The Big Gascous

So here ends a week that went unusually fast.  
A week up in the hills with necessary trips back to the moulin to find appropriate clothing, prepare lessons (and teach them for that matter) and ensure there's enough wine to cope with the aftermath of the flooded Polfage kitchen and the bin of empties that Rufus and Carmen dragged out and left in tatters all around the house.  
I get them all out of the house and up into the hills and listen to Louis Theroux talking to Gabriel Gatehouse and lose concentration imagining them in a nice Victorian living room in Muswell Hill, chatting away companionably.   I then get distracted by the fact that I don't understand any of their reference points because I haven't actually listened to any episode of The Coming Storm.  Then I get distracted by the fact that I'm not appreciating my surroundings because I'm stuck in Washington/Muswell Hill.  I shrug off the ear phones and realise that what I miss is Mu walking and talking next to me.
Back at the ranch I clean the wood burner window with ash and newspaper, light it up, feed the hundred cats, pour myself a gin, try to watch television (lost the knack), turn back to good old Auntie, and play a hundred games of solitaire.