One could be forgiven for thinking its late September instead of early August judging by the weather over the past week. Grey skies, below average degrees and quite a bit of rain doth not make for a balmy summer. The water temperature in the pool is warmer than the outside one, just as well as I had to re-glue the protective liner patches that brother Simon put on the week before – I did tell him it wasn’t an easy job but hey. Still, at least the howling Cers wind that is currently causing strife has stopped any algae from wanting to bed down. We are unreliably told by the Météo that this weather system is just a blip on the radar and the coming weeks will be all sunshine and smiles.

Seeing as how there hasn’t been much to do now that the pool is sorted and the potager is full of ready pickings, Denis decided we needed to get out of town so to speak. Despite having lived in Rouffiac d’Aude for almost 3 years, I’ve rarely had the chance to see what else lies beyond the county limits other than a few city excursions. As I mentioned in the previous week’s blog, France pretty much has everything you could want as a holiday destination and our little bit of the South-West is a bit of a gem in that department. A couple of hours drive or so will take you West up into the Pyreenes Mountain range and a similar pootle East will have you basking on the Mediterranean beaches. So we did both. Along with D’s niece Stephanie and her other half, Rashid, we took a day out by the sea on Thursday accompanied by Yogi Bear as he hates being left these days (my younger brother Moth kindly offered to look after the remaining woofers) and we felt he would be good company for Stephanie and Rashid’s somewhat overweight Chihuahua, Xena. After a light picnic lunch ( I say this facestiously as there is no such thing as a light meal in D’s family) in Gruissan, a hop from the city of Narbonne we made our way down to an almost deserted beach a few minutes away. I can’t say we had perfect weather conditions for lazing on the sand – the wind played havoc with our towels for a start and any deep intake of breath at the beauty of your surroundings meant inhaling large quantities of sand but we couldn’t have had a more relaxing time. Whilst Rashid went snorkelling for couteaux or razor clams, D and Yogi ambled along the shore and dipped their toes into the Med. It was a little Bear’s heaven being at one with the outdoors and his most favourite outdoors man although Xena wasn’t overly thrilled to have his wagging tail in her face. We finished the great afternoon out at a nearby seafood restaurant eating raw cockles, mussels and oysters – okay I’ve yet to be convinced on the latter but the rest was delicious especially when washed downed with a chilled bottle of white wine. Beach destination, Check.

Lazing by the sea done, the four of us decided to head West a couple of days later – to Andorra. Andorra is a principality bordered by France and Spain on the Eastern side of the Pyreenes. It’s a tiny country, about 460 square kilometres, and best known for the fact that since it isn’t part of the EU, it’s duty-free. As soon as you make your way through the border control, you are greeted by a sort of gargantuan monolith of hypermarkets, restaurants and price popping billboards – if it’s tax-free, we have it kind of thing. I have to admit that whilst it was great fun looking at all the bargains you could buy that you didn’t need even if I wasn’t quite dressed for alpine temperatures – my fingers were so cold I couldn’t have got my debit card out of my wallet if I wanted to, the best part of the whole trip was the scenery beyond. Instead of taking the autoroute, Rashid took the high roads. Literally. Weaving up into the vast mountain range, the landscape is covered in forest and the occasional ski lift. The views are breath-taking although I could put that down to my fear of heights too – there was a reason why I didn’t look down and it wasn’t just because of the huge eagles gliding across the blue sky above us. Mountains. Check.

As usual, we finished the week chez Abraham last night with lashings of good food, gorgeous wine and great friends. Some of us were rather woozy already after all that altitude but still found the energy for a bit of a boogie. I blame Stephanie for that as she insisted we stop at some thermal baths on the way back down the mountains so that I could experience the pleasure of hot spring water on my tootsies – definitely put the dance into my digits. I couldn’t resist another purchase either as Abraham had, as has become a feature of his Saturday night soirees, an artisan of a magician with metal – old gas canisters to be precise. Martin makes masterpiece lamps and lighting out of them and yes they were pretty pricey but the workmanship was so beautiful I bought one of the smaller ones. Back home. Check…

“Life is made for good friends and great adventures” (Unknown)

Denis and I popped over to his sister, Natalie’s, house last night for a barbecue. I was a little concerned as the météo had predicted heavy rain but the deluge never happened. At least not for us. 14 kilometres away in Carcassonne however, Yoan (Denis’ son) was sending us videos of what looked like a mini tornado charging across the city – such is the weird weather of late. I would like to reassure you all that, despite what the television tells you, we are not in a heatwave down here – not yet anyway. The temperature is nowhere near the scorching levels of last year and we have had a lot more rain. Good for the garden and the potager if not for the huge influx of English tourists of late in the nearby towns. And ducks too. In our pool. I have no idea why our aquatic avians have decided to wiggle their waders in our body of water but the woofers don’t seem to mind and as long as they don’t poop in it, neither do I.

Speaking of the bloody pool, we may have found the source of the leak. I called Roy, our master of all things piscine-related as an exhaustive search of the depths by myself, Katie my niece and brother Simon had come up with zilch. I even went under the back of the deck to see if any of the pipework was wet, a dangerous task as you really don’t want to know what devilish insects live in those dark reaches but no, all was dry. In order to eliminate each possible theory, Roy closed the drain and so far, so good. Well, sort of. That bit of equipment is buried below the pool so at some point, someone (guess who) is going to have to dig a flipping great hole to see whats what. We will have to leave it until the Autumn though as the ground is rock hard so for the moment, out of sight out of mind. At least I wish the last few words were true, the first thing I do every morning after I let the woofers out is to cross my fingers and cast an eye over the bloody thing.

Aside from a quick trip to the dentist to have one of my new teeth put in – feels very strange having had a gap in the back of my mouth most of my adult life, I haven’t done much over the past week. As I mentioned we have had my niece, Katie, here which has been lovely for Mumo and for Arry too. Katie, like her aunt, loves to run so my daft German Shepherd has had a couple of early morning exertions up and down the hills. Such pursuits are not for me in the summer, this aged body needs to recuperate between seasons and I prefer to swim. Preferably without ducks. I also introduced my niece to the local nightlife in the form of a Spanish evening at the Petit Bistrot and a chance to meet our large group of amis. In fact, most of the village turned up, probably because the word had got around that Denis was cooking. Good company, great music, cold beer and succulent sausages made for a grand night out. She’ll miss all this when she goes back to London tomorrow.

And I too will be returning to former shores next month – almost exactly 3 years to the day I left. It will be a flying visit though and not one I had planned. Many of you who have read The Book and/or have followed my blog over the past 4 and a bit years will be familiar with my bestie Irene or Rene as I have always called her. Rene held me up when my world fell apart and now I need to be there for her as she says goodbye to her husband who died suddenly a few weeks ago. I’m leaving Denis with the woofers, someone has to keep them company and anyway, he doesn’t have a passport. I asked him why once, his reply was that France had everything you would want in holiday destinations – sun, ski, surf and cities. He’s right of course but it doesn’t have my Rene and it’s my turn to hold her up especially when she can’t reach the pedals…

For you, my darling Rene:

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together…there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think but the most important thing is, even if we’re apart… I’ll always be with you.” ( Winnie the Pooh)

Arry’s been in the wars again and back at the vets. I’m pretty sure the bald patches that suddenly appeared on his rump and chest were down to a mosquito attack rather than an allergy flare-up so the world’s most expensive rescue dog is now on a course of tablets and twice-weekly washes with a very pricey shampoo. Despite the difficulties in keeping him still for 5 minutes whilst the soap does its thing, his poor skin is starting to recover and grow hair once more. I have no idea why the pests single him out from the other woofers, perhaps there’s more of him to go around.

On the subject of miniscule annoyances, you will be pleased to hear that not only is my courgette-chomped finger back to normal again but so is the pool. Well, the algae’s pretty much disappeared anyway – what with my daily chemical tests and measures and constant cleaning but it seems there maybe another little problem. The bloody thing is losing water, only a few millimetres a day but it doesn’t half play havoc with the quarterly H20 bill. Initially we put it down to evaporation or a possible crack in the automatic fill up doodad pipe but I’m beginning to think there may be a hole in the patches I put over last year’s leak. There isn’t much I can do about it at the moment however as I’m the only one here aside from Mumo and I can’t see her diving to the depths to repair the liner – she doesn’t like swimming. I’ll have to wait for Simon to return as he’s got all the scuba equipment and anyway, I did it last time which should tell you something.

Whilst I’ve been searching for life’s little solutions, Denis has been hard at work getting everyone’s gardens sorted before he takes a break next week so I’ve been looking after ours by my lonesome. To be honest, there isn’t a lot to do this time of year apart from the occasional battle with the hosepipe before morning coffee (we are advised to only water the plants between 8 pm and 8 am because of the heat) and checking on our potager harvest so I’ve spent most of my spare time catching up with my ‘to-do’ list – i.e. all the things I’ve been putting off or procrastinating about. Alice, Sherman and Yogi Bear are now feeling the breeze through their newly clipped or stripped bodies and the ‘dog wash’ washing machine is now fixed – it doesn’t take a genius to know what caused the blockage. And the littlest room in the apartment, the loo, has a new paint job although that was mostly the work of Saint Nick my great friend and all round handyman.

After such a busy week scratching my head looking for solutions and trying to stop Arry from doing the same, a catch-up with friends was the panacea to my problems. If Friday evening was spent pondering life’s great mysteries over pizza with my neighbours down the road, Saba and Roy plus Denis’ best friend who I fondly call Denis Deux because well, he shares the same name and my man is number one, then last night was all about burgers and blues. A meal down at the American Diner with various members of Denis’ family was followed by a quick drive over the other side of the road to Abraham’s place to listen to another ami make magical music with his harmonica into the wee hours.

Speaking of friends and family, I am now permitted to let the proverbial cat out of the bag and say congratulations to my sister-in-law Fran and her new husband Steve. I have to admit my sister from another mister did tell me of their plans several months ago but I promised to keep the secret until the deed was done last Friday. I only wish you two hadn’t rushed into it so quickly, I mean you’ve only been living together for 36 years…

““In the cookies of life, friends are the chocolate chips.” (Unknown)

My mop and I might have found a new career in pool cleaning. Whilst I’m still battling the spots of algae that appear daily in our piscine, our neighbours now have a crystal clear body of water to swim in thanks in part to my trusty tool. I’d gone over to their place at the beginning of the week to help Denis tidy up their garden, only to find out that their pool was thick with the green goop that of which Ian had almost given up on getting out. He’d tried every product available but the stuff wasn’t shifting. Having suggested we might have a go with the ‘Sophi’ technique, the two of us got out our weapons of war and got sponging. With a little help from the anti-algae blaster that I keep in the poolhouse, all was cleared just in time for their guests and next month, the new owners. Yes, sadly the wonderful Mandy and Ian are moving back to the UK in a few weeks so Arry won’t be able to have arguments with Mina their dog over the back fence anymore. I am told the newbies have a pooch though so Arry shouldn’t be too upset for long.

Speaking of upsets, I managed to injure a finger again. Not a spider bite this time, instead I got snagged by a carnivorous courgette plant. Denis was showing me why our green variety weren’t growing (the flowers needed manual pollination apparently), when I got bit. For those who aren’t familiar with the foliage of such culinary yumminess, they have teeny tiny needles hidden in their depths. I didn’t think much about it at the time – you’d think I’d have learnt from my encounter with the evil araignée a couple of years ago not to let the wound fester but no. My finger swelled up angrily and if it wasn’t for Laetitia who owns the vineyard up the road being a former nurse, I might have ended up in the emergency room. She deftly sliced into my infected digit and squeezed the yuck out. Alas she couldn’t get to the spike as we didn’t have any anaesthesia and my pain threshold was already at max but it’s looking better already. I’ll nip into the doctors on Tuesday just to make sure.

Despite my idiotic injury, D and I have had a busy week in the socialising sense. Friday was July 14th, a national celebration in France. It commemorates the storming of The Bastille in 1789 and is mainly marked by a whole lot of firework displays over famous monuments. Since most of us oldies didn’t relish the idea of getting crushed by the crowds in Carcassonne, or trying to get out of the city afterwards, we went up the hill opposite Laetitia’s place – it has a jaw-dropping view of the citadel, albeit from a distance. I have to say it was great fun sitting on rickety garden chairs, drinking wine and watching the whizz bangs in the otherwise pitch dark even if the whole spectacle only lasted about 20 minutes. Watching all the traffic headlights trying to get out of the city limits afterwards was an added bonus though. We only had to manoeuvre our way through the potholes our hill road is legendary for.

If Friday night was all about snap, crackle and pop – last night was more about elegance and taking it easy. It started with an apero dinatoire hosted by some friends of Mumo’s over in St-Hilaire. Big brother Simon and his wife, Alba, were also there. Since Denis and I couldn’t stay long, we had another do to go to, we took a chance to see Michel and Francoise’s very formal but utterly gorgeous garden accompanied by their overly-enthusiastic Doberman before sitting down for a classy glass. Poor Michel got terribly flustered trying to get everything perfect so knowing D and I had to go, he offered us the dessert bit first in the shape of a rather liquidy sorbet.

“Don’t worry, I have burnt all the alcohol off ” he assured me as a took a sip.

Well, I don’t know what he burnt off but it certainly wasn’t the neat vodka that ripped its way down my throat. Had it been the night before, I’d have lit up the night sky myself.

Thankfully, my poor oesophagus recovered with the rest of the evening spent chilling back and chatting with familiar faces over at Abraham’s place whilst watching the rain gently soak the parched earth and wondering if I would have to clean the bloody pool again this morning…

““In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is Freedom, in water there is bacteria.” ( Benjamin Franklin)

At this time of year, a rumble of thunder on a hot summer’s night is music to one’s ears but the downpours that usually follow are currently carrying excess luggage – the unwelcome kind. Green algae and gorging midges. You can slather yourself in citronella but it’s no match for the minute munchers and you spend most of your days slapping various body parts like some sort of 1920’s flapper girl. Luckily we have the pool which provides much needed respite from the ‘small but mighty’ raptors and we have, thanks to a bit of yours truly’s ingenuity, clear water to cool off in. We are the fortunate ones for once, if you remember this time last year I was plugging holes in the liner, as many of our friends and neighbours have bottle green piscines. The always much needed rain is packing the slimy stuff – algae and it likes swimming pools. Last weekend, I did notice that the underwater lights had an odd tint to them so I went out and bought several gallons of the antidote and dosed up the bloody thing. And then, because I am one of those wot dots ‘i’s and crosses ‘t’s, I swam up and down the vast meterage with a mop like a demented charlady. If anyone passing had strange ideas about English people’s odd customs, I’d like to reassure them that witches like myself often use household objects for more than just one purpose.

Eradicating the green gunge from its watery depths wasn’t the only bit of seek and destroy I had to do this week. Denis and I finally found time to clear the weeds and cut the overgrown grass around Pop’s tree at L’Horte. Well, I say ‘we’ but it was mostly Denis and his dream machine aka his débroussailleuse. While he strimmed and styled the plot, I wandered off to nosey around the flora and fauna. I think Pop would be thrilled with all the wild flowers and orchids popping up all over the place even if you need a machete to see them, I can see him now wandering down the tree-lined path towards the river at dusk admiring his land. Actually, I can because something a little weird has happened to a photo I have of him in my bedroom. I have put the picture below so you can see what happens when I turn the overhead light on. Spooky but serene at the same time.

With all the mopping and tidying over the last few days, a decent shower was what we both needed. Preixan style. Nick-named ‘Le fête de la mousse’, the neighbouring village’s annual party brings in the crowds. DJs on a massive stage, pump out thumping tunes as thousands of people of all ages boogie the night away. Everyone had a blast; no arguing, fisticuffs or foul language – something I have noted on many a night out, nobody swears. I asked my friend Saba about this once, she is French but lived most of her school years in England and she’s married to a Brit. She told me that family is the most important thing in this part of the world, the children are brought up to respect their elders and those in authority. Families dine in together, dine out together, dance around together. I have never heard Denis curse either. But it wasn’t just the music and chumminess that brought in the throngs and thongs – it was the mousse. Hordes gathered under something that looked a bit like a giant microphone hanging from the scaffolding, reminiscent of that scene in Independence Day when the aliens arrive to be covered in what I can only describe as frothed up Fairy Liquid (other brands may work better, who knows). By the time I got home in the early hours this morning, I was soaked but boy, does this little pocket of France know how to party. Small but mighty brilliant…

“Nothing inspires cleanliness more than an unexpected guest” (Radhika Mundra)

For the first time in 4 and half years of Sundays, I’ve missed a blog. I can only apologise profusely to you all – a combination of too many late nights and too much of the grape lead to a total wipeout and my bed. And Arry’s allergies haven’t helped either, his constant scratching and licking has interrupted what little sleep I might be able to have. We are off to the vet this afternoon, my poor pup is tearing his skin to pieces and looks thoroughly miserable. I’m sure it has something to do with the current mosquito manifestation, apparently everyone is getting chomped more than usual this summer – it is the number one topic discussed at any social event. Luckily, so far I have escaped lightly, possibly because I’ve slapped myself all over with citronella oil. Alas, I can’t do the same for my woeful woofer but I’m hoping the vet has a solution because he won’t have any hair left soon.

The short, sudden rain showers we have had of late plus the seasonal heat may be why the mozzies are feasting so ferociously. The number of social gatherings of late may also be a factor, the ‘all you can eat’ buffet kind. Denis and I went over to his niece’s place for dinner on Thursday, Stephanie is one of those people that can’t cook on a small scale and you end up dragging your stomach out of the door at the end of the evening. I love her to bits but her invitations terrify me – her meals are delicious by the way, it’s just the quantity served. Then there was the usual Saturday night barbecue chez nous which, although equally tasty, meant mounds of meat and potatoes and very little else. As I’m not a big eater of either, I did ask my sister-in-law if we ought to have a salad or something green to go with the brown stuff? Despite her look of horror, I did manage to sneak some lettuce into a bowl and my brother Simon reluctantly put a half-burnt but otherwise raw courgette on the table. Another night of indigestion bound to follow. And just in case my internal organs hadn’t suffered enough, It was Denis’ mum’s birthday yesterday so a family lunch at her place was in order. It started at midday and was still going strong when D and I left at 7.30 by which time I didn’t care if I never saw a pizza again. Or a bottle of wine.

Mind you, Friday night was a welcome relief from all the calorific carnage as I went to a concert in Carcassonne with my girl Saba and her husband, Roy. You can be forgiven for not knowing or remembering Steve Hackett unless you were a die-hard Genesis fan. The only reason why I know of him is because Simon was a fan way back when we were kids and later, my Tony. I have to admit I wasn’t overly keen on going especially as D couldn’t make it but it turned out to be a great night out. The only downside was it took us as long to get out of the car park as the concert itself and I was desperate for the loo. Judging by the number of people of a similar age to me who were dancing in the aisles, I expect I wasn’t the only one.

I’m hoping that the week ahead is going to be a quiet one, not only for my head but for my poor belly too. And Arry. With the work finished on both houses for the meantime, I can get down to tap tapping away at The Second Book and pootle around my potager in peace. Such rest time is sorely needed, not just because my liver needs a break but next weekend is the Preixan Festival, two days of non-stop boogieing in the village next-door. I’m going to stuff a salad in my handbag…

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito” (Dalai Lama)

I am not an early morning person. I’m sure such enlightening information has been mentioned in previous blogs but my woofers can’t read and apparently one needs to get up at the crack of dawn to go mushroom hunting. For the woofers, when the sun rises, it’s time to charge down the front stairs and do what needs to be done – a task that requires only a vague wakefulness my end as I just have to unlock the door but trekking across woods foraging for fungi pre-coffee? Actually, when Denis picked me up, I had a take-away cup of my morning drug of choice and he provided the croissants so we could search for cèpes before the rest of the world stirred. It’s not that the little orangey-yellow delicacies disappear if you don’t get out of bed early, more that their locations are a closely-guarded secret. And I wouldn’t be able to tell you where we went even if I could, except that it was a forest and we got there by road – middle of nowhere’s ville. D, of course being the outdoorsman he is, is a mushroom expert so showed me how to tell whether or not you were likely to kill yourself over an omelette or live to savour the dish. The red ones I would have you know, are hallucinogenic and the big ones that lie at the bottom of the hill are almost always a no-no. Further up into the wooded darkness however, we found our treasure, like little elf caps poking above the mossy undergrowth and bags filled, snuck back out of our secret garden before anyone noticed an ancient camionette parked precariously on a hidden wayside.

With the fungi washed and put into the freezer, I then had the odious task of cutting up spring onions and doing the same. With only Mumo and I here most of the time, there was no way we were going to eat fifty plus bulbs on our own and I do want to be able to talk to my friends without them passing out when I speak. At least the next plantings will be haricot beans and those are much more sociable. Now there is just the glut of plums to deal with, little brother Moth suggested plum wine but I think Mumo’s idea of future crumble mixes is a better bet.

Speaking of search and retrieve, we got a call on Wednesday night from friends in nearby St-Hilaire – their elderly, deaf Border Collie had gone missing that morning. Mumo suggested I took Alice and Sherbs with me as Alice is an excellent rat catcher but neither of them was interested in doing anything other than race around the property perimeter as terriers do. I took them home and switched the panting pair for Arry, his nose is built for scenting and if he can find a rabbit, he can find a big dog. Or a swimming pool. Yes, my faithful hound decided to suddenly take off after what I thought was a possible lead and dive straight first into the worried owners’ pool. Thankfully, not only do they have a sense of humour and even took photos but Poppy Border Collie was found tired and dehydrated but okay in a neighbours garden the following morning.

With such an eventful week, a get-together at the end of it all was just what one needed. Friday as always, is the Bistrot night, although this time D and I were not in charge of the food so we could wind down with best friends over beer and banter. Oh and an orchestra. To be honest, the music was beautifully played but reminiscent of the last minutes of the Titanic – depressing and all rather tragic. Being told to keep quiet by the conductor didn’t help either, she obviously didn’t know the village at all and everyone would have shut their mouths if the music had been a bit more upbeat. As it was last night down at Abraham’s place. You can’t go wrong with a blues guitarist with a voice like molten molasses and a right good sing-a long. The only downside was that, just like the beginning of the week, I had to drag myself out of bed as the sun began to rise this morning. The battle of me and the garden hose has started once more…

“Adopt the pace of nature. Her secret is patience.” ( Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Summer has most definitely arrived. And so has the heat. With the forecast showing little relief from the 30+ degrees, one would think a jump in the pool would be just what the ticket for cooling down – if it wasn’t for the fact that the water temperature is about the same. It’s like swimming in soup albeit more of a consommé now that I have removed all the sand from the bottom. Still, I’m not complaining as Arry and I have the pool to ourselves most days; the exceptions being when Simon and Alba drop in on the weekends to bake themselves on the sun loungers. And as from yesterday, we have an extra visitor in the shape of my little brother, Moth, who has flown in from his home in Kenya to spend a couple of months both here and at his property in Cenne-Monestiés. I doubt he will be taking advantage of the outdoor facilities much though, he’s got a list of things to finish in the main house.

Luckily the sainted Nick and Roy have finished my bedroom at last and I can now sleep at night. The spare room may be comfortable but the bed isn’t quite as big as mine so sharing it with 4 of the woofers became more of a sweaty yoga session than a snoozing sanctuary. I have to say the chaps did a fantastic job especially with the colour scheme – the dark green feature wall has the most soporific effect on one’s brain. The once grey linoleum floor is now a dark wood making the whole room feel cooler, that and the oscillating fan I bought down from the loft. Nocturnal bliss indeed. Sadly, it means the end of having Nick and Roy here for a while as there isn’t anything else to do until they start on my guest room in the Autumn. I shall miss the banter especially as Nick is moving – I still can’t understand why he would want to leave the scorching South for the North’s more temperate climate.

This time last year, we were already heading towards a canicule or heatwave – I know because I’m going back through previous blogs for The Second Book. So far, we’ve been blessed with the odd thunderstorm or overnight drizzle to keep the garden happy. The potager in particular, is now resembling a vegetable Jurassic Park with over-sized spring onions and towering tomato plants. I have also discovered that an ancient apricot tree that D had chopped back to nothing 12 months ago, is now bursting with yellow balls of sweetness. Between the largesse of the legumes and the flamboyance of fruit, we are in for a sumptuous summer.

It is just as well that I now have a calm space to collapse into as Friday night saw the start to Le P’tit Bistrot or the weekly village get-together. Denis and I have been charged with handling the nutritional side of things, actually he roped me into helping him (I’d have been more at home behind the bar). It’s a good job the man knows a thing or two about running restaurants and festival food stands because we didn’t stop serving up kebabs for five hours and that was only because we ran out of meat. I have to say, we made a pretty amazing team, him on the grill and me filling the wraps and if the compliments were anything to go by, a very successful one too. In fact, the whole evening was a monster hit with everyone from the very energetic band to the bustling bar – what a great start to the season. Roll on summer and all things sunshine and soupy pools…

“The summer night is like a perfection of thought” (Wallace Stevens)

We had a doozy of a thunderstorm this week. In fact we had two back to back in one afternoon. I’d just put the cover on the pool (we were warned of a possible orage) when Denis called me from neighbouring Prexian to say it was chucking it down there. Five minutes later, the thunder boomed, the lightning crashed and the heavens opened – very wide. As I said, we had two in a row, the first storm rumbled through within half an hour before the second came charging up in its wake. The driveway resembled the Med. Annoyingly, I was so busy photographing the double rainbow that followed, I missed the opportunity to add The Book into the shot – that would have been a marketing masterpiece.

Mind you, I’m not one to miss a trick. I did do a bit of hawking last night, much to big brother’s displeasure, as Mumo had her apéro dinatoire yesterday evening. To be fair, quite a few of the guests had already asked for a copy but I wasn’t going to let a possible sale pass me by. Needless to say, it was a fabulous party, not just because I successfully flogged a couple more, Alba (my sister-in-law) created an incredible spread of mouth-watering morsels to soak up the copious amounts of alcohol being drunk. Bruschetta, miniature kebabs, sticky chicken wings and Mumo’s much-celebrated pizza all washed down with my equally sought after Brownies made for a very lively night. And no singing was involved – Mumo had decreed such was not welcome at one of her ‘candlelight suppers’. It won’t surprise you in the least that what was supposed to be an early evening soirée ended up with the Rouffiac regulars weaving out just before midnight.

Unfortunately for us late night revellers, any chance of having a lie-in to soothe the aching heads was strictly forbidden – today was the annual village vide grenier or garage sale. The main street which also happens to be the one we live on, was cordoned off so that numerous stalls could be lined up on either side for whoever wanted to empty their basements. Luckily for Denis and his family, their allocated space was right outside our gate so he didn’t have to drag himself very far. Especially as the whole shebang started at 6 am this morning. As we hadn’t considered a career in roadside retail and my book is in English, Mumo and I took advantage of the cooler morning temperature and strolled up said street to peruse for hidden gems. I have to be honest, there wasn’t much to get excited about. Apart from the usual ‘professional’ set-ups that you’d find at any boot sale- those with antiques and brand-new children’s toys, most stall holders were selling exactly the same sort of stuff. Still it was nice to say hello and faire la bise (kiss on both cheeks in this part of France) to familiar faces. And knowing today was going to be another scorcher, I invited D’s visiting niece and her young family to use the pool. This was gratefully received by Melissa, trying to keep a constantly curious eight year old and a teething toddler amused behind a table in the midday heat was beginning to show on her face. I also wanted to rescue the drooping Denis from his great-nephew’s machine-gun questioning, my poor guy looked like he’d done twenty rounds already. The kids had a thoroughly jolly time shrieking and splashing around whilst parents took turns to snooze on the sun loungers. Pools like ours, are made for kids to lark about in even if Arry was somewhat miffed about not being allowed to jump in with them. As much as he adores children, he is a bit of a liability in the water – those what have summered here will understand what I mean. And children’s laughter is far kinder on the ears than his incessant barking in your ear…

“If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun” (Katherine Hepburn)

The electronic gate has been up to its mischievous tracks again this past week and claimed another victim – Mumo’s new car. Coming back from the doctor, she turned into the driveway a touch too much to the right and scraped the back door on the metal post. Actually more of a paint removal job with a fair size dent added for extra measure. The sainted Nick and I watched the whole scenario unfold but couldn’t stop her in time, bizarrely we were talking about bedroom wall paint at that very moment. Poor Mumo, she was so upset, more so because the Yaris didn’t do its usual ‘beep beep beep’ when it gets close to anything. To make matters worse, her dental crown decided to drop out that same evening – really wasn’t her day. But hey, almost everyone that has passed through the portail has been punched by it at least once and I know exactly what its like to lose a front tooth (I am assuming you’ve all got to that chapter in The Book by now). Luckily for her, I have an appointment at the dentist next week as my implants are almost ready to be attached so I’ll take Mumo with me. That way, she will be back to her beautiful self before her apero dinatoire (bit like a cocktail party with a bit of finger food) next weekend.

You will be thrilled to hear that the pool is just about up to temperature now, that is to say the gauge is reading 26 degrees. Mind you, I took the plunge yesterday and the depths are definitely a few degrees lower – my toes were traumatised. Unfortunately for my digits, such daring feats of bravery are of necessity as the only way to remove the last grains of sand from the bottom is with the hand held pool vacuum. On the plus side I did buy some solar lights for the steps leading to the deck and a few others to replace those that Mo mowed down in her cart last summer. Sturdier ones.

Between the pool and the potager, I’ve managed to keep myself busy which is just as well as I’ve barely seen Denis over the last seven days. He’s been busy getting everyone else’s gardens ready for the season, getting up at dawn and working flat out until dusk. We did however manage to get together last night, albeit with a few of his family, for an impromptu barbecue over at his. Over fabulous food (my D is an amazing cook) and several bottles of wine, we debated politics, complained about the current climate and discussed the best ways of getting rid of migraines until the sun was way over the yard arm. It was the sort of evening I love the most except for the fact that my back started to seize up so I had to make my excuses and reluctantly leave the party. I blame it on all that vacuuming. Swimming is good for sore muscles though and since the rising heat means no running until at least September, I need to do something to keep mind and body fit.

With Spring leaving us at the beginning of last week and Summer arriving hot on its heels, it’s hard to believe that 2 years have already passed since Alice had her pups. And despite the “absolutely no way Sophi” dictates from my family, I kept the best of the bunch – my Sherman. The first of the pups and born literally in my hand, Sherbs has grown up to be the sweetest natured terrier and adored by every one of the pack. Especially Arry. The two are joined at the hip or more commonly, by Sherb’s teeth attached to my German Shepherd’s back leg. If they aren’t interrupting my attempts at Book photo shooting as they chase each other across the garden appearing just as the camera clicks, they are laid out on the deck together complete with synchronised panting. Love you to pieces my darling bit of scruff.

I shall finish once again with a huge huge thank you for all the five star reviews and touching comments on The Book. I still find it hard to believe that it is selling, weirdly the hardback more than the kindle. Next week, I’m hoping to launch the paperback version and start appealing to book stores. Who knows, you might pass it in a window display as you pootle around the airport lounge waiting for your flight number to be called? A girl’s got to dream big…

“One benefit of summer was that each day we had more light to read by” (Jeannette Walls)