Maison M has noticed that he is using much more bad language since his arrival at the studios in December. There is a suspicion that it is my fault. I excused myself, explaining that my bad language has its origins in Ireland, where bad language is not offensive, just conversational. He’s hoping it will be more under control on his return to France.
I wish him well.
Midweek I planned to do my tax return at home, always a bit last minute I’m afraid.
However the day didn’t pan out that way. Lie in, long bath, food shopping, made lunch for us (asparagus, ham and a poached egg). I then needed to be out of the room while Cornflake was online in a court hearing. Please note that he’s defence rather than the defendant.
I went to the bedroom. I didn’t get into bed but I wrapped myself up in the duvet, pasty style. I started watching A Discovery of Witches, and that was that. An entire series later I surfaced to make dinner (turkey meat balls, roasted veg and rice)
Mills and Boon meets Harry Potter, with one and a half shades of grey. Fabulous locations. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that a part of my heart belongs in Venice.
It was a day well wasted.
I won’t panic yet, I’ve still got nine days to fill that bastard form in.
fat tart 