As I re-emerge after a weekend-long orgy of chocolate and hot cross buns – sadly, the only type I participate in these days – I thought it high time to write one of my long rambling missives. Not to mention that keeping my fingers busy does help fight my newly developed addiction to the aforementioned hot cross buns.
Granted, I was quite the fan of this baked treat before the festive season but my consumption recently jumped up at an alarming rate, from once a month, to weekly and now daily. Why oh why must Marks & Spencer have so many delicious flavours? You should really try the orange marmalade flavoured ones. Thankfully, their thoroughly tempting range will undoubtedly shrink back to normal now that the sacred time of the Sweet Zombie Jesus has passed.
Life in gay Paris continues on its amiable fashion with temperatures finally leaving their Arctic-like depths and our wild snowstorms abating. Admittedly, it wasn’t that bad, but it was certainly the worst winter I’ve experienced since moving to Paris…my poor jardinières may never recover.
Fatherhood continues to be challenging, yet rewarding, with the beast growing stronger and more cunning by the day. I can’t believe he’s 15 months already! He’ll be slamming doors and telling me that I’m ruining his life in no time. Good thing he’s so gosh darn cute.
On the theatrical side, things have taken a bit of surprising turn. Strangely, people seem to enjoy the plays I’m churning out and actually bothering to spend money to see them. I was even in the thoroughly odd situation of having my plays performed in Paris and Sydney within days of one another, and to rather favourable reviews. It just goes to show that if you work hard and make a pact with Lucifer, anything can happen.
Well, I must away and channel my inner gym bunny to atone for my many, many calorific sins.