Anyone who regularly reads my blog may remember last year’s guinea pig holiday (https://www.cawthray.co.uk/2013/10/01/once-upon-a-guinea-pig-holiday/), in which our friends Mr Rattletrap and Mr There’s-not-enough-chocolate-in-it went on holiday.
It’s a little known fact that the collarbones of guinea pigs who eat too much chocolate become soft, rather like twix bars, in fact; so this year, shortly before embarking on his annual visit to the dungeons of the Emperor Adrian in deepest, sunniest South West France, Mr There’s-not-enough-chocolate-in-it went for a ride on his motorbike, fell off and broke his twixbone – again. He’d enjoyed the experience of having it repaired with a metal plate so much last time, that he thought it a good idea to repeat the experience, even if it meant he’d be unable to ride his motorbike to France.
Luckily Mr Rattletrap’s brother, Mr Oh-no-not-a-seventh had also booked to visit, and being a big, strong sort of guinea pig, offered to carry Mr There’s-not-enough-chocolate-in-it’s bag, well packed with enough chocolate to sustain him, on to the plane, if he could book a flight.
Like Mr Rattletrap, Mr Oh-no-not-a-seventh also plays a mean guitar, so mean, actually, that Ryanair wouldn’t let it on board, so ferocious is it that he had to leave it in the dangerous animals’ cage. Normally a gentle sort of guinea pig, Mr Oh-no-not-a-seventh has a horror of playing seventh chords on his guitar, they make him screw up his face in an apoplexy of angst, while shouting “Oh no, not a seventh!”
The first job was to buy Mr Oh-no-not-a-seventh a motorbike as it would have been a squeeze to fit all three guinea pigs onto one, none of them being exactly sylph-like specimens of guinea pig-hood. This done, they set off to chase dragons in them thar mountains, accompanied by Mr I’m-just-off-to-dax-to-see-alice Skinnypig, now known as Mr Aren’t-I-smart-in-my-shiny-new-leathers Skinnypig, on account of his recently having married the lovely Alice and bought a set of motorbiking leathers, the smallest size made, but still less than a close fit. The three rounder-than-they-should-be guinea pigs, whose bodies may be ageing and decrepit, but whose minds are still as sharp as a plastic spoon, and with the combined maturity of a twelve year old schoolboy, had great fun taunting Mr Aren’t-I-smart-in-my-shiny-new-leathers Skinnypig about said new leathers, suggesting remedies for their shinyness, such as rolling about in muddy puddles and when he didn’t agree, they accidentally-on-purpose spilt coffee on him.
The dragons needn’t have worried about being caught this year as Mr Oh-no-not-a-seventh wasn’t used to his new bike and Mr Rattletrap, cosily sharing his bike with Mr There’s-not-enough-chocolate-in-it (they did look sweet!), rode at a grannie’s pace up the hills, the poor bike struggling under their combined consumption of steak, chips and chocolate, and still sounding like a bucket of spanners being dropped down the stairs, so leaving the dragons more time than ever to saunter back to their caves, laughing all the while at the overtaking antics of Mr Aren’t-I-smart-in-my-shiny-new-leathers Skinnypig.
Once they’d tired of that game, they came to visit us (guinea pigs can never resist a free lunch). Amongst the experimental cuisine on offer were chocolate and chilli samosas for Mr There’s-not-enough-chocolate-in-it; he had finished one and was part way through the second before he piped up that these samosas were sweet, he hadn’t been expecting that and hadn’t anyone else noticed? Everyone else had veggie samosas, so no, we hadn’t! A delicious selection of curries, made by Mr Bonnet-ornament Skinnypig followed, finished off by an experimental chocolate meringue pie; chocolate in the pastry, chocolate truffle filling, topped with chocolate meringue. Even Mr There’s-not-enough-chocolate-in-it didn’t dare complain.
I’m sorry I haven’t any photos of the guinea pigs or the dragons, but none of them thought to take a camera and wouldn’t take me along for a ride.
Ceci ne traduit pas bien en français – désolée!