I’m not perfect. No really, it’s true! I can completely rely on John to keep me fully up-to-speed on my faults and failings especially when I am happily unaware of any problem. It would appear that my most annoying flaws stem from my default programme of “Trying to be helpful”. I just cannot help myself interrupting to answer the question I think is being asked of me before the questioner has finished his sentence, or adding my bit of information to embellish a dialogue whilst others are still speaking. I also struggle to restrain myself from moving things to where the owner would surely be better able to find them, than where they have been left.
Considering such difficulties John has had to endure, the last 5 weeks spent in England, closing down our Midlands home, have passed remarkably smoothly with only a few harsh words. I began to get a bit nervous that things were going too well and it was all going to turn around and bite us.
I collected together a few items to sell at a car-boot. John and I find de-cluttering and almost impossible task. My friend Anne and I (no way was John going to take part is such a business) found ourselves in the middle of a field on a cold but sunny Saturday morning, novice stallholders. After deducting the pitch fee I think I made about £15. Just as people were beginning to pack up their stalls, I had a quick wander round. I found myself drawn to a stall of CDs and quickly parted with £10 if my hard earned cash on music to accompany the long journey planned for the following week. Fortunately John was not displeased with my selection.
The removal men were excellent so long as they were constantly lubricated with hot tea. They arrived at 8.30 am and were fully loaded by 3.30 pm. We finished cleaning the house, read the meters and dropped the keys off at the agency.
We spent that night with a close friend and set off for France the next morning. As usual, we stopped at Chârtres en route. The HOT CHEF, next-door but one to the Loggis Hotel, was a superb buffet restaurant where the meal was a fixed price of 18 Euro for all you could eat, with only the additional cost of drinks. Unlike restaurants offering a similar formula I have visited, this one was very spacious, clean and modern. The selection and quality of the food was excellent. We asked if it was a franchise but they told us it was the only one.
We arrived at Colin’s house, in the Pyrénées, the following day around 5.30 pm. Tori, from the Château, was there to greet us as Colin had returned to Africa a couple of weeks earlier. I’m happy to report that the house was in far better order than on our February return. Charles and Camilla, the cats, were delighted to see us and soon showed us we’d not been forgotten. The following morning, Chantal, from next-door, came round with a small sprig of Lilly-of-the-Valley. It was May Day and this French tradition is a lovely symbol of good health.
This blog is based on truth but for privacy and security many of the names have been changed and some of the story may be embellished at times for dramatic effect.