Bruised and battered

Monday comes around ever so quickly, don't you find? You hardly have time to get to weekend cruising speed and suddenly it's Monday again. Oh well, it's out of the way for this week now at any rate.

Been a busy weekend here at Franco-British HQ. Mum and Dad (or, The Grown Ups, as Hubby calls them - not sure they would agree with this moniker) were here for a layover between the end of their hols in the south of France and the journey back up Britain. They came laden with many goodies, mostly of the food variety and some of the fermented grape juice variety. All very pleasant. As usual, the time went by too quickly and they were packing up the car to leave this morning. I cried like a big baby (because I am), and Mum stoically didn't cry until she was in the car (because she has to put on a brave face for her little girl). And off they went.

Because the mundane aspects of life (like work) have a habit of taking over, I had no time to dwell on my sad heart, which is maybe not such a bad thing. So off to work it was, and to a team meeting. With my office-mates we had the usual ritual of "have you prepared your presentation?" "no, why, have you?!", but it was surprisingly useful (meetings often are in my job, it's always nice) and informative. At lunchtime we went and did some archery (corporate "rules": team meetings must include time for sport). I am now the proud owner of a nasty bow string bruise. Whenever I do archery, there are never any arm guards provided. Only once did I manage to avoid the dreaded bow string bruise. Should I report it as an occupational accident? Is quite sore actually.

Anyway, enough of feeling sorry for myself, I have a blog-addiction to feed...