So my troubles are behind me now. Behind being the operative word. You heard about my ahem maladie derriere- thank heaven that sorry tail has come to an end.
Not however without three visits to that place where the dogs howl. 'That place' is a complete set up- first yay we're going out, scramble happily into my sherpa,then a nice lttle walk, then uh oh that place where lots of people are happy to see you and fuss over you and then bam its off to a small room with a lot of innapropriate, invasive, probing with fingers and foreign objects.
OK there were some benefits. For two weeks dinner came with dessert. There was the faint sinister taste of something vaguely chemical in it but it didn't ruin the exquisite sweetness of mashed banana or the tang of kefir counterpointed with a drop of miel de lavande.
Yes thats right I said miel de lavande as in from France or to be precise the South of France. PL got a lovely parcel fom the Côte d'Azur a little while back. Both he and I have struck a friendship with Jilly who writes Postcards from Pension Milou who sent us a delightful care package all the way from the South of France. I thought she might have preferred me over PL as she has written some very nice things about me and even has a picture of me on her wall but the contents of the package tended to favor PL somewhat. He was clearly thrilled with this box of Mediterranean goodness. He sniffed the hand milled soaps (he let me have a whiff too- lovely), spooned rich red pastes onto his lunctime sandwiches or snacked on cubes of pickled cheese or slices of sun dried tomatoes, his eyes closed, transported as I was when I had my (small) share of the young Parmesan to somewhere sunnier and far far away from cold NYC.
Butt I digress. Now what was I saying before I got sidetracked to the outskirts of Monte Carlo.....I've completely forgotten how I started this post. Oh well, onward.
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