Paahfect.Bringing us together is the best thing she's ever done, thank you Jules.
Imagining if the hags and trolls were in charge of Lalande (which I like, for the record).
The winter salon and the hall dining room and the marquis' salon would be reconfigured as downstairs bedrooms for the poorly Tartlets.
My model for a quick recovery comes from my parents' exploits in Peru in the 1930s, long before I was born. (One reason, white girls + high altitude = no babies.) My mother caught a nearly fatal case of typhoid at the famous Quinta Bates in Arequipa.
The very louche expat clientele -- WWI draft dodgers turned high altitude ranchers, Anglo-Latino Scots railroad architects and gun runners, various Nazi era commodities-hustling Luftwaffe pilots in training and pioneer Pan Am hot dog Andes surfers -- gathered in the dying woman's boudoir. Their treatment: Drink highballs, smoke cigarettes, and play a game of dice and bluff called bidou. The dying woman was given shot glasses full of champagne.
So I envision the poorly Tartlets in nicely accoutered hospital beds with old French linen sheets and faux Coromandel screens (collaged by the tart artistic brigade from brocante ringers) as necessary for the Spode po service, or ambulatory tarts could take turns ferrying you to the blue loo. Bathing by the wonderful French home care nurses we're all hooked up for (I remember somebody telling me their 87 year old French friend was getting massages as part of her aches and pains treatment, on the gouvernement's sou, fab).
A little posy of roses From The Gahden on the breakfast tray: Thé du constructeur or cafe au lait or hot chocolate or all three, farmers' market fruit of the mo (cherries and ice cubes in a crystal bowl), a croissant or really good toast or gingerbread (pain d'epice, yas, mama).
Then a little eggie perhaps? Boiled? A tiny omelette with tomme de Savoie, ready now, or homemade fresh peach jam? Or both? Or two, with each?
Then a peaceful morning of alternating silence, beautiful music -- here's some summer tunes from the highly recommended Listerner's Club (Elgar; Vivaldi) -- filthy jokes, raucous laughter, pedicures, dirty dancing, knitting, ceramics, pool boy and massages.
After a light lunch of high quality proteins -- I'm digging this quinoa bowl -- some chicken soup, obviously and maybe (in season) cod goujons with blueberry cole slaw and Miller Lite??? And champagne with white peaches? We could spend the afternoon planning the redecoration and the restoration of the lake. And inviting all the villagers to be married for free in the chapel, attended by all 15 hags, some in wheelchairs, attired in our very own Emmaus wedding dresses. Oh what larks.
Why was FRk using the top of the fridge to crack her hard boiled eggs on?
That was odd.
Dishcloth Dave has less washing up to do with so few guests , perhaps he will help with the patreon day?
Your menu would be delightful for the punters. I somehow think it will be beige and not in season and only radish from the gaahden
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