Susie and I are now packing up for the trip home. Last night I made turbot and created a vegetable dish out of every last thing lurking in the fridge, save for the prune yoghurt that Susie favors. Today I washed and ironed the duvet cover, Susie bought one last French shirt at the market, and we are loading up the two locked cabinets with the clothing we leave here between visits. We shall return in late October for five weeks or so, but then not until next June, because we shall be taking one last African safari -- to the Okavango Delta in Botswana -- next April. I hope to be able to post pictures.
Several folks have remarked on the difference in tone between my Paris and Chapel Hill blog posts. It would not occur to me in Chapel Hill to go on about what I was cooking, for example. I am happier, more relaxed, more at peace with myself in Paris, which of course means that I am a worse commentator on the passing political scene.
A good deal has happened, both good and bad, during the past six weeks and I shall get back to offering my unsolicited opinions on politics and society as soon as I have caught up on lost sleep and thrown out six weeks of unwanted junk snail mail. In particular, things have turned ugly in North Carolina, provoking a series of public protests which I think I ought to join as soon as I get home.
The one hundredth Tour de France has started, accompanied by Lance Armstrong's statement that it is impossible to win the Tour without taking banned drugs. He should know. I finally get home late on Monday, so Tuesday will be my first chance to blog. Somehow, I suspect the world will scarcely notice the hiatus.