Time.

I’m still here. Despite the dearth of blogs in recent months, I haven’t forgotten you. It’s just that life has been kinda busy, but with nothing that tends to generate photos. So before the next splurge of pix from Africa, here’s a little catch up.........

So where has the time gone? 

Tick.

In the last three months we’ve had a houseful for all but one week. We appear to have been the victims of our own success. Building paradise attracts friends and family alike. 

That’s not to say it hasn’t been fun, but it has been a little knackering and has thrown any routine that I had out of the window.

Tick

Out of that window is the garden, which has absorbed gobbets of time and energy, but the results are now coming in.

Amongst the thousands of bushes and trees planted this year, none has grown more aggressively than the lotus. What was once just an overflow during heavy rain, has developed a life of its own.

Tick.

With two hectares to develop, I’m always looking for ideas. A barren slope behind the barn has now become an aviary .

This new palace in the garden houses our own royal duo, Victoria and Albert.

Tick.

Half of our land is covered in forest. Forests need caring for. This has given us space for an assault course (zip wire now in place) 

Plus lots of pathways, this one leading to another project, a hide and treehouse.

All the latest photos of the garden here

Tick.

The bird life in the garden is growing. The latest arrivals are helping to keep the insect population down...

This bird life is good news for our latest acquisition 

a British Blue called smÖke. This is definitely the most playful cat I’ve ever had. Or maybe I’m just slowing down...

Tick.

Despite all the above, we have found time for the occasional bit of tourism, revisiting some places such as the legendary St Cirq Lapopie...

As well as places previously undiscovered by us. 

This is Najac. More photos of this stunning village here.

Another new one, the Fôret des Singes, near Rocamadour.

More monkey stuff here.

Tick.

This summers heat has put on hold that masterpiece of modelling, the Barn Station. Due to massive warping of the rails, we’ve had to have a complete rethink. I’ve finally finished putting insulation into the roof and installed air-conditioning. 

Next we’ll attempt to repair all the damage done by the heat. Not one of my better pieces of forward planning...

Tick.

There has been no shortage of kids filling the house and spilling out everywhere. Keeping them entertained is many times more knackering than when I was a young parent.

Tick.

Is there time to relax? Well, I’m currently deciding between chess or snooker..

I chose a siesta....

Travellers in Time.

What do you talk about when you’ve known someone all your life? 

Last weekend we tootled over to Mallorca to see my long lost brother.

Not seen him or his missus Ginny for over two years. Before that, well, not much either. 

We had a lot to catch up on, two travellers in time who touched timelines once every few years. 

So what was that central topic of conversation? There was much to choose from. Our timelines have diverged from a young age, each going our own separate ways. So ...

Was it racing? Mick had, after all, made a successful career out of it. 

Nah. Cars for me serve just one purpose. If it gets me from A to B then I like them. If not, well, put it this way, I have long noticed that racing cars just go round in circles. They get you from A back to A again. Not much use to anyone really.

Was it animals? This has always been my passion, but that was something my bruv never really understood. Time changes us, and so we see two new loves in Mick’s life. Here’s one of his two Bichons...

The Bichon is the one underneath by the way...

Was it boats? Well, they have moved from racing cars to the more statesmen-like craft...

...but the weather wasn’t really up to taking to the seas. Neither was Annick’s stomach.

Did we talk of business? Despite our divergent timelines, both of us ended our business lives in much the same way. It is truly bizarre, but our timelines, after all these years, have finally converged. Mick was always the Entrepreneur, whereas I never really new what the word meant, but I ended up being one by default, resulting from years of ‘crisis management’.

But no, our main topic was not that, nor was it the usual suspect; sex. Or at least, its derivative, family.

It was, in fact, gardening.

Yes, you read that right. Gardening.

I would not have guessed in a million years that we two would, after  our varied and diverse lives, have ended up  two old gits talking gardens.

Well, their garden, and their house, is kinda special.

In between discussing bougainvilleas, we did do a whistle stop tour of the island, including the mountains...

...the coastal towns...

...the mansions...

...and the beaches.

However, all our travelling in time must end, and we finally had to head back, leaving the mixture of tranquility and tourism that is Mallorca...

...to put down my camera......

and do some bloody gardening!

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.