Notice to self: it is best not to eat breakfast when in the area of the computer. Cheese on toast is alright, just about, because the crumbs, should they be dropped on to the computer keyboard, can be got out again by inverting the keyboard whereupon they should obligingly drop out, together with an amazing amount of other minuscule detritus lodged therein. But it is the jam on toast which is no go. It is the nature of jam that it likes to stick things up, as I have experienced when making pots of jam on numerous occasions. It is also in the nature of jam to have a certain runny characteristic, this characteristic producing dribbles of stickiness which hopefully remain on the plate but most times do not, creating drips of stickiness all over my fingers, sometimes down the front of me, sometimes onto the computer table. Now I am not a messy eater, just inattentive, so the sticky blobs and drips can go unnoticed. It is only later that I connect with them, like when I put my fingers on the keyboard and get stuck to a key. This I must be more attentive to, because it is in the nature of even the tiniest bit of sugary jam to spread itself all over the place long after the jam on toast has been eaten.
And oh what a lovely morning it is today. The birds up in the trees are in full voice, the air holds a warmth to it, and the promise of Spring is in the air. This happens every year around this time, that there is a day which says that no matter what weather lies ahead, that Spring will definitely arrive. It cheers the heart. I wish I could parcel up the loveliness of the morning and send it to you all.
I started writing a book about how France arrived in our lives, but at 70,000 words an electrical failure crashed the book, losing half the words. So I gave up. But Leon and Sue over at Melbourne -Our Home on the Bay asked me a while ago about how we came to be in France, which has triggered off my thoughts about getting the book again, but I thought I would work myself into the project by posting a blog about how we have done just that.
Here is a snippet of some of the first post:
How did we get to this madness, this insanity. It is dark. We have been on the road for hours. It is early morning. No lights are shining anywhere. I want to go to the loo. There is no ‘proper’ loo, only the porta pottie, and that is buried underneath stuff. I want to have a cup of tea and a warm bed. All I have is the camper van in which I am now sitting. Lester is out having a pee somewhere. It’s easier for men. A zip, that is all they have to manage. For us girls, there is a waistband to undo, knickers to drop, then hold a squatting position whilst trying to keep all the lower half clothing out of the way of the dribbles. But I need to go, so I do. Outside I go, into thigh high grass which is soaked through. I stumble a little way from the campervan until just out of range of its lights. Fortunately I have a skirt on. It is easier to go to the loo when wearing a skirt because it can be lifted up out of the way leaving just the undergarments to cope with. Less to have around the ankles.
Job done. Hem of skirt now soaked, but with wetness from the rain soaked grass and not from anything else. Bools bounces out of the darkness towards me. He is also feeling better after his loo trip. Easier for him. He just cocks his leg. He is our Springer Spaniel. He at least is full of joy, I am full of ‘What have we done.....’
Indeed, what have we just done. Only sold up in the UK and shipped us and our belongings to South West France. In a convoy we had travelled: two bright red vans, and us in our white campervan. Despite the satellite navigation system which Gary, our removal man, had insisted would get us all the way to our destination but which had had us going round and round in circles on the Paris ring road because the sat nav went into a hissy fit and kept taking us off the main road towards somewhere else despite the signs telling us to keep straight ahead which Gary ignored having more faith in that thingumyjig of a device. But it was done with grand bonhomie. No one lost their temper. On all of the drive down none of us became irritable. But now we are. I want my bed. Lester wants his bed. But our proper bed is packed in one of the vans. We have a bed in the campervan but it is drowning beneath stuff piled high upon it, this we throw onto the driving seats or on to the floor leaving Bools a small space so he can sleep too. Thankfully we lie down. Sleep does not come easily. We are too tired. Images of the day are stamped in our minds too strongly.
It is daylight. I look at my watch. 8am. I have a peep through the curtains. Feel an urge to explore my new home. Lester turns over, needing more sleep. No lie in for him today. We need to get on with unloading the vans so that Gary & Co can start back to the UK.
In the dark the house had looked like a big black lump. Now it looks smaller, less intimidating. Only half a roof of course, but we knew that, and less of it as well so more must have taken a tumble....... etc...... you can read more here.
I also have a friend who is in the middle of a crossroads in her life, and I thought that by writing about how we found our way through our own crossroads, and took the path that we did, might give her and her partner some encouragement as well. You can find her blog here.
Oh dear, time is pressing on, so will let you know how busy Hubs as been in the next post.