We are in the middle of a canicule or heat wave in translation. Whilst 40 degree temperatures are normal in August, there aren’t in June. The woofers have taken to getting up ridiculously early in the morning to do their business before finding their favourite shady spot around the garden. Every time I want to go anywhere, I have to spend several minutes searching for them all and doing a double count before I close the front door. That is with the exception of Arry who finds it perfectly acceptable to snooze on the top pool step, his head resting on the deck.
For obvious reasons, running is off the agenda so I am trying to keep my muscles in some sort of shape swimming laps every afternoon. Now I have to admit that, apart from the summers spent at L’Horte in the river, I haven’t been in a pool for at least 10 years and my body wasn’t thanking me for it. My arms and legs are the only parts that have taken a battering, I’ve stashed a load of Perrier bottles by the sun loungers to rinse my hair with – chlorine and blonde highlights don’t mix well but amazingly, fizzy water does stop your barnet going green. Speaking of ‘going green’, there are now various insect watering holes dotted around the grounds in an effort to stop the thirsty little creatures from drowning in the pool and I built a bird bath out of some old paving stones and a large planter. Unfortunately most of my reservoirs are more hot tubs than cooling spas at the moment so I have a freezer full of ice trays. The birds still prefer to swoop down and skim the pool surface like mini Top Guns especially the swallows who delight in their aerobatic manoeuvres.
Mumo’s Canadian guests left earlier in the week but not before I took them up to our local winemaker or vigneron. It was my first visit as well, as usual the date arranged by darling Denis but I hadn’t thought about how far up the hill the vineyard was. Walking there seemed a great idea at the time but I nearly wiped out Greta and Gareth, the latter reminding me that we’d have to carry our purchases back in the scorching sun. Thankfully, not only did we have a wonderful afternoon tasting their amazing wines but Laetitia, the owner drove us back down. I made a new friend in Laetitia and got an invitation for Mumo and I to come and meet some of the other local winemakers at a private event next week.
I’m back writing most evenings again. I really wish my ‘flow’ would happen at a more suitable time of day but it seems my brain likes to kick in to keyboard mode after 7 p.m. What with the woofers wanting to start their day at sunrise and me not going to bed until my fingers run out of steam, I’m feeling the lack of sleep. Afternoon siestas on the pool deck are now the norm even if I have to share my lounger with a woofer or two. But it hasn’t been all work and no play – Friday evening saw the re-opening of Le Petit Bistro in our little village. Started three years ago but like most venues, closed during the pandemic, the bistro opens every Friday for music, food and a lot of alcohol. People come from the neighbouring villages too which makes for a very lively night and sore heads in the morning and with Denis knowing everyone of course, too many introductions for me to remember. Spending the evening with friends listening to all the chatter around me and laughing at how bad my language skills got after a couple of glasses, gave me a sense of belonging here in this sleepy part of France – I’m part of this village now. Mumo and I left the happy crowds before the end of the night, both needing something non-alcoholic and food (we didn’t get a chance to eat there). Having made dinner beforehand, just in case we were starving, I popped the tuna steaks into my cast iron frying pan for a couple of minutes and then headed down my stairs to join Mumo. As I went to put my foot on the last step, I missed my footing and whacked my head on the pan handle (I wasn’t going to drop those steaks) resulting in two black eyes and a cut on my nose. At least it’s sunglasses wearing weather……
“I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself” (Maya Angelou)
Widow plus woofs 