It’s in the way you see it

There is a saying, at least in our family, that, if you want to Google possible maladies, its almost always better to look at a French website rather than a US one. The former will tell you to take a Dolypran (Paracetamol) whereas the latter will advise immediate surgery. Which is exactly why, after this week’s visit to the doctor, I’ve got myself all in a tizzy.

It all started with the afore-mentioned appointment. To be honest, I’m not a huge fan of GPs including our local one – I don’t think he treated Mumo very well and let’s not go into what happened with Tony and the one in Streatham but since I hadn’t had a health check in five years, I thought best to go and get one done. Doc seemed to think I looked okay for a gal of my age and my vitals were normal so he booked the nurse to come and take my blood. Here, the infirmiere not only comes to your house but at the crack of dawn before you’ve had a chance to boil the kettle – mind you being half-asleep whilst she stabs a needle in your vein is an advantage. I hate needles. Anyway, she took her pint and a half of my precious fluid and popped it into the lab who, I have to say were very speedy and sent me the results the same afternoon. All fine except the one typed in bold and let’s face it, less than one minuscule point outside the box. Naturally, I hit the Google button and not the French one. Well, apparently I should take more care of myself (duh), give up the sinful pleasures (no kidding) and avoid stress (hah). The first two are a no-brainer but the last, well that’s easier said than done although the recent re-appearance of the sun is helping as the belligerent boiler isn’t.

Surprisingly, my eyeballs are doing just fine. Doctor Lefevre’s office wasn’t my only tick off the list of must-do’s this week; I popped into the ophthalmologist’s too. That was a bit of a palaver in itself. For a start, I had to do several circuits of the hospital car park before a spot opened up, then I discovered that the clinic wasn’t in the main building but behind it, with several empty parking spaces right in front of it. Armed with my phone’s QR code message, I then attempted to negotiate my allotted time with the machine right inside the entrance which refused to acknowledge my wiggling screen in front of it so I had to put all the info in manually. The dalek then gave me a ticket to take the reception desk where I was asked exactly the same details that I’d just typed in. “Go to waiting room A” she said. I did. A few minutes later, I was ushered into a room where my eyeballs got a thorough look at before I was then told “go to waiting room B”. I did. Once again, name called and another room for another good peer at my peepers. Suffice to say that an hour later, I had made it through waiting room D and after a quick chat with a very nice optical expert, I exited with just a prescription for new glasses and the advice that I didn’t need to come back for a couple of years.

It’s not that I’ve become obsessed with my health all of a sudden; I eat well and work out regularly but watching a documentary about ways to make you live longer the other night made me realise I have to make some changes. Mind you, the idea that one should face one’s fears in order to boost your body’s defences isn’t exactly what I was thinking of. Since my biggest phobia is heights, Denis reckons I should hang my head out of the top floor window until the feeling of death disappears – not gonna happen. Nephew Maxime had a better idea, his opinion, saying he’d take me flying with him as long as I promised not to freak out and touch a button or three – whilst I trust him implicitly, I do not like aeroplanes either, particularly small ones. I prefer the other of the show’s suggestions – slow down a little and calm the mentals. After all, January’s but a memory and according to local lore, if the first month of the year is pants then the rest of the year is going to be hula skirts…

“Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint.” (Mark Twain)

Hit the pause button

There are some weeks, like the one just gone, in which not a lot happens which, in a way, makes them rather pleasant. Okay, it wasn’t completely without the odd and very welcome surprise or two but, for once, having seven days that drift by slowly and mostly uneventful are much appreciated by yours truly. After all, when you get to certain age, time does seem to want to accelerate so those rare occasions when the clock hits pause, yes please.

Like I said, not totally a week with nothing out of the ordinary. With nephews Louis and Max returning last weekend, I got a phone call on Monday morning from Moth to expect him on Wednesday. Now, if you know my little brother, doing the unexpected is not out of the norm but considering I haven’t seen him since last summer – well, this was. Anyway, suffice to say it has been really really nice having him around and not just because he buys expensive wine, pays for pizza and fills up the fridge. Unfortunately for him, he chose the worst week for a visit – wet to put it mildly and the whole region has been on flood alert. And since getting out of the front gate without a rowboat has been pretty much impossible, you will be delighted to know that I finally got round to emptying that drawer of useless collectibles including a large number of expired store cards from countries I no longer reside in plus several dead pens, three balls of string and at least two dozen tea lights. I do feel my Doomsday list needs updating.

I’m not sure how much energy was cleared in the afore-mentioned chuck out but I did take advantage of one of the few dry days to remove the last of the Christmas displays – the one on the top of the corner wall. Frankly, I know Denis was all about keeping them up because twinkly lights in January brighten up the soul but I doubt anyone would bother to take a peek from under an umbrella and no sun means no solar. Mind you, as I was un-peeling the last of the strands off the street signboard below, a lady with three deliciously kissable pugs stopped to say how lovely the decorations had been and how sad to think I wouldn’t be there to do them again. Honestly, with the amount of time it took to cut off all the rope and tape D had used to secure everything and doing it all perched on top of a narrow pile of concrete bricks whilst ducking tree branches, I’m all to happy to hand over the task.

So, almost the end of the month and only one more until we are out of winter. The gardens are starting to stir which is a little worrying as I will have to move a lot of the plants soon if they are going to take to their new home. My Mimosa is looking particularly spectacular at present and wandering around the back plot this morning (a momentary stop in the deluge), I noticed buds on the Japanese bushes and the fruit trees. Such little surprises give hope to hopefully warmer weather and Spring. It’s not that I want to time to fly but it would be nice to have toasty tootsies again and who knows, we might have the heating back on by then…

“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.” (Marthe Troly-Curtin)

Zen and the art of stickiness

Something strange has been going on with my psyche ever since Avignon and a week spent with my bestie, Rene. My normal flitting around like a bee on an acid trip has been taken over by a weird sense of calm – just as well really as peeps, it’s hot out there. Actually not today, we’ve had a rainstorm (yay, no battling with the hose reel) and the temperature has dropped to a mere 22 degrees. Heavenly if only for now, the météo forecast is showing red zone in the coming week. Just as well Louis came up with a great plan to keep the cars cool; a couple of marquees that had been gathering spiders in storage put to good use.

Mind you, my new Zen-like persona hasn’t stopped me from the busy. Denis and I went shopping for salad stuff to fill up the potagers although finding he didn’t have any coffee in his house and the garden emporium only having the smaller varieties of tomato left was not a good start for my man. Well, it was Friday the 13th. And naturally, there are always the regular chores to get through; now the house is on the market, the place has to stay tidy both inside and out. The garden doesn’t require quite as much slaving now with the hot weather reducing the lawns to dust and the flowerbeds, having been given a decent mulching by Denis, are blooming lovely. Even the Pink Easter-lily cactus has blossomed. A rare sight as the flowers don’t last more than a couple of days and their scent is heavenly as dusk falls. It sits right by the pool deck, the pool that needs constant cleaning with the new liner being much paler than it’s leak-ridden predecessor and as for the skimmers, a job I loathe – washing out dead insects and dog hair ugh. Yes, Arry has once more joined us humans in the daily dip. Luckily for me, he tends to leave me to my laps but anyone else is fair game for shark impressions. Speaking of aquatic things; brother Moth is back in situ after spending a week in Nice at the UN Ocean Conference speaking to the bigwigs. It’s bliss having him here not least because he is much better at cleaning than Louis – the dining table has half a piano on it and the sideboard looks like a curiosity shop; specialist goo and teeny tools.

Speaking of gluey stuff, you’d be hard pressed to find anything messier than mica and resin except maybe Superglue. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t been rushing around; can’t when you’ve got sticky black fingers although how it gets under gloves is a mystery as is trying to get it off. I would like to point out to the author of the manual, white spirit or acetone does not eradicate said gunk from digits – only skin removal scrubbing. Still, I am thoroughly enjoying the jewellery side of Witch Wackle and even better, my little collection is going to be displayed in a shop! Okay, so the epicerie but one has to start somewhere and the village signpost on the road up from Limoux does point towards the ‘Centre Commercial’. That is the epicerie. I even went as far to do a little light advertising at the opening night of the Bistro, rocking up with bracelets jangling and necklaces dangling. Yup, the summer season has officially started with the village weekly hoedown back in session. With all out of hibernation and much cheek kissing, a rowdy evening was passed under the stars amongst friends. No doubt needing those sunglasses to shield their eyes from my blinding bling, either that or the spots of neon blue mica powder still attached to my fingernails…

” Creative minds are rarely tidy” (Carl Jung)

The wheel of life

It’s been a week of catching up with old friends and sadly, the loss of a little one too. Willy, my tiny Roborovski hamster passed away quietly on Wednesday night. I can’t say we had a very tactile relationship in the almost 3 years we spent together but he knew my voice and I had gotten used to the monotonous sound of his exercise wheel squeaking throughout the sleepy hours. Denis and I buried him in the new flowerbed under the apartment frontage – his little house marking his grave. I didn’t add the wheel, his spirit might wake the neighbours.

Speaking of neighbours or should I say, the neighbourhood, everyone’s been out in their gardens over the past few days to soak up the glorious early Spring warmth. Mowers humming and beer caps popping as shorts were pulled out of drawer depths – they’ll be returned to their winter lodgings tomorrow however as we are set for a wet and windy week ahead. Just in time for the Easter Weekend. I have to keep reminding myself that March winds and April showers are to be expected and we still really need the rain but I do prefer flip flops to work boots. The short burst of sunshine however has given my tomatoes a boost – they may be tortoises but slow and steady they rise. And I managed to make a start on painting the tractor house wall, luckily I’m taller than D so he’s only got the top of the wall to do – unless I sneak out the ladder whilst he’s not looking. We’ve shot through our to-do list mind you, ambient temperatures and blue sky abundance tend to get the work done – I just wish I’d decided to the pool leak last Thursday instead of the one coming. Ah well, wetsuit it is.

And with the nights more on the cool than chilly side, I hosted a dinner party out on the terrace on Friday evening. Denis cooked a traditional chicken and olive stew and I provided the vegetarian tatin de tomates. Sixteen were very well-fed and equally, well drunk and all had a thoroughly good evening. I only wish that I could have had everyone over last night instead as my good friend and once grooming mentor arrived yesterday for a stopover on her way to her holiday home near Málaga in Spain. It’s been wonderful to see Heidi again after almost 9 years and to meet her stunning Standard Poodle Tiffany and travel gal pal Lindy. Naturally they’ve had a guided tour of Rouffiac d’Aude, which takes all of 15 minutes and a drive around Carcassonne to see La Cité and St-Hilaire to see the Abbaye de St-Hilaire. We didn’t do any actually walking around as Tiffany is a little on the shy side but the views seem to impress her human counterparts. I do love having visitors and being able to show off this little corner of France (subtle hint to all those who keep promising to pop in, ahem).

As mentioned, Easter is almost upon us and then it’ll be April and hopefully, Spring. This year seems to be whizzing by or perhaps I’m just getting old. I still have another 5 chapters to finish which I’d like to get done before the summer so I can put the wretched thing in the hands of the experts to refine so to speak. It’s not that I don’t like writing it, it’s just that I have itchy feet and want to get on with other projects – ones that don’t require so many brain cells. On the subject of itchy feet, Callum’s is much better he tells me so he’s off being touristy for a couple of weeks around Taz before getting back into the work mode. Life’s all about getting the right balance and getting off the hamster wheel…

““Friendship’s the wine of life.” ( Edward Young)