We’ve lost the postbox key. Apart from the obvious, that is not being able to get what’s in there out, I’m annoyed because no-one seems the slightest bit worried about it except me. I suppose it was inevitable that such a little item would go missing considering the number of family members currently residing in the main house – I really should have kept it in the apartment. That way I would only have myself to blame when I relocate things which is quite often.
The thing is about family is you love them dearly but living with them is a different matter. And when you and your siblings each own a quarter of the property, you have to compromise. A lot. Having spent most of the year here with just Mumo and me making decisions, I am starting to feel out of place as the rest of the family come in and take over. It’s hard not feel like a petulant child when the number of dogs I should or rather shouldn’t have (my big brother is not much of a woofer fan) is discussed by everyone else except me. I have made no secret of the fact that I want to keep Sherman, unfortunately no-one else does. The question is how much do I want to compromise when it comes to being happy here? I really don’t mind what is changed in the main house, after all I spend most of my time up here in my little nest but at 54, do I want to spend the rest of my life having to live by the rules of others? Perhaps there will come a time when I will look for somewhere else within the village in which I can settle or maybe I’ll just adjust with time. Right now I find it easier to keep me and the woofs out of the way as much as possible. Two more of the pups will go next week so I can get on with training Sherman and Salome the latter not leaving for the US until the end of the year. If Sherbs wasn’t so much like Macgyver in personality then I wouldn’t have this emotional attachment. I wanted to go over to L’Horte this morning and talk to Pop but with so much stuff to finish in the house before my sister and her crew come on Tuesday, I just haven’t got the time. I do miss being able to offload my troubles on him but luckily for me, perhaps not for her, I have Mumo.
It’s been almost a year since I left Dear Old Blighty for these foreign shores. Considering how much I’ve packed into the last 12 months, it’s hardly surprising it’s passed by so quickly. Here, sitting on a barstool in my kitchen looking out of the garden and the almost finished bloody pool, I have finally started to write THAT book. I have no doubt that this is going to be a long process but it will be a great distraction from the decisions being made without me and it’s definitely something I don’t have to compromise on.
“Compromise is like the middle of the road; always safer to walk on than the edges.” (Dwight Eisenhower)
Widow plus woofs 