Johnny Moffat SJ

The nest felt very empty all of a sudden.  it was also in need of a deep clean. I had left Gabby and Tierna's room alone, unhappy to even go in there since they left but need's must and you have to bite the bullet etc and move forward. There were pennies (?) and false nails all over the floor and the lavender branches we'd put on their pillows were all wrapped up in the sheets. I threw the lavender out of the window into the canal and bundled the sheets into the machine. I shifted the bed a couple of centimetres to hoover beneath it and it fell apart.  I wept tears of frustration and general sadness for a while then dried them and got on with the task in hand.  

Nico and I knocked the Moulin into some sort of pre-summer shape, very much not aided by Lizzie who was chomping at the bit and wanting to go and see her long dead mother.

Every 10 years Johnny Moffat leaves his Jesuit house in Stamford Hill and takes himself to the Pyrenees . I've picked him up from various railway stations along the line with rucksacks weighed down by tomes of major European literature.  

Today it was Pamiers and Proust

Back at the (cleanish) moulin we made tea, poured wine, fed a Lourdes- weary priest and hit the sack.