OK…thanks everyone for the comments on my last post, which was a tad on the serious side, I know. That might be because I’ve been bottling it up through a mixture of shame, embarrassment, worry about what anyone will think, panic re the legal case…..and many other reasons.
The death of my brain, and the death of my marriage (though it had been a zombie for some time).
A la Mr SC, I’m just going to highlight a few things I’ve been reading lately….a few I’ve read before, and a few that I’ve been newly introduced to…..First up has to be Mr Spicy Cauldron himself, with his post about being banned in China! Wahay! I am…..
Waking up in the cold grey light of a February morning in Birmingham. Grabbed breakfast and off we went to Morecambe. Crawled back in at about 11am, then I went off to AD’s to pick up M______, the cause of this pilgrimage. Don’t you just love children. ‘Hello Mummy’ it says ‘I’m happy you’re back but I don’t want to go home now as I’m playing with Boogyboo and we’re making wands’. Great. I have missed the little…darling, and all she wants is for me to go away!
He was getting more and more greenish by the minute…….then ran. The hour and a half trip became a symphony of running up and down between the deck and the loo……When we finally got off at Dover, we then had the joy of being stopped by customs (for the third time this trip………). I have never ever been stopped before (except for on emabarrasssing strip-search incident at Manchester in the late 80s, but I blame that one on the person with whom I was travelling), but Mr A says this happens to him all the time, apparently.
Fit the fifth..in which the Bakewell Tart may become evident…….
We eventually went back to the hotel and fell asleep, interrupted by phone calls from our friends and family, AD and D among others, until I took pity on Mr A and we headed off to the Leclerc cafeteria as he was again ‘fading away’………
I promise that I will get around to the Bakewell Tart eventually……..
So we went back and made ourselves look halfway decent and then actually went for a nice meal in a restaurant…which is where Mr A began his problematic relationship with French food. It was quite a pretentious little resto on the bay, they were just about to patronise us on the way in when they realised I was speaking French…..but we did get sideways looks from all the BCBGs Parisiens at the tables around…… (just because we were dodgy looking English goths…)
This is going to have to be in chapters, as there’s quite a lot to say really……………It has been an interesting couple of weeks to say the least.
