The scene in a pretty German village where the rooftops and vineyards are white with frost and the sun is shining:
I have had the most strenuous week brain-wise since the children were born.
I have had 3 meetings that went to 10.30pm. Then couldn't sleep for hours as brain whirring from unaccustomed activity.
Am so tired that I feel like I have a hangover.
I can't go back to bed as I have an appt with the head of (hopefully) s2's secondary school next year in an hour.
I need to eat something or I will get the shakes and feel sick which will not impress the needs-to-be-wowed-by-me-and-give-my-son-a-place head.
Making fresh coffee just now I opened the fridge and cupboards 8 times trying to find something I could face eating.
And it hit me:
I want a mince pie.
Light crusty pastry, sweet chunky fruit, sugar dusting.
I'm not homesick or fed up or depressed. I just want a mince pie. That would buck me up no end.
Sigh.