Some things I intended to blog about [in no particular order]:
- It was lovely finally being able to invite people into our home without feeling the need to apologise that the place looks like a dépôt vente. We had a flying lunch visit from Alasdhair & Maria, who drove down from Paris on New Year's Day. We'd cooked typical "peasant" food: a mixed vegetable 'stew' with a combination of whatever we had. It was great that they loved it, but embarrassing to have to admit when asked for the recipe that I just chop what I have until it looks like the right quantity/balance of ingredients and then add a tin of tomatoes/herbs to taste... Oh, and we try to make it the day before, and re-heat when needed as the flavours have chance to mingle and it tastes way better as leftovers (we didn't eat it as leftovers, but the principle is the same!) and it means we don't have to spend time we could be with our guests slaving over the proverbial hot stove. Anyway, they loved it, it was extremely relaxed and the Christmas cake was a hit!
- We also had apéro visits from Jean-Loup and Bernadette over Christmas; we really appreciated that as she has been so ill with the chemotherapy. Also wonderful to finally be able to repay [somewhat] the hospitality we have received from Claude and Marcelle over the last few years. They both really like the English cheeses, mince pies and (particularly) the Christmas cake. Not sure the sherry was a hit, though... After Marcelle's home-reared eggs/honey and home-made pain d'épices, it seemed a small enough offering, but we had a lovely evening and were sad to see them go. Hopefully we will manage to schedule in visits from other friends soon!
- The weather has been mystifyingly weird: from summer being so wet, to autumn being the main "summer" we had, and planting the new bit of garden in October and November (way later than would normally be possible), we expected it to suddenly turn cold... Well it did, but not until February! At Christmas we still had in flower: snapdragons, pot marigolds, violas, roses, primulas, schizostylus & ipheions - everything from early spring flowers, through summer blooms to late-lingering autumn long-stayers. It was three seasons all at once in what was supposed to be the fourth. Sadly, when winter finally kicked in, it did so with a vengeance. Everything was already in spring mode, and without a covering of snow temperatures suddenly plumnging to nearly -20°C had a disastrous effect on many of my plants. I've lost shrubs and perennials, and even the early bulbs were badly damaged. We have no walnuts on either of the trees by the house, no plums, and about six mirabelles, and I'm sure that's down to the last year's pounding the trees have taken [no proper summer, no autumn, no winter until suddenly 'wham!', and then back to swinging wildly from warm & dry to cold & wet for spring & summer]. Oh, well, let's use this as an opportunity to plant some new, lovely specimens in the flower garden, and hope the trees recover for next year!
- Speaking of which: I'm taking some delightful things with me next time we go, and in the meantime have been "de-filler-ing" the garden; I've been very happy to let most things seed to have plants for free, but have now decided to limit the self-seeding to the new bits of garden where I'm gradually colonising the edge of the drive and the strip directly in front of the house. The rest of the garden I'm clearing of corncockles, nigella, evening primroses, eryngiums, ox-eye daisies and asters.
- Back to weather: we had the stones "crying" on our last visit - that's what the neighbours call it when the humidity is so high that the stone walls and floor tiles are wet, and no matter how much you mop it you can't get it to dry up. Thankfully, we have experienced this before, so it was more irritating than worrying, but until David reminded me I was starting to panic a bit!
- More water where it wasn't required: there was a water leak in the flat we rent out which had us in a panic [thank you, Peter, for being such a wonderful plumber and kindly turning out on a Sunday to stop a leak that was the landlord's responsibily (the other leak that is the landlord's duty to fix still isn't repaired, and that dates from last year! At least it's not gushing)], and we've had water somehow get into the kitchen at #9 - it seems to have dripped down from above, but I can see no signs of water upstairs? Totally puzzled, but suspect it could be down to the weird weather and maybe the winds did manage to blow water in through the shutters and over the top of the windows? Seemed implausible to me, but I have had water blown in through the French window in Brixton that I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen it for myself! As above, I'm not going to worry about something that doesn't happen other than once in a blue moon.
- We've cleared some more of the edge of the meadow; there is now more of the field that is under control than is left to "do", so it feels as if we are getting on top of the outdoors 'maintenance', which is great. The scrap being gone, the stones/bricks/slabs all neatly out of sight and the logs in neat piles all help us feel that we are in control at long last!
- My camera reset its date on New Year's Day - it took me a couple of days to realise it had gone back to 2008. Probably digital cameras have a limited life and no-one is expected to still be using an EX-Z55 in 2012? It's not the only clock to go wrong: the chuch clock has stopped chiming... I never missed it until David pointed it out, which goes to show how habituated to it I have become. It now feels odd to not be guessing "quarter past what?" rather than "what time is it?"! I don't know whether the clock itself is broken, because there is no face on our side of the tower, and I keep forgetting to look up when we're going past.
- Another reflection on time: although it seemed as though we would never finish with getting the (really bad) kitchen wall painted [over a week for filler to dry? Next time I'm bringing some from England!], I looked at it on our last trip for the first time in over six months and all I thought was "oh, I'd forgotten about that, isn't it great that we don't notice how horrible it is all the time (because it's perfectly fine now)". So glad we 'bit the bullet' and got it dealt with at the time. Now we just notice how lovely the stove is! We particularly appreciated how great it looks with the winter sun shining in and illuminating it like a jewel; it gains a brilliance of blue that is normally hidden - a special winter treat.
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