It was the best of times, and it was the best of times. Of course I love England, but there's a lot of France I love too. Both countries have their own version of 'best of times'.
With the bloody awful weather we're having at present, I find myself day-dreaming of France quite often.
Of course it would have to be in Summer, sunny, and with the pool water at around 26 C. I would be sipping a glass of Pétrus in the early evening with the prospect of throwing a big slab of Lamb on the BBQ a little later.
We will, of course, eat outside under our covered auvent, where, after dark, I will turn on the 'fairy lights' that make it all so magical. Laughter and bonhomie fill the air, and the sound of Cicadas complete a picture of total contentment.
However; here we are back in reality, stuck in the house for most of the day, only occasionally venturing out in the pouring rain to empty the dog, or visit a nearby shop to buy some essential ingredient.
We peer out of the front bay to watch the foolhardy battling to control their brollies or forcing themselves against the wind. We watch bits of tiresome Football games on TV in which we have no interest. We have both Lemon Drizzle cake AND a slice of Stollen with our afternoon cup of Lapsang, making us put on those inevitable 'lazy' extra pounds.
What a difference to last year when the sun shone almost every day, we had no rain, and the temperature remained above zero throughout the whole Winter.
I have just looked at the weather forecast, and it is predicting rain until Dec' 8th (it only goes that far ahead). I think I shall have to return to day-dreaming!