.... work out what to do with my once beautiful but now broken mirror.

Last week we had two glorious days of skiing.  Early nights and even earlier mornings a necessary evil.  So on one such night being woken up to a decibel breaking crash was not in the game plan.  Mike jumped out of bed, Sherlock dived under and poor Lily, our beautiful Bengal who'd chosen that night to join the motley crew upon our thankfully super kingsize, dived over headboard and onto window sill.

The floor now littered with glass scattered around my upturned mannequin and prostrate mirror.  The culprit astutely hidden and in no hurry to reappear for fear of being marched straight back to S.P.A from whence he came by one irate, 40 plus, male, owner. 

No longer full length glass to peruse oneself pre venturing forth each day. Sadly an all but empty frame with sole glazed corner reflecting back feet and ankles, cankles not, my best feature peutêtre but not terribly practical. 

Alas bin I think, cela vie at least it wasn't this one.

Phew that Wii game was exhausting.

Lily enjoying a more restful sleep.

...sort out my laundry room

French houses, unlike british houses, don't appear to have boot rooms.  Okay many british houses don't have them either but most have an utility, a place for washing machines, wet dogs and dirty gubbings alike.  Never worked for me, two opposing needs lumped into one room.  Too many crisp clean sheets soiled by muddy paws and earth clad floors.

In France they have the baunderie, easy to remember ' sounds like ....laundry', throw back to my teaching days there.  It more often than not is situated upstairs, convenient for discarded clothes, not convenient for dirty boots and wet dogs, hence the obvious segregation.  Unfortunately mine is rather a large room, unlike back in blighty where it fitted a machine and ironing board,  and as in all large families there is an accumulation of stuff and that stuff must be housed. Not in an attic where stuff never needed again and xmas decs live, things  that may be useful stuff. Material for projects planned, not done, grown out clothing that will another conveniently birthed son adorn.  Mouses live protected from killer cats. Every house needs an indoor garage in my opinion.

So stuff therein accumulates and spreads, gets rummaged through and dropped.  Frankly it all ends up in one big,messy muddle that yours truly has to sort on a too regular basis.  Put off for far too long today it will be once more tackled and this time it will stay organised.

She doth jest of course!

A brave before photo.

So no backing out now

Might need to do some ironing?

..wash sheets and tell you about Sherlock.

The sun is shinning, an excellent washing day, bleached white sheets waiting since the big stay to billow forth in the breeze.  Lots of white sheets in this abode a continual cycle of on and off both line and bed especially since....

....the arrival of Sherlock!

When to France we did set off, a beautiful English setter accompanying us amongst a motley crew, two adults, 4 boys, 3 cats and guineapig 1.  Sadly Sassy the year did not see but her present to us after an impromptu stay had she at S.P.A was Sherlock.

When bereft of her company a thought was there of all those who would not be retrieved when her I did after brief, very brief soujorn.  So off we went, boys and I, and three did see that might be ours.  From out of hat a noisy Gordon came but me I was a little sad for scruffy black my heart had grabbed. Next day both hubbie dear and I did return to collect the barker chose but fate did play its clever hand. Dear hubbie made a fortuitous error when cage number he did present t'was wrong and out they brought for us to keep, young scruffy black, oh happy heart.

The boys a name had already thought for a boy if that was what we brought and sure enough no better fit.  For here he is all black and mucky on my sheets all crisp and white.  But happy soul he must be from concrete floor to luxury and moi aussi for love him I do, the aching gap near filled.

Sherlock,

Our S.P.A rescue dog.