‘Ere be ( French) dragons………

My grandson has lent me this carefully selected dragon “so if I am ever lonely or sad or frightened” I can look at it and think of him.

Apparently, rubbing it’s tummy also attracts luck.

No, I haven’t gone completely soft, but I decided to hedge my bets in case it really is a lucky dragon & took it to France with us. Of course I got randomly selected at Stansted airport for a hand  luggage check.

Their faces when they unpacked this item were priceless

Nels says this is a French dragon, so he was right at home in our scruffy hovel, which despite progress still reminds me of the kind of dives I lived in as an Art Student in the seventies and during my gipsy/bohemian/living on the fringes period in Cornwall;

which was well before I became this sensible person.Sort of.

We are reduced to candlelight in the salon as not all the new electrics are connected. Though we have a good rug & sofa in place, further furnishings currently include an old sideboard, vintage Lloyd Loom chair from the kitchen  and a Moroccan table/lamp. Temporary curtains and board on buckets coffee table complete the look. I am wearing some very boho pyjama pants, a paint spattered vest and a pair of my daughter’s old fluffy bed socks. There is mop bucket on the stairs to catch mystery drip from (new !) plumbing

We are drinking toffee coloured rose for the pain.

Yes, it takes me right back…………….