For once a smooth trip across La Manche: no travel problems (M11 open this time, flight home actually landed 20 minutes early), and winning ways were resumed at the premier football venue in the land, despite a hatful of missed chances. And I returned to find la bienheureuse had done enough cooking over the weekend to forestall the need for me to do any during her time in Rostock. If I didn't know better, I might think she was tempting me to go away more often...
Only downside of the weekend was failure number 4 in the battle of the leaking pipe. Question now is do I give in and call le plombier, or do I stubbornly fight on...?
