Shelter

The aftermath of braces...Megan is so far keeping to her promise of never eating again. Her poor teeth ache so badly this morning that her beautifully constructed pita bread filled with salami, cheese and mayo is still lying on the counter top with just the barest imprint of the tentative bite mark that preceded the howl of pain... she is at school armed with Paracetamol and an almost liquid lunch.

Further trials and tribulations include a French Exchange trip that has materialised as if by some dark magic. We were never meant to be participating due to the Lilliputian size of the stone cottage and Son's aversion to physical contact with almost everybody except a very select few. The thought of having an unknown child, however nice they may be, sharing his tiny room is unbearable. I can't say I find it too appealing myself, liking my own space as I do, and so I am completely sympathetic. However, somehow we are participating but not actually hosting a child. I spent last night filling in at least 729 forms on different coloured bits of paper. I am praying for a tiny miracle.

This morning was the first properly cold morning of the Autumn, although still not frosty and many trees have not yet even begun to change. The heating stays off. I shall not give in... I love Winter. I love it for so many reasons.

Winter coats, and hats and boots.
Fires.
Winter food.
Sloe Gin.

Bring it on!