Today’s adrenaline sport was pony riding. I wasn’t actually riding a pony, just leading one. I. Was. Petrified. It kept trying to eat my toes! The beast I led was small but it still scared me. I am of the opinion that any animal who’s teeth are twenty times the size of mine (and who seems intents on biting off digits) needs to be treated with caution. And one covered in fleas(?) needs total avoidance. Am now covered in hundred of little bites from whatever was swarming around the scary beasts. #hoveringclosetoafleariddenscarybeast #hoveringclosetoinsanity

Not drunk enough to be funny so bear with me. Today we went canoeing. High on the success of climbing along the wall of death yesterday, we thought we’d try out our sea legs today. Well river legs. I. Was. Petrified. But not as petrified as yesterday. Not don’t-you-dare-take-a-photo-of-me petrified. More a bit anxious at every slight rock in the boat petrified. This left me sitting rigid throughout and therefore giving me a stupendous back ache by the end. But then I swam! So I’m doubly chuffed with myself in actual terms. I had had a glass of rosé by then mind you. The French do picnics so well don’t they – un peu de saucisson, some fromage au chèvre et un petit verre de vin rosé. In England it would have been (possibly) a beer and a bag of wotsits. So here I am enjoying my swim with ma petite fille. Next to the Pont d’Arc, no less. Which is a rock bridge over the Ardéche river. All quite pleasant. And significantly fewer shades of shit to scrape from the underpants this evening. #hoveringclosetounvinrosé #hoveringawayfromshittingmyself #hoveringclosetoinsanity

Today we went rock climbing. A fairly basic route suitable for 5 year olds. I. Was. Petrified. Ever since having children my nerves have gone through the roof. As a child I was generally petrified. As a 20 and 30 something my confidence stabilised (hello anti-depressants) but from children-ahoy onwards I pale at a little slope, a gravelly incline. And worse is a rock face that you’re watching your precious younglings traverse and then have to follow with some sort of air of nonchalance. Needless to say I was not nonchalant. I crumbled and whispered to our guide ‘j’ai peur’. So fricking embarrassant. J’ai embarrassment. Je voudrais crawl under a rock and die. Before I scrape the seven shades of shit from my underpants. 

#hoveringclosetoacliffface #hoveringclosetoshittingmyself #hoveringclosetoinsanity

So there’s a new ‘3 men and a baby’ film out. It’s called ‘3 baby baking potatoes and some left over candy floss’. We went to the zoo. And everything was fine. Great in fact. Until the candy floss hit. I stupidly gave them a choice: ice cream or candy floss and they chose the latter. I will forever rue that decision. 6yo boy went savage. Wide eyed, clawing, biting, kicking savage. Infinitely more riled than any of the big dozing cats we’d been to visit. I was quite scared. And wasn’t physically equipped to deal with it either because I’m doing the cabbage soup diet this week so I had nothing but watery vegetables pumping through my muscles. We barely made it home. He fell asleep fortunately and we all breathed again. So this is now my view: 3 baby baking potatoes (you’re allowed a baked potato and butter on day 2, but obviously I need 3 as they’re BABY baking potatoes – see previous post) and the remnants of the floss for pudding. Fighting trousers on everybody, I’m going in. 

#hoveringclosetoasavagechild #andasleepinglion #andthreeBABYbakingpotatoes #hoveringclosetoinsanity