Eat pizza, maybe. Especially the little one on the left. But serve pizza, no. They'd need at least three promotions before they'd be allowed to do anything that responsible.
Anyhoo, the thing about meeting people in Asda is that it always leaves you wanting more. So not content with a quick chat by the fast food on Friday, we decided to get together again yesterday afternoon for some serious conversation. This scene is typical of the educational, studious and above all, cerebral atmosphere of the two or three hours we spent relaxing in Andrew's library...
Oh, who am I trying to kid. This is what actually went on all afternoon...
Amelie's cleverly positioned her hand in that photo so that you can't see the chocolate around her mouth. Which is where video evidence comes into play...
The first person to mention Hitler gets a slap.
Anyhoo, it's a well known fact that if you spend long enough reading books, eating brain food, and discussing the speech patterns of various animals, you'll end up feeling so intelligent that you'll need to wear glasses...
She still just says miaow and quack, but with the glasses on, she looks like she knows what she's talking about.
Anyhoo, the specs were the first of many (undeserved) gifts Amelie received yesterday afternoon. Since we last saw them on Valentine's Day, Stefan's been home to Slovakia and Andrew's been back to Canada, so we were showered with souvenirs from Eastern Europe and North America. Although I think the glow-in-the-dark sperm keyrings came from East Sussex.
Andrew's sister was kind enough to send a furry green Easter bag all the way across the Atlantic (thanks, N!), which is not only useful for transporting chocolate, but also makes a very fetching hat. Those handles were clearly designed to be ear flaps.
Inside the bag, we found a duck that says quack almost as frequently as Amelie, and an Easter bunny that goes boing at the touch of a button. As if that wasn't enough, Amelie now has a furry beaver (don't go there), wearing a Canadian hoodie emblazoned with the words 'Right to Play'. Which is something she believes in whole-heartedly.
But perhaps the finest gift (apart from the packet of Slovakian biscuits that Amelie polished off single-handedly) (and with all due respect to the beaver) was the hardback edition of 'One Winter Night' by Jennifer Lloyd, a beautiful book full of mice, skunks, bears and Canadian rabbits with hockey sticks. It's like an I-Spy Canuck Book. And it's personally inscribed to Amelie from her Uncle Andrew. If only she could read his handwriting.
Needless to say, the moment she puts on her reading glasses and sticks a green bag on her head, Amelie instantly transforms into some kind of bookish Brain of Britain, but surprisingly the congratulations card in the background isn't for her. That's actually from us to Andrew. I was buying it in Asda when I bumped into them on Friday night.
I won't let the cat out of the bag here (unless Amelie's trapped Linda in a sack again), but Andrew's just succeeded in the kind of worthwhile endeavour that makes Sir Edmund Hillary's trek up Everest look like a piece of cake. Although if it was a piece of cake, Amelie would have eaten it by now.
This has been three years in the making, it's high time it happened, and it'll benefit the health of an entire nation. It's a lot like Barack Obama's healthcare reforms, only less likely to result in racist death threats. I expect. Actually I wouldn't count on it.
Anyway, you've done brilliantly, mate, and Amelie's proud of you. But make sure you stock up on squeezy sperms before you go.