A diverse offering twixt the interesting, the unusual, and the amusing.
Sunday, 1 July 2018
Carrying on from yesterday's posting, it made me think back to my other neighbours from when we first moved here.
Apart from Jeaninne and Odette, who lived next door (middle house above), these were the others; all of whom are deceased, other than two of the couples who have moved away to our nearest small town.
Our little hamlet consists of two interconnecting tiny 'settlements'. Ours has three houses, the other has four.
In our 'settlement' (lieu dit), there was us and Jeaninne and Odette, with the third house only being occupied for only a few weeks in the year (house on left above). M. Week (pronounced Vek) was a German teacher from Paris, and his holidays were spent here with his ageing mother. I believe his mother loved it here, but M. Week prefered the bright lights of Gay Paree. He always drove down from Paris, but when here he travelled by Mobylette. I never got to know either him or his Maman; they were never here long enough..
The other 'settlement' is built around the road, and has an altogether different atmosphere. Two of the houses being so close (either side of the road) that lumps are often knocked out of their stone walls by passing lorries, military vehicles, etc.
One of the houses (on the right above) was lived in by an elderly lady and her brain-damaged son. La Sidonie (as she was known) was a rather sour-faced lady, who never really spoke to anyone. Her home was primitive, and she lived a very meagre lifestyle. She had no visible signs of support so I imagine she survived on basic State assistance. Poor Roland, the son, had been born with some genetic problem, and had been left permanently damaged. He would stand at that window all day long, rocking too and fro, and smiling. I always waved as I went by, and I think it made his day.
The house opposite was always empty (on the left above); it was eventually bought by a quiet couple, who, now that they can no longer cope, have just moved into a local retirement home.
Further down the road is a semi-derelict house that was lived in by an ex-Mayor of the village, and his wife. They were a very pleasant couple, and he officiated over the public phone box, which was situated in a tiny wooden shed by the side of his house. He never had a clue how much to charge for our calls. The phone box is happily long gone, as people now have their own. I remember his shotgun being run over after he'd lent it up against the back of a tractor. The barrels were very bent, but he simply bent them back again, and continued to use it. He was that sort of guy!
Opposite the derelict house is where the new Holiday Complex, Pool, and Restaurant is to be built. That house was lived-in until a few years ago by a couple who bred Geese for foie gras etc. They were a pair of old-time grumpies, and saw everything as negative. There's always someone who likes to cause conflict; thankfully they too have now gone.
Of all those residents from way back, there's only me left.
Oh how our tiny hamlet has changed over the years, from quiet haven of peace to what it's become today.
The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is that the optimist enjoys himself whilst waiting for the inevitable! I AM that optimist!
This is a daily, optimistic, 'photos and comments' blog. I make no judgements (only occasionally), just notes. If you wish to comment in any way at all, please feel free. Everything and everyone (except the obdurate and dictatorial) is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 46 years I've lived in S W France. I am a painter by profession, and writer by desire. Lady Magnon and I live in an ancient cottage, in a tiny village, in perfectly tranquil countryside. We have a vegetable garden called 'Haddock's' (this may crop up from time to time), plenty of fruit trees, and a view that takes the breath away; we also have a Border Collie called Billy. I try to treat our planet with respect, and encourage others to do likewise (without preaching).
Contentment is a glass of red, a plate of charcuterie, and a slice of good country bread. Perfect!