Life In 79

I would not usually allow a fourteen year old girl in a lab coat and trainers to shove a giant cotton bud up my nose, but these are strange times we are living in and the drive-through PCR test in Parthenay was one of the hurdles I had to o'er leap if I wanted to see family and friends in the UK.   Anna, my wife, had just come back from a whistle-stop tour so helped me with all the paper work and travel arrangements. Like the Queen and Prince Charles we tend to travel separately, not because of the stability of the crown, but one of us has to look after the cat and chickens.   My daughter was moving house so I decided to take the van, to help shuttle her belongings from one part of Ealing to another. I also had to pick up several of Anna's purchases which were too big for Ryanair and had been deposited at collection points around the south of England.   The first two hours of the drive are fine (Parthenay to Le Mans), 'this is new, exciting, I'm going on an adventure...

“We're going on a short holiday to Pau.” Said Anna, my wife.  “Why and where is Pau?” said I. “It's somewhere my mum has always wanted to visit and it's near the Pyrenees.” said she. “Is your mother coming?” Said I, trying not to sound anxious. So it was, we found ourselves driving 85km from the Spanish border to Pau, not 'Pow', 'Payoo' or 'Poo', but 'Po' (as in the red Teletubby or a chamber pot). It was a grey old day so the Pyrenees were shrouded in clouds. Anna had booked an Airbnb in the centre of the town which looked lovely on the internet, but was, rather alarmingly, situated above a Cuban nightclub  Habanita Chic .  After a wander around the town, including the impressive Château de Pau, a sizeable Greek meal, several glasses of wine (with sundries), it was bedtime.  Habanita Chic  only had one customer (it was a Tuesday), but that didn't stop the pounding Cuban music... which continued until 2am. It seemed to be the same song on...

I inherited the gardening bug from my father. I don't know any of the plants' latin names, have never tested the pH levels of my soil and must be the only person in Christendom incapable of producing fruit from their orchard, but the garden is the place I go if I want to relax.  Anna, my wife, has no interest in this past time. I have tried to pass on my enjoyment of horticulture by encouraging her to join me in the vegetable patch, but she has resolutely stated, on many occasions, gardening is not for her. She loves being in the great outdoors, riding up and down on the sit-on lawn mower, but if asked to fetch the secateurs from the potting shed she would struggle. Her interests lie elsewhere.  When we lived in Lincolnshire we had a potted grape vine given to us. It did nothing, but when planted in the ground it took off, like a beanstalk, across the back of the house and within a few years was covered in grapes. Anna announced she was going to make wine. I scoffed in a suppo...

When we purchased our French property we inherited numerous freebies including a sit-on lawn mower, chainsaw, strimmer...it was like a bad episode of The Price Is Right. Needless to say everything broke within the first few months. The only thing that wasn't terminally damaged was a Kangoo van. This enabled us to take all the broken stuff to the déchetterie.  We did have to jump start the battery and pump up one of the tyres every visit, and when it rained the footwell filled up, so I was often driving around the Deux-S è vres with my feet in an inch of water. But it worked. That lovely little van has been like a work horse over the years, ferrying countless van loads of detritus to the dump. It has clocked up hundreds of miles delivering magazines around department 79 and beyond. It has been used and abused; a forklift load of slabs was inserted into the back with millimetres to spare and driven home with the rear wheel arches grinding against the tyres, scraping its way home alon...

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...