tuesday twenty eight.
Dark,. Long thin little goblin rushing about the cave with a blueish light in its hand.
Son up. Playing on the the other halves tablet. Grey shadows from the mouth of the cave, grey light from a foggy morning.
the bed is warm, the cave is chilly. Bathroom , clean teeth.
Son and wife go to the bread machine, It does not pay to have a baker in the village of the caves any more.
British expats and roaming americans, french cave enthusiasts
foggy day.
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