Il fait toujours beau quelque part

And while it was pouring down here in Provence, luckily in Brighton the sun was shining over my son Marc performing with Shaun Parker and C-12 Dance theatre:

Staying alive (bis)

Il me faut (hélas?) rectifier ce post:  Robin Gibb, dont les trémolos ont accompagné ma préadolescence, a lui aussi passé l'arme à gauche.

Il pleut dans ma maison

Pluie et vent sur le plateau ce week-end: il a fallu chercher les bassines.
Mais on a vu pire:

Home from home

Me voici de retour, oserais-je dire "à la maison"?

When I go "home" to Guadeloupe, and then come "home" to France, there's always a moment of confusion, sometimes on the flight, or waking up in the morning, when I actually have to stop and ask myself whether I'm coming or going. This was especially unsettling when I was working and I couldn't remember whether the holidays were starting or over.

Alors, avec un peu de nostalgie, je pense ce matin à mon autre "maison".