Packing-up

My, my, how time flies.

It seems like only three months ago when we arrived back at our little bucolic Gallic hideaway. Now we are putting stuff away, packing our bags, tidying everything that needs to be tidied, and making sure that the garden is in a suitable state to face the Winter months.

We have closed-down the pool. This involved treating the water, covering everything with a strong tarpaulin, and making sure that all the mechanical stuff is mouse-proofed and frost-proofed. It's a depressing procedure, but one we've done many times before.

The cottage is very much a farm-house. The downstairs floor is always a bit messy with bits of grass cuttings, leaves, and dog hair, but we accept this as part of cottage life, and simply brush or mop when required. The big old fireplace is home to piles of messy logs, and cobwebs are just about everywhere. We are probably not as 'house-proud' as we ought to be; but there's little point. It's probably how the house has always been throughout its 300 year history. This now changes before we leave, and we make sure that everything is spotless before we lock the doors.

We always also make sure there are plenty of survival foods around when we leave; tins of paté, sardines, tuna, beans, and cassoulet, and plenty of wine/champagne. There are also plenty of logs for the fire.

We make sure that all the bedroom windows are securely closed, and we fix all the security devices. After our recent burglary we take no chances. I would like to have the place strung with 'trip-wires' attached to a shotgun trigger, but I'm told that's not allowed.

We're passing the baton to Kimbo (above) these days, he is more capable of looking after the place than we are; and he loves it here. Hopefully he, his siblings, and their children, will have many more years, or decades, of fun here.

This little old house is by far the friendliest I've ever owned; and it pains me to leave.