I am having a crisis of such proportion I accidentally accepted a treat from some fellow in the park before realising it was supermarket bought. Not even Waitrose. Bloody Tesco.
This is the fault of Lilli.
Lilli is a French bulldog. Her face looks like she’s run full pelt into a brick wall, she dribbles constantly and shamelessly and she can’t breathe out without sounding like a geriatric noseblow. I have wanted to say to her, ‘Darling look, the only time you should sound like that is when doing Pranayama breathing in yoga. We’re in a Fulham park not an ashram in India on a GAP year yah?'
I wanted to say this.
I tried to say this.
instead I said, 'Darling look… I think uhh… the…um… ‘ and then I froze.
I stood with my mouth open for so long some Tesco frequenter though I was begging for a treat.
The problem is that Lilli is French - proper ‘I studied philosophy at puppy class and can make peeing in a bush look chic’ French.
Damn her.
Damn her and her Gauloise smoking Parisian owner.
Damn her ability to shrug ‘bof’ in response to things I say and immediately invalidate any point I am making
(and I make very good points)
And Damn her for styling out sounding like an obese pig in a bath of truffles.
Lilli looked at me, my mouth hanging gormlessly open, and gave me a withering look.
Quickly, I tried to come up with something cutting and witty but the supermarket treat had put me all of kilter. Uhhh…ohhh... ummm ‘Bof…?’ I said hopefully and shrugged. Lilli looked a touch confused but then smiled before agreeing, ‘Bof,’ and off she trotted.
Eurika!
Now I know how to style out any uncomfortable or embarrassing situation – I just have to be French!
So I am practising….
I am practising cultivating un ennui commes les French peoples.
She walks into the sitting room and announces ‘walkies!!”
‘Pah’ I say and stare out the window.
She rolls the ball in front of me and whispers ‘wherzyerball… come on Maggiepups wherezyerball wherezyerball?’
‘Bof’ I shrug and spend the next two hours contemplating the endless meaningless of the ball and then wonder if my contemplating the ball actually gives the ball meaning,
Wow that’s deep. That’s dark. That so… so… FRENCH!
I’VE DONE IT!
I can now, with a shrug and a ‘bof’ cope with anything the world throws at me.
Now I wonder if Barbour make berets…?