Much as I had hoped to be back in my little house this weekend, it was not to be. I am assured that we can relocate by Tuesday even though the countertops and dishwasher won’t be installed until the fitter comes back from his hols in January. I blame it on the bathroom mirror being delivered in shards. Nevertheless, Mumo and I went out and bought a Christmas tree, we all need a bit of festive cheer.
The driveway has looked like a long-stay car park for most of the last week with all the work vans squeezing into barely there spaces – the French have this down to an art. I’ve had plenty of language practice albeit construction, heating or garden phrases which has prompted much laughter on both sides. I shall miss the banter once they are finished even if I’m itching for my home to be just that.
I don’t intend to move house again but if I should, I would make sure the removal company place the boxes in some sort of order. Having spent the last couple of days climbing over mountains of cardboard in the garage searching for kitchen items and clothes, naturally buried under all those marked ‘books’, the lack of organisation on my part is frustrating. Why are the things you want impossible to find? Most of the boxes are too heavy to be lifted so need to be emptied, taken out of the garage and then refilled. It is during this tiresome process that items you didn’t really need to bring appear; the garish lampshades I had in the hall at Knollys for example and a whole box of dust sheets (I know I asked the removal men to pack everything but really??). At least I have enough baubles and bits for the tree, most have emigrated to the garden for the village competition. I haven’t heard anything about this but my hopes are fading. The ladies in the epicerie have praised my efforts, the ‘ petit père Noël ‘ decoration getting a special mention. I don’t have any little Father Christmases in the garden unless they are referring to my polystyrene snowman.
My heart goes out to all those in the UK who have had to go into Tier 4 just as everyone was getting ready for a little holiday cheer. Since this will be my last blog before Christmas, I am sending big virtual hugs to all from the widow plus woofers gang and I hope you get to raise a glass or two even if it’s through a computer screen…
“For me a house or an apartment becomes a home when you add one set of four legs and a happy tail and that indescribable measure of love that we call a dog” (Roger Caras)
Widow plus woofs 