It's Me, Sara Louise

This is what’s happening… I want to post Toulon Part Deux, and show you what happened with Brother-in-Law, the office chair, and the Hello Kitty mask, but I’m waiting for Mr. London to send me something that is absolutely vital to the post (trust me on this one), and as soon as Mrs. London can get him to stop playing Candy Crush, he will (I’m being patient with Mr. London since he had such a horrible rugby weekend. Actually, it wasn’t only Toulon, all of my teams had a disastrous time of it; Clermont, France, Ireland… the world basically turned upside down and I’m not happy about it). 

So in the meantime (and as we patiently await a Candy Crush break), here are some photos of Le Petit Village after it snowed buckets yesterday (It was still snowing loads when I took these. I’d like to think that they would have been better if the snow hadn’t been pelting my face and soaking my camera, but I doubt it).

Fifty and I went for a walk and we passed The LPV’s war memorial covered in snow. (Every village in France has a memorial honoring the soldiers from that village that died in war. Some of these tiny villages have a lot of names on them.)

And then we passed a house and Fifty decided to get a little nosy. I think I might start calling him Gladys Kravitz (up top if you get that reference). 

Look at his right ear trying to tune in on the juicy gossip like a little antenna. He’s such a weirdo. I even took him off his leash (he HATES the leash) as we were leaving the village but he would just plop himself down and stare back at the house. 

I think he was hoping that someone would come out and invite him in for tea (either that or something horrible has happened in that house and he’s sensing it… but I’m going to go with the tea invite, yes, he was definitely waiting for an invitation to tea). 

Can you spot Fifty in this photo? He was hiding from me. I didn’t think it was very funny because I was sure that he would go a little too far into the wood, slip, fall and tumble down the hill and I would have to find a way to rescue him (Fifty has a habit of getting himself in precarious situations and has to be rescued;  like stuck out on the roof, or a window ledge. He’s nothing but a damsel in distress really).

 

But then he came bounding out like a Greyhound at the gate (I’ve actually been wondering lately if he might be part Greyhound because of the way he runs. He’s a sprinter and has that racetrack run about him. And in the interest of full disclosure, I’ve been contemplating getting one of those doggie DNA tests, just out of curiosity, you know. Or would that be weird? It would be weird, wouldn’t it?)

Doggie DNA aside, if you were to guess, 

what type(s) of dog would you say Fifty is?

(besides awesome obviously) 

bisou