There were three in a bed, and the little one said ….

The month of June left us, quietly and elegantly, in the arms of our friend Sara from Whitstable.

We visited some of the old haunts together and took our virgin ride on the little train in Beziers.   This is well worth the 7 euro ticket price.

Most importantly you get to see places you may miss if you don’t know the city, such as The Poet’s Park.  Beautiful.

 

Late in her stay we discovered that Sara  loved antique shops and so we took her to the street of Brocantes  in Pezenas where we spent  a happy, dusty hour, fingering the past and being aghast – at the prices.

After four days it was time to take Sara to Rivesaltes, near Perpignan (she did want to go!) where we had a delicious lunch in a wine domaine with her friends who took her on to the next stage of her journey.

We used the next few days finalising arrangements for three old friends to visit.   Sparky, bright and intelligent women, aged from eighty to ninety years, they do have some mobility issues so our rental house was  not suitable.

A local couple offered us their zany,  attractive house , with swimming pool, at a good price.   We checked out ease of access and  safety of the very few stairs and deemed them suitable.   It all seemed too good to be true and we spent anxious weeks thinking something would go wrong.

And then we got the news that Sheila had fallen in her  garden in Suffolk and had broken her wrist.  However, the brave explorers were determined to have their holiday in France.

Sharing a meal on our first night.

Any worries about the suitability of our choice were swept away when the “girls”  arrived and were visibly excited with our holiday home.  We shared a lovely meal together reminiscing over previous holidays and were making our way to bed when Sheila slipped and fell.

A night of pain for Sheila and concern by the rest of us and at 6 a.m the following morning we made the decision that we must call an ambulance.  Gazzie and Esther followed the ambulance and came back with the news that Sheila now had two broken arms.  As an aside, I wouldn’t have minded following that ambulance;  the paramedics were gorgeous!

What a brave woman Sheila  is.   No moans, no fuss.   She was operated on two days later and was released from hospital after three days.

Whilst Sheila was in hospital, poor Annie was suffering from the heat (hovering in the upper 30 degrees C) and severe back pain and spent long periods on her back in bed and Es carried on bravely on her walking sticks,  despite a badly bruised coccyx, caused by yet another slip.

A worrying pattern seemed to be emerging.   Gaz and I donned body armour, slid around the house and garden on our bottoms and foreswore alcohol.  Serious but necessary precautions.

Obviously our itinerary was vastly curtailed and several outings cancelled, including an evening trip on the Canal du Midi with dinner and Gypsy Guitarists and Sunday lunch at a Chateau. We did manage to take Es and Annie on the little train around Beziers in between visits to the hospital.   But try as we might  our joie de vivre was somewhat diminished by concern for, and the absence of, She.   On the day before our departure, however, she asked if she could see the sea and with the other two still hors de combat, we took a gentle ride to Marseillan and ate some mussels on the quayside.

Despite all that had happened,  we managed a few laughs and a few discussions on books.  A touch of dreaming, whispers of “if only”,  hesitant planning, firm intentions, nodding to the past, welcoming the future.   Talks of friends here and friends  gone, families and the  familiar.    All the usual drifting holiday talk condensed into too few hours.

We hope that, with time, this holiday can be the one that causes the greatest reminiscent laughter, for what better  tribute could there be?

And in preparation for that time, the grapes grow on the vine,  plumptious with promise.