Polka Dot Bikinis

Life, at the moment, seems a little like reading a copy of ‘Homes and Gardens’. Not that I ever have of course, except maybe on the occasional visit to the dentist. 

It started with a trip to the good old Still-United Kingdom. We stayed a couple of nights at some old college friends who live in Somerset. They are trying to sell their house, and are becoming somewhat disillusioned. At which point, up steps Annick to display a hitherto undiscovered talent in selling houses. Both my friends discovered that it was possible to become even more disillusioned. As a result, they took us for a long walk through some local forests. They, it seems, knew of Annick’s recent dice with death and her healing knee fractures. Of course they did. 

They failed to lose us... 

Not to let up on her new-found talent, Annick sighted her guns on, er, us.

Yes, we have decided to have a go at selling our much loved cottage in the Wye Valley. 

It appears to be a good time to sell. It’s garden is at its best ever...

...as Jon was keen to point out to Sienna..

She thus set about dismantling it...
We will, as a result of a sale, be looking for places to stay on our regular visits back to the UK. All volunteers please take one step forward. 

Even better, if you have a vast fortune to spare and happen to be looking for a pied-à-terre with the most amazing views ever, please feel free to bung it all in my direction. Funds thus generously donated will be shovelled into the black hole known as our garden...

Talking of which, and to carry on with a theme as it were, the garden in Lamothe continues to take shape. The once mud-ridden pathways are turning into svelte green...

...and the terraformed banks, once like dull grey pyjamas, are blooming into more like polka-dot bikinis.

Due to its ever vaster expanse, we’re putting benches wherever possible..

...so that my thrice daily search for naughty plants (translated from the french for weeds) can be broken to admire the view. This makes a pleasant change from picking up doggy poops.

Now we just need Nature to lend a hand, which it is doing by providing significant amounts of rain.

Yeah. Thanks a lot.

A Musical Interlude

Music, for me, has always been right up there with the most important things in life. Never more so than now, with my hearing being (dreaded phrase) normal for my age. To combat the loss of the upper registers and the constant torture of tinnitus, I have taken to listening to music almost continuously pouring into ears through sanity saving EarPods.

Some recent visitors have brought even more music to the farmhouse. Normally reknowned for its heavily laden progressive rock and blues, this week has been slightly less invasive to the eardrums.

Jon was here for a week, and his guitar work was as good as ever.

With him, his friend Sabina, world famous venture capitalist and pianist, here also trying her hand at guitar.

There was, of course, more than just music. In between ditties, we visited some of our usual haunts, bastides galore, such as Puycelsi 

where we were joined for lunch by the ever effusive Natalie.

Then onto Bruniquel,

Natalie stayed for the weekly snooker night, then helped us eat our Sunday lunch

As the music played on, we squeezed in a visit to our local town centre.

Whilst all this music was going on, Lyzëa was looking on intrigued 

Finally she summoned up the courage to have a go herself.

Thus addicted, we figured that a more aptly sized ukulele would be a better match. Look out world... 

Well, the music carries on, but newly acquired hearing aids have been yet another life-changer, letting me hear things I haven’t heard for years, and finally suppressing that constant torture that is tinnitus. I’m gradually turning into the prosthetic man.

And I can hear crickets.