Haven’t been here for a while, to the point that I couldn’t actually remember how to post. However I’ve managed to work it out so in a little rosé induced fog I am blogging this red (or rather rosé) letter week for my own benifit, as I have long since lost any few followers I ever had. The reason I am bothering to write is that in the last two weeks I have had my drawings framed and hung in my local café, I have been on tour in Ireland with my French chamber choir (singing incredibly obscure 17th century music) and have just returned for the café myself and a few pals were toating my wee photo expo AND I have gotten a grant to write my French based script. THESE ARE GOOD TIMES!!! When things go belly up, as buddists and Irish pessimists always say they alway will, I want to remember this week and hence am blogging to mark it. I am begining to think this impulse based to Paris was quite a good idea afterall. All I need now is a bit of romance and today, when been chatted up in a café I had high hopes I was going to have it all…until he stood up..and came to my shoulder..and put on his anorak, so it seems you can’t have it all after all. Ah well.

I occasionally revisit my all but dead blog just to remind me about the sort of things I got up to in the last year. Well today something happened which I want to be sure to remember. Possibly I have mentioned in posts past my cutey young waiter, ie the lovely young fella with the smile of a young John Travolta, on whom I have a cougar crush in my local café.

Anyway, I’ve just spent the last 12 days in Ireland but today, when I returned to my café, not only did he and the other waiters give me a lovely warm welcome, but he gave me a presant!!! A copy of Le Petit Prince to help me learn French!! We’d discussed it before and he bought it for me! I am so beyond touched and charmed. The only thing is, I now have to read it!

I have acquired a husband. He is French, he is tall and he is terribly jealous and posessive. He is also completely imaginary. I summon him up when I am being mildly hassled by blokes who are too pleasant to be assualted with a barrage of abusive sounding Gaelic yet too insistent to be off of with a simple ‘non merci’ to their invitations to coffee.
Thing is, when I’m bluffing about him, I almost start to believe in him myself. I get a little buzz at the thought of him waiting impatiently for me at home in our wonderful apartment, cooking something delicious for a romantic dinner a deux. Yes his jealousy IS a bit over the top at times but he considers me such a prize he presumes all other men are crazy for me too. What a fall I set myself up for when I am faced again with the stark reality of my dog smelling room and a melted lump of camembert.

However for all my husband is tall, sexy and loves me I’d drop him in a shot if one actual cutey asked me for coffee.

I have mentioned America’s Next Top Model a number of times within my posts but I haven’t mentioned the fact that for the last week , aviation as we know it ground to a complete standstill because of a Volcano erupting in Iceland. Apparently the ash, hanging somewhere imperceptibly in the otherwise pristine blue skies, would cause plane engines to grind to a halt so instead travel has!

People are stuck and stranded all over the world unable to get to their destinations though the American buisnessmen I met in an Irish pub on Friday were unsurprisingly sanguine to be stuck in Paris with their buisness expenses for company for an extra 4 days. I’d say some fantastic stories not to mention babies will come of this. Though God help them is they are named after the volcano. Can you imagine how beaten up a kid called Eyjafjoell would be in the playground! Right, that’s my social diarist duty done, back to cycle 14 of ANTM.

Wow! Aren’t emotions funny things? I have been ODing on ‘Dexter’ the fabulous Showtime show about a serial killer. As far as he’s concerned he’s an emotionless monster but every now and again little bubbles of anger, love, fear rise up to disconcert him.

I can’t say I have any empathy with a serial killer, but this morning I am very hung over, having spent last night singing up a storm and downing piches of rose in an Irish pub. Hence this morning my capacity to feel anything other then the pain behind my right eye, has been rather blunted…

And then I go on Facebook, and I see a post by an ex. And it contains a photo of his girlfriend, the one with whom he has an on off relationship ( he hooked up with me on one of the off phases) It’s on again. And she’s gorgeous…

And lo and behold a big bubble of jealousy manages to surge its way through the dense gel of my hangover!! I mean for fecks sake, I wasn’t even that into him, and I know from the horse’s mouth, the relationship continues to be fraught so my jealousy is ill-founded and illogical . But as Dexter finds out in season 3, the old emotions have no logic.

Georgous Dad

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