I write to you in Antibes, and since I am now among my usual audience - my immediate family - I'm now writing this blog for my own gratification, and if anyone else reads it so much the better.
On Wednesday I went to Jack and Julie's riverside house in Shepperton for a catch-up with them and Finn the baby, before heading across London and on to Ely the next day, for gallons of soup and tea with the grandparents in Isleham. After a wander round Ely the next morning, and a slap-up Chinese meal in nearby Fordham, it was time to move on to Antibes, via the delights of Ryanair and Stansted airport, to gorge on lasagna and address my perpetually bunged-up head.
On Sunday we met up with Juliet and Mel at their Mougins hotel porter's lodge, and head up a mountain pass for a hike through the wilderness of Courmettes, plus pan bagnat sarnies and pains au chocolat. And yesterday I became reacquainted with vieil Antibes and Scrabble, which I'm glad to report I still rule at.
I've made another compilation - the hundredth since I started numbering them, although of course there have been many more outside the official canon - and today's phrase means "the last biscuit in the packet", to be applied to anyone who thinks they're god's gift and blessed with unique talents for any given situation.
Ciao for now, Fred
Fred
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