Our House is Certainly Not in Paris
Our House is Certainly Not in Paris
“Just like at home, I creep out of our chambre just before dawn . The tall, curved street lamps are still lit and the birds are only just starting to melodically greet the new day. The sky gradually softens and lightens and as I venture out, rabbits are bouncing through the grass, their white bob tails bright in the damp greyness. The neighbouring black cat emerges from one of our outbuildings and peers at me in surprise. It’s welcome to sleep there I tell it, but you could at least be doing a b...etter job with the mice.
It is drizzling and cool on the very morning I was planning to start tidying the jardin in front of our petite maison, including wrenching out the year-old weeds that have sprung up in the cracks in the rounded front steps. Just like in previous years, we have to glean the weather report from people we encounter. Last year it was the roofers or Ann-Marie, our bank manager in Martel. This time it was Nigel, the day before, who told us the weather would turn cool and cloudy for the rest of the week.MoreLess
It is drizzling and cool on the very morning I was planning to start tidying the jardin in front of our petite maison, including wrenching out the year-old weeds that have sprung up in the cracks in the rounded front steps. Just like in previous years, we have to glean the weather report from people we encounter. Last year it was the roofers or Ann-Marie, our bank manager in Martel. This time it was Nigel, the day before, who told us the weather would turn cool and cloudy for the rest of the week.MoreLess
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