Hello 2022

Three years ago on a miserable January morning, I suddenly decided to write a blog. I remember being curled up on a chair in the sitting room at Knollys Road, surrounded by woofers and off I wrote. Of course, I had no idea of the journey life was going to take me on or that I would be sitting here on my favourite bar stool in my little French abode penning my weekly musings all this time later. And now as I enter my fourth year without T, I think I’m finally starting to feel less ‘widowy’ (my mother-in-law if you remember hates the word) and more, well, me. If I am allowed to ask the Gods for one thing in 2022, it would be for calm seas and no more bumps in the road. Please.

The reason for this brief reminiscence is The Book. Having made so many excuses as to why it wasn’t the right time, I am now in full tap tap flow. Callum bought me a new printer which, after a number of punch-ups, I can actually work. The first job has been to print off all the blogs and file them so I can refer to them as I go through my strange tale, hence my nostalgia. Some are still very difficult to read, especially the earlier ones, and to be honest some are downright boring but there’s a book in them so go through I must.

I had a rather drunken text from the lovely Lionel yesterday wishing me a Bonne Année followed by him telling me what a wonderful person I was to work for and how much he was looking forward to the travail ahead. He has no idea. It’s only five months until summer and he has a very long list of ‘to-do’s’ lined up which will make him regret those words once the celebratory season is over. And darling Denis will need to take all the decorations down on Thursday, we still don’t know the outcome of the nail-biting village competition but apparently we are in the final three. As much as I’m itching to pack away all the lights and baubles, I am going to follow the Christmas rules and wait until after Epiphany which is when I hope Lionel doesn’t have one.

We were the lucky ones this Christmas as the entire family managed to get here for the festivities, albeit a day late as is normal for the Collins’. Fifteen of us sat down on Boxing Day (someone laid the table for sixteen which was a little creepy) for lunch followed by kids and adults alike oohing and aahing over presents and far too much wine (adults that is). Amusingly the kitchen island whilst covered with food preparation and cake, also had several boxes of lateral flow tests littered about – part of the norm I suppose. We even managed to get some family photos done, I can’t remember the last time we all posed together although I did leave the woofers in my house – far less stressful. They had a wild time with the younger nephews and nieces chasing them around the gardens oblivious to the noise they were making, apologies to the neighbours but one hopes they were full of Christmas spirit in more ways than one. But sadly, such fun comes to an end and all is quiet once again. The driveway is back to looking like a driveway again and not a multi-storey car park and the woofers are snoozing away in the oddly warm January sunshine.

So here’s to 2022. To open roads with no speed bumps and seas with calm horizons ahead. And swimming pools that can actually be swum in……

“I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.” (Thomas Jefferson)