I’m really not much of a jet-setter, and the recent travels which have sent me to both England, and last week, to France, were quick turn-arounds.
And, as ever, horse related.
It wasn’t that many years ago that I met a woman, somewhere in her early 40s, who told me the most wonderful story.
Best of all, it’s true. Lean in, you’ll love this.
Well, of course I watched the Coronation of King Charles III. Recorded the night before, and at our usual time of rising, around 5 a.m., I turned it on as Paul made his habitual pot of coffee.
It seems everywhere I look these days I am seeing articles about the potential, and palpable fear, of Artificial Intelligence.
If there’s one thing that unites us—or divides us—on a global level, it’s food. Personally, for me, embracing a different culture includes diving, wholeheartedly, into an unfamiliar cuisine.
Paul says I’m the only one who can go on vacation and lose weight.
It had been a mild, if slightly cloudy day, when I headed out to drive my Mobile Meals route.
If Paul and I can go a month without a vet bill, it’s cause to clink two beer cans together in celebration.
Yep, I jinxed us, alright.
It was but a couple of weeks after I opined one evening to Paul, “You know, it’s been a few years since any stray cat showed up here at the farm...” that we discovered our marmalade cat, lying near death beneath the tool shed.
Sweet William, as I like to call him, or Willy, has taken up residence in the downstairs bathroom.
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