Well, only 7 days to go to 'R' day when I shall finally be free to prioritise my own time and welcome many new clients to my therapy practice. And at last I'll be able to fully realise my Core Process, Embracing Freedom! Exciting times. I can't remember a time in my adult life when I was free to organise my life just as I wished. Always the constraints and demands of work and children. I know there will still be commitments and deadlines and discipline if I am to succeed - but they will, I hope be under my control - no longer dancing to the tune of others.
Watch this space.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Well, they say you shouldn't go back and we certainly should not have gone back to the Blue Lake. The last time we were there (which we now realise was about 16 years ago – how time flies when you're having fun) the evening sun shone warmly down on us as we sipped our aperos on the terrace overlooking the lake. As we ate an exquisite meal, the sun was replaced by a full moon. We were served wine by a charming young man training to be a sommelier, who was mortified when the cork broke in half as he withdrew it from the bottle. Ah, what a wonderful evening. No wonder we were tempted to return and relive this idyllic scene. We envisaged reclining in the sun beside the lake and even took our swimming cosies ready for a refreshing dip.
Alas, in the interim so much had changed. We sploshed down the long drive through deep puddles as the rain poured down. Our little Sprite, now 40 years old and not used to being out in wet weather, leaked through every orifice. Water in the foot wells lapped over our feet as we struggled out and dashed with our bags across the waterlogged terrace, occasionally slapped around the head by dripping trees. We were shown to our room, where the sound of a constant stream of water escaping from a hole in the guttering on the nearby outhouse drowned out the sound of the pouring rain. Never mind, we were looking forward to a wonderful meal. Had we but known!
Dinner was served at 7.30 and there was no way a drop of drink or meagre crust would pass our lips before that time. We could see the proprietor, clad in his apron, petting the three resident dogs in the kitchen, as he began preparing the meal. The proprietress moved at a pace slower than that of a snail, except when she spent a happy ten minutes ignoring all the other diners whilst she chatted animatedly to some old friends already seated. Eventually she brought the menu and an aperitif, accompanied by some very old and stale cocktail biscuits and peanuts of the same era.
Eagerly we opened the menu, only to find that it was not only very expensive by French standards but seemed to consist entirely of duck in every form imaginable – and some which are not! Roast duck, smoked duck, fois gras of duck, ducks' gizzards – what ever can be done to a duck, they'd done it! (We immediately resolved to eat elsewhere the following evening.) We struggled through our disappointing duck in semi darkness as they were clearly economising on lighting and rain continued to pour down outside. Breakfast was also served in darkness – obviously lighting was not permitted between the hours of dawn and dusk!
This paragraph should, of course, open with the words: “The following day dawned bright and clear.” Sadly it did not – the rain continued to rain non stop. Fortunately it takes a lot more than rain and duck to dampen our spirits but next time we're tempted to revisit romantic old haunts, someone please remind us to resist the temptation and try somewhere new!
Alas, in the interim so much had changed. We sploshed down the long drive through deep puddles as the rain poured down. Our little Sprite, now 40 years old and not used to being out in wet weather, leaked through every orifice. Water in the foot wells lapped over our feet as we struggled out and dashed with our bags across the waterlogged terrace, occasionally slapped around the head by dripping trees. We were shown to our room, where the sound of a constant stream of water escaping from a hole in the guttering on the nearby outhouse drowned out the sound of the pouring rain. Never mind, we were looking forward to a wonderful meal. Had we but known!
Dinner was served at 7.30 and there was no way a drop of drink or meagre crust would pass our lips before that time. We could see the proprietor, clad in his apron, petting the three resident dogs in the kitchen, as he began preparing the meal. The proprietress moved at a pace slower than that of a snail, except when she spent a happy ten minutes ignoring all the other diners whilst she chatted animatedly to some old friends already seated. Eventually she brought the menu and an aperitif, accompanied by some very old and stale cocktail biscuits and peanuts of the same era.
Eagerly we opened the menu, only to find that it was not only very expensive by French standards but seemed to consist entirely of duck in every form imaginable – and some which are not! Roast duck, smoked duck, fois gras of duck, ducks' gizzards – what ever can be done to a duck, they'd done it! (We immediately resolved to eat elsewhere the following evening.) We struggled through our disappointing duck in semi darkness as they were clearly economising on lighting and rain continued to pour down outside. Breakfast was also served in darkness – obviously lighting was not permitted between the hours of dawn and dusk!
This paragraph should, of course, open with the words: “The following day dawned bright and clear.” Sadly it did not – the rain continued to rain non stop. Fortunately it takes a lot more than rain and duck to dampen our spirits but next time we're tempted to revisit romantic old haunts, someone please remind us to resist the temptation and try somewhere new!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
