deep breath...

Um... hello...

I'm back, back home, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to stop thinking in half arsed, unfinished, frustrated French - but that seems to have taken care of itself. Instead it's been replaced with (what must be hormonal) chest crushing anxiety and a litany of all the things I have failed at, and failed to succeed at, and failed to do, motivated by a newspaper spot about someone's successful packaged cookie dough business (www.kookydough.ie, the resourceful bastards!) combined with the children's book reviews, and the aforementioned anxiety. So instead of listing those things in a self pitying and whingy manner I've changed the sheets on the bed and got round to fiddling with the blog colours. It's not quite right. And there should be waterlilies. But, I'm sure you'll agree, the pink has had its day. And the pictures I'm about to post will look nice.

The island was lovely and I had a lovely time, though I felt like I didn't do much, and would like another little holiday to get me recovered from the children's endless bickering and fussing and falling over and annoying each other loudly etc. More thoughts on France anon.