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Day 184: Baked Gunard with Fennel Purée

For the first time this year I have skipped a number of days of blogging. I've half missed it, and half relished the relief of the daily pressure. I'm back though, and although it will take a little while to catch up. I hope I haven't, through my neglect, lost you dear readers.

I have a possibly communicable disease. I am never sure if the cold or flu can be caught except from the elements. I have just Professor Googled it. Turns out it is. So that means one of you grubby germ factories out there did this to me. I, however, am incubating myself in my house and saving the rest of humanity from this grossness. The inside of my head is itchy. My teeth are itchy. The inside of my body smells and tastes a sour shade of green. Except for the no-choice confinement to the couch or bed with a pile of books, I am not having fun.

I have discovered what a Gunard is. It's a bottom dwelling fish. Ugly, but with the rather pretty alternative name of Sea Robin. Gabriel Gate, in Taste le Tour tonight, cooked this firm and mild flavoured fish with a fennel purée and tomato sauce. A Provençal classic. Man, he loves his tomatoes! Looked rustic and flavoursome though.

Irene               List_Addict

I have an irrational fear of falling splat! and unceremoniously when I wear heels. I picture it vividly. And then fear I'll make the vision come true by having imagined it. I—— asked me if, as she had heard, people with high arches find it easier to walk in high heels. Possibly, if it wasn't for this mad vision which makes me totter and hold on to passer-bys like a hawk holds onto a mouse. And perhaps if I was little lighter on the feet, if you know what I mean. No? Less chubby. You know. I need to practise more and imagine less.

I have been remiss in my attention to the Tour. I think I have only watched three out of six stages all the way through. Damn work, damn green infestation of my person. They're both damaging my appreciation of all thing French countryside and Lycra. The Tour finished in Montpellier tonight or tomorrow night (time is warped again). It's a memory. We rode into Montpellier years ago on the end of our longest riding day. I had a cold then too. We were on a freeway and some guy took the kind effort to come up alongside the freeway just so he could run alongside us with no pants on. It was very nice of him. We appreciated it. Not!

The Outfit
Top: Op-shopped
Cardigan: Op-shopped
Skirt: Op-shopped
Belt: Retail
Shoes: Irregular Choice

Photographer de Jour: Moi

Who wore it better?

Getting linky today with:

pleated poppy



  1. Fame at last! A mention in your blog (although you have mentioned me before and even been so good as to provide a link to my long neglected blog). Sorry you are not well, be glad you can rest without little people screaming at you moment to moment - I used to enjoy a cold, absolute torture these days.

    If the high arches aren't working for you, it must all be psychological. Maybe you can download a hypnosis recording that enables people to walk in high heels. If it works for quitting smoking, why not this?

    1. Anxiously awaiting new posts from your blog. See you on bloglovin' now. You're professional!

    2. Is bloglovin' for professionals? I thought it was just what everyone migrated to when google reader was shut down (what a strange decision fro google to make). That would explain why I couldn't find a couple of blogs even though I typed in exact addresses.

      Your's came up no trouble, no doubt because you are far more professional and actually run your blog properly.

  2. Wow you have lived a life that's full for sure. A small titbit of experience (naked or not) makes one realise how you have travelled.

    I am thinking twice about bring my three near you this hols. Damn green infestations of the person are great to visit but not so to live with.

    I admit you absence was noticeable. Glad you are back.

    Lets play soon. miss you

  3. Me too. When are you free? Is it weird to make plans in the comments section of a blog?


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