September 2008 Archives

Who's naughty or nice


The man sitting next to me on the train today had a diary open on his knees. He was scribbling furiously on a page entitled sites favoris (favourite websites).

Sidelong glances over my copy of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle revealed that instead of his sites favoris, he was studiously working on his Christmas shopping list.

Joséphine, at the top of the list, is getting lingérie and a ring this year.

The bold soul's bathtub. Jealous much?

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Coffee bean conundrums

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My dad and my father-in-law are both recovering, slowly but surely (and thankyou to everyone who sent us their positive thoughts).

Sylvain has gone down to spend some time with his parents, to help out a little whilst his dad is getting better.

And since he's over 5 hours away, I've been wondering why the chocolate-covered coffee beans have still been disappearing. There were about 20 of them in the bowl on the table when he left and I know I haven't eaten any.

Tonight I walked into the lounge room to see Symphony on the table, batting the last chocolate-covered coffee bean out of the bowl and onto the floor. In a blink of an eye, she had chased it underneath the chair and was strolling nonchalantly into the kitchen, her tail in the air.

I'm a little scared to look under the chair now.

But if I don't do something about it, the cleaning lady is going to find them tomorrow and wonder what we've been doing.

Although that's probably not the first strange thing she would have found under our lounge room furniture...

Mini-m&ms... pipe-cleaners... confetti... dirty socks...


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There are times when being an expat is difficult. Whether it's 5 or 24 hours, it's hard to be far away.

In a freaky moment of synchronicity two of my favourite people need positive thoughts tomorrow.

Examining the Cognac Instillation

In the hopes they'll both be drinking another glass of cognac (or ten) sooner rather than later.

Crisis averted

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A couple of years after I arrived in France, our local supermarket started stocking cheddar. Delicious, tangy, yellow cheddar that they would chop off the wheel in enormous chunks for me. Despite the enormous selection of cheese that is available in France, nothing melts like cheddar on lasagne.

I, in my smugness, even used to bring gifts of cheddar to my less well-connected expat friends when I visited them. Because everyone loves cheddar.

At the start of the year, they stopped getting the fancy schmancy cheddar in and began selling blocks of white cheddar. Not quite as good, but still seriously satisfying on a toasted sandwich.

Then, all of a sudden, in July, they stopped getting the blocks of white cheddar altogether. And despite the enormous anglo population in my 'hood, they're not planning on getting any more. I voiced my concerns, but apparently they are not listening.

We went over on the ferry to the UK, which meant we had a large car boot to fill with cheddar-y deliciousness. We got as much as we could without running the risk of being judged by our travelling companions. A month has gone by since we got back from the UK and I have been getting anxious, watching the number of blocks of deliciousness slowly diminish.

That is, until Friday, when Sylvain went to the local hypermarket. We normally avoid going there because of the obnoxious amounts of people, but he had taken the day off and he didn't want to be caught lounging around the apartment whilst the cleaning lady vacuumed around him.

And he found this :

FW: Yay

Looks like I'm not going to have to make monthly trips to the uk after all.

I woke up at 4.13 this morning. 

I tossed and turned until 5.01, when I finally gave up, drifted into the kitchen and had a glass of water, checked my email, and was about to see what was happening on Facebook at that hour of the morning when I heard creaks from the bedroom. I worried that Sylvain was getting up to check on me, but it turned out to be Symphony who thought that 5.01 in the morning was the best time for cuddles.

So we went back to bed, where she lay on my chest, her nose against my cheek, purring. But of course, just as I started to drift off to sleep, she wandered off to sit on the buffet, where she began chewing on plastic (her code for, "I'm so hungry and poor and neglected that the only thing I have to eat is this plastic which I will chew on as loudly as I can to wake them up and maybe they'll think about feeding poor 'lil old me"). So I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, where I poured croquettes, one by one, into her food bowl, aided by the surprisingly bright blue light of my computer mouse in the room next door. 

Sadly, when I stumbled out again a few minutes later, having been roused by a suspiciously familiar vomiting noise, the pulsating blue light of the computer mouse didn't guide me in the right direction and I stepped right in the puddle of cat vomit.

5.42 and I was back in bed. 

With clean feet.

Summer Holiday Adventures 2008 (volume 3)

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I'm continuing to be a bad blogger, despite promises to the contrary. But my dad's been growling at me for not blogging, and since it's fathers day today in Australia, I thought it was high time that I sat down and finished putting up some of the more choice photos of our trip to the UK (and hopefully my dad will stop his whinging - are you happy, dad?).

Of all the places we've visited in the UK, Scotland really stole my heart. The people were so friendly, bending over backwards to help and with a wicked sense of humour, and the landscapes were simply breathtaking. The first time we drove through the highlands, with the hills covered in heather, I had tears pouring down my cheeks - I might be a sentimental dork, but the country is just magnificent. Every time we turned the corner, there was something else to see, and the views just got more and more beautiful.

Heathery moors

Dance! Abernethy Highland Games, Nethy Bridge

Caber tossing - Abernethy Highland Games, Nethy Bridge

The march of the bagpipes, Abernethy Highland Games, Nethy Bridge

A lot of excitement at Cairngorm Highland Wildlife Park

Claire at Elie

Scottish Thistle

Squirrel - Cairngorm Highland Wildlife Park

The Muffin Man, overlooking Loch Leven, and the burial isle of the MacDonalds

Overlooking Loch Leven, and the burial isle of the MacDonalds

We can't wait to go back.

There are more photos on flickr, and we talked all about our various adventures on the podcast.


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This page is an archive of entries from September 2008 listed from newest to oldest.

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