I know I know I know I know I know I know I KNOW. When I’m busy working I stop writing my blog and when I go off for a week of holidaying I stop writing my blog. It’s rubbish, I know, and I have given myself 77 severe lashes of the whip as punishment. I am now home and have a week to potter and pootle and sow seeds in the vegetable plot and trim the rosebushes and learn lines for the thingy in Paris next week and practise my clarinet AND WRITE. So I shall. Even if it’s hot and sunny and oh so tempting to spend all day outside, I shall instead force myself to sit in a place where the sun does not shine and where I can actually read my computer screen and I shall get back to writing everyday. I shall also allow myself a bit of time to go off and have some adventures or accidents as I know you enjoy reading about those the most. And when in Paris I shall try to rub up against a celebrity or two in the hope of pulling in some Hello! readers. And in the event of me not experiencing anything very out of the ordinary, I shall a/ write about my little boy and his willy problems, and b/ make something up. Both ploys will no doubt have you all racing back for more the next day, spilling your morning coffee as you hurriedly lean across the computer to click on the tab that delivers you to this bumbling little blog.
Ah, and another good one coming up will be more on the subject of “Le XXXX-ing” as I collect more English words incorporated wrongly, yet proudly, into the French language. Here’s one to whet your appetite : “un sweat”. Pronounced “sweet”. What on earth is it? A sweatshirt.
“Ah, j’adore ton sweat (pronounced “sweet” – don’t forget) rouge. C’est le must.”
Oh yes, it really is the must.