Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Dearest friends and family

I do hope that this finds you well. Between the vast Covid related concerns that invade our daily news, the notion that we haven’t neither seen each other nor even corresponded with each other much ease. Never mind being able to have a coffee together or feel your arms around me, concerns for our physical and mental health run supreme. I’m sure we’re all prone to some sticky form of ailment and I do wonder how you are keeping. Aside from sickness and illness, we have lost some good people to Covid as well. My most sincere thoughts and prayers to you who have lost family. I can’t imagine what you’re struggling with.

Here in France, our kids have finally been sent back home for homeschooling. It was a great sort of amusement to me last week when family reached out to check in : turns out news headlines across the world were talking of how President Macron addressed the public. You know you’re being reprimanded here in France if the President addresses the nation during Covid times. But it was about time: daily Covid infections were running high at 30000 a day with far fewer vaccinations on the go. So one week of homeschooling, followed with 2 weeks of spring holidays with zero opportunity to travel outside of 10kms around our homes. Obviously restaurants and pubs remain closed and here in Strasbourg, the prefecture banned drinking alcohol in public. Because that had run wild to extremes. Mind you- not many people were out of order- curfew at 7pm meant the streets should have been quiet, but essentially the pedestrian streets and bridges and quai’s had become one enormous self-serviced pub. (Queue several ‘horrified emojis here😱😱😱).

So I am still at home. I spent 3 weeks baking Hot Cross Buns and sold close on 30 dozen of them to friends. I finally returned my kitchen to some sort of normality and had a look into my wild yeast babies, Lucie and Robin. They were in desperate need for love and attention so the middle of this week was spent furiously baking English Crumpets, Focaccia, Cinnabon’s and crackers with the sourdough culture. All is well with them again.

The other thing that happens this week was a lovely email from an old friend who admitted that she was disabling her Facebook account. She realised she was not actually going to miss anything by doing so, with the exception of my musings, photos, stories and recipes, and would it be possible to return to blogging to share all of that.

Gosh, flattery will get you just about anywhere with me. As a result, I’m going to try to assemble a monthly wrap-up of my social media musings. If you’re an avid follower on Facebook, I’m sorry if this is not news. However, I’m also going to try to include a few of my more favourite recipes that I’ve written and photographed on Instagram which you may not have seen. Technologically challenged, this may end up looking like a 10 year old editing a magazine, for which I apologise. Maybe I should really just pay for a WordPress domain. Although, this might not make my blogging easier I suspect.

(At this point I’m wondering if I mentioned that I had moved recipe writings away from WordPress and onto a Instagram platform? Since October, I’ve had a lot of time to share recipes, and it was easier to do so straight onto Instagram where I had less opportunity to wax lyrically and just share what was necessary. But I also figured that not all my blog followers would appreciate daily recipes, which was another reason to use Instagram as a platform).

March 16th.

Familiar faces at the school gates. Faces not seen for more than a year. Wrinkles and smiles that warm for days. “It’s been forever” And“How are you keeping? And you’re still not working?”
Tales of surrealism, tales of how strange the year has been. Tales of how our little kids have become so independent. Tales of how this day has loomed in our calendars.
And then it’s over. “Was it difficult? Did you understand everything? What was the essay title?”
If you could meet a fictional character, who would it be?
Behind a hand and garbled sound, a Harry Potter escapes my lips. Because she’s 10. And look at her.
He asks what she answered.
Meredith Grey from Greys Anatomy tumbles from her tongue.
A jarring silence and then uproarious laughter. I cringe in coy despair. It’s like a dirty family secret that escaped from the bed covers like a fart.
We walk home. She has no shame. But they expected Hermoine didn’t they Mom?
Just look at her. Even Dad stopped in the doorway this morning to see the magic that comes from a special pair of shoes. A carefully chosen necklace. The essential denim jacket. The ever present white tee.
My little city slicker countryside lover who doesn’t ever question who she is. Because she just doesn’t need to.

March 20th

Officially spring has arrived in the north so I thought I would commemorate the occasion with a few lines.
This is a tree on the road near our home. We were out walking yesterday evening and came home to see hail clouds looming behind – it was quite picturesque;-)I popped home to collect my camera and a neighbour walked past after walking her dog. We stopped and expressed pleasantries, at the « magnifique » magnolia and then she asked me why I was taking photos of it.
😁
___________________________________________
“She rimmed her dark green eyes with a black kohl pencil and ran a lash of silver across her eyelids.
An uncharacteristic flush of pink rouge lit up her cheekbones and her lips pouted in perfect pink pleasure.
The disco ball swung mercilessly on its solar orbit, casting its perfect light upon the gravitating dancers as they spun in the wicked wind and rising up like a darkened mantle, the atmosphere shifted as if change was afoot.”

25 March.

March 26th.

March 31st. Mom’s Birthday.

I see you in the morning light. In the creeping mist that lingers over the dew and grass.
I see you in the blooms and flowers. In the fresh spring growth and deepening roses.
I see you as the season turns, how it turns copper and brown and grey. I see you as the seasons turn. Once again without you here.
I see you in the Chanel I wear. (*)
I see you in my pages and books. In your elegant script telling me how much you love me.
I see you in her eyes. In her heart. In her touch. In her love.
I see you now as you would have turned 70. I see the time that has passed.
But nothing will ever reconcile your absence from our life.
Happy birthday Mom.
♥️👩🏻‍🍳

1st April.

Bringing you more spring, this time coming to your from the watchful eye of the German built, Roman Catholic, Gothic Revival styled Church dating back to 1895.
Built in the Neustadt part of this French city after the Germans annexed it (again), it fits into the quartier perfectly.
Currently it sits on a ‘square’, surrounded by a small play area for toddlers, and some very pretty trees. The trees were mostly in the shadows this morning unfortunately, and aside from speeding cyclists, other photo opportunists, the square was blissfully quiet.

Easter Sunday.

I was awake before the sun rose this morning. As I lay in bed I wondered what the weather was looking like outside my shuttered up darkened windows.
I knew I had half prepared to set out a scavengers hunt for my girls for Easter chocolates. Having lied to them already about how we weren’t getting them chocolate this year (ffs- a surprise every now and then is a good thing) I lay in bed trying to decide if the Wrath of the Drama was worth getting my ass out of my cosy bed to lay out the 4 clues to send them scurrying out for what they imagined to be nothing.
But I wasn’t going back to sleep so I figured I may as well head out. Even if it was just to see the sunrise.
Do you know what I love about Easter? You can be Christian, spiritual or a non believer, and still take something from the newness of the day. The birth. The new life. The forgiveness. A chance to start afresh.
With Ramadan around the corner and Passover this weekend, spring and clock changing on the calendar, this time is open to everyone to celebrate something, to take away something from the sun that rises on a crisp cool morning. Complete with a tinge of mist and a golden glow.
I am sending you all my love and best wishes as we all love into a new season. May you take something from this new day as I have this morning.
Love and wishes to you, from all of us.Xx😘