In any other year, I would have had the house decked from top to toe in Christmas paraphernalia by now but of course, this hasn’t been any other year. Like many friends, we won’t be sharing the festivities with family, although I am hoping that Callum can make it over, so there isn’t the same enthusiasm to deck the halls. Luckily for my inner tinsel fairy, the village is throwing a house decorating competition (exteriors only) so I excavated all my bauble boxes from the garage and untangled the lights. With such a big garden, I decided to stick to the front of the main house which has the added advantage of a fir tree and plenty of bushes to illuminate. Once again, Denis has come to the rescue with his ladder and strung garlands across the driveway and stuck a star on the top of the tree. Just a few more tweaks and snow spray and it’s ready for the judges. I did think about bribing the committee with mulled wine and mince pies but I’ve been told they are all under 16. I’m not sure how the French would feel about me boiling up the local wine but my neighbour reassured me that anything alcoholic goes down well around here. I’m told Rouffiac is party central in any other year.
With the beginning of December has come the rain and dropping temperatures which makes getting out of bed to go for a run far less appealing than it was. I’ve discovered that our regular run route through the vines requires a set of skis and crampons as the mud slides underfoot. My decision to take an alternative route almost ended in disaster when Arry found a gap in a fence and went off to play with the horses. Thankfully their lack of enthusiasm and my swearing brought his little stint to an end. He ended up guiding me back to onto more familiar ground so all was forgiven even if it meant me slithering inelegantly through the vines to get there.
Between mud-sliding and garden decor, I have had to turn my attention to getting my resident permit sorted out. With Brexit looming at the end of December (theoretically) us expats have to have one to live in France. Naturally nothing is straightforward in the world of government form-filling and I’m trying very hard not to get frustrated by the whole thing. A trip to the local social security office tomorrow will hopefully get the process moving a little more smoothly. Even in the few months I have been here, I’ve fallen in love with France and feel at home. I’ve got a competition to win and a soggy hillside to conquer……..
“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way (s)he handles three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights” (Maya Angelou)
Widow plus woofs 
Major xc
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