Drive by shooting

I did actually stop the car to take this, though it hasn't quite come out how I wanted it to (but then that's ok with an iPhone shot that you allow yourself 90 seconds to park, jump out, climb an embankment and shoot). Taken on the way back from another slightly-getting-directions-wrong drive into Toulouse to pick up the iMac. It's some kind of agro-chemical thing, I think, or possibly grain storage? Anyway, it's a very dramatic site opposite the super-posh headquarters of the local pharmaceutical giant - which I will blip one day.

Next job was to the butchers. My first hurdle was being asked exactly what cuts of meat I wanted in my beef bourguignon... I parried with 'what do you recommend?' Cheek, shin and something I didn't understand ("paleron"?) were the right stuff. Next: how much did I want - enough for five. He clearly likes a lot of meat on his plate. 2.3kg for five. Sheesh. Next he asked did I want a <words I didn't understand> with that. Seeing he'd used words I didn't understand he went off to the back to get one to show me: pig's foot. A teeny cute pig's foot. He went on to explain how it would make the sauce unctuous (well, that's what I assume he was saying) so I added it to the weighty bag of beef, along with a roll of pig skin (I think) that he said would help too.

And off home to find a pan big enough to squeeze it all in...

The rest of the day was cooking, cleaning, homework and praising the kids on a very good start to assessment season. And then, just when I'd had a quick shower and poured myself a glass of wine, our friends from London arrived and it was all presents, chat, snacks, wine and fudge until the kids were in bed and (later, much later) Mr B joined us hotfoot from Amsterdam and the weekend could really get going.

A thing I remembered today from earlier in the week. On an exhausted day (Wednesday?) I opted for easy dinner: chicken and chips for the kids and a ready meal for me. I mean a proper 'pierce the film and microwave on full power for 5 minutes' kind of 'Ding Dinnner' (as my Dad calls them). The kids were fascinated, and I realised that they'd never seen one before. Naturally there was a flush of middle class parental smugness, but also a stab of guilt at yet another cultural experience they've missed out on. Ah well. Can't introduce them to all life's little joys.