Over dinner last night with brother Simon and my sis-in law, Alba, the subject of superstition came up. Being one who would blame her choice of belly button rings on a bad day, it was interesting to find out that many beliefs are the same in France. Saluting or saying good morning to magpies for example and hoping you see a pair, frantically searching for a piece of wood to touch when you say something you hope will come true, Friday the 13th doom and walking under ladders. It has to be said, my list of taboos made for much raising of eyebrows and guffawing – I find nothing odd in holding your collar when I see an ambulance and not letting go until a white car appears, at least I don’t blame the sight of a black cat on my car breaking down like Denis. Mind you, perhaps I should pay a bit more attention to that chat noir who lives a few doors down if last week was anything to go by.
For a start, the planned pipeline didn’t happen because the bloke didn’t show up so yet again, D and I wasted a whole day waiting for him. To be honest, I’ve got to the point where I’m just going to fill the bloody pool anyway and hope the man what drills holes in the ground appears sometime in the near future. In brief, we have a water seam several metres below the front garden and permission from the Mayor to put in a well and use the free stuff for everything outside but not for drinking. Considering how much water we need for the foliage and to top up the piscine, it’s going to be money well spent. If he ever turns up. Even though, we have had a couple of decent downpours in the last few days, the hot weather and equally dry wind have soaked up most of what came down. Still, after another little temper tantrum, I changed my belly ring again and left no wood untouched so I’m sure all will be tickety boo very soon.
It probably doesn’t help that the woofers have decided that when the sun rises so must I. Yogi is always the first, the gentle pitter patter of bear paws waking me somewhere around 6 a.m so I can let him and the others downstairs to do what needs to be done and have a good shout at the neighbourhood dogs who have also dragged their owners out of bed for a little walkies. Luckily my lot have enough land to exercise even if the front gate is the best place to let off steam. If being stirred from my slumber isn’t bad enough, Mo Cridhe is suffering with very loose bowels at the moment which, if anyone has ever had a disabled dog would know, is not a pleasant experience first thing in the morning.
It hasn’t all been stress and strife though. Denis and I were invited to our friends Pacs on Friday evening, what we call in English a civil partnership. The setting was stunning, a wedding venue place about 10 minutes or so away although my GPS decided to take the scenic route so added an extra 15 on. Since I was driving, I stayed teetotal which was just as well as the drinks weren’t served until about an hour after everyone’s arrival and we left before the meal as it was getting close to 10 p.m. I’m not sure what caused the delay in service but I’ve got my money on the tent’s fairy lights – they weren’t set out on straight lines you see. Taboo.
At least we now have the petanque area to distract ourselves from the bad mojo sneaking around. Denis gave me my first lesson the other day which went pretty well. Of course I lost but at least this time, the ball stayed in the ring so to speak and Denis came out unscathed. And surprisingly so did Alice and Sherman who did their best to disrupt play, namely lying down in the middle of the ground or staring vacantly into space as close as possible to the cochon (the small ball that you’re trying to get your metal sphere next to. Not that we minded. After all, my two lively Border terriers are very good at keeping black cats well away and have no idea what the date is today or any other day…
“A black cat passing by the crossroad can stop hundreds of people, what a red light on traffic signal has failed to do for a long time.” (Nitya Prakash)
Widow plus woofs 