There’s a mouse in the house. At least one, very small, very fast mouse. Freya has been trying to catch it and, last night, she nearly managed. It dashed across from the TV unit to the next room and she took off like an Exocet missile. As the mouse managed to squeeze under the open door, she hit it with her paw, making it squeak in fear. She guarded the door for the next long while.
In the meanwhilst, Emma was lending a hand from the rear. She sat and watched, re-assuring Freya that, if required, she’d be there for her.
Freya is the little star of tonight, though. And one day, she reckons, she’ll get that doggone pesky rodent!
Her feat of flash was all the more impressive when you realise she’d already had an exhausting day. First thing in the morning she went on a two hour romp through the woods with Mirinda and Emma.
And even more impressive again, when you realise she’d also been to the café on Notholmen and, on the way home, had been fast asleep on the back seat. This might have been because of the huge crowds at Notholmen.
Only two weeks ago we were walking on the sea along with hundreds of other people. This week, the ice has turned to slush and the water is once more inaccessible by foot.
The day was quite mild and the café had a massive queue. According to Evelyn, it had been positively manic all day. Given we arrived at around 3pm (it closes at 4pm) and people were still queuing, seemed to indicate she totally earned her wages today. It kind of makes up for those long, lazy days with no customers back in late December.
Of course, it’s the winter school break, which also may have had something to do with it.
When we managed to get inside (there were plenty of tables) we were amazed that the food display was almost devoid of food. Most incredibly, there were no semla at all. I fancied räkmackor but, alas, it was slut. I settled for the pulled pork brioche while Mirinda had the soup.
Then, as we sat there, a big plate of semla arrived from the kitchen. The queue had dwindled by this time and, while all the tables had now been occupied, it was relatively calm. However, like the seagull telegraph, news of the new semla batch quickly did the rounds. Suddenly there was a very long queue.
Mirinda bemoaned the fact that she hadn’t jumped up as soon as they’d arrived and claimed one. Especially when they were reduced to six with at least nine people in the queue. They were all gone very quickly.
It was like the reaction you get when you leave a bag of fish and chips, open, on a bench in Brighton. Frightening.
And the morning had been so beautiful and calm. I even sat out on the terrace to work while Mirinda was discovering new paths through the forest.
It certainly looks like Spring has arrived a bit too early.
