Denis and I popped over to his sister, Natalie’s, house last night for a barbecue. I was a little concerned as the météo had predicted heavy rain but the deluge never happened. At least not for us. 14 kilometres away in Carcassonne however, Yoan (Denis’ son) was sending us videos of what looked like a mini tornado charging across the city – such is the weird weather of late. I would like to reassure you all that, despite what the television tells you, we are not in a heatwave down here – not yet anyway. The temperature is nowhere near the scorching levels of last year and we have had a lot more rain. Good for the garden and the potager if not for the huge influx of English tourists of late in the nearby towns. And ducks too. In our pool. I have no idea why our aquatic avians have decided to wiggle their waders in our body of water but the woofers don’t seem to mind and as long as they don’t poop in it, neither do I.
Speaking of the bloody pool, we may have found the source of the leak. I called Roy, our master of all things piscine-related as an exhaustive search of the depths by myself, Katie my niece and brother Simon had come up with zilch. I even went under the back of the deck to see if any of the pipework was wet, a dangerous task as you really don’t want to know what devilish insects live in those dark reaches but no, all was dry. In order to eliminate each possible theory, Roy closed the drain and so far, so good. Well, sort of. That bit of equipment is buried below the pool so at some point, someone (guess who) is going to have to dig a flipping great hole to see whats what. We will have to leave it until the Autumn though as the ground is rock hard so for the moment, out of sight out of mind. At least I wish the last few words were true, the first thing I do every morning after I let the woofers out is to cross my fingers and cast an eye over the bloody thing.
Aside from a quick trip to the dentist to have one of my new teeth put in – feels very strange having had a gap in the back of my mouth most of my adult life, I haven’t done much over the past week. As I mentioned we have had my niece, Katie, here which has been lovely for Mumo and for Arry too. Katie, like her aunt, loves to run so my daft German Shepherd has had a couple of early morning exertions up and down the hills. Such pursuits are not for me in the summer, this aged body needs to recuperate between seasons and I prefer to swim. Preferably without ducks. I also introduced my niece to the local nightlife in the form of a Spanish evening at the Petit Bistrot and a chance to meet our large group of amis. In fact, most of the village turned up, probably because the word had got around that Denis was cooking. Good company, great music, cold beer and succulent sausages made for a grand night out. She’ll miss all this when she goes back to London tomorrow.
And I too will be returning to former shores next month – almost exactly 3 years to the day I left. It will be a flying visit though and not one I had planned. Many of you who have read The Book and/or have followed my blog over the past 4 and a bit years will be familiar with my bestie Irene or Rene as I have always called her. Rene held me up when my world fell apart and now I need to be there for her as she says goodbye to her husband who died suddenly a few weeks ago. I’m leaving Denis with the woofers, someone has to keep them company and anyway, he doesn’t have a passport. I asked him why once, his reply was that France had everything you would want in holiday destinations – sun, ski, surf and cities. He’s right of course but it doesn’t have my Rene and it’s my turn to hold her up especially when she can’t reach the pedals…
For you, my darling Rene:
“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together…there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think but the most important thing is, even if we’re apart… I’ll always be with you.” ( Winnie the Pooh)
Widow plus woofs 