This is not meAs you may remember, it snowed at the beginning of the week - Sunday night, to be precise. Well, it's still there in my back garden. That's a whole (rapid count on fingers) 5 days later. Du jamais vu!
With a nod at Keith's remarks on my sad lack of talk about mushrooms, I'm wondering whether such snow cover will succeed in producing the odd sprout of fungi where sun, frost and rain have failed. I like the idea because as least I wouldn't get lost in my search. I remember reading somewhere that mushroom hunters often get lost in the depth of the forest and some don't appear for days. I suppose this isn't a problem if they're good at what they do; at least they wouldn't starve. I imagine they never go hunting without a frying pan, gas stove, stock of butter, garlic and box of matches. Just in case. If they're not good at what they do, on the other hand, and they get lost, it might turn out to be ironic justice for the mushrooms where the mushroom hunter becomes food for mushrooms instead of hunting mushrooms for food...
The snow is not the place to go prancing about in lingerie either (Keith). Unless you're a hardened northern type or from Canada where they have that joke about having barbecues at -30°C (or something). We're always having it rammed down our throats how the French spend billions on lingerie. I'm not sure your average mum standing outside the local school, fag in mouth, sloppy baggy jeans, cheapo pully and trainers will be sporting a model of lace and delicate braiding beneath however. Of course, I could be wrong.
I remember reading an article by that Helena somebody-somebody who writes (or wrote) irritating articles for the Daily Mail about how, once she'd discovered the joys of wearing matching lingerie never went back. Bully for you, thought I. Me, I like options. I have lingerie I can wear, matching or not, as the mood or the contents of the dirty linen basket take me. I do need to top up, actually, but, being the perfect mother (*cough*), I put buying sports trousers for my youngest before any frivolous but expensive purchase of miniscule bits of sexy lace and silk. Maybe Helena whatsit-whatsit didn't have such choices to make. She lived in the back of beyond not far from a bog in the arrière pays behind Pezenas (or somewhere like that) which makes it unlikely she had children to send to school.
She probably drove a 2CV too, to complete her authentic life in France.
Keith, I dedicate this post to you. ;)