Attempts One & Two

"Forward", I think to myself. "Be Brave. Do not hesitate". Approaching the long counter, I find my feet suddenly swinging away toward the pre-packaged section. Now I am lingering in thought, observing all before me, leaning onto my trolley. 

I take a deep breath. Today. I must do this task today. I turn. Head towards the long counter. Oh no! The pretty lady with the dark hair is on duty. Same one as sorted me out before. Only she often has a sort of 'Oh no, not her again' look when she sees me. Or is my nervous imagination. Perhaps she is just pre-occupied, thinking about things other than having to deal with me, and my non-French vocabulary.

Same today. She looks up from her cleaver.  Her face becomes startled as she sees me scurrying past, leaning on my trolley and examining the long row of prices  while I  search for some gleam of recognition. Onwards I keep on scurrying. Back to the other counter. The prepackaged stuff. So, nope, not today can I do this task. 

So: "Forward", I think to myself. "Be Brave. Do not hesitate". 

This is Attempt Number Two. All is quiet. Taking a deep breath I cautiously approach the long counter again. Ah, the young lady is there. Dratten and blasten. But: rescued! Looking up I see a long row of white signs. Porc. I see 'Porc Roti'. I have a point of recognition on which to hold on. 

Task done.  And in my trolley is a bargain parcel of 4 pork roasting joints, and in my head is a sense of having made an achievement, and my heart is warm because a pretty French lady who I think has been a bit bewildered by me in the past, smiled at me with warmth, and, I  think, a smidgeon of respect.

And all I did was buy some meat. I have had trouble dealing with the fresh meat counters in supermarkets because I don't understand the cuts of meat, nor the pricings. For some reason my head has remained stuck in pounds and ounces and stirling. Only on this, though. Everything else I seem to be able to manage. 

I suppose in the general scheme of things buying something from a fresh meat counter doesn't really matter. Only it does to me. First of all there is the throw-away packaging to deal with subsequently, but most of all I regard it as an act of cowardice on my part that I flunk out with this task I have set myself. 

And I now have the start of an alliance with a pretty butcher lady who might have started reversing her opinion about an English woman who seems not to have her head on shoulders sometimes! Ah, the joys of shopping in a foreign land! Now all I have to do is project myself forward into other supermarkets, and perhaps even a boucherie, but not for the moment. Let me and the lady go forward together for the time being. I only have a certain amount of bravery in my reserves!

And for Lester's mum and dad: Here is Hubs showing you the scarf I have recently knitted him. The builder-men managed to get the front doors back up again so the gaping hole in the front of the house is gone, as can be seen behind Hubs. Gussy is hanging around Hubs in the hope that The Lord and Master will enter the house, go into the temporary kitchen, and from thence put his hand into the dog biscuit box and deliver unto him a couple of biscuits, or even better, a dog-chew. Bools will be observing Gussy from behind me, making sure that Gussy is not the only one who is deserving of tasty doggy morsels. 

Beside Hubs is the newly re-surfaced blue freezer box, and my office waste bin. Little things, for sure, but I am hopeful that if these have been found then surely so will my winter trousers and skirts. By Hubs's feet is the long black cable which is our electricity supply into the house, but a trench has now been dug elsewhere to carry our electrics so soon the cable will be history, which will give me one less thing to trip up on. 

So: roast pork today. Hopefully not singed, though. My calor gas cooker is a fearsome machine to be getting used to, and most of what I have cooked in the oven really do have an overlay of singe. Not to worry. Soon scraped off. And I am a learner in most ways at the moment. 

Hope your day is a good one. And hope that if there is something that you are not wanting to attempt, that you manage to take a step forward in the conquering of it. And bless us all for at least trying!

Helpful Hint: If you need to remove copious amounts of dust from off your newly laid concrete floor, be gentle in your attempts to do so. Otherwise as you wield your trusty broom, most of the dust will take flight up into the air, becoming dust motes.  Not to worry, though, as the marvel of watching the cavortings of these motes in a shaft of sunlight, if you are lucky enough to have the sun grace you with its presence that is, will entrance and entertain you for many a happy moment. However, there is a task in hand, so: once the motes have descended into  sleep state and are in repose on the floor, sprinkle some water onto them. Gently though, otherwise they will wake up again. And not too much water: water + still asleep dust motes = mud.