I am mindful of the fact that since my next blog will be in 2022, I should use this one to reminisce about what a rollercoaster of a year has passed for us all. And even though we all had a glimpse of lockdown freedom over the summer, my heart goes out to those both here and in the UK who have had their Christmas torn away from them. I think we all think the same thing when that wishbone is pulled.
It’s been a year of sheer magic watching Alice become the most incredible mum to six healthy puppies, all of which have found wonderful homes (Salome goes to NYC in January). And although I had no intention of keeping any of them, the Gods gifted me with Sherman. You can never replace a dog but he has the soul of my beloved Macgyver so there was never really a choice. But there has also been heartbreak with the sudden loss of Evie in the Spring, my Chihuahua Princess forever laid to rest under a fig tree in the garden.
The last 12 months have otherwise been dominated by two things; the renovation of the main house and the headache that became the bloody pool, both of which were only supposed to take a few months but instead lasted the whole year. At least I can now say that both houses have heating and the piscine has its blanket on for the winter. The lovely Lionel and darling Denis spent Friday afternoon in high spirits messing around with a mallet, banging the poles in to secure the cover – I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. I sent Lionel off with his Christmas gift and a bottle of my home-made vin chaud (mulled wine) resulting in quite a few slurred text messages on the wonders of such a bevvie. I think both men were as relieved as I was that the bloody thing had finally been put to bed until next May.
Not only did I become a French resident earlier this year, I also ventured into the world of investments. I would say I’m rather proud of myself doing such stuff without Tony but since I drove all the way to Montpelier to sign the documents only to find out I had got the wrong day probably has him laughing his head off up there. Hopefully I’ll get there and back tomorrow without any hiccups. In French or English.
I was one of the lucky ones in 2021 as not only did I get to see my siblings and their offspring over the Summer, I also had a visit from my bestie Irene in the Autumn. And of course, Callum made it over even if he is about to travel to the other side of the world in a few months. I made new friends and got myself on a language course, the latter of which was supposed to be so I could do the former but things have a way.
So as 2021 begins to wind down, I’d like to thank everyone for reading my weekly murmurings, the popularity grows! Thank you also to Mr Max the chauffagiste for getting the heating on (eventually) and always making me laugh, to the lovely Lionel who had far more shoved on his plate than he bargained for (he hasn’t seen next year’s schedule yet) and of course, to darling Denis without whom nothing would have got done. And above all, thank you to my woofers Arry, Simi, Yogi Bear, Alice, Neo, Mo Cridhe, Coco Loco, Gizmo and Sherman. No-one wants to be a widow but I’m glad that when the going gets rough, you lot are always there to give me crazy and comfort in equal doses. To my family, I love you and to my darling Tony, miss you always especially when I’m trying to wrap presents and keep the Sellotape in a straight line.
Merry Christmas one and all and see you in 2022! oh, and below is the Christmas photo….
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” (Søren Kierkegaard)
Widow plus woofs 