A numbers game

Slow morning.  I have two bits of advice for you:  Watch out for the 'house cocktail'; Don't drink green drinks.

Sheesh, you'd think I'd have realised that by now.

Oh, and as a supplementary bit of advice: tequila flavoured beer?  No.  Just don't.  Let my sacrifice be worth something.

Still, my fuzzy-headed feeling this morning was as nothing compared to Mr B - who is still broken.

Anyway, up early to make our lunch and head out (15 minutes behind schedule) to a basketball tournament.  By dint of an excellent performance from the Audi, we arrived a mere couple of minutes late, and were pretty much the first there.  Somehow I squeezed the car into a space barely wider than it, and happily the morning sky was blanketed with un-forecast clouds, so it was a lot cooler than it might have been.

Matches, shouting, cheering, consoling, then lunch.  Some sitting under a tree reading, then a very long conversation with a pal and a friend of hers who she supposed I knew but I didn't.  So, a new friend - who in a very un-French way (she is not French) said as we parted that she would really like to get together sometime for another chat.  She is quite an opinionated type - which makes for interesting discussions - but I didn't quite follow all that she said, so I just have to hope I haven't agreed with anything objectionable!

More matches in the (by now) burning hot sun and history lessons from my pal's parents, who are from round here and were clearly delighted to have a blank sheet (that's me) to work on.  Various photos of boys jumping in the air, and this one of them having a serious half-time talking to.  That's CarbBoy in the number 6 shirt.  (Next to him in black is his erstwhile teammate who is sitting out the rest of the season with two broken arms after falling off the crash mats he was told not to climb on...)

Home (after extricating the car from a space made more impossible by the huge car parked less than a car length behind me - with 5 inches of manoeuvring space on each side it made for a tricky job) at high speed to deliver CarbBoy to a birthday party where, happily, the first thing he did was fling himself in a swimming pool.  Probably best for all concerned really.

Then our first bread delivery!  A parent at the school brought a van-full of her bread round (she's a baker, she didn't just empty her bread-bin into her van) to see who wanted to try it.  Delicious - wood-fired sourdough.  If I could somehow email the taste to Mr B I think he'd be on the first plane home...

And now we are (sort of) watching the football and I'm trying to summon up some interest in supporting Juventus just to make things more interesting (CarbBoy is a Barca fan).  TallGirl is taking endless quizzes to find out which musical instrument will suit her best.  Meanwhile I am looking for instrument hire shops so I can just pick one for her.  I thought she was settled on saxophone, but she's veering flute-wards.  Any thoughts?