The mother-in-law has gone home. The obvious relief is still being abruptly shattered from time to time by the shuddering thought that I've gone deaf. Then I suddenly realise that she has gone home. It turns out to be a strange mixture of shock and relief on numerous levels.
The wood has been delivered for winter. The strange little man, as strong as an Ox, came trundling down from the mountain in his cranky old lorry. He spoke at us in a dialect even the locals don't understand. As usual he was fascinated by HRH and the royal family. Why would we, the British, still entertain such a strange system?
Our Small Corner of France
Home Sweet Home
Mauricio
Coq of the garden
1 comment:
My mother wasn't too loud really but we did have running commentary on every programme on the TV. Followed by comments such as what a load of rubbish (polite way of putting this, if you know my mum you will know what I mean!) There was a time when the TV wasn't rubbish of course; this was from 5.30pm onwards to watch Neighbours, Home and Away, Hollyoaks, Emmerdale, Coronation Street, Eastenders, and Holby City after which time Mum went to bed as the "rubbish" returned.
Post a Comment