Bless my cotton socks

First job of the day – washing clothes. The sun was shining helpfully, so I thought to myself, ‘Good drying weather!’. I keep on having profound thoughts like that these days. By the time I’d hung all the wet stuff up outside, the sun had disappeared and it started to rain. Bother! It was then that I realised I had washed all of my socks so I didn’t have any to wear. Double bother! This wouldn’t normally be much of an issue, but socks here are absolutely crucial due to the combination of cold weather and even colder stone floors, which have been known to turn a healthy foot blue within minutes causing gangrene to set in and leading to almost certain amputation with a blunt machete. I put ‘socks’ on my shopping list, after ‘salad’ but before ‘champagne’.

I squeezed my grapefruits, tucked into a hearty breakfast then got on with the task in hand. Made some good writing progress this morning – feel like I’m getting back on track - but a long way to go still. Who said it would be easy? Floella Benjamin or Wincey Willis? You decide.

My driving lesson had been booked for this afternoon, and the instructor arrived as arranged. But before that, we went to L’Eclerc to buy socks (thank god!), a trowel (to bury amputated foot), a pair of secateurs (toenails getting a bit unruly, not that that's a problem anymore) and some champagne (to numb the pain). Then we went to a deserted car park, but not to shoot rats – just to terrorise them with my driving. Michael lit a cigarette to calm his nerves as I took the driving seat in the Smart. Well, we went once around the car park in a fairly safe fashion and then back home and nobody died as far as we are aware, though I’m keeping an eye on the papers. No problem at all infact – I’m back on the road! Michael went for a lie down in a darkened room.

It warmed up a bit this afternoon, so trowel in hand I got on with some weeding out on the terrace. Ah, the therapeutic powers of gardening! I rescued some plants which didn’t appear to be weeds and replanted them. It’s taking shape already. Must get some herbs and pansies in the market on Wednesday, then I’ll show you a picture. Do you like the way I’m building the suspense to keep you coming back for more?

This evening I was very generously offered a table for dinner at L’Enfance de Lard. I arrived in time for aperitifs (impeccable timing!) and then took my corner table. Armed with the Sunday Times and a book, I pretended to read whilst really just watching everybody else. I had a gorgeous starter of coubicou (not sure of the spelling, but it's warmed goats cheese in breadcrumbs on a bed of salad) and was persuaded to have the restaurant's famous main course – this is a thick piece of prime steak, cooked over the vine root fire and presented on a piece of toasted bread, topped with pan-fried foie gras served with potatoes sautéed with garlic and parsley in goose fat, and a heap of cêpes. Utterly fantastic with gutsy red wine. A piece of tart and a few glasses of champagne rounded off a perfect meal. This blog is turning into Winner’s Dinners! Or am I turning into a pompous old git? That was a rhetorical question by the way – please do not post a comment.