Same-same

My Dear Victoire,
I have written to you several times by balloon post, but many of those balloons have been captured by the Prussians.

It's official, it's Sunday and so I know that tonight I will be missing my favorite TV (Antiques Roadshow). That, combined with it being Day 7 of sans-fud, has pushed me over the edge into Delirium. As Peter likes to say, "I could eat the leg off a low-flying duck.". Most annoyingly, I am not even slightly hungry. No pangs. No rumbling. I just fancy chewing on something. Preferably something burgery. Tomorrow I get to eat, but the first day is fruit and raw veg only. The idea is actually turning my stomach. It is requesting fried things, in no uncertain terms.

I peeled myself out of bed at 7.15 again (bad! Bad Kate!), came for McS, then sleep-walked back to chateau 44 and went back to bed til almost 10am. One a scale of 1 to apathatic, I'd give me a 52. Last night was a 'big night out', Spa style. I got a ride with Karen and Kara in their Jeep to the main drag. I went to see Lambu to get the first suit-fitting done, which went well, then traipsed up the road, entranced by the fragrant restaurants, weaving tourists, pool table, ladyboys, and much in the way of neon tubing. I felt like I was in an alien environment. Got home at 10pm, watched some laptop, and hit the hay at 11.15ish. It rained so hard last night, I thought the roof would cave in - it sounded like a solid sheet of water was falling - very bizarre. So today, driven from the jungle by the rain, the bees are back in town. So far the tally is only Kate:1, Bees:Nil.

I'm sitting in the restaurant having a coconut and a peppermint tea. Mouth asked for a pineapple by mistake, and waitress looked at me with daggers. Genuine mistake, too, I'd just been talking pineapple with Tom (still chef), so excusable, surely! I'm going to lug my (slightly less) fat@ss up the slope and install myself on the terrace for the next few hours. I see sunshine, dozing, reading, and general slobbing out. Bring it on.