imaginary circus of torture

This afternoon I took Twin 1 to play tennis with her little friend at the Himalaya hotel. I think the tennis coach is Nepal's number 1 tennis player, or something very impressive like that (it's a wierd expat thing that you always get to access the very best that your host country has to offer, and it's always cheaper than in the UK). Anyway, he was jolly nice, and soon had them both scurrying about practising their backhand, etc. Halfway through the lesson he took a call on his mobile. Afterwards he explained to me that it was from a friend in Japan, reassuring him that he was alive and okay. Then they all went back to chasing yellow balls around the court.

Twin 1 is already better at tennis than me, which makes me both inordinately proud and somewhat flabbergasted that a woman with my genetic code (perhaps one day they'll discover the 'butterfingers' gene and be able to eradicate it) could spawn a child so physically competent.

Twin 2 is still doing the trout pout thing and demanding apple juice cartons with straws and chocolate pudding. However, I saw her sneakily tucking into the grapes during Nanny McPhee this evening, so I think she's well on the way to recovering. Good job too, as the Twins are off on their school trip tomorrow and camping overnight on the school football field, which is probably the most exciting thing that's happened in their lives since...hmmm...since...well, ever, actually.

I have to go up and say goodnight to Son now. He is busy planning his talk for English homework. He is going to talk to his class for a full two minutes on an imaginary circus of torture that he has created.

I'll leave you with that thought...