MWNN is still in Dublin, where the word is that his mother is far from dying but is refusing to leave her bed. Being waited on hand and foot by your grown up daughters agrees with her.
We're planning to take off for France at the crack of dawn on Thursday, our departure having been put back three times from its original May 1st date.
In the meantime, I'm scrubbing, washing, ironing and generally keeping busy now that the writing Muse has departed once more. MWNN always leaves a big hole in my world when he's away and I have to fill it somehow. Mostly by cooking, usually. This evening, the smell of potroast surendering to the flavours of Cotes de Rhone Villages and herbs de Provence, and the bread baking, is slowly driving me mad. There's at least a couple more hours before I'll be able to taste any of it.
*need to chomp on something tasty*
*Looks at Killer Terrier* Nope - too smelly . . . and tough!