Last night was another Ashtray Boy show in which I am sure I played appallingly, I don't remember making so many mistakes in a performance since the 1980s, but everyone liked it so I suppose they were high-class mistakes or something. Then we stole a large piece of cheese from a party in the front bar.
This morning I made pancakes and discussed with Mia how differently the dogs eat their pancakes (the first pancake is always a dog pancake - they are kind of oily and thick, which dogs love.) Millie virtually drinks hers - it's down the hatch without a second thought, the only difficulty being the logistics of fitting something round and flat into her gullet. Charlie puts hers down, looks around, waits to see if I'm gone (I have often taken this to be 'oh no, you're going' but it's probably that silly domestic animal assumption that, having given out some food, the human is now likely to snatch it back) and then starts an overdramatised nibbling - small bites and then big open-mouth chews. If only they could talk. 'Well, the reason my good fellow that I eat like that, is actually...'
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