... let you in on a secret

Thank you google maps

Alec aussi for showing moi screenshot.

An Old House  may be ours, fingers crossed, touch wood and all that.  Best laid plans .....  the intention was to wait, to hang fire not count our chickens, 70's edition of First Aid in English has a lot to answer for as does my mother.  However bedrooms have been bagsied, sofas selected, Christmases planned. It has a drawing room to die for.  Cool went out the window as competition entered the ring.

U.K sale still chugging slowly forth , still no tie ins no deposits no anything to stop our purchasers fleeing into the night, leaving us high and dry and sans funds to buy this wonderful abode or at the very least a deposit to cover costs already ensued.  However we are nearly there. A final form winging its way, okay optimistic that, dilly dallying across the channel; international post being what it is, random.

Once done that magic word, exchange and then corks pop, celebration time proper and despite knowing the french system will be long and arduous, at least both parties will be committed,  I hope,  moi, I most definitely shall be in all senses of the word.

Ohhh and it comes with a lot of  brown stuff.

..... shop for Alec's dinner.

Yesterday was Sunday so just like the great one I too took a day of rest.  Sunday for us is also test day.

It's not just moi that needs to get speaking this tricky lingo.  So too do the hubbie and four boys.  The youngest two have a bit of a leg up as they attend a French school.  The eldest not so and their apathy towards acquiring said skill partly contributes to my disappointment with their establishment of not so great learning.

So to help us all we have a verb of the week and we have to learn four tenses of chosen verb.  The winner gets to chose a four course meal of their choice and the loser gets to be footman and scullery maid for this grand repast, too much Downton peutêtre.

Last week Alec was the lucky one poor Elliot the not so.  The carrot and the stick it has to be.  Does it work?  Well put it this way Elliot may not be choosing this weeks supper but neither is he tidying up.  That not so pleasant task will be left to the eldest. Unfortunately it often is, genes will out poor Tom.

Suffice to say I like to ensure I never have to, as I mentioned at the beginning of post, everyone deserves one day off.

La semaine prochaine,

We revisit aller.

.. watch Downton Abbey.

It's a tad miserable outside, been like it for days now and I hate gloom.  Also feeling a bit weary as our house sale in the U.K drags slowly forth.  Survey done yesterday and as the country has been flooded for the best part of the year and when not flooded being blown to bits, I am not feeling too optimistic   about the chances of a 6 month empty, 18th century house with a large treed garden coming out unscathed.  So feeling on tender hooks till this part of the tortious selling process is over.

 Also on Thursday we optimistically put in an offer on ' an old house ' and we haven't heard anything back.  I was hoping to pre-empt a second viewing that is happening on the property today.  My gut instinct is that we have gone in too low.  It could work we could save thousands which will be needed for the renovations but we could also loose it all together.  Our fall back option appears to have disappeared off the internet, cela vie.  After the day I had yesterday things are looking decidedly  dreary.

So why Downton, why today?  Well being a mother of four boys T.V viewing is oft of the macho variety.  Zombies, action heroes, horror, war movies, you get the picture.  Very occasionally though I manage to commandeer this state of the art monstrosity that graces, not! my living room wall.   Rarer still there are times when a son shall happen upon my presence there sit himself down aside of me and appreciate a change of genre.  For the second time this has happened with Downton.  'Alas, Alec '

no2, son watched the first few series avec moi and now no 3, Sam has gotten the bug after happening upon my latest xmas special and recent series binge.  So a request he has made to view all from start to finish,  and who am I to argue with that delicious  prospect.

My beautiful old home in Gloucestershire,

Sadly will have to say goodbye,

Curse those bin bags though!

... paint in Annie Sloane duck egg blue

Not that I am wearing it of course.  I love to paint.  Not delectable landscapes, moody portraits, madcap moderns.  No not I, for I love to paint walls, windows, floors, and furniture, even sofas.  The first three are out for the moment, more on that tomorrow, so furniture I shall paint.

France not only the land of the baguette and pastry but also abundant with brocante, read junk shops, flea markets and Troc no less, with a plethora of old and semi old brown furniture that no discerning modern madame would deign give floor space to.

So off we trot both friends et moi to buy it up and paint it free from landfill, bonfire and Troc eternity.

Today's lucky rescue, upcycle call what you will is a bargain chevet, last Saturday found at Les Puces a favoured haunt for all things cheap and brown.  Some smart stuff too so if in town take a stroll down said canal where all things linen and industrial alongside do reside.

I had once thought to make a go of selling on what I bestow with splash of paint.  But ambitious folk have got there first.  The market fills, the hitherto cheap gets dear here, a place renown.

Ah! a tip off I have received.  A place untapped, ripe to be explored, markets brimming, people giving it away for sure.

Will I act, go for it, grab the opportunity?  No not me for alas! Alec! ;) I am Procrastinator Extraordinaire and I shall just paint this today instead.

15 euro find,

Mustard jar 8,

Les Puces du Canal,

Lyon.

Salad bowl moi :)

... rush around like a blue arsed fly.

because it is Wednesday and as yet the Rythmes Scolaire remain solidly free Wednesday for me and mine.

So lie-in, feet up and a sneaky lunchtime glass of vino in order.

Alas! Alec! whoops him again, she doth protest for today is the busiest day of all for home mother's here in France.  We have violin, we have guitar, we have piano.  We have to collect those poor oldies who have only a half day to fit in tennis, badminton, escrime, drama or any other hobby or leisure/not, activity they care to pursue.

The MJC car park buzzes as we vie for spaces, all skinny latte and useless for us poor souls endowed with good reproductive genes ensuring of need for full cream beasts to cart around our offspring.

What's that I spy nay one brave soul entering now though more rapidly exiting with chunk of trailer in tow, oh fool thee!

So think of this you politicians from above with experience not of this one special day.  When else can all this happen?  There goes the evening glass of wine whilst head over homework bent, the Saturday family outing, the Sunday walks and visits. Sunday schools emptied for football pitch.  Memories of a Britain left.

I do digress, so roll on ce soir, dear little ones to bed shall flea and I shall poor some wine.  For now it is time for me.

Gluten free carrot cake.

Yesterday's did was yum.

... make a carrot cake #sansgluten #glutenfree.

We live in a world were # is the definitive precursor to all things written?

Another time peut-être.  I digress.  Since moving to France, the land of baguette and all things pastry I find I have an intolerance for all things gluten. Alas, alec ( whoops no that is a son!) bring on the violins she weeps but no not moi.  Bake I must and bake I did, she who did not bake before, and therein hidden talents did I find.  Tarte citron, tarte orange, my own recipe with a dash of Grand Marnier thrown in to the mix, have all joined my repertoire of tasty desserts.  A necessity in a country so poorly served with Gluten free treats.

But my youngest, him who graces my profile pic when at his cutest a time fast gone, has put in a request and so today I broaden my scope and today carrot cake it shall be,
 #glutenfree. # sansgluten of course.

(pic of a horribly gluten full chocolate cake )