Blown out

I have never made cauliflower soup before, and I was most pleasantly surprised with the fruits of my labour. A delicious potage, especially with a little Roquefort cheese crumbled in just before serving – an excellent tip from Bergerac’s finest chef. If there was a competition for superb soups I believe this would be well received by the judges.

Well, what can I say? I was about to start cleaning the house and making up the guest bedroom, when I decided to check my emails first. What do you know? A cancellation! My weekend guest was not coming! I was shocked. I reluctantly accepted the truth of the matter given the mitigating circumstances of general family unwellness. One consolation was I didn’t have to do any cleaning, but what I’m going to do with all this champagne, wine, beer and food I’ve got in I really do not know. Suggestions on a postcard please!

You’ll be relieved to know I really did appreciate my new found leisure time (that’s a Sparks lyric by the way) and spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon catching up on the writing I didn’t do during my time in London. I popped out for a baguette and a Guardian – well, I figured that I wouldn’t be getting the one my visitor had promised to bring me so I it was acceptable to treat myself.

It’s incredibly cold here, although the on-line weather forecast would have you believing otherwise. How can they get it so wrong so often? I got incredibly shivery sitting still writing, so I decided to take myself off for a brisk walk along the river. I walked for three quarters of an hour and then turned round and headed back which certainly got the blood pumping. As I walked back to the house I saw the Ryan Air flight come in – one passenger short! I can hear the plane fly off again on its return trip to Stanstead as I write this.

So, I kind of had the next 71 hours with my guest planned out – but now I’ve screwed that up and dropped it into the recycling bag. Dinner tonight at L’Enfance de Lard has been cancelled, and I find myself at a loose end. No excuse not to buckle down and write then. OK. I will. I’ll show you. Every cloud has a silver lining. Every dog will have his day. Many a muckle makes a muckle.

Now, where’s that bottle of champagne?