I have my French class in an hour or so, and I should be finishing my homework, but instead I’m talking to you, because that’s the kind of blogger I am. And also because we’re doing something I cannot remember having studied before and I’m checking the answers before I even try and do it for myself.
This is the last lesson I’ve paid for, and I think I’ll take a bit of a break from them after tonight. I do love it, I love going along to the Alliance and sitting amongst all that French, and I especially love dredging it out of my memory banks while dreaming of times spent in Paris. But my short story isn’t finished, my memoir seems to be on permanent delay and eldest boy is, as you know, learning the recorder. There’s just not time for French right now.
Better go. I’ve got homework to do, and before that I must finish off a bowl of the world’s second-best hommous.
Who has the best?
I don’t know, and I’m not sure there is a better one…I always like to leave room for the possibility that there is something even better waiting for me.
Cueillez aujourd’hui les fleurs de la vie. (That first spelling looks a bit wonky, but you get what I mean.)