Just another Sunday dinner at Minton...

Not that we ever need a reason to have a big dinner at Minton...in fact it's fairly commonplace...but we do seem to like pretending that there's a particular reason. This past Sunday it was in John's honour. He has been back in Bermuda for the past month visiting his sister and her new baby, Robin. Since he left his wife behind in Scotland and has therefore been footloose and fancy free, he has spent a fair amount of time at Bruce's. Afterall there is always something going on, a laugh and a drink (or ten) to be had, and it's never been a favourite with the wives...probably something to do with the ever-flowing booze!
Well, John is returning to Bonnie Scotland on Thursday so we just HAD to have a big roast dinner! Lamb with roast potatoes, parsnips, onions and squash, brocolli and cauliflower with my 'spashal' cheese sauce, brussel sprouts and homemade gravy. DELISH!!
As it turns out Bobby is heading back to San Diego on Saturday, giving us two reasons to celebrate...uh...hang on...not celebrate exactly. More like...um...oh, you know what I mean!
And then Lecia announced that the day was the three year anniversary of her arrival on the island. So, yes, celebration is the right word there. Until we realised that, given Bermuda's six year limit on work permits, we were actually marking the half way point of Lecia's Bermuda career. Hmmmm. Oh well, we drank and made merry anyway!!
Unfortunately I was the only person working the next day so I had to remain relatively sober, but the others? Noooooo. Full on, as we say in Bermy.
Now Shona, the beautiful dog above, is ball-mad and spends all her time attempting to draw you in to a game of catch, or kick, or anything. Here she is having dropped her ball on Bobby's temporarily vacant chair and is looking from Lecia to the ball, the ball to Lecia, and repeat ad nauseum, while Lecia groans and says no, repeatedly ad nauseum.
Well, it never takes long for Bruce to come up with something new and different to torture me with and in his infinite drunken wisdom decided it would be fun to see if we could get Shona to take the ball off my head. Right. Can you see her in the bottom right corner...eagerly watching where her precious ball is? Can you see those teeth?
It took her a few tries to figure out what she had to do....launch herself at my head, using the back of the chair as a touch point, and snatch the ball back with whatever force necessary. That ball would be hers once more, never fear!
Well, dear John was taking the photos and there are tons, all a variation of the theme above, with Shona poised in mid strike, and me cringing. But the time when she actually did it? That last time when her fangs scraped across my scalp as she scoopped up the ball as well as a wad of my hair? That moment when her jaws enveloped my head and I screamed and pooped my pants?
Nada. No click. No flash. Nothing. Zip. Zilch.
What a waste of newly highlighted hair and clean knickers.