discovery of rather a lot of ticks, so some anti-parasite medication was called for.
I had to get some for our dogs as well, since obviously it is tick season.
The appointment started with a prolonged argument with the receptionist, who decided that they could not possibly treat the dogs without first registering their owner as a customer, and then obtaining prior agreement from their existing vet. Since they didn’t have either an interested owner to hand anywhere nearby, or an existing vet anywhere at all, I argued strenuously about this, and matters became quite heated, resulting, in the end, in my calling Number One Daughter and putting her lack of veterinary commitment on Speaker.
Eventually the receptionist was forced to agree that animals with nothing wrong with them don’t have any need of veterinary care, and that there was a first time for everything, and reluctantly condescended to allow us to see the vet and obtain some flea medicine.
The vet poked Tonka and discovered an existing bit of tick which hadn’t come out when I pulled the rest of it out. She poked it with a needle until it came out, and I discovered when I got home and looked at the receipt that she had charged me thirty quid for the privilege. She hadn’t mentioned this detail at the time, presumably because we both knew perfectly well that I could have managed it myself with the tweezers and some Germolene, and jolly well would have done if I had known.
I got home to a phone call from Lucy. Oliver and Emily have decamped to her house for a day or two, having a concert to attend in Manchester.
The person who had been going to look after her cats whilst she and Jack buzz off to Greece in a couple of weeks is now going away themselves, and the cats are going to need somebody to look after them.
She thought that she would send them back with Oliver when he returns home in a few days.
It will only be for about a month.
