There exists in France a group of people who extol the virtues of slow eating. Flynn the husky has joined them. He never eats standing up. He just can't be bothered.
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About Me
- Le Couvent - www.roujan.com
- Take me somewhere warm and friendly where I can stop - stop and stay for a while in a big, pumpkin-coloured room, a chambre d'hote where I don't have to wake up until noon. Does it exist? Come on, of course they do, hotels, houses to rent, chambres d'hotes in the south of France where I can check in for bed and breakfast and stay a few days and it's alright and I can get up at noon and smell the lavender and walk through the vineyards and dip my toes in the Mediterranean and, and I could lie on the beach and read. I could read French books, I know my French is rubbish but even I could read Agatha Christie in French, Something old-fashioned. Sort of Deauville or Provence. The tube jerks off. Outside the windows are dark curved walls with thickly-coated horizontal tube maps of wires moving by. Passing by slowly, I give you that, but definitely moving. "Thank God, not today then. Yes. No. Oh God. We've stopped again. Why don't they tell us what's happening. They do quite a lot now about all sorts of things. Not really important things of course. If they don't say anything it means it's bad. Or they're too busy I suppose. How busy? How bad? Okay, don't go there. Go back.
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