Consternations and cheese

My brother Moth and I have a regular lunchtime joke about cheese. He likes to buy the posh stuff from the fromagerie in Carcassonne whilst I go down to our local epicerie, the latter always met with derision and comments about it being off or mouldy. Well yesterday both of us were kissing the porcelain god all afternoon thanks to his lunch contribution. I’m pretty sure I haven’t had my head over a toilet since Tony died and lying there on the cool tiled floor, I suddenly felt totally alone. There was no-one to rub my back or wipe my sweating forehead as he would have always done, it was just me and a load of rather concerned woofers who thankfully had collectively decided to steer clear of me and the loo. Thoughts ran through my head, what if something more serious had happened? How long would it be before someone noticed I wasn’t around? Maudlin I know but there wasn’t a lot else to think about when you are resting between bouts of retching. Eventually I summoned up the strength to grab my phone and call Mumo and of course, being a Mum, she came straight over. Before long I was put into bed and having all been fed, the woofers tucked themselves around me in a protective cordon. I slept for 10 hours.

As is the norm on Saturday mornings, I went for a run with Arry and Alice. With the weather finally having broken and beaucoup de pleut having descended upon the land, I decided to take a different route. Running through the vines after a downpour is not an enjoyable activity as I’ve mentioned before, the clay sticks to your shoes making them feel like moonboots. So off we headed up the other side of the village, following the dirt tracks up into the hills. After a few kilometres weaving through the woodland and oohing at the beautiful countryside, it occurred to me that I had no idea where we were going. Arry was of course, running ahead, Alice and I following him scaling steep inclines and picking our way down perilous drops into the undergrowth but truth be told, I was beginning to panic a bit. Eventually Arry stopped ahead, the darling had brought us up to a main road not far from an adjacent village and it was at this point, I remembered that mobile phones have Sat Navs so we couldn’t really get lost. I looked at the running app, a little wiggly yes, but we hadn’t actually gone more than 5 kms. With new faith in my trusted Shepherd, we headed off away from the road and into the trees beyond. A dog’s nose is an amazing thing, Arry had never been in this part of the hills yet he confidently took us, albeit in a round a bout way due to errant wildlife, back to a more familiar path. I’m proud to say we did 13 kilometres even if my legs weren’t happy about it.

Last week’s rain, much as it was badly needed, has had an annoying side-effect. The smell of rotting fruit to be precise. An entire morning spent raking up walnuts from the ground below the balcony lest the pups get hold of them was in vain, they just got replaced the next day. What will eventually be the orchard has a somewhat alcoholic odour with decaying pomegranates, figs and plums littered everywhere. Mind you, the pool actually holds water you will be pleased to read. Just the wrong sort of water. Without Denis who is still recovering from his hernia operation, everything garden has descended into chaos. He makes order out of chaos and probably likes figs which I do not.

Today should have been our 29th wedding anniversary. Love you always T xx

“Not all those who wander are lost” (J.R.R Tolkein)