Rabbits eat pine trees

A day spent translating. 

Didn't mind it actually, as for once the words flowed and my "réviseure" found little with which to beat me. The problem with translating into French is that my register is too familiar. 

I've never really recovered from my first time in France (when I called the principal of the school I had just joined a "twat"). I'd never really spoken to French people before, and while I had obviously learned the formal "Bonjour", "Bonsoir" as a greeting, the phrase "Salut" was completely unknown. 

So I used it on him. But as I leant forward to shake his hand, a big smile of friendship on my face, I said "salaud" instead. He stood there, frozen, like a Munch nightmare, before turning round and beetling back to his office. It was probably the most accurate assessment of a personality I have ever had. My relationship with him never recovered.

That was on a Tuesday too. And despite it being my fifth favourite day of the week, weird things often seem to happen. I wish they had today - it would have given me something interesting to write.

Instead, I translated, listened to Champions League football, and worried about Ukraine. It's not going to end well, is it?

The main discovery of today was that rabbits eat pine trees. I had no idea. I saw the rabbit I feed with copious amounts of seed and carrots sitting in front of the fence with a huge branch of my pine tree sticking out of its mouth. I may have to either feed it more, or invest in a gun.