If the last three years are anything to go by, time certainly flies when you’re having fun so what other way was there to mark the anniversary of my family’s arrival in Rouffiac d’Aude than to throw a party. Naturally it had to be a pool party since the bloody thing took most of that time to build and since Denis is a dab hand on the barbecue, make a feast of it all. If the number of sore heads around the village this morning is anything to go by, everything went swimmingly well – except that no-one actually got in the water as the wind was whipping up a hooley and stopping one’s paper plate from ending up in the piscine became a priority in itself. Still, at least the temperature has returned to decent digits after the week before’s get your sweaters out and we saw the beginning of September in and the end of summer out with our now very familiar friends and show off what the lovely Lionel, my darling Denis and little ol’ me had made all by ourselves. Unfortunately the fourth member of our construction team, always reliable Roy, wasn’t able to join us but he will be pleased to know that we soaked up all the compliments over our spectacular creation on his behalf even if it will always be referred to as the bloody pool.
With the Super Blue moon shining above the terrace, August has disappeared and with it, hopefully for a little while at least, the see-sawing weather. The poor plants don’t seem to know if they’re coming or going and frankly I’m sick of changing my clothes every five minutes. At least the mozzies have pretty much given up their seasonal sucking now and the nights are cool enough to turn off the fans – dog hair and whirling air don’t mix well. Going out in the evenings has also become a little more pleasant without having to winge about the sweat running down your back or listen to the constant cracks of bug zappers. No doubt I will be complaining in a few months about my frosted fingers but for now, I shall enjoy the serenity of September.
Unusually for us, we have had a quiet summer in terms of visitors but now, with the arrival of Mumo’s dear friends Greta and Gareth from Canada and my nephew Maxime, we have a healthy houseful. I picked up the former from Toulouse Airport on Friday afternoon and promptly subjected them to peak hour traffic and my equally-peaked temper driving home. The girl who used to drive into central London daily for over 20 years was definitely left there, this one will be quite happy never to get stuck in a jam again. I’ve never been so relieved to see the hills of home ahead of me as I drove us the last few kilometres home. It won’t be long before those hills and I become re-acquainted either when I put my running shoes back on – if Alice has hidden them that is. I’m looking forward to puffing and panting my way through the vines once more, not least because my writing muse has left the building and I need to get the brain cogs ticking away once more. There’s a little place I need to write about called Rouffiac d’Aude…
“There is a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance” (Solomon)
Widow plus woofs 