So last Sunday I was invited to lunch, always a special affair here in France. Picture a French farmhouse, a table under a tree with a blue tablecloth to match the clear blue sky, fine wine, roasted chicken and potatoes, beans from the garden, and of course, the requisite baguette. As is befitting a guest of my stature, I was charged with the sacred task of slicing the bread.

Now I’m no chef but I was pretty confident that I could serve up a loaf of bread. In the end it proved too much for me. With my trademark grace, I managed to hack off a crusty end and shoot the rest of the loaf like a ballistic missile straight into the ground. Our gracious hosts, who shall remain nameless (Anne and Michel), didn’t mind eating bread with bits of grass and gravel stuck to it, so all was well. You can’t say I don’t bring an element of entertainment to the table. Which brings me to my actual point: entertainment.

Lately I’ve been a little short on pleasing diversion what with being up to my eyeballs in paperwork. So I need a little pick-me-up. I’ve been entertaining you crowd for quite some time now and I rarely ask for anything in return, although cash and jewels are always accepted. The other day a few folks sent me pictures of themselves reading the book and I must say it cheered me to no end.

So, here’s the deal. If you have a copy of the book (and by that I am referring to the one I wrote — don’t be sending me shots of you in a leather bustier reading Fifty Shades of Envy), take a picture of it and send it to me. Be as creative as you want as long as your wobbly, knobbly bits are covered. If you’re shy, pose it with your favourite wine or use the book to hide your face, whatever. This last one is an important safety tip because if you send it to me be advised: you may end up on the blog. That’s the official legal disclaimer.

Oh come on. It’ll be fun. Think of me here all by myself with a husband who is obsessed with Euro 2012. If you don’t come through I’ll have to resort to drastic measures to get his attention. Last week it was roller skating naked in the living room, a hot apple pastry in one hand, a wad of cash in the other. Nothing, not even a glance up from the TV. If I don’t have something soon to keep me entertained I may have to really ramp it up. I might have to cook something.

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