Then There Were Two!

Our surprise visitors have now returned to north London leaving Lady M and myself by ourselves once again. Everything is eerily quiet, but they'll be back in August. We don't have long to wait!

Above, is my grandson Ollie (with our house bear Monty), who, along with his brother Harvey J, is one of the nicest children in the entire world (well, I would say that, wouldn't I).

And here's Harvey J himself, bringing home the first crop of courgettes from Haddock's. They've had plenty of adventures, made friends with some local girlies, and met the other Monty (our new dog) for the first time. A week filled with sunshine frolics and fun.

Hurry back boys. Grumpy misses you already (and their parents, of course)!

Cherry Ripe.

What a year it's been for cherries! I don't think I've ever known another like it; almost every cherry tree in the neighbourhood has been over-loaded, and generous invitations to 'take as many as you like' have been non-stop.

I posted a picture of my first bowl of cherries on May 9th, and we've hardly been without a bowl-full on the kitchen table since that day.  By the time they finish we will have had a whole month of cherries.

Above is the tree that I planted to welcome my grandson George into the world. It's still a young tree, but it's groaning with fruit which are just ripening. I chose a yellow cherry because there are plenty of red varieties all around us, and I'm also told that birds tend not to eat them, thinking that they're not yet ripe! Now that we have some extra land I shall be putting in a few more classic deep red varieties as well.

Menace from the Sky?

We had some wonderful dark skies a few days ago; usually a good sign (if you're hoping for rain).

We've all been dying for a downpour; but it didn't happen. Just a few claps of thunder, and half an hour's pathetic drizzle; accompanied by a few French hooligan trainee fighter pilots, who tried to dislodge our chimney-pots.

What we need is steady rain for several days (preferably nights). This mamby-pamby 'dampness' does no-one any good.

STOP PRESS: Just had a real half-hour DELUGE. Bring it on!  

Boot Sale Treasures (?)

If I go to a boot sale, I don't really feel satisfied unless I buy something.

I don't know why, but for some reason we've always wanted a fish kettle. Now we have one; I wonder how often it'll be used!

Otherwise I've just bought a pair of (probably) Italian hand painted salad bowls. Good simple peasant fare; just my style. They ARE being used.

Summer shoes.

I have a reliable barometer, and I also use a pin-pointed local on-line forecast; but the best method of  predicting the day's weather (other than looking upwards) is by checking-out Lady M's shoes.

She has a whole box full of espadrilles. Every colour, every form, and every innovation can be found there. These are her latest ones, which are also my current favourites. Simple navy and white stripes (I chose them).

They don't last; they're not intended to. They're the nearest thing to not wearing shoes, and still keep doggy-nasties from under your feet. Summer wouldn't be summer without espadrilles; they breathe warmth.

When Lady M wears hers; it means hot, scorched earth, hang-tongue arid, sun creamy, cold beery, pool-side, silly hat, tanning, sunshine.... When all we actually need is gum-booting rain! 

The Price of Plonk.

I tend not to look at the price of things either at the supermarket or in local shops; if I want something I simply buy it.

But for some reason I looked at my today's bill, and noticed that my weekly 5 litre 'cubi' of red wine (piquette) still costs only €4.99 (£4.30). I know I've written about this before, but I mention it again because I recently heard an English news item, stating that in future, spirits, wine, and beer, will all be sold at some outrageous minimum price per unit of alcohol (whatever that means). This will no doubt make things so much easier for the Chancellor when (on budget day) he has to say 'I'm going to add another £2 on a unit of alcohol', etc.

This, apparently, is to save the nation from its evil ways (some bloody hope).  Why not tell the truth, and admit that it's just another way of raising phenomenal amounts of tax from those who take simple pleasure in abating their stress levels through the consumption of fruit juice; those 'stress levels' caused by work and taxation.

Enough to turn a man or woman to drink.

Two Boys; One Dog.

What makes Grumpy not so Grumpy? Having two of my favourite people mucking about in the fields with my favourite dog; that's what!

Monty (now more commonly known as Lumpy) had just found the plastic pot from my newly acquired Clematis Montana, and is playing 'take it from me, if you can' with the boys, who are so obviously glad to be away from north London for a while.

I love to see the boys running free in the countryside. This year even more so because they've got Monty to play with. The photo says it all.

This is why I moved to France with my own children, all those 40 wonderful years ago!