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Tuesday, January 11, 2011

It's a good thing this isn't a video blog; I have no voice.

Alrighty, how's life?
After being thrilled to be back and settling in nicely the January blues hit me like a bus, accompanied by a high temperature, perpetually running nose, horrible cough and aches and pains generally everywhere. Not good. And now that I have almost no voice I realise how much I rely on being able to shout in my job; asking the boys feebly, once, to put their pjs on and come through for tea has no effect whatsoever. Especially when one child doesn't stop making noise for one second be it in English, French or his very own indecipherable (but linguistically complex no doubt) patois, and the other swings around naked flying his dressing gown in the air, clearly in a world of his own.
Despite this I am feeling much more alive tonight, and thought I'd get myself some comfort food (i.e. snacks with salt) to aid my recovery which so far had seen me eat dry cereal and soup. So sitting with my cashews and biscuits and milk and orange juice I was quite looking forward to digging in. Until I realised: I can't taste any of it! The cashews tasted vaguely salty, tea of nothing at all, the biscuits...
The biscuits I was very excited about because they are... McVitie's Digestives! Packaged up all french, called "Sables Anglais", with one of those guards with the big hats on the box. (For all the food snobbery, it seems the French know who does biscuits best!)
Couldn't taste a thing.

So PLEASE coldy-flu-like thing, leave by tomorrow lunchtime so I can taste and the smell the glorious haggis I made such an effort to smuggle into the country! And please don't let me sneeze into it while I'm cooking, because however bad I feel with my cold it has to be better than looking after the boys when they get it. I only have 2 hands, that leaves one nose dripping freely...

Sunday, January 2, 2011


             The first bit of snow in Paris, from the Louvre
At Place du Pantheon on Hogmanay- notice the masks!




Our very British mince pies and mulled wine night before Christmas!

Bonne Année!

Well hello!

I'm back in Paris since Hogmanay after 2 weeks in Scotland, and it feels as if I never left. Which is exactly how I felt at home as well- it's like only one of my homes can exist at a time, the other seems a bit hazy and frankly made-up when I'm not there.
The holidays were lovely, full of food, games of Articulate, snow, more food, and lazing in front of the stove. And seeing as my life here had been clouded out by so many fireside Twiglets (went a bit extreme on salt intake after 3 months of healthy eating here) I wasn't terrifically excited about coming back, though it might have had something to do with the prospect of carrying my whole snowboard kit with me. But, as soon as I got here after a taxi, bus, flight, bus and a final taxi, all was good. Especially as I was welcomed by a warmed-up flat, a wee rose and a note telling me the boys wanted to give me the present Santa left me.
They seemed pleased to see me, and were absolutely in fits when I showed them their new whoopie cushion. Hopefully that won't last too long, I can see it getting wearing after a week or two...

I unpacked, napped, had tea, and then all in a rush Laura arrived and it was practically time for the bells! Just enough time to get dressed up and make a couple of masks (cardboard, shiny blue paper, a lace scarf and a paintbrush- I should be on Blue Peter) before seeing in the new year in my local, popping out to sing Auld Lang Syne with new friends at Place du Panthéon; with compulsory view of the Eiffel Tower. We all got fairly excited when Jackie Bird appeared on the pub TVs back inside -thank you Scottish barman- it was only yesterday we realised the time difference works at New Year too. If we had kept watching we'd have had a second countdown!

Now, sitting in my studio awake at 1.30am again finishing Gran's tablet, I realise I didn't make any resolutions. So: update blog more efficiently, explore more, paint more, speak more French, etc.
And eat out more; been to the same little American diner twice (Breakfast in America, it's really good) but should really branch out! We always fail to find nice little French places that aren't real tourist traps.
There's a good resolution.

A plus tard