Dragged the children off on a hike today, dangling the carrot of lunch at a local eatery. I had the route well-planned, but after three hours of stiff climbing even my habitual optimism was beginning to wear off. The birdsong started grating on me and I was cursing the ubiquitous cyclists and their dust-clouds. All three kids, thankfully at different times, threw some kind of tantrum and refused to go any further. Only when it was pointed out to them that going back the way we'd just came would take far longer did they assent to continuing. Luckily CG was in his best, smoothing-over-troubled-waters mood. He managed to sustain a 90-minute roleplay with Titus - I don't know what about; I just let it wash over me. Personally, I wouldn't have had the energy.
The eatery was indeed a sight for sore eyes as we hoved over the hillbrow. We were absolutely starving. It was thus unfortunate that our waiter was on his first day and forgot our order. We smelt a rat when 45 minutes had passed and the people next to us had got through three courses. He didn't get a tip. (We'd have been kinder if he hadn't forgotten the dessert, as well.)
Speaking of rats, Max the mental cat has finally rediscovered his hunting instincts. He arrived in the garden this evening with a huge, still-twitching, rat clamped between his jaws. I couldn't watch, but Hedda and Titus enjoyed the spectacle of said rat being decapitated as they ate their fusilli. I hope this helps Max' somewhat feeble status in the local cat hierarchy. I know that, as a eunuch, he's bottom of the pile, but being a successful hunter might compensate in some way? If his self-esteem improved he might not be so needy...
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