Tonight we have our annual French meal, as part of the Tour de France obsession I share with my brother-in-law and now my daughter, and which is secondarily tolerated/shared by my sister and my husband, Clokes.
We have our French wines, our non-French cheeses (fuck that, they're too expensive and no one ever really loves them anyway. Let's face it, compared to a King Island Quintriple Brie or a good old Castello Bleu, you can't beat that?)
They are doing main, I am doing dessert and in about ten minutes (as soon as I've finished my Internet Ablutions) I'll decide whether it will be cherry clafoutis or tarte tartin.
This year I'm dressing in yellow. Need to pop to the op shop to try to find something that will complement my yellow cardigan. I told Clokes I am wearing 'as all yellow as possible' and he said: Great, I'll wear my red, white and blue striped top (that we got at 'Tomy [sic] Pony' in Hong Kong. Not Polo and not Tommy Hilfiger - a kind of blend, you know. He knows I hate him wearing those 'fucking polo tops' but he also knew I couldn't say anything because he'd mentioned the tri-couleurs. Smart.
It was quite the big week. I had four teaching gigs, including a new school (primary) and then secondary schools. Thursday was a big day, taught back to back 8.40am to 1.30pm with an hour off in the middle which was cannibalised by me driving home in between, grabbing some fruit, refilling my water bottle, going to the toilet, offloading some materials from first sessions and getting back in the car. I know you love these details; I'm here for you.
Then yesterday I spent ages online working out which Melbourne Writers Festival sessions to go to. The last few years nothing has interested me but this year, fuck. There are HEAPS so I have booked for a bunch of sessions and if I go to the Trivia Night and the Closing Party (unlikely) I'll attend 16 sessions over the ten days or whatever it is, mostly two weekends. Man.
I also might have some writerly news in the next couple of weeks. Not to do with the book, but something short storyish. I've been shortlisted in a local thing which is a big deal, with a wide-circulation. Publication is 'likely but not - as yet - definite' so I am excited, I have cracked a bottle of The Widow to celebrate the shortlisting, but I'm trying to keep it low-key until I have confirmation.
But likely to be published? They wouldn't say that unless it was, er, likely, would they?
Better go and look at the recipes. This was my week, how was yours? What are you reading? Are you happy? Are you wearing yellow? How is the weather? Any holidays on the horizon? What do you think of the POLITICS AT THE MOMENT? Or should we not go there. It is quite the exhausting subject and as I've demonstrated above, it's possible to live in the light and keep things happy.