Today has not been so exciting. It has included packing up some clothes and unpacking other clothes. I took the bus to the town to drink coffee, as we were out, and to buy more coffee. (While in the café, I read further in my current Polish storybook,which was a nice workout for my brain.) I returned two library books. I bought a pair of sage-coloured sneakers in a charity shop (£4). I did some exotic marketing in Bona Deli (a polski sklep). After a lunch break (avocado & tomato), I went to Tesco with a very large backpack and bought £50 worth of groceries. Then I walked home with four bottles of wine, 2 Kg of potatoes, etc., etc., on my back.
This activity reminded me of a scene in a Canadian history book, depicting the arrival of the Filles du Roi, that is, a lot of French Single ladies who went to New France because the French settlers needed wives. The hero of the vignette passed over some Parisian beauty for a healthy and solid-looking country lass because he wanted the kind of wife who could walk a mile from Tesco with a big sack of groceries.
Okay, that's not exactly what he said, but that's what he meant. And whenever I am feeling a bit like a pack animal, to say nothing of distinctly odd for never having learned to drive, I am always cheered up by the memory of Pierre or Gaston or whatever his name was choosing a wife on how strong she looked.
Now to make gingerbread, do more dusting and hoovering and wash dishes. Oh, the joy.
The king's daughters! There is a wonderful children's novel by Suzanne Martel ("The King's Daughter" in English; "Jeanne, Fille du Roi" in French) that I would recommend to you on the subject. I've read it in both languages -- it's worth noting that the French original is very racist against First Nations peoples, which has been redacted out of the English translation. But they're both good.
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