Our standard poodle puppy Lulu is growing up. She was tiny at 2 months.
Apparently "la fete des Meres" is on June 7th this year.
She seemed so fragile and vulnerable - just like a baby.
She's a big girl now - she knows how to get treats from my dad. Just sit perfectly and look cute.
As usual we asked for a room and then asked for secure parking for the motorcycles. Nick was on his Zephyr 550 and I on my Virago 535. The man at the desk said certainly and gave us directions to get to the "secure parking". We had to first mount the pavement and go through a queue of people at a bus stop into an entrance . We then went through a corridor that had a couple of 45 degree bends. This opened out into a small yard at the back of the hotel. To get the bikes into this space we had to go down 4 steps.
She came into season yesterday at almost 10 months. I feel quite sad - the baby months are gone and she's grown up now.
With the bikes safely stowed right under our bedroom window, we had an early pizza and retired to bed. About 11.30 pm we were woken up by banging and cracking noises - fireworks somewhere in town. We were a bit miffed that we hadn't known they were on as we were fond of French firework displays. They went on for about an hour.
I made smoked salmon and asparagus quiche for dinner yesterday. I looked at some recipes but then just made one up out of what I had. It was lovely.
At 1.30 am we were woken again by someone knocking and whispering at the back of the hotel. Assuming the worst - someone trying to steal the bikes, which would have been quite a feat thinking of where they were parked, we looked out and saw a couple of youngsters climbing in through a downstairs window. Presumably guests late back after the fireworks.
I made some jam tarts for my dad from the pastry trimmings. He loves them, but especially if they're a bit burnt like my mother used to make them. These weren't.
The little balls are biscuits for Lulu.
At 5.30 am we were woken again by the most infernal racket - banging and grumbling and rattling of metal things. Assuming again that someone was either trying to steal the bikes or was annoyed about where we had parked them, we looked out and saw the backside of a chef who was rummaging in a shed in the yard.
I made some belly-dancing earrings for a colleague's birthday next week. She doesn't know about this blog so they'll still be a surprise.
We were too tired to be bothered with breakfast, having been awake most of the night. This was something we would regret. All restaurants are fully booked at lunchtime on Mother's Day and nobody felt much inclined to make space for a couple of scruffy bikers who looked as though they had been up all night.
We have avoided travelling in France on Mother's Day ever since.