When we arrive at S's house in France, she sighs at a plate of food her neighbour has brought round – devilled eggs, asparagus, salad. That is so French, I think.
S hasn't been well recently. I'm cheered by her doting voisins, and it looks delicious, but the drugs are making her nauseous. Although on paper it is exactly the kind of thing that is deemed …
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to A Good Egg to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.