Who's up for Round 2?

After 12 full hours of travelling: driving, boating, drifting over waters, sailing stormy seas, loitering around service stations and speeding by train through Paris, I finally made it 'home' with everything in one piece, except from a possible crushed-foot from running over it with 'only' ONE of my suitcases. (Don't even ask how I managed to achieve that!) Within the first half hour of arriving back in Fontenay, my suitcases are up 3 flights of stairs and I've found and set-up another external computer screen for my laptop, as my must-have trend of having an external screen was stolen by Clooney who pinched my previous one whilst I was away. So I'm now sitting in front of a whopping great big BOX of a screen... seriously, what goes into these??? It's almost as big as my suitcase! (Either one!) 

I've also been asked to cook a chicken. An entire CHICKEN. I didn't realise I was coming back as 'cook' this week, but Clooney wants a full roast dinner this evening. This isn't Christmas Day you'know! I've never cooked a frikkin' chicken. Well, this time I will not take the blame if anyone dies of food poisoning. Eat at your own peril tonight, girls!

I was woken early this morning by Sabine (the girlfriend of the brother of the mother who all live here) who wanted to move her car which she'd left illegally parked... so I had to actually find the car first! It was a small Mercedes with absolutely no leg room to speak of, but now I have got myself back into using French cars without risking the life of anyone else! 

The girls are still on half-term (until Thursday), so I'm having to stay with them at home, with the occasional taxiing around to activities. Unfortunately, the 'song of the week' (a song Margot likes so much she'll play on repeat until she finally gets sick of it... about which time I'm ready to scratch out my eyeballs and serve them for tea) is 'That's not my name' by The Ting Tings. It was horrible when it first came out, and it's still just as horrible a year on. Seriously, what brain-dead person would write a song about what ISN'T their name? Next they'll be singing a song listing all the colours. [YAWN]