The New Mattress 25th July

Looking up through the courtyard to the garden

Great excitement today; I woke up this morning with a fresh batch of bites from the beasties that live in the mattress and we decided to give up the fight and went and bought a brand new mattress. The old one has been banished to the tool shed and we will have to wait for the end of August until we can lean it outside the front gate, and the garbage truck will upload it and cart it away to mattress heaven. I am so relieved that we have this option, as I can recall during our extensive touring holidays of Provence, marvelling at the fact that someone would drive up to the highest peak in the most beautiful spot in the region, and offload his mattress and old sofa.

The man at the bed shop was incredibly helpful, and we had only just driven home and had time to turf the old mattress out of the window before he was banging on the front door with the new one. The sheets have been freshly laundered and I have come to the conclusion that one of the most satisfying sights a housewife can see is that of her sheets blowing on the washing line. I don’t think I have hung my washing out in the sunshine for over eight years, and I laughed when I remembered how our tame buck used to get his head in among the laundry on the line and pretend to charge at it when we were living on the farm in Africa.

Not much trouble with that sort of thing in West Sussex in England, and from what I recall, there weren’t all that many days when you could hang the washing out without having to dash out and rescue it before the rain set in. As for living in Florida, the idea of a wash line of clothing was unheard of and the large tumble dryer dealt with the problem but there was very little enjoyment to be had watching the process take place, whereas sunshine, wind and fresh washing is a wonderful combination.

Speaking of wild animals, I awoke last night to hear a very loud and determined snuffling sound not all that far from the bedroom window. We have taken to chucking our vegetable peelings and suchlike onto the back of the big pile of leaves and general garden rubbish that we have swept up into a big pile under the trees, and I am quite sure that it was something like a sanglier or wild boar that had come rootling around for melon peels and apple cores. I know that Jean has the potential to snore occasionally, but this was a sound that I couldn’t blame on him, and it made me quite glad to be tucked up safely in bed even if it was with the beasties.

We started off the day with a visit to the Mairie, the Bureau de Poste and the boulangerie, and having greeted everyone in a fairly satisfactory manner, I tucked my baguette under my arm and marched back to the house feeling more like Madame Catherine Fagalde than just plain Mrs Kate.

We still pick up the telephone every hour just to see if there is by any chance a buzzing sound, but still nothing. They have promised us a connection by the 1st August and tomorrow is the 31st July, so let’s hope they are as good as their word. My brother informs me that a mate of his moved to Spain and it took five years to get an email connection, but after all, that is Spain and we are in France, and are we ever glad to be here.