Considering the events of the one before, this week has been quite the opposite. Seven days without any major dramas would have had any sane person putting their feet up and snoozing under a pool umbrella but naturally we are talking about me and probably the reason why I’m in therapy. The very idea of relaxing seems to skip my synapses even if the rest of this body just wants to sleep for a month – here I am bone-deep tired and my brain still wants to bounce around like a teenager on acid. Waking up to it being the start of September and therefore, the end of what the Northern Hemisphere would call summer doesn’t help either. Mind you, you wouldn’t know it when you put a pinkie toe out the door and it burns to a crisp before your very eyes such is the current weather situation.

I’m not going to complain; the very idea of donning any clothing that covers more than the essentials makes me come out in a cold sweat – I prefer the pool for cooling down thank you. Amusingly, I have finally finished my first ever attempt at making a summer vest (the irony) – only taken three sewing lessons to create such a simple item out of an old sheet but my teacher, Delphine, was bursting with pride. Thankfully, we have now moved onto making bags and they don’t require following a pattern so might get done before the Christmas market. Alas, they won’t see the inside of the shop in St Hilaire as without Severine and Nicola’s veggie stall in there, we can’t afford to pay the rent on my bijoux alone. Speaking of L’Horte’s guardians, I popped over mid-week to reserve several wood piles now that the remains of the tornado’d trees have been felled. There’s not much in the way of firewood but I’d like to use some of Pop’s plantings to decorate my new place.

And if there is one thing that helps calm the cranium, it’s thinking about that little project. In a week with not a lot going on, I’ve had a meeting with my bank manager (an extraordinarily nice young man which in my experience one does not associate with such institutions) to keep my funds safe and another with my equally affable architect (a genial older gentleman who speaks very slowly just in case I miss something – obviously knows how my brain works) so I could approve the building plans thus far. Mmhmm, a little twinge of excitement, I cannot deny. Admittedly, we still have to draw in minor additions like the roof before submitting the finished design to the permit peeps and wait for, shudder, autumn temperatures to dig the foundations but the prospect of building my own home is keeping me out of the sanatorium. The summer may be over but up the road and to the right, there’s a perfect view of the sunrise…

“The end-of-summer winds make people restless.” (Sebastian Faulks)