Longing for the Limousin.......

Four weeks from today we will be waking up in our house in Chalus with a ten day break stretching in front of us. Mel's parents set off tomorrow as Fred will be coordinating the rejuvenation of our renovation project. We joke that we are sending our our house servants on ahead to buff the pillows and light the fire. In reality, I feel both guilty and eternally grateful at the same time as they have a list of jobs to do that gets longer by the day.

I am so excited at the prospect of our barn conversion bursting back into life after being mothballed for 18 months or so. We are pretty sure we will be in a position to let it out to our first guests next April and it can then start to 'wash it's own face' instead of draining our coffers.

I miss our house in Chalus so much. It's very weird. We have spend probably 15 weeks there since we bought it nearly three years ago and yet in my heart it feels more like home than our place in Manchester. I was brought up in a place called Rossendale and whilst we lived in a town (Rawtenstall) many of my friends lived on outlying farms and remote houses. Perhaps that is where my love of country living came from.

I must make a conscious effort to refresh (restart) my French language studies as it is over 4 months since we went there and I always regret not making more effort as soon as I arrive. My vocabulary does not stretch much further than asking the way to the beach which is of little use as it is over two hours away.

Whilst we are there I will fulfil a lifetime ambition when I buy a sit down mower. I really will feel like lord of the manor when I am swanning around on it. We will also finally replace the central heating boiler that a series of plumbers destroyed a couple of years ago.

Even though it takes thirteen hours door to door I'm even looking forward to the drive, especially the rural parts of the journey. I'm no petrol head, in fact I couldn't give a hoot about cars but driving in France is as good as it gets.

Most of all I'm looking forward to the cider I made last summer which should be ready now (I'm drinking it even if it's not). I stripped the neighbouring farmers apple tree (I believe this is know as scrumping) and spent an evening at our friends, Neil & Roz's pulping the apples. It was surprisingly hard work but unless some catastrophe has occurred in my absence it should be reaching a state of deliciousness any time now and I'm hoping to be staggering around for at least two evenings on the strength of it.

"Look at the concentration on my face"