Well, there you go. On the 10th of August 2026 at precisely, sort of, 4.30 p.m and having signed my initials on several hundred sheets of document, I walked out of the notaire’s office as a landowner in my own right. Just up the road and turn right. For the first time in my nearly 60 years of plaguing this here planet, I have a piece of it that is mine and not shared with anyone else. Okay, it hasn’t got a house on it yet, let alone a fence (someone has nicked the boundary posts) and the architect has to file for the building permit – not a problem I’m told by our lovely Mayor but it’s a relief to finally have it all official.
I wish I could say I was overcome with excitement but actually a bit the opposite. I did have a wee little celebration on Wednesday evening up there squinting through blackout glasses at the sun disappearing behind the moon along with most of my one day neighbours and then got the most awe-striking view of the meteor shower from the apartment upon re-entry. One plus about getting older and needing the loo in the early hours. But as soon as the ink was dry and the sun back out again, said architect was round to draw up the necessary plan for my future residence – luckily he is a friend of Denis’ (who isn’t?) and the afore-mentioned Mayor so not only did he give me a knock-down price for the work but also assured me all would be sorted very quickly. Then the lovely Lionel who will be constructing the teeny cube was on the phone checking start dates and all that stuff whilst D was compiling lists of people for various jobs. I cannot put into words how incredible this little village in the South-West of France is; between my adopted family that is the Maybons and the friends I’ve made here, I’ve got experts for everything and anything. But, I haven’t had a chance to breathe. Until this place is sold, I’m the sole carer which is a full time occupation in itself let alone trying to keep up with a fledgling business and its demands. Mind you, we did have a visit from a very nice English couple and their kids yesterday – Alice charmed the pants off the two young boys as did the swing which no-one here has ever used. For those who know me well, as most of you do, I’m not one to crack easily but the whole caboodle got a bit too much and I ended up in bed.
Not for long. How could I when a certain hairy beast wakes you up by rolling his ridiculously angular in all the wrong places body into your space before shoving those oversize paws in your face? But I cannot imagine a world without my Arry aka Aragorn (yet to earn that name) who turns 11 years old today. How he has got this far in life is a miracle in itself but his idiocy and endless quest for all things unpredictable never fails to lift the spirits of those who around him including the other woofers. He might be ageing disgracefully and a bit wobbly these days due to arthritis but give him a pool, his Border terriers and a caillou and he’s all set for mayhem and destruction. So here’s to the future, one I know is highly unlikely to be without potholes but with my crazy Shepherd by my side, it’s one I’m looking forward to stepping into…
“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me, and I’m feeling good.” (Nina Simone)
Widow plus woofs 