Torture by Toiture and Death by Beetroot

After my recent rant which I removed from blogland on the advice of my more sensible other half I now believe hope that roof work may commence in late March or April. This is SUCH good news and has buoyed me up no end

And plumbing? Well, who cares?

Yes, I am feeling rather upbeat about this French folie, which can only mean one thing: that I have been away from it for too long and have forgotten the reality. There has been rather a lot of rain since my last visit and I sometimes ponder the amount of water going into the plastic barrel on the stairs, wondering if it’s overflowing and cascading over the steps. But then I banish that thought and replace it with the idea of opening the shutters and flooding the house with east-west light. Of course, it’s not as easy as that because the windows and shutters are all swollen and rusted in situ, but it’s a happier thought than rainwater p***ing through the roof, isn’t it

In a strange twist – and there is no seamless way to add this to my post – I need to talk about beetroot. I started to crave the stuff a few years back and now I will happily drink cartons of beetroot juice, eat beetroot soup at lunch, and even dunk my beetroot falafel as well (thank you, Waitrose, for spotting this bizarre gap in the market. I would never normally buy falafel!)

So, what does this mean? I guess either my liver must be in great shape or it’s really struggling. Does anyone else share my beetroot addiction? Or will no-one else admit to its mysterious pink side-effects?!

So that was lunch…

Author: poshbirdy

Art deco/ art nouveau maniac enjoying a deep and meaningful relationship with alcohol

6 thoughts on “Torture by Toiture and Death by Beetroot”

  1. I guess renovating a property will always have its ups and downs – you must just stay strong. The running and the beetroot will help. I don’t share your love of the beetroot although the juice does give a smoothie a lovely ruby red colour.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I share your love of the Beet. In France I have a heavenly couple at the weekly market who grow all their own veggies and sell them. The first year all they had were pumpkins and leeks hence calling them les jumeaux de citrouilles which they don’t seem to object to. They expanded the second year and are now at full stretch supplying many commercial kitchens as well as the trusty dames of the village. And me. They grow beets in many colours and I adore them all. I’m so glad to hear you back in fuzzy warm mode about the house. It will be lovely. It really will. Remember how long it has been neglected and then think what a tiny fraction of that time you have been in the driving seat.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Wonder if the beetroot and the rant ( or the roof) is connected.
    After all, the French word for beetroot is betterave rouge! better rave in red?? help…………… Can you tell it’s Friday and my mind has turned to mush?

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

My Mazamet

Life at № 42 by E.M. Coutinho

A little something Elsie

This site is the cat’s pajamas


my weekly diary for my friends

Chicken Brain

Fixing my wayward mind through the medium of chickens

Susan Rushton

Celebrating gardens, photography and a creative life

food to glow

feel good food that's good for you

Thoughts that might just be useful in the future

A collection of thoughts to inspire others into thinking that little bit differently


A Mixed Assortment of Historical Delights

the paris apartment

hoping we know we're living the dream


musings from marseille

Pumpjack & Piddlewick

Fab Fun Findings from France

Abandoned Southeast

Preserving the Past

Philip Butler Photography

Architecture & Observations



spearfruit's our life

%d bloggers like this: