It may amuse you to learn that yesterday, the day before daylight savings declared the end of winter, the heating finally came back on. Yup, Monsieur le Max chauffagiste extraordinaire has managed to get the bloody boiler de-clogged and boosted up once more just in time for us to turn it off again. But not just yet; it’s blowing a hooley out there at the moment and not a warm one so being able to tuck up indoors with a roasting radiator or three is bliss for the woofers and me.
Not that I would have had time to appreciate the defrosting of my digits had the heat come on any earlier in the week as its been one of those spent everywhere except indoors. A busy few days indeed including another house viewing which I think went fairly well, probably because the tramontane decided to take a break that afternoon – in other words the noise from the main road was less obvious. I must say that the gardens are beginning to look fabulous thanks to Denis’ expertise and Spring springing up everywhere. If only one could actually stand outside and enjoy it without having facial features remoulded by 45 kilometere gusts or incur tinnitus by wind chime. Apparently we should see the back of the arctic blast by next weekend which bodes well for D’s annual family get-together Easter Monday. I of course shall bring my non-alcoholic Merlot of which I’ve developed quite a taste for.
Like I said, a whizz around kind of week. Simi, bless the old lady, had a vet visit since her infernal scratching has been keeping everyone up at night which resulted in a course of antibiotics and eye-watering expensive shampoo. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I hadn’t decided to buy the woofers new tick collars at the same time what with warmer weather hopefully on its way but then again, remember cigarette savings – very handy. And speaking of furballs, I popped round to strip out Contessa Louise’s pup’s coat next door, aka Alice’s other son who goes by the inappropriate name Slim; too many biscuits in that Border terrier belly. It’d been a while for a catch-up on all the village gossip from my well-informed neighbour who had just returned from a trip to Miami and was about to hotfoot it over to Lyon – she’ll be 90 in a couple of weeks.
And Louise wasn’t the only lovely lady I got to gas with. The newest member of our little spot deep in rural South-West France, Lisa (the Welsh one) invited D and I over for an aperitif on Friday evening which ended up being held at her next-doors – a beautifully eclectic and very large house owned by her landlords who are also recent additions to the flock. The same house that our Mayor had suggested I might be able to rent if needed. Hmm, those polished oak floors, antique tables and cream sofas I don’t think so and there was the small matter of a very large hissing feline in situ. I’d had plenty of time to take in the less than woofer-worthy aesthetics as it was at least an hour before we were offered any form of sustenance, liquid or solid – something a little odd for the French but it turned out we had to wait for the butter to soften enough for man of the house to spread on his bread. I kid you not. At least last night’s dinner with pals Sara and Adolphe was a much heartier hot pot affair in their ‘still doing up’ little abode. I shall miss Sara as she is off back to Scotland until the Autumn as her meds don’t mix well with summer down here and well, it is nearly April. A month when, I hope, will finally send a gentle breeze in the right direction for yours truly…
“March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb” (Proverb)
Widow plus woofs 