The matriarch has been released and safely deposited chez nous. And she’s been lounging about and giving orders ever since. I jest of course, she’s not supposed to do anything but put her feet up and consume as many calories as her slight stature can take in – not easy when you were a war child she tells me. Mind you, no-one can ever turn down Denis’ cooking. Not only is he a former chef, he’s a man who loves Moroccan and Catalan cuisine so everything he makes is packed with flavour and Mumo is feasting restaurant style whilst I tend to the wood burner, fetch her slippers, let her dog out – all that sort of thing. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Mum’s home and that’s just fine. To put a cherry on the top of her rest and recuperation, D’s sister Patricia came over and did Mumo’s hair which upped the spirits no end. Having an ex-coiffeuse and a chef in the family does come in very handy.

And speaking of family, my sister Bong (her name is actually Kendra but we’ve always called her by her nickname) is flying in tomorrow to look after our mother whilst Denis and I take a plane across the English Channel to visit the old homeland. I have looked at the weather forecast and surprisingly it looks rather fine, cold but not wet. There’s nothing worse than seeing the London sights in perpetual October drizzle. Mind you, this past week has been a soggy one down here. The Météo warned us of a major storm and subsequent flooding descending on us on Thursday which, judging by the ominous sky the night before, was going to be a doozy. Unlike many other areas down in SW France however, we got away lightly or so we thought – 24 hours later, the thunder rolled in and the heavens opened. So much so that the bloody pool that we’ve just emptied has half a metre of water sitting in its depths . Great for my Brussel Sprout crops but not for trying to get out of the front gate without a canoe. Unfortunately for me and D, we spent most of the day watching the deluge from inside the vet’s office. Yogi Bear was back in after having a bit of a fainting spell which made him all wobbly. The diagnosis isn’t great as the mass has moved and now sporadically puts pressure on his heart and his kidneys are under a bit of strain too. At his age, operating wouldn’t be advisable but on the plus side, his new meds seem to have perked him up no end. On the minus side, I am glued to the mop – his pill-popping makes him pee. A lot.

As I mentioned, me and my French bloke are jet-setting off to the country of my birth and the city that had me spending more time in traffic than working. But in the coming days, I’ll get a chance to see a different side of London with Denis and catch up with old friends and family. As we partied last night away with Abraham and the usual crew down at Le Jardin, there was much hilarity about how D was going to cope with the language barrier let alone his first trip on an aeroplane. I don’t know why anyone should be worried about him, it’s been more than 4 years since I stepped a foot on London’s cobbles and I’m terrified of flying. The only thing that’s worrying Denis is trying to find a new pair of trousers and whether or not he’ll get deported for lighting up a cigarette. It’s going to be an interesting week…

The sun doesn’t live in England; it comes here on holiday when we’re all at work” – (Benny Bellamacina)