It’s official, it’s winter. All my gang have been poorly with seasonal lurgies and it’s snowed! The morning we woke up to the snow there was lots of yelling and excitement. There wasn’t much but Nick managed to get out in the garden and throw a few snow balls before school and Winnie our greyhound ran her laps with extra gusto.
Hi Lorraine, Harriet’s mum, aka Madame Pickles here again.
It’s getting near to the Christmas season and I’ve started getting prepared for a British Christmas here in France – and, I confess, reeling at the prospect of a couple of vegans coming to eat. Yes it was me Harry was referring to when she described people rolling their eyes in despair when she announced she was going vegan. I get it, I admire her commitment and concern for the health of her family but (sorry there is a but) things become difficult when you are vegan and living in France, I am being very selfish here, I knew I was going to miss the girlie lunches we’ve had when we’ve been out, nothing grand, an 11 euro meal in one of the local restaurants. These places are brilliant, they cater for working people, you could be sitting with someone booted and suited or someone that’s just come in from the farm, not quite up to their knees in mud but not far short. You have a proper three or even four course meal, wine or cider is usually included with a coffee to finish. How the “Ouvriers” go back to work I do not know, I just want to go home and do nothing for the rest of the afternoon.