The forbidden cupboard

Phew!  Totally overwhelmed by the comments I received yesterday.... i.e ONE!  Am I to assume that my readers are completely satisfied?  Why not - that will give me licence to write about whatever I want.  Which is what I mostly do anyway, though I try to keep the Bovinian thread running through the tapestry.

I have recovered from my nightmare somewhat.  Nobody waved a pitchfork at me when I dropped Titus off with the fierce and devout teacher (I forgot to mention that she was also prominent in the witch-hunt).  We are depriving ourselves of our first Bovinian Easter experience by nipping away for a few days, still in Bavaria, but as you know, even the next village counts as foreign round here.  Actually we'll be taking part in a retreat, which sounds holy and meditative but usually involves uproarious laughter and copious amounts of wine.  Not that we partake in the latter, you understand.  But it's fun watching other people being silly.

Titus is most put out that we are not going to be here.  Apparently all sorts of festivities have been planned, although the ceremonial unveiling of the Easter crafts - I speak of the carefully blown-out eggs - will no longer take place.  All sixty of them were smashed in one fell swoop by a fight that got of hand.  Titus reported this to us gravely.  Wasn't your teacher cross, I asked him.  No, he said, eyebrows disappearing into his bushy blond fringe (he desperately needs a haircut) in disbelief.  I just can't understand why she wasn't, Mummy.  It's a mystery to me. Maybe she's on Prozac.

Meanwhile Gaia is still chuntering that I don't mention her enough in this blog.  I feel obliged to reiterate that it is boring, for writer and reader, if I describe somebody who mainly sits in her room, cyber-communing, apart from night-time raids to the forbidden cupboard*.  During her rare appearances she can be most amusing, but every time she cracks a joke and I say, hey, that's one for my blog, she threatens to sue me.  So what can I do??

*Forbidden cupboard - ha!  I coined the phrase when we first moved here, as I wanted a place where I could put treats to which people - those under the age of 18 - shouldn't help themselves.  Rather, they ask Mother or Father politely if it would be appropriate for them to eat some chocolate.  Mother/Father goes to the Forbidden cupboard and graciously dispenses one single bar.  Child goes away happy.  Sigh.  Six months down the line, I now have a forbidden forbidden cupboard which is so well-hidden, even I forget where it is sometimes.   This is the only way to ensure that one week's worth of treats/snacks doesn't get consumed within one day.