Petsitting and Ostriches

Last night Ben asked what I would do third if I somehow came into possession of a kazillion dollars (a kazillion is somewhere between a billion and a majillion, we have decided). I thought about it long and hard, and decided that the third thing I would do, after going on a crazy shopping spree and bestowing lavish amounts of cash on my nearest and dearest, would be to build an orphanage in Africa to protect the witch children (children who are villified by religious 'pillars of the community' - ie evil, evil people. It's awful - google it, you'll be horrified). I waxed lyrical about what I would do, sinking wells and setting up schools with massive security fences to keep out the bad guys. After I finished Ben was quiet.

"Why, what would you do?" I asked.

"I'd have a wee," he replied.

"...What?" I asked, wondering if I'd misheard.

"Well, after I ran round going 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" and then going and buying loads of stuff, I'd probably need a wee."

Ben is very practical like that.


In other news, it has come to my attention (on this blog I am omnipotent. More or less) that someone stumbled upon this blog via Google, with the search term 'Pet sitting in Mons'. There have been funnier terms that have landed Googlers here, like 'Boobies in Mons' and 'Woosterisms', but I'm mentioning this one because I would very much like to petsit. If you happen to refind this blog, petsittee anonymous, look no further. I will petsit; I have plenty of experience from a small colony of rabbits and guinea pigs we had in the back garden when I was growing up, my demanding, grumpy dog back in Blighty, and from looking after Ben.


Speaking of Ben, I just asked him what else has happened that's worth mentioning. He looked up to the ceilings and blew his cheeks out expressively, looking a cross between a naughty monkey and a mechanic who is about to tell you your car is going to cost more than he originally anticipated.

"We ate ostrich the other day," he pointed out, after some thought.

He's right. We did. Traditional Belgium cuisine, all the way.

Incidently, petsittee anonymous, if your pet is an ostrich, I promise not to eat it.