Life In 79

It was a year ago that it happened and I only now feel able to relive that fateful day. Anna, my wife, and I were visiting the beautiful town of Pe rigueux for the first time. The sun was shining and I suggested a kayaking trip down the river. We left our Airbnb accommodation (next to the Saint-Front Cathedral), with a spring in our step and sac à dos  (with all our electronic devices in) on my back.  On arriving at the boating centre the young man who kitted us out in life jackets and paddles asked if we would like a small plastic barrel to put the aforementioned electrical devices in. I told him we didn't need one, big mistake.  He asked us if we would like to row up stream or down. We said we would like to paddle upstream so we could view the town. The boathouse was at the bottom of a weir and to go upstream we were told to paddle over to the far side of the weir, disembark, carry our kayak up a flight of steps, remount, and away we go...simple!  So we s...

A few years ago when told that one of my colleagues wasn't coming into work that day because their dog had just died, I ashamedly rolled my eyes and thought 'get a grip'. Having just lost our family dog recently, I can now see how the loss of a pet can have such an impact. A friend said he felt more upset when his dog died than when his mother died. But as harsh as that sounded, it is understandable when you consider how a family pet plays such a large part in the day to day life of the family. I didn't realise quite how entwined my life had become with her until now she is no longer about. For fourteen years (after a visit to the bathroom) the first few tasks of the morning would involve the dog...walk, breakfast, tummy tickle, etc. Last thing at night... take her outside for one last pee, give her her snack for having a pee (she was a Labrador), tuck her into bed and wish her sweet dreams.  In the time our children have grown up, become teenagers, done GCSEs, A-Levels...

Anna, my wife, is obsessed with old French houses. We can't pass an estate agent's window without her veering off course to peruse the sweeties on offer. She will beckon me over, “look at this renovation job” she will say, pointing at a pile of stones.  She watches all the property programmes. Any programme with 'home', 'sun' or 'DIY' in the title, and she's there, drinking it in. On a glorious sunny day in France there is nowhere Anna likes more than sitting in front of the TV watching 'A Place In the Sun' with Jasmine or Laura. Now that we have just finished renovating our own house after five years, she is getting restless feet and has been looking for somewhere to g î te-ify. We have looked at a selection of agricultural buildings in various states of collapse. Must have: structural damage, a leaking roof, inhabited by creatures, copious amounts of lead paint and a pungent smell. Anna has the thickest lensed rose-tinted glasses as every o...

Like so many over the last year, every Sunday, 6 o'clock for me, 5 o'clock for them, my family come together on Zoom and catch up on the past week's events.   Recently my brother has had an issue with his front garden which has had a lockdown makeover. The fresh topsoil has been irresistible to all the cats in the Crystal Palace area, who have travelled far and wide to 'curl one out' on his flower bed to be. After trying various ineffectual things he has resorted to spreading some brambles across the protected area. To his annoyance a cat, like Tom Cruise in   Mission Impossible , tiptoed between the thorns and cocked his nose at my brother by burying an offering in his substrate.   The family consensus was he was getting things out of proportion and needed to 'get a grip' as my mother used to say.   This type of irrational thinking made me reflect on my school days and Mrs Darby who was my French teacher and form tutor (a very nice, rational, level headed w...

My wife, Anna, has a penchant for upholstery. The occasional bed, but mostly chairs. Chairs of all shapes and sizes. We have acquired so many chairs over the years our house resembles an old people's home... with only two residents. We can seat 16 people in our kitchen, 17 in the living room, 16 in our bedroom (it's good to have a choice of places to sit when cutting your toenails)! We haven't got a particularly big house. Chez Shaw is less of a house, more of a conference centre.  She is never happier than when visiting an Emmaus. She has been to every Emmaus in south-west France...has purchased a chair or two (probably riddled with woodworm) from every Emmaus in south-west France.  If Anna tells me she is taking the van into town, I know where she's going and I know what will be coming back. I beg her, plead with her not to bring anymore furniture home as I stand with one foot on a chaise longue and one on a banquette. But, it's like an addiction...she can't r...

One of the things that has given us pleasure since moving to rural France has been the incredible selection of birds we see around us. Heron, Hoopoe, Kestrel and Buzzard, to the aeronautical antics of the Swallows. We have an owl who perches on a tree stump each evening in the summer - it stares at us and we stare back.   This winter, in the fields surrounding us, there has been a constant visual display from clouds of birds twisting, turning, landing and taking off in their thousands. When in the garden I heard what I thought was the roar of a French fighter jet, turned out to be an enormous flock of birds taking to the sky simultaneously.  As I drive down the lane near our house hundreds of birds fly out of the hedgerows on either side, and I feel like one of them as I drive in their midst.  Anna, my wife, asked me to build a bird table, I think she had seen Dick Strawbridge make one and if it’s good enough for Dick....  So, after constructing a bird table I attach...

As I write the ground is frozen, the pond iced-over and we're about to start our seventh stere of wood, and it's only the first day of 2021.  My wife sold me the notion of moving to France by endless talk of the long, hot summers but nothing was mentioned about the long, cold winters. I'm not even sure the last five winters have been that cold. A friend of ours often tells of winters past, when ice formed on the inside of his windows. Being a sensitive soul I feel the cold more than my hardened, Scottish wife. When in the car there is a constant battle between us over the temperature control knob. She is always too hot, whereas I like to crank the dial up to 'eleven' and enjoy the blast of warm air. I often invent reasons to go on short excursions in the car; to the dé chetterie or a supermarché , just so I can whack the car heater on and defrost.  Our log burners can create a satisfactory level of heat in the room they are situated, but as you walk up the wooden hi...