Dogs of War

We are homed!   At last!    We are unpacked and the fire’s alight.  The fridge is full.  The Christmas trees are up and dressed.   We are like two war torn, world weary animals finally  reaching their home territory.   We curl up before a roaring fire, watch tv, recovering from the  slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune that have brought us to this point and search for the joie de vivre that we lost somewhere along the way

We fought the cold and ice of the old country; the great MOT debacle, the transformation of Mistress R. Soul into a sickly, needy liability and were nearly floored at the outset by the great Suck Instead of Blow Machine and the terror of going through Customs with a suitcase full of prescription drugs.

We fought through snow in the north here too, the “read my mind, we don’t do signals” car brigade; our eyes ached with the beauty of the countryside and were blinded by the low morning sun.  We experienced the ludicrousness of being the only guests in a huge old Chateau, attended by the Marquis and his titled wife.   We experienced the fear of having to get out of the car and walk.   We fought the great monster that is Rouen who tried to ensnare us in its ancient walls and never let us go.   We’ve discovered a new phobia: “The fear of Supermarket check out girls “ who accuse us of unknown and non-understood breaches in French supermarket etiquette.   With quaking knees we have faced the interrogation of certain ladies of the ex pat community, looking at us with the avarice of vampires seeking new blood.

All of this have we faced   Mostly with a bravery we didn’t know we had.    But now, as we creep into our new lair, bloody and battered (and with hacking coughs) we seek the restorative power of fire, food and alcohol  and will rise on the morrow like phoenixes into the glory that is ……… La Belle France!

On the eve of Christmas Eve we got sunburned eating oysters on the sea front at Bouzigues Then the lack of build up to Joyeuse Fete meant that Christmas Eve came as a bit of a surprise:  in that,there was a person on the streets and three checkouts open  at SuperU.   We spent most of the day in front of fire and tv. I did a passable imitation of Mimi , coughing and sighing, hand on brow, whilst Gary peeled a grape or two and spoon fed Lemsip.

Two of the good guys (alongside SuperBri and his gal) have been Hugh and Bassie, old friends living in nearby Gabian   They took delivery of parcels and scooped us up when our rental was  delayed.   A British Christmas in all its gaudy glory welcomed us into their home on Christmas Day, another lovely log fire, amazing food, wonderful new, kind and interesting friends. Four dogs and one cat  – hey ho, I’ve given in   They are  errmmmmm, ok!

Back  in our lair we lick each other’s wounds (not a   great image I know; mixing with too many animals can do it),  keep taking the medicine and prepare to welcome old friends into our new life on New Year’s Eve.