Balmy winds, fine wines, kind words.
This weekend Irene, a tropical storm tempered by its journey over the Atlantic, blew on us with its balmy breath, while in Manchester's Central Station we sipped reminders of summers warmer than our own.
In the newly-weds' flat we ate quails' eggs and lambs' lettuce. 'Just because I'm French it doesn't mean I can cook,' Hodmandod Majorette had warned us, but she can, she can!
At Crewe, a train was miraculously delayed just long enough for us to leap upon it, and then arriving home, I discover the present of a kind review of my Patagonia novel on my publisher's website. Thank you Sarah Bower. You have understood what I was trying to do exactly - and made what was already a good day even better.
In the newly-weds' flat we ate quails' eggs and lambs' lettuce. 'Just because I'm French it doesn't mean I can cook,' Hodmandod Majorette had warned us, but she can, she can!
At Crewe, a train was miraculously delayed just long enough for us to leap upon it, and then arriving home, I discover the present of a kind review of my Patagonia novel on my publisher's website. Thank you Sarah Bower. You have understood what I was trying to do exactly - and made what was already a good day even better.
posted by Clare Dudman at 8:48 pm
2 Comments:
'Balmy breath' Yes, the hurricane did drive us balmy. But we have lovely weather today so I can't complain (even though I just did).
-Grumpy bloke from the other side of the pond.
Sorry, anonymous - I'm sure it wasn't very balmy when you encountered it!
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