December has arrived. I’ve got a Christmas pudding simmering nicely on the hob and piles of baubles and lights spread out on the kitchen island. Since Denis and I will spend much of next week blinging up the corner wall so that everyone arriving in Rouffiac will be mesmerised by our seasonal display of Santa et al, what goes where requires a lot of organisation. One also has to allow an extra day beforehand to untangle what you put away last year. The pudding by the way is not for me, I promised D’s sister Nathalie I’d make their family one – for some reason she likes lashings of dried fruit mashed into a dome and boiled until Doomsday. I will explain to her the necessary fire drill when she sets the thing alight on the big day – this pud is already tipsy.
Mind you, the Maybon family might need the boozy boost given as the temperature has dropped into the single figure zone. At least it’s been blue sky and sunshine for most of this weekend as most of last week had us drenched. I know I bang on about how we need rain but did it have to come down all at once? The morning run became an extreme sport on Tuesday, going uphill was like negotiating rapids and downhill even worse. I’ve never had a skiing lesson but I bet I’m pretty adept now. When D and I decided to go out for pizza on Friday night, we should have packed a dinghy such was the lake in front of the restaurant’s entrance – it wouldn’t surprise you to read that the place was practically empty. Perhaps the boat shop (yes, we do have a shop that sells boats on the village’s lower road even though there isn’t anywhere near here where you could set sail) had sold out. On the plus side, staying inside and dry meant I got a fair few chapters written and sent off to my editor, Sally. I still don’t like Chapter 5 but I’ll wait for her thoughts, no doubt covered in red ink.
Before I packed the pud into a bowl this morning and set it to bubble away for several hours, I told Denis he had to stir the mix and ‘faire un vœu’. His questions as to why and how were precised by me into ” I have no idea, it’s just tradition’. I know it has something to do with the Three Wise Men but frankly I was far too tired and my linguistic skills had yet to get out of bed. I would normally have blamed Saturday nights chez Abraham for my lack of sleep but with the place being closed and most of the rest of Rouffiac too, I played hostess last night chez moi. Our new neighbours, Terry and Jacqui, had yet to meet Denis or Abraham so I’d invited them over for intros and entrees along with Saba and Roy. Callum and Mumo popped up too. The woofers were thoroughly delighted to have new fans – even Neo, who as you know isn’t the most sociable sort, happily accepted attention. This may also have had something to do with me losing my temper with the lot of them trying to get the annual Christmas shot. I gave up in the end and ordered my cards with their picture tucked away in one corner. For us humans, it was an evening filled with sparkling conversation and fabulous food, the latter having more to do with Abraham’s contribution than mine. I did not know it was so easy to burn rice. I don’t think anybody noticed, apart from Callum who has a great deal of experience regarding his mother’s culinary skills, all were too busy making new friends. And if yesterday’s introductions are anything to go by, Terry and Jacqui have already become part of our little community. As Denis pointed out, everyone needs great neighbours especially when you’ve got 8 hair-brained hounds…
“It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.” (Sarah Kay)
Widow plus woofs 