A Summer of Indulgence

Having experienced a veritable drought of seeing family and friends over the last few years, this summer turned into the rainy season.

It started with our son's wedding. In temperatures of the high 30s, we watched our little boy tie the knot. For some reason he had decided to wear a tweed suit with matching waistcoat for the big day along with his best man. He looked very red and moist but extremely happy. 

At a previous wedding Anna, my wife, and I had a contretemps about my refusal to dance. Not wanting a recurrence I danced, how I danced...and then...I danced some more. At one point I was the only one throwing shapes on the dance floor, even the DJ had naffed off. 

On the long drive home Anna and I, and our daughter (who was coming to stay) felt a bit rough from our exertions; my throat felt a bit raspy from screaming 'Hi Ho Silver Lining' and other anthems. Turned out we had Covid. Over the next week everyone who attended the wedding came down with the lurgy. It was a super-duper spreader.

Our first set of guests were Anna's clan. A dangerous combination of Scots and Australians. So the cocktail shaker took a pounding and a daily trip to the supermarché to replenish the beer reserves was necessary. We tried to cater for all ages with a mixture of excursion and pool time. A fantastic day was spent wandering around the old town of Chinon, with a wine tasting session in one of the caves to placate some of the alcoholics in group who hadn't had a drink for ten hours.

In the evening Panda wok (the all you can eat 'cuisine du monde' buffet) called and we answered that call. Having been several times I have learnt the ways of the wok: what to avoid, what to eat and when, so optimal intake can be achieved. However, my Australian friend charged in like a rookie and 45 minutes later could be found wandering around the car park moaning and holding his stomach. After a walk round the ramparts of Parthenay it was home to try and sleep in tropical temperatures. 

A week later my family arrived. Anna announced there was only one rule and that was to put damp towels on the washing line and not hang them over furniture or curtain rails, but this only applied to towels in the house. House towels should not be used for swimming...these were separate and could be found in a pile by the pool. My 85 year old dad, who has been using the same damp towel since 1972 looked very confused. Later in the week we discovered he had been drying himself on a blanket! 

Cocktails and beer were replaced by red wine and water! We had some teenagers in our group and all they drank was water! I was pleading with them to have a sugary drink, but 'no thank you' was the reply 'just water'. 

Another fantastic day was spent wandering around the old town of Chinon with a trip to Panda wok in the evening. Although slow ambling around Chinon, dad came into his own at the buffet of dreams; just as those around him were saying they'd had enough, dad returned with a bowel containing five profiteroles. The wok salutes you, sir!

The temperatures soared and at night fans could be heard humming in every room. But however tropical it became my father would insist on wearing his vest and thick track suit bottoms. In contrast it transpired that his natty new swimming trunks (purchased from M&S) were underpants. 

After their honeymoon my son and his new wife made up our triumvirate of visitors, with an all too short stay of three days. It was good to see him in a pair of shorts instead of the tweed suit (what is it with my family and wearing thick fabrics in the height of summer?). 

After a third fantastic day wandering around the old town of Chinon I crawled into Panda wok asking if they had a loyalty card scheme. 

So now, as summer draws to a close I sit on the sofa, in a pair of loose fitting shorts, stroking my fat tummy ('sleep my precious') thinking what a fabulous time we had in the summer of '22. I shall have to shake off some of the excess poundage I have put on...after all, Christmas is just around the corner. 

Photo caption: Me, pa and Aunt Vicky having a moment in Chinon. (Although his vest is not visible his unforgiving thick Cotton Traders trackers are).