Here’s the thing about family. They might drive you up the wall but you know you’re going to miss them when the holidays are over and everyone has returned to their nests. It’s taken me a few weeks, I have to admit, to realise just how important my siblings and their offspring are to me. As I sat listening to all the chatter and raucous laughter at a big family barbeque last night, I felt annoyed with myself. I should have spent more time embracing the crowd instead of wallowing in my own self-pity. As the old saying goes, you don’t know what you’re missing until it’s gone.

A couple of days ago, I got to spend some time with my sister, Kendra and older brother Simon with a trip to Narbonne. Simon had seen an apartment there that he and his wife were thinking of buying so wanted some sisterly advice. Although the two of them were regular visitors to Narbonne, it has a huge swimming pool complex, it was my first trip to this city by the sea. We did the tourist thing and walked around the busy streets and oohed over the immense organ in the cathedral (same make as Notre Dame apparently) before giving our thumbs up to the potential acquisition. As much as I appreciated having a day out ‘en ville‘, it dawned on me how much I missed the quietness of village life. Funny how much has changed in a year.

Naturally things always happen when you aren’t there so of course, I got back from Narbonne to find out that little Salome had had an accident. She had jumped out of my niece’s arms whilst Elise was putting her back in the pen and hurt her back leg. The X-ray showed three fractured toes so the vet immobilised the limb in lots of wadding and a nice purple bandage. I was rather proud at how Salome took the whole thing in her stride, never complaining and calmly lying down whilst being attended too – our lovely vet thought she was rather special. Sally now has a couple of weeks to heal, thankfully she isn’t going to the US until the end of the year so her training shouldn’t suffer too much.

The pool house is almost finished with just the concrete floor to go in and the roof. It’s much bigger than I thought it would be, I joked with Lionel that we could put a balcony on top and make a deck. With any luck we can now get all the technical bits in there, put the liner in and finally fill the bloody thing. Just when everyone is leaving. Having the pool to myself might seem like the ideal but I would have liked to share it. At least next summer, it’ll be full of the noise and chaos that only the Collins’ clan could provide and that is something worth waiting for….

“Families are like fudge – mostly sweet with a few nuts” (Les Dawson)

It’s been one of those days hence the lateness in me penning the blog. My normal easy-going Sunday routine was hijacked by a) me falling back asleep this morning after toileting the pups and b) a visit to my little brother’s house was ‘suggested’ to me. As much as I adore my brother and his family, I really cherish my Sundays as being a day to mooch around and write. So between a visit to L’Horte to water Pop’s tree (and take my sister who hadn’t been back there since Pop’s funeral) and a trip up to Badens (Moth’s incredible property), I haven’t had much time to do anything else. I had planned on writing followed by some puppy training (more of that later) with a bit of DIY fencing on the balcony – the terrierists are getting very adventurous.

Having got over my strop about rules and puppy additions last week, I decided to embrace all things family this week – or at least try. I made croissants for breakfast, cooked a mean prawn and chicken satay (peeling 101 prawns speaks of devotion) and over-sugared the lot with a lime cheesecake. And actually, I have thoroughly enjoyed the banter around the dinner table in the finally finished dining room. My two nieces, Elise and Jojo, are hilarious conversationalists (the dogs are very taken with them as well) and for once in my life, I sit back and listen. I say this because my older brother has accused me more than once of being too loud and needing a mute button- me really? Still, it’s wonderful to see Callum so at home en famille so I’m happy to keep schtum.

The unsettled feelings refuse to go away however but I think I have found the root of the problem thanks to Mumo as ever. I, like her, miss being part of a couple especially when it comes to big gatherings. Kendra and Andrew (introducing my sister and brother-in-law) are the perfect couple. Constantly talking, holding hands and watching their kids. My little brother has his partner and Tigger (let’s face it no child born in this family was going to just be Tiago) and big brother Simon has his beautiful wife Alba although she hasn’t been able to get here this summer because of work stuff but we no longer have that shoulder to whisper against or that palm to reach. The person who knew your moods inside and out is no longer sitting on the chair next to you, knowing you better than anyone else. It’s a tough realisation.

Despite all my angst, I am happy here a year on. I’m looking forward to spreading my social circle beyond the confines of a little village called Rouffiac but having said that, I do feel at home. I have plans, still to be put to the sibling panel, and the bloody pool should be full of freezing cold water by the end of next week. Funnily enough, I found my wetsuit in one of the ‘can you sort or throw Mum’ garage boxes – just in time then. The woofers have been suffering with the intense heat of last week but we are promised slightly cooler from tomorrow. And I’ve started to train the puppers which is a challenge in itself considering there are three remaining who all have to be educated independently. Slim is of course is French and so learning the local lingo, Salome has to socialised with the nearest equivalent of NYC (Carcassonne on a busy market day) and Sherman, well that’s an issue ongoing. Another schtum for me. Mind you, I’m loving bringing out the old trainer in me and watching them learn.

Arry, bless him, turns 6 tomorrow – someone should really tell him that he’s an adult now. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have ever got through the last three years without his crazy self. I love the damn dog. If he was human I would say he knows me better than I know myself. He knows how to react to my moods, makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry and above all, keeps the pack happy. No idea and would never want to contemplate life without him. So Happy Birthday nutcase, twathead, most perfect doofus….

“You realise how much you truly miss someone when something happens, good or bad, and the only person you want to tell is the one person who isn’t there.”(Unknown)

We’ve lost the postbox key. Apart from the obvious, that is not being able to get what’s in there out, I’m annoyed because no-one seems the slightest bit worried about it except me. I suppose it was inevitable that such a little item would go missing considering the number of family members currently residing in the main house – I really should have kept it in the apartment. That way I would only have myself to blame when I relocate things which is quite often.

The thing is about family is you love them dearly but living with them is a different matter. And when you and your siblings each own a quarter of the property, you have to compromise. A lot. Having spent most of the year here with just Mumo and me making decisions, I am starting to feel out of place as the rest of the family come in and take over. It’s hard not feel like a petulant child when the number of dogs I should or rather shouldn’t have (my big brother is not much of a woofer fan) is discussed by everyone else except me. I have made no secret of the fact that I want to keep Sherman, unfortunately no-one else does. The question is how much do I want to compromise when it comes to being happy here? I really don’t mind what is changed in the main house, after all I spend most of my time up here in my little nest but at 54, do I want to spend the rest of my life having to live by the rules of others? Perhaps there will come a time when I will look for somewhere else within the village in which I can settle or maybe I’ll just adjust with time. Right now I find it easier to keep me and the woofs out of the way as much as possible. Two more of the pups will go next week so I can get on with training Sherman and Salome the latter not leaving for the US until the end of the year. If Sherbs wasn’t so much like Macgyver in personality then I wouldn’t have this emotional attachment. I wanted to go over to L’Horte this morning and talk to Pop but with so much stuff to finish in the house before my sister and her crew come on Tuesday, I just haven’t got the time. I do miss being able to offload my troubles on him but luckily for me, perhaps not for her, I have Mumo.

It’s been almost a year since I left Dear Old Blighty for these foreign shores. Considering how much I’ve packed into the last 12 months, it’s hardly surprising it’s passed by so quickly. Here, sitting on a barstool in my kitchen looking out of the garden and the almost finished bloody pool, I have finally started to write THAT book. I have no doubt that this is going to be a long process but it will be a great distraction from the decisions being made without me and it’s definitely something I don’t have to compromise on.

“Compromise is like the middle of the road; always safer to walk on than the edges.” (Dwight Eisenhower)

I sometimes wonder if my impatience when it comes to finishing the pool and garden stems from the fact that Tony’s death happened so suddenly. One minute we were discussing a possible move to the Sussex countryside and the next he was gone. We never had that time to sit back, relax and just enjoy life after work. The restlessness is still within me, perhaps because I am scared this new start will be taken away from me before I have the chance to do what we should have had the chance to do.

The old saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ has never seemed truer, especially the last two months. With the pups now nine weeks old, two of them left for their new lives yesterday. Sophia is on her way to Switzerland and Daisy (Sabrina) is already making herself at home in North-West France. The journey from birth to bye bye has been the most fascinating experience not only to study but also for the most part, delight in. That is except the dawn wakenings and endless poop. Alice thankfully can’t count so hasn’t noticed that two of her babies have flown the coop but surprisingly the other pups have. The remaining have decided they hate each other which has upset Sherman completely, being the biggest and first out means you have to calm everyone down. I have a real soft spot for my little tank, I think it’s because he reminds me of Macgyver when I first saw him. They have the same ‘old soul’ aura about them. Maybe this is why Sherman hasn’t found a home yet, perhaps Fate has decided he already has.

I took all the pups to the vet earlier in the week for check-ups and vaccinations. The stoicism of the Border Terrier shone through as not one of them whimpered as they were pricked and microchipped. Yogi Bear needed to have the two stitches in his paw removed after the lump removal, so I dragged him along as well. For future mental notes, Norfolk Bears are not the most courageous of creatures – taking two sutures out of a shaking foot took longer than six jabs in six puppers.

With Callum now settled and up to his eyeballs in sawdust and turps, another family member arrived last night – big brother Simon. It’s wonderful to have him back home, not only because he’s my sibling but also because we needed extra muscle to move the huge dining table out of the garage and into the dining room. At least now, we have extra hands for all the sanding, painting and putting bookshelves together (he took them apart after all). Tomorrow we also have the headache of cement being poured into the fragile pool walls, all of which are currently reinforced with every spare piece of wood on the property. The whole process is, I’m told, as technical and exacting as a surgeon performing a triple bypass. With Denis waiting for a hernia operation (not my fault), poor Lionel has been left with the stress. At least once it is done, we can put the liner in and attach all the pipework leaving only the decking for him to do. That should be a piece of cake compared to everything else but I shall say nothing until there is water in that bloody pool. And my sunbed under the parasol…..and relax….perhaps…

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” (Joseph Campbell)

Finally after 9 months of separation, the day arrived. Yogi Bear and I stood there in the arrivals lounge (if you can call a little space with a few chairs such a thing) at Carcassonne airport, waiting for the opaque doors to slide open and our boy walk through. My precious Callum had made it to France after two cancelled flights and the terrifying prospect of France becoming a ‘no-go’ for UK travellers. A hug has never felt so good. Yogi of course, was beside himself with happy woofs – there is nothing like seeing your best buddy again and I am one happy Mum. And his first words to his dear mother? “You’re looking so much healthier, your wrinkles have gone”. I’ll take it as a compliment.

One of the lessons you learn about living in this area of France is that in order to to get work done when the mercury hits scorch level, you start at the crack of dawn. The wonderful Lionel has been in full pool construction mode from 6 a.m which has meant getting the dogs out fifteen minutes earlier so as not to get in his way. Getting out of bed just as the sun is coming up has become a regular occurrence since the puppies came into our lives which is also a good excuse for Alice to shoot out the door for a run with Arry and I. Now that the little velociraptors are weaned, Mama dog keeps her teats as far away from them as possible. With the large pen in the garden serving as an all day creche, they snooze in the shade oblivious to all the construction noise.

Callum and I had the chance to pop over to L’Horte yesterday, I hadn’t been for at least a month because the paths had become so overgrown. Fortunately with the help of a couple of friends in the biz, the terrain is now walkable so the two of us plus a few woofers went off exploring the old homestead. The river did look very inviting but without swimsuits and the prospect of being drowned by Arry, we decided against it. The place is stunning now as Mother Nature is claiming back what once was hers. Pop would be happy.

July seems to have raced passed, most of the pups will be leaving us next week for their new homes. We still have to find someone for the gorgeous Sherman but I am optimistic that the right family is out there. Of course, a little part of me would like him to stay – I think he is the best of the bunch with his laid back attitude to life. And now that I have my Callum home, I am beginning to feel the same…

“They say a person needs three things to be truly happy in this world: Someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for” (Tom Bodett)

Twice a week, I drag myself out of bed at the crack of dawn and after changing nappies and cleaning up the puppy pen, Arry, Alice and I set off for a run. Not being a morning person, it always takes me a couple of kilometres to get into the stride – a small part of me thinks I should turn around and go back to bed but once I get into the rhythm, my mind settles. To me, running is not so much about the fitness although we do encounter a lot of hills, it’s more of a meditation practice. I switch off the daily irritations and frustrations and instead, let my thoughts wander wherever they want. My watch loudly clocks in the distance covered but as I tend to stick to the same area, mainly because I then have a rough idea where Arry has disappeared to, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the voice in my ear. Occasionally we pass another walker or runner and there is always a tractor or two buzzing in the vines but this hour or so is my ‘peace time’.

I am often asked if I am happy here and do I think I made the right decision in leaving London. It’s a difficult thing to answer because, as I’ve said before, there was my life then and there is my life now. There are times when I have twinges of guilt, is it right to be happy when you have been widowed? For the first year after Tony died, I would wake up most mornings hoping the nightmare was over and he would be there snoring by my side. Leaving London and that part of me behind was the best thing I ever did and yes, I think I do deserve to be happy. France and all its quirks is where I want to be.

The missing link in all this peace and happiness is not being able to see Callum but with luck and the gods on our side, he will be here this week. The constant toing and froing of which countries are on the naughty list is a constant worry and I know I’m not the only one separated from their child. Naturally I have refrained from getting too excited especially as Yogi Bear would find it difficult to contain himself and he has been told to rest his foot ( a little operation to remove a little mass). We just have to cross our fingers and paws for the next couple of days and get our boy home.

With the weather heating up once again after a few somewhat cold and wet days, I had an invitation from our neighbour, Louise, to use her pool. With ours still in the construction phase, albeit getting there slowly, I wasn’t one to turn her down plus it was a good chance to see her design and deck area as I had already done so in a visit to our other neighbours’ pool last week. Being such a friendly village and with almost everyone having a pool, I am gladly accepting all rendezvous for a swim and a sneak peek. Unfortunately the pesky pandemic put a stop to the local Friday night get-together at the Bistro so getting to know your neighbours’ means donning a swimsuit and grabbing a towel. Good for the mind and the soul……

“Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears” (John Lennon)

I got an email yesterday from Callum asking me if I could take a look at his updated CV and tweak if necessary. I can’t remember the last time I wrote a CV but it got me thinking, what would mine read now? My days of needing new employment are long gone (I hope), I’m not sure my years as a canine behaviour consultant will be of use in a tiny French village but I’ve definitely learnt a whole lot of new skills. I know how to drive a massive motorhome across two countries, I can hold a belt sander above my head and smooth out a beam at the same time, I can pick-axe a trench through solid clay and expertly apply insecticide to worm-holey planks without spilling a drop. I would add breeding a rather gorgeous litter of Border terriers but let’s face it, Alice did all the work.

A year ago, I would have been packing up boxes bored out of my mind – now most days I fall into bed exhausted. The restlessness is beginning to fade, although I don’t think I am truly settled yet. I’m itching to sit down and start writing but the time just isn’t the right time right now. Once the outside space i.e. bloody pool is done and Mumo is back in the big house then I think the mind will be calmer. I am keeping my fingers crossed that Callum will be here next week, it’s been 9 months too long. There is much to do before then which will keep me occupied, a few beams to be oiled and varnished for starters.

Poor Yogi has to go under the knife again on Tuesday, I found a little lump on his toe. He is such a stoic little bear but one does worry as they get older even if the most likely explanation is a grass seed. I’m going to make sure Denis gets the mower out and razes the evil spikes just in case. The pups on the other hand are loving the bigger pen outside, it’s a bit like letting a load of velociraptors out of their enclosure. They had their first ‘non-adult’ date today as my youngest nephew came round, another lesson to add to their social repertoire. Tigs is a seasoned animal handler even at his young age so the pups were in safe hands and all thoroughly enjoyed themselves. At 6 weeks old now, Alice’s sprogs have all developed very distinct personalities; Sherman the easy-going lump, Sanza the social butterfly, Sabrina aka Daisy the feminine one, Sophia the fiery ‘in the middle of everything’ one, Slim the independent and Salome the smallest and quick-thinking one. First vaccines are booked for the end of the month, time is flying by too fast.

On a final and tearful note, I learnt today that my dearest friend Jude has passed away. Jude was always one of my biggest supporters and I shall miss her wise words and cheeky comebacks. She was a giant in the world of dog rescue and I know her generous spirit will be missed by many. My heart goes out to her family – I won’t post a photo Jude, I know you hated having your picture taken. I shall miss you always xx

“A good friend is like a four-leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.” (Irish proverb)

There are some things which drive me nuts, especially before morning coffee. Technology and ridiculous requests for paperwork already given to my private medical insurance are just two of them, I’m sure AXA have spent more money fiddling about with the same forms than the cost of the claim itself. This week however, my temper was spiked by something else – the pool again. This hole in the ground is beginning to become my bête noir; the stairs that were supposed to be delivered this week weren’t and Lionel has been delayed because he has to finish another job. I am assured that he will be back at the end of next week and will get it done before the end of July. So after my tantrum had finished, I decided to get on with what could be done in the absence of any concrete pouring – namely dig the trench for the electrical and water pipes and make the base for the pool house. I should mention at this point that the garden is predominantly clay and rock and the weather is pretty much in the 30’s. Having pick-axed my way along the painted markers for an entire very hot day and barely touched the 50 centimetres needed (who knew that was knee high!), my darling brother Moth announced “Lionel has a little digger you know – much easier”. Well, I’ve made a start so it should be a breeze for the man when he finally shows up, I am however determined to get the pool house done before then. The foundations don’t need to be that deep and I’ll do my best to finish what I’ve started just to show him. Tony always said I was bull-headed.

Mumo bought me a little present last week, one of those fitness watches that records everything from your runs to your sleep patterns, the latter becoming somewhat of an obsession. With the pups now out of my bed and snoozing in the pen, I assumed that I would be back to getting a good night’s sleep but apparently my nocturnal rhythms are all over the place. If there is one guarantee that stops you getting decent REM’s, it’s an app telling you you ain’t. On a more positive note however, I have discovered that Arry and I cover over 11 kilometres on each run, a lot more than I thought. Arry probably doubles the distance at the moment – bunny rabbits skipping through the vines.

Alice has also come back to join our little twice-weekly marathons through the local countryside. Now that the puppies have reached 5 weeks and are starting to wean off her very sore nipples (terrier teeth), she can’t wait to get out of the door and up the hills. With all but one (big Sherman), being reserved, there are only a few weeks left before the go off to pastures new. Having gone from mostly sleeping (my app would be proud) to mostly rowdy behaviour (typical terriers), a lot of time is spent finding new and exciting things to occupy their little minds. I’ve put a pen in the garden so I can dig and keep an eye on them, naturally there’s a whole lot of similar behaviour going on in their little enclosure. Perhaps I should let them loose in the trench……

“I’m the sort of person that starts digging a hole and doesn’t stop until it’s finished” (Christopher Paolini)

Today should have been Tony’s 60th birthday. A decade ago, I gave him a surprise party at his cousin’s restaurant followed by a trip to Oman. Little did I know then that the next time I was to see most of those who attended would be at his funeral seven years later. I’m not one who celebrates ‘heavenly birthdays’, to me he will always be 56.

I don’t know if it the significance of the date or just my general mood but I hit a real funk mid-week. A lack of sleep might have been a contributory factor, the pups find the early hours of the morning ideal for raucous play which usually involves using me as an obstacle course. They are utterly adorable but I do wish they would find a more appropriate time to test out their inner terriers. Now 4 weeks old, even Alice is finding les enfants exhausting, I shall start weaning them soon then we can all have a break. I know I said that I was going to start that last week but my research showed that the longer they are fed by Mum, the less likely they are to suffer from behavioural issues. Mind you, having had little teeth attached to my fingers, I can sympathise with Alice. Another one of the girls, Sophia, has been reserved and will be starting her new life in Switzerland in a month or so. With only Sherman and Sanza left to find homes, it won’t be long until they have all flown the coup so to speak.

Despite my love of this little piece of France, there are times when I feel lonely. The woofers are wonderful company but the conversation does tend to be slightly one-sided. I have actually missed having the workforce here this week, everyone has been busy elsewhere, it’s just too quiet. Thankfully Lionel and his gang will be back tomorrow to crack on with the pool along with Denis whose absence has been felt by all, especially the dogs. I am a bit nervous as to how he will take my decision to plant the tomatoes in what will be the potager but I was feeling sorry for the poor things stuck in pots.

So I’m going to make an effort to get out and about a bit more, maybe find a local ladies group or such-like. I also have to invite some of those I have got to know over for a glass or two. I’ve never been much of loner, I like having people around me. As much as I love chatting to all my friends over Whatsapp and Zoom, it’s not the same. Hopefully in a few weeks, Callum and his cousin will descend on us followed by other members of the Collins clan in August. There is nothing that can chase the loneliness blues away better than a table full of family…..

“Loneliness is proof that your innate search for connection is intact” (Martha Beck)

Having calmed the lovely Lionel down and got him back on track for all things poolside, the weather decided to change course dramatically mid-week. The blazing hot sun gave way to thunderstorms and torrential rain – the pool will be full before it’s finished. Luckily Christian plus digger arrived before the heavens opened and corrected my little measuring mistake and kindly managed to do a bit of landscaping whilst he was here, clearing a line of old tree trunks. The top of the garden looks like something out of Jurassic Park at the moment but I’m hoping between Denis and the inclement weather, it will return to it’s rolling lawn status soon.

I finally got my hair done when the sun was still out. Since my neighbours were having their barnets done, the hairdresser suggested it would be easier if I popped round to their house. I think the the woofers might have had something to do with the decision, trying to concentrate with all that fur let alone the puppy distraction would put most off coming over to chez moi. I took up the offer gladly especially as an invitation to swim in Mandy and Ian’s pool was thrown in, total bliss. With lockdown ending and backyard socials back, one can’t help but have a little green-eyed envy over the fence. Fingers crossed, various members of the Collins’ will be speeding over land and sea next month ready for a bit of barbeque and a nice new piscine of our own.

Now that I have sanded all the floorboards and caught up on almost all my paperwork (a French obsession), I’ve been at a bit of a loss for things to do. I could use puppy watching as an excuse for not being bent over the computer writing the book, as a behavioural study they are fascinating, but truthfully I am still feeling unsettled. Things still litter the apartment, the lack of order agitates me yet until Mumo is back in her house and stuff gets put in it’s correct corner, the mess stays. The good news is that I finally got a delivery date for my long-awaited custom made sideboard and bookcase, only a 7 month wait, which will go a long way towards me achieving a more Zen-like demeanour.

The puppies are growing and now, moving. My in-depth analysis of canis familiaris puppius has discovered that the two smallest have a definite bond with each other. This is probably because they were next to each other in the womb and the last ones out. Slim and Salome seek each other out as a specific sleeping buddy unlike the others who see naptime as the equivalent of a rugby scrum. At three weeks old, all six are starting to discover play both with each other and Mum although Uncle Yogi did get a little spooked when all decided to descend on him at once causing him to shoot off the bed. Their daily education now includes ‘sound socialisation’ which means playing unfamilar noise such as traffic and sirens every evening and short periods of handling. All the puppies sleep blissfully through jet planes and baby cries and a gentle snuggle with a human is almost as nice as having your belly rubbed. Alice has become noticeably more uncomfortable about long feeding sessions so I shall start to wean them next week. All have been weighed (kitchen scales and a mixing bowl came in useful here) and wormed. Puppy worming mixture is pink, probably so you can tell who has had their dose even if most of it ends up being dribbled out onto your clothing. Puppies are definitely distracting….

“if you want to see the sunshine, you have to weather the storm” (Frank Lane)