I am not a good patient, in fact I think we could safely say I am a dreadfult patient, not patient at all, majorly grouchy with wider range of swear words by the hour. I am not doing this well at all. If anyone ever tells you that double bunion surgery is a painless proceedure and 'nothing to worry about' show them the door, walk away (while you still can) and carry on living with horrible feet.
The fact that I am helpless and totally beholden to others is not sitting well with me. The fact that I am totally beholden to Mr x feels even worse. I am having to ask help for the simplest things. I am frustrated in my helplessness and not nice to be near. Think wounded tiger if you need an image on this one.
I hate to say this guys but i am afraid I will be inflicting myself on you far more regularly than usual. As I am trapped here on the sofa (henseforth to be known as 'Command Centre' – image here – the bridge on the Starship Enterprise, complete with bottled waater, kettle, biscuits, fruit, files, books, French learning cds, notebooks and magazines) with nothing else to do.
I shall blog my way out of this. I will survive, cue Gloria Gaynor and lots of dramatic music.
Anyway here we are on day 2 of the French Photo safari.
When one thinks of French chic one immediatley sees little black dresses, neat suits, pearls, cute hats and a certain polish and finish, a complete Look.
My French chic is everywhere. From street lamps from another era, so different from the monstrosities on our roads, to shutters in faded French grey. This curious shade of soft blue grey says France to me in the strongest possible way. It speaks of summer skies and cool interiors, it is on doors, window frames, shutters and trim. the older the paint the better the look, aged, time worn, lived in and There.
All the buildings have a style of their own. They are the short skirts, the long lines, the pastel shades, the latest look. They are their own fashion show, everything from the cozy to the grand.
Faded granduer, what history in those stones. What lives were lived within those walls. They tell their own story, they are their own book.
Simplicity itself. The ellegant swan so serene on the surface, shutters hide a busy life the engine keeping the ship afloat.
Only a few days ago I walked these streets. Seems unreal now from my position on the sofa. I am now a virtual traveller recalling sights, smells, sounds and tastes.
Hmmmmmmm France I love her.