I see my life at present as being securely in 'Limbo', that mythical place where Catholic children dwell before their baptism; somewhere in Hell's suburbia.
My life consists of being either awake or asleep, eating or in between eating, dog walking, sawing wood, lighting fires, cooking, listening to music, and laptopping. Frankly, not much else.
It's often quite cold, often rainy, and mostly very quiet. I seem to be constantly waiting for something, but I'm not sure exactly what.
Wills, Kellogg, and the boys, are at present en route for Mexico, so we don't even have the pleasure of their company. After a short holiday in Cancun, they'll go on to Miami where Boo Boo has already been enrolled in a nice private school.
On their final day in France (for a while anyway), we invited Boo Boo and The Cherub to a rather posh pre-departure dinner party, which they absolutely loved (parents were in Toulouse), as did we. Unfortunately, since then it's been very quiet.
There are a few workmen around to give instructions to, or remonstrate with, but my only other human interaction is my once a week, masked, brief, Tuesday morning shopping trip to Leclerc (other, of course, than chatting with Lady M).
I complained last year that I find myself constantly 'waiting'; I desperately want that waiting to be over as soon as possible.