My friend, Sandrine,(alias Lynette) tells me I'm lke Susan out of our favourite American series.... she claims that all kinds of crazy things happen to me....
And sometimes, she's right!!
D-Day arrived.....THE photographer and the Americans were coming....
I was wrecked already.....the garden was perfect, the hair done.
Cleaning Diva, Marie 'Miracle' had indeed worked miracles once again....
Just a quick run over with the hoover and we're in business.....having peeled spuds for the Dauphinois, cried over the shallots, shucked about 50 oysters, prepared a leg of 'Barbeque' ( one of our lambs!) made the pâte brisée for the tarte tatin, fed and freed the chickens for the day, collected the eggs, fed Tara and Sammy, ran down to the end of the avenue for the croissants, which our boulanger kindly delivers on Sunday mornings......and all that before the arrival of Mr. Séni, photographe..... rendezvous 10 heure.....
Dressed in my red, satin, Gabrielle-style dressing gown that Ellen had so kindly given me for Mother's Day, the previous Sunday, an old T-Shirt of Philippe's (J'aime les vaches on the front...' I love cows'!!) and my wellies, I rushed around when out of nowhere, a guy appeared in our hall, telling me he was terified of dogs and apologizing for being an hour early........AN HOUR EARLY....I will never get used to the French attitude to early morning!!
I politely told him to lose himself for at least a half hour, reassuring him that the dogs had been fed, and we'd start again later...
The rest of the day went off a treat........
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