Upon taking my customary 4.30 p.m swim the other day, I noticed that half the pool was already in shade – the evenings are starting to draw in already as we move towards Autumn. The poor garden is getting very confused with the cool nights and hot days, my roses have decided to bloom again and the tomato vines are bursting with renewed redness. Mind you I’m still having to drag the hose out much to the delight of Arry whose idea of the pursuit of happiness is to stand in front of whatever flora I am dousing and open his mouth. The body of a German Shepherd and the IQ of a Panda. At least the mozzies are retreating now, my darling woofer is costing me a fortune in veterinary fees what with all his chewing and scratching and I’ve had one too many nights listening to him.
If there was a week made for staying in and snoozing, the past one would have ticked all the boxes as, apart from a couple of soirees, I barely saw Denis. Don’t worry, we haven’t had a falling out, in fact quite the opposite. My man has been making plans. The retirement sort. You see, D has been the ‘go to’ guy for Rouffiac and a couple of the surrounding village for eons but has now decided he wants, in his words, une vie tranquille. Knowing him as I do, he will still keep a few clients and be there for those that are in desperate need for a verge to be strimmed but there’ll be fishing rods instead of power tools in the back of his camionette. And of course, he has plenty to do here – it’s as much his garden as it is ours. He also told me last night at chez Abraham’s that he would be helping out with kitchen side of things, nothing makes D happier than cooking – except fishing that is. And me.
Aside from the usual Saturday night at the afore-mentioned, the only other time I wore something that didn’t include shorts was a dinner out at the rather grand Hotel Chateau de Cavanac. Stephanie (D’s niece) had entered on of those back of a packet competitions and won a table for five. The downside was that we would have to be subjected to a sales pitch about renewable energy devices beforehand – one that went on for 2 and a half hours in a hot room without any refreshments or bathroom breaks. Me, being a fidget and not a particularly patient one at that, ended up in a not so humourous frame of mind – not helped by one eager potential customer who kept asking questions. Thankfully, we finally did get to sit down in the restaurant a couple of hours before midnight and enjoy the actual meal – a complimentary bottle of wine soothed the Sophi too.
With the main house full of guests and it being still warm enough to sit in the courtyard, there has been more than enough chatter and Chardonnay to chase away the ‘miss you Denis’ blues. Next week, our Canadian friends will be leaving us for their return home and sadly, we said goodbye to my nephew Maxime yesterday but not before he managed to fall off his bike and land on his Dad, my brother Simon. Max faired better than his human cushion with just a few cuts on his knees, Simon is hobbling around with badly bruised ribs and a bump on the old noggin. It was far too brief a visit from my nephew but he has promised to be back for Christmas – yes I have thrown subtle hints Down Under but as yet, just a vague perhaps from Cal. Mumo is already trying to calculate how many extra beds will be needed and where to put them, judging by the current climate I predict most will be outside on the pool deck…
“Wine is the divine juice of September” (Voltaire)
Widow plus woofs 