Life seems to have got busier with a small adventure northwards to see Francesca, the delightful little one, toddling, demanding attention for her very first birthday (and of course her mummy and daddy).
Then some time was spent with other family and friends and most importantly a little time snatched to be by myself, to walk favourite memories of beach and sand. Listen to the curlews piping along the Southwold harbour. Chase away the seagulls who cry for my fish and chip lunch on Aldeburgh shingles.
Search for a house. France or England? Looking for the one with the 'coup de coeur', the one with the 'this is it' factor as I walk across the threshold and know. I thought I had a blank canvas but I can see now it has been just a little blotchy. My mother says 'the world is an oyster' but for me the crab is significant as I scuttle searching for my roots, for my little home all of my own. I LOVE France. England does not hold all that I love but maybe a special place that I can afford will reveal itself either in England or in France. I am on the point of not caring where.
Hop Hop Hop to the op shop hopital demain! If I can walk in winter as a result of the shaving of the bunion then that will make me smile. I have missed the randonees. No pain, no gain!
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