It was going to be upbeat. Racy. Dare I say witty even. First of all I was going to give you the secret recipe for the lime putty (ever had a witty lime putty recipe thrown at you?).
Unfortunately, the photos I took for the post have ALL disappeared, and are currently being held hostage by my computer. I know they are in there, because I can see the thumbnails… But each time I try to retreive one in full, there is a big blank space where the photo should be. "Ha!" said I. "Hah!" again. "This is but a minor setback; a childish game of hide and seek." So I gave my Mac that 'we are not amused' look I usually reserve for my messmonsters at crucial moments, took 3 deep breaths and raced up to the next door neighbour's to wench Libellule off the poney she should have put to sleep long before it got dark. That was at 10pm.
And THAT was when the bombshell dropped… You see, tomorrow, while Seth posts his Style File in which I am a rather chuffed participant this week, I was meant to be taking Chickpea to a long awaited horse-riding camp in England. We were to get up at the proverbial sparrow's and fly from Toulouse to London via Paris. Lunch in London then we would part ways - moi back home to Toulouse via Paris, and chickpea on to the riding centre with her very best friend whom she's not seen for a year. All thanks to Beaker's accumulated air miles with Air France.
Ever had a little message on your phone: "Flight Cancelled?" Sigh. Tears. Exasperation. Powerlessness. Anger and Frustration Dammit!!!!! It's summer… and strike time again. Eh OUI mes amis, Air France, French rail and French ferries - they make a sport of it every holiday season.
It only seems like yesterday that I raced over to Avignon (a mere 4 ½ hours away) to pick up my darling friend Kim who, wide eyed an innocent, had never until then even imagined the dark and dastardly alter ego lurking behind France's exquisite Ladurée macarons… You can read about that adventure here. Ah BUGGER! London's just that little bit further than Avignon…
So what do I do? Drown my sorrows in champagne like Pierrot? Jump head first into the champagne bucket like Colombine? How fortunate that I keep a champagne bucket handy in my studio for special moments… and those of excruciating self-pity.
Oh it's alright. I'll get over it. And Beaker has valiantly forged off in the direction of the airport as I type away to you and rant like a madwoman while slowly downing a pot of liquid caramel au sel de Guérande that friends just brought me back from Brittany. Maybe next time I should ask them to bring back two on their next holidays so I can keep it next to the champagne bucket for … occasions such as these ;-)
I hear a car… Quick! Beaker's back - ALREADY??Hide the empty caramel pot!!!
Will Ange fly her beloved Chickpea to London, whipping in for a Ladurée stop en route?
Will Chickpea be devastated,
forced to spend a week riding in the French countryside?
(Mmm, there could be worse options out there for a young rider. Let's downplay the self pity bit afterall)
Are any of you free in London tomorrow in case I only make it half way
and they cancel my flight back to Toulouse????
Answers on Monday!
Crossing fingers AND toes!! ;-)
PS. Pierrot et Colombine, are weary of my company. 'The champagne bucket is always empty,' they say, and they thirst for adventure. Colombine is aghast that I still haven't mastered the art of haute couture and longs for beautiful gowns of brocade and lace, in accordance with her French heritage. Accordingly, we came to a common understanding that they should both go into my Etsy shop which will be reopening this week. I would be much obliged if one of you could give them a good home in the fine manner they were previously accustomed to.