Well, that was a week full of surprises. As diary entries go, I hadn’t planned on having a conversation with my siblings on Friday afternoon to decide on the future of our fine maison. To get to the point, we’ve had an offer which has resulted in four yeses. Needless to say, it will be a while before any money is exchanged (we are in France for those not familiar with buying and selling property here) but finally, a bit of positive news. That and the Mayor telling me that he has signed off on my land meaning in a week or so, I can finally hand over the unfortunately necessary moolah for the purchase of my very own piece of Rouffiac. Fingers crossed, in the not too distant future, this place will have another English family in situ and I’ll be up to my knees in plaster and paint up the road.
I know I’m not a particularly spiritual person in the religious sense but I can’t help thinking that our good fortune might have something to do with Thursday’s chakra cleansing session with Michel. With my usual Monday therapy appointment cancelled due to wildfires closing the road near Axat and what with this girl a little stuck in her head, I was lucky enough to find a spare slot in Michel’s busy schedule so off I popped to be purged. That done and me re-energised, Michel asked if he could do a house detox for me, no charge as he sensed all was not well with our residence. Okay, it sounds a bit cuckoo but honestly, I’ve always felt uncomfortable in the main building – I’m the only one in the family that has never slept in it,; there’s something off in there. Not of the ghostly variety, just heavy and sad which was the same sense that Michel got. So he did, the purifying I mean and the next day, well there you go. My conclusion ended up being the subject of much debate and gaffawing over at D’s abode last night as we feasted over my first ever encounter with the French classic, cuisses de grenouille. All I can say is meh. Frogs’ legs taste and look like boney chicken that’s been freeze-dried for a year. Sorry my beloved France but the local amphibians can keep their skinny appendages.
So there you go and here we are, already in the second week of September but, although the summer soirée-fests might be over, the weather hasn’t got the memo. That being said, the temperature dial has now decided to plummet several degrees when the scorching sun goes down – I mean, I’ve even had to exchange my flip-flops for covered footwear should I wish to venture out after dark. On the plus side, the cooler nights maketh for a pool that’s actually refreshing to swim in with the daytime hours still touching the 30 celsius mark but it’s a bit depressing to have to rummage around in a drawer for a pair of socks. I am dreading the day when when I’ll have to drag that suitcase from under the bed and bring out the sweaters but let’s look on the bright side – winter wellies are much more useful on a building site…
“It was September, and there was a crackly feeling to the air.” (Carolyn Parkhurst)
Widow plus woofs 