By Veronica

Woe is me

I had to be up early today to get to the vet's when they opened. It was very efficient; we were seen immediately, but I wasn't expecting to leave without Mystère. I don't like leaving a cat at the vet since I left my beloved Minuit 20 years ago and never saw him again. But the new, young vet wanted to anaesthetise him in order to clean what she called a joli abcès ... not the word I would have used! 

She said I could pick him up late afternoon, so when I got home I set to making marmalade as a distraction ... when we shopped in Narbonne on Saturday, I was delighted to find bitter oranges in Grand Frais at 2.50 a kilo. I was still slicing peel when she phoned to say I could come and get him before lunch if I liked ... yes, I did.

He was still groggy and I ended up shutting him in the bedroom as he would persist in reeling about the living room trying to jump on the furniture while I tried to concentrate on boiling marmalade. Just as it was getting to setting point, G came round to give us some of his reminiscences about mai 68, so he and S drank coffee and chatted while I manipulated chilled saucers. I think it's turned out OK, and I have six jars, more than I expected from a kilo of oranges. I have started some more preserved lemons too, since I got some organic lemons from the same source.

Mystère is OK now, if not very lively, with a fine shaved patch below his right ear. He had some freshly poached cod while we had pizza and red wine, yes it's pizza night, Slimming World be damned!

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