mindset – Widow plus woofs

The sun is out, the garden is blooming with colour, the birds are tweeting and I’m in a restless funk. It’s not that I don’t have anything to do; looking after this place is a full-time job without adding the furniture restoration, my attempts at making jewellery without gluing my fingers together and planning a new book but I just can’t settle. I don’t mean the ‘relax and put your feet up’ kind, everyone knows that’s impossible for me, I’m talking about switching off the synapses. My brain is working like a chimp at a tea party at the moment, jumping from one thing to another non-stop. It doesn’t help that events yet to be are in the hands of others, I’ve been here before and it’s just as frustrating. To add to it all, yesterday marked 7 years since Tony died which seems unreal. I’d jump in the pool if the cover wasn’t still on and the thermometer on hypothermia readings.

All that being said, the past week was actually quite a blast. With the evenings being so much more temperate now we are in mid-May, I’ve had the chance to catch up with old friends and one who I’ve known for years but never met. Janeen and I meshed on Facebook not long after I arrived here, she lives down near Antibes but was passing through so stopped for the night. We chattered well into the wee hours over several tipples in the courtyard, a place made for alfresco suppers, so much so that I hosted a little do the following evening to belatedly celebrate Denis’ birthday. Being enclosed by walls, the area has a sort of microclimate of its own not least as its protected from the infernal wind which makes barbecuing so much more pleasant. I even let the woofers join us which kept the kids entertained and the floor under the grill clean. There was only that minor mishap when Saba tripped over a sprawled-out Arry and promptly sent her glass of the red stuff straight down the front of her mother-in-law.

You might have noted earlier that I’m doodling down ideas for a new opus. No, it isn’t going to be the third ‘bio’ and anyway I’ve yet to hear anything about the first two, this one is a novel. Based vaguely on true events mind you. I miss writing, daft I know considering how much I complained about lazy muses the last time I was tap tapping away but the process is weirdly therapeutic – the brain cells can actually congregate in one place for a start. Which is more than I can say when it comes to the art of joining bits of metal. I did finally end up with a necklace and a bracelet, frankly a miracle as the jewellery glue was useless so I ended up grabbing my furniture one, the spray of which is slightly less accurate so I spent as much time scrubbing the goo off the kitchen counter as I did sticking bits together. And my digits. Still, I am rather chuffed at my first efforts so shall continue forth with all things bling. Who knows, all this cranium concentrating might be the panacea to my pouting? And that character I was struggling with could be a designer or a famous writer or a psychotherapist? Or maybe just the first half of the latter…

“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” (Jon Kabat-Zinn)

It pains me to say it but, unless the Gods have a radical change of heart, I shall be glad to see the back of this summer. Not only have I had to admit defeat (a rarity for me) in regards to finding the minuscule hole in the pool’s liner and let the blood thing slowly drain itself into the road, I’ve had the worry of Mumo’s weird internal goings-on (she is getting better slowly we all hope), both of which have left me with a zero va va voom to do anything constructive. And I hate the feeling. On top of it all, the barometer has been go up and down like a Yo-Yo on acid – the beginning of the week sitting in the high 30’s before sinking down to barely 20 degrees by Wednesday. I had to drag out a jumper from the winter stash under my bed and put shoes on, the latter was an odd experience and it took me a while to remember how to walk in something other than flip-flops. At least we’ve had a few decent drizzles to replenish the thirsty ground, something virtually non-existent down here in August in normal years.

Okay, it’s not been a complete blah of a week. My second eldest nephew, Maxime, touched down chez nous on Tuesday and between him and his brother Louis, they’ve really helped lift the general mood around this place and boosted Mumo’s spirits too. Sadly, Louis’ gal Linnea (I now know how to spell it) had to fly off back to Norway and work but not before I got a chance to go into Carcassonne with her and enjoy a bit of retail therapy – the vintage clothing kind. Since I’m quite a tightwad when it comes to buying new threads, most of my time is spent in patched up jeans or shorts stained with Godknowswhat fell on them, I had a ball going through the racks of retro bits and pieces with someone who likes to forage in these kinds of shops as much as me. Poor Louis was dragged along his insistent amour somewhat unwillingly, he has much to learn when it comes to the art of pleasing your other half. I left mine putting up the lights in the outdoor kitchen such is my knowledge of what floats Denis’ boat even if he did almost electrify himself a couple of times and almost blackout the entire village. Amusingly, when I first met D, I asked a friend if he would recommend my new handy man. “Definitely” replied Graham, “anything except electrics, that would be a disaster.”. Thankfully we now have light down in the lower kitchen with only a few scald marks on the floor and D is extremely proud of himself.

Speaking of near blowouts, it was a good job I’ve lost so much weight over the last couple of months as Denis and I went over to my dear friend Giselle’s place for her son’s birthday celebration. Paella style. I have to admit that the last and only time I ate such a dish was in a London restaurant and frankly, it was horrible. Obviously, I needed to try the local recipe – here it’s all about fresh fruits de la mer and not large lumps of over-cooked chicken and stodgy rice and boy, is Giselle’s good. I must have chowed down enough calories to keep me bouncing for a year it was that delicious and if I add on Louis’ incredible culinary masterpieces, always seasoned with raucous family laughter around the table, I’m going to need to get back running up those hills soon otherwise I’ll never get to wear those new purchases.

And Hugo’s (Giselle’s son and Denis’ daughter’s boyfriend) birthday wasn’t the only one to be celebrated this week. Our Arry aka Aragorn turned 9 on Thursday. How my crazy nutcase of a German Shepherd has managed to reach an age and now sport a few grey whiskers is totally beyond me but it is without a doubt a miracle (remember the ball-choking incident, the collar incident, the heatstroke incident, I could go on) but I’m thankful to have him spread out under my feet every day. For all myself and the other woofers have been through over the last eight and a half years that he has been with us, Arry’s zest for life and refusal to be anything but young at heart can’t help but chase the dark clouds away and bring on a smile. And swearing. Lots of swearing. Gotta love that dog…

“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if only someone remembers to turn on the light.” (J.K. Rowling)