A rebel without a clue.

The emptiness of Lola's belly. As she nods her head, under the blanket, and then stirs to look meaningfully in my direction I know that expression. Usually around half an hour after we've decamped from my room, after she's forced me to get dressed, get a coffee and join the day, she begins to get hunger restlessness. It's just hit 6 am and I expect around 6:15 this knowing glance will occur. If I ignore her then she'll yawn noisily, cry and, finally, crawl over to me and put her paws on chest while yawning and crying. She will not take no for an answer. Mum and Emma don't feed her until they get up, but Lola and I get up together around 5:30, as I prefer the mornings, and she's used to our differences *** Yesterday morning I got frustrated with Lola, twice, and I lashed out her! I felt terrible afterwards as I just don't lash out at her ever! True, she's got some terrible habits: getting into bins to scavenge titbits, knocking over bins to nose aroun...

Orval and Manchego go so well together. I've never had Orval cheese... It's unbelievable. I've had other Moines Fromage from all over the Francophile section of the Continent, which has drifted further away in the past two years, and I'll happily get to that corner of Belgique where Orval pervades (I was so close when I met Glenn in Reims and we sped passed Sedan and Verdun on our BlaBlaCar way to Metz and a wonderful French/German/Luxembourg luncheon). So you're not meant to eat the wax on cheese... I always do, except when it's truly obviously wax: Edam, Gouda or Leerdammer. Is it possible to imagine a life where there is nothing but walking in the hope of the salvation of work at the end of endless roads. Without a doubt this is my current occupation, but I am spared the crowds of destitute men who had nothing better to do than meander, sullen, lost and starving, in the 1930s: the destitute now inhabit the cities and their roads are restricted to the Green Be...