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An Olive Branch

Now that the W word is well and truly a part of our new routine, weekends are all the more precious. Yesterday, I was just a tiny bit miffed to have wasted spent my morning “having words”!

Apparently my “demanding” character has become a tad “sensitive” so in a bid to “calm me down“, the Italian prepared a lovely picnic and took me and Bambina for a day out.

What was an “uugh” morning turned into a wonderful day especially when walking home we came across an olive tree.

Eerh looka at thisa!! Ia cannota believe ita, an olivea tree in the middlea ofa londona, witha reala olivesa!!!!!”

It’s the happiest I’ve seen the Italian in months! It’s amazing what the sight of an olive can do to a mediterranean persons mood!

As I turned around, he had launched half of his body into the tree! He leaned over the garden wall and began picking. “Don’t! You’ll get caught!!” I scorned at him. “Youa thinka I’m Gona leavea these ‘erea??” he mouthed in a whisper that in another life wouldhave been an almighty excited scream.  As I kept watch, he hurled copious handfuls of black olives into our picnic basket.

“‘Eh, ere..” he said handing me a scrawny twig. “Whats that?!” I replied, half scowling.

“C’maaan baby, it’sa an olivea branch!!”

And with that we skipped home merrily and lived happy ever after.

The’a End’a.

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Posted by on March 27, 2012 in London

 

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