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The sausages have been eaten, the brownies too and quite a lot of gout consumed as well. The party was a great success and I would like to thank all who made it so. I shan't whitter on any more but simply post the pics.

Clockwise from the top:
Prue and Gaby's father
Murielle my personal hairdresser
Gaby and his nephew
John and Sylvette
In the arboretum
à table

Move over Lawrence!

I am feeling particularly smug at the moment as I have a wonderful new office, 'what I did!' I shan't waste space telling you about the three lawyers of wallpaper I had to scrape off to get through to the mouldy old walls of my bureau. Nor shall I wax lyrical about the 'lovely' handpainted frieze I found on the bottom lawyer. I shall let you see for yourselves. There's before after and of course the 'helpful' Holly lending a hand.

Kersplat/boom

Yes, with my usual amount of finesse and feminine delicacy I have managed to do myself harm. During my holidays (of course, because these things never happen when you time is not your own), the door- bell rang. I jumped to my feet and ran to the door - not noticing the little puddle left by our adorable four-legged friend. To say that I slipped would be an understatement, I flew to the floor. Crushing, on the nice hard tiling, my right knee, right hip, right elbow, right shoulder and right cheek. J'ai tombée dans les pommes - literal translation, I fell in the apples, expression meaning- I fainted. Luckily for me, the person ringing at the door was in fact the Angel, who had just rung the bell to get the dog excited - what a lark. So, after opening the door and seeing my spectacular flight and the ensuing kersplat/boom, he picked me up and put me on the sofa. He then got me some ice for my cheak, as, in his words - he wasn't going to have people thinking he was a wife-beater.

So there you go. The moral of the story could be don't have a dog, or tiling or boyfriend who plays with the door-bell. The choice is yours.

New installment coming soon as I have done a changing rooms on my office and I am so proud of it that I shall be posting heaps of pics.

Valentines

For once I must have done something right: the sun shone, the traffic was moving and all was as we wanted it to be. It probably isn't the same when you live there but 'going' to Paris for le St Valentine is pretty cool. Despite the days of endless rain before-hand the day was surprisingly warm and sunny. So we wandered around St Michel and dosed up on Starbucks. We visited the ducks in the Luxembourg gardens and checked-out the animaleries along the Sienne, where we found a little sister for Holly. We didn't actually take her home owing to the fact that she cost €1,200. A mere snip! The Orsay museum was conveniently holding a reduced price night so we both got in as youngsters - oh ok, so I was the only one who needed a reduction. It was almost a shame to have to get back in the car and go home again - except of course for the sausage waiting for us who hadn't see a human bean all day.

I managed to take a whopping 100 photos, all in the space of a day. However I didn't have my camera whilst we were eating which was a shame. We went to Paris's oldest Japanese restaurant where they prepare the sushi and sushami in front of you. Pretty cool, huh? So we ate a mamoth plate of raw fish but were both decided afterwards that we felt like we hadn't eaten a thing. Perhaps good for the diet by doesn't work on the brain! Which is why we were 'obliged' to go to Starbucks and pick up some carrot cake and giants coffees for our duck visiting.

So there we go, another Valentines has past and not been forgotten. Perhaps one shouldn't make a fuss but then at the same time I feel I should make the most of it whilst it's just us. Hope yours was a good too.

Valentine's in style

The Ardennes may be little more interresting than the Milton keynes countryside but it has at least one redeeming feature. It's only two and a half hours away from Paris. So is Waterloo now I know, but you see what I mean. So we are going. Just for a coffee. Because we can.

Let me introduce...

Already demanding photos - a little patience please I'm new at this.

May I introduce you to Holly - or the crevette, nicknamed such for her enormous size. Do not be deceived, this creature can get up on the table simply with the help of a chair three times higher than her. Simply jump, jam head in front of the backrest and wiggle at lot. There you are, a 'minus' on top of the world and with the pickings of everything the silly humans left on the table. She is in fact Belgian, not a plus in the eyes of the French but at least she's cute ( that helps her get away with lots, like peeing everywhere, even in the boyfriend's mother's immaculate kitchen).

And this is La grosse! Or Bella, as you wish, who left us a decapitated shrew between our pillows this morning. A touching gift. As the angel pointed out, she gave all that she can give. Which makes it even more touching really.

Here goes nothing

Let's see if I can get this to work. Not being a blog officionado (I didn't know what they were until last Friday) this is an experiment, be it wise or otherwise. Since Friday the ideas have been formulating themselves into real if not slightly intrepid motivation.

Don't expect juicy tales of Gallic adventures experienced by mouse. She just wants to talk to the guys back home, post the odd picture of the dog or progress report of the decorating. Perhaps even racont des conneries of my students. Don't worry, there won't be too much French, I avoid writing it at all costs and there are sure to be spelling mistakes in the English too. I find that happens more and more. I used to be quite an articulate kind of girl, now I find myself wondering about the word umbrella in front of the blackboard, my back to a bunch of giggling teenagers.

So, here I am. Dear family, let me know what you think, but be nice. And perhaps someone will explain what a blog is to Granny, too daunting a task for me!