Live with it

It’s been one of those days hence the lateness in me penning the blog. My normal easy-going Sunday routine was hijacked by a) me falling back asleep this morning after toileting the pups and b) a visit to my little brother’s house was ‘suggested’ to me. As much as I adore my brother and his family, I really cherish my Sundays as being a day to mooch around and write. So between a visit to L’Horte to water Pop’s tree (and take my sister who hadn’t been back there since Pop’s funeral) and a trip up to Badens (Moth’s incredible property), I haven’t had much time to do anything else. I had planned on writing followed by some puppy training (more of that later) with a bit of DIY fencing on the balcony – the terrierists are getting very adventurous.

Having got over my strop about rules and puppy additions last week, I decided to embrace all things family this week – or at least try. I made croissants for breakfast, cooked a mean prawn and chicken satay (peeling 101 prawns speaks of devotion) and over-sugared the lot with a lime cheesecake. And actually, I have thoroughly enjoyed the banter around the dinner table in the finally finished dining room. My two nieces, Elise and Jojo, are hilarious conversationalists (the dogs are very taken with them as well) and for once in my life, I sit back and listen. I say this because my older brother has accused me more than once of being too loud and needing a mute button- me really? Still, it’s wonderful to see Callum so at home en famille so I’m happy to keep schtum.

The unsettled feelings refuse to go away however but I think I have found the root of the problem thanks to Mumo as ever. I, like her, miss being part of a couple especially when it comes to big gatherings. Kendra and Andrew (introducing my sister and brother-in-law) are the perfect couple. Constantly talking, holding hands and watching their kids. My little brother has his partner and Tigger (let’s face it no child born in this family was going to just be Tiago) and big brother Simon has his beautiful wife Alba although she hasn’t been able to get here this summer because of work stuff but we no longer have that shoulder to whisper against or that palm to reach. The person who knew your moods inside and out is no longer sitting on the chair next to you, knowing you better than anyone else. It’s a tough realisation.

Despite all my angst, I am happy here a year on. I’m looking forward to spreading my social circle beyond the confines of a little village called Rouffiac but having said that, I do feel at home. I have plans, still to be put to the sibling panel, and the bloody pool should be full of freezing cold water by the end of next week. Funnily enough, I found my wetsuit in one of the ‘can you sort or throw Mum’ garage boxes – just in time then. The woofers have been suffering with the intense heat of last week but we are promised slightly cooler from tomorrow. And I’ve started to train the puppers which is a challenge in itself considering there are three remaining who all have to be educated independently. Slim is of course is French and so learning the local lingo, Salome has to socialised with the nearest equivalent of NYC (Carcassonne on a busy market day) and Sherman, well that’s an issue ongoing. Another schtum for me. Mind you, I’m loving bringing out the old trainer in me and watching them learn.

Arry, bless him, turns 6 tomorrow – someone should really tell him that he’s an adult now. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have ever got through the last three years without his crazy self. I love the damn dog. If he was human I would say he knows me better than I know myself. He knows how to react to my moods, makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry and above all, keeps the pack happy. No idea and would never want to contemplate life without him. So Happy Birthday nutcase, twathead, most perfect doofus….

“You realise how much you truly miss someone when something happens, good or bad, and the only person you want to tell is the one person who isn’t there.”(Unknown)