As usual, within a few hours of getting here, we'd bumped into and chatted with several people we know, including Nathalie, who used to live in the village and keep an eye on the house for me. She and her family moved to the Cévennes a few years ago, but come back to visit quite often. Her daughter, recently dumped by her philandering boyfriend after 13 years, was also in the party: it seems he had finally proposed marriage - two weeks before he finally walked.
We have already made major inroads into the firewood supply. The plane wood Didier brought us burns well, but I think we'll have to keep the stove stopped down a bit if a cubic metre is to last us the eight days we are here. It was actually mild enough for us to have apéritifs up on the terrace last night. The swallows, swifts and house martins appear to have left us, and I think it was starling we saw taking their place, darting around and catching flies. From up there, the view is a bit grim at the moment. The garden we look down into has been slowly pushing the retaining wall into the street, so our neighbour has the builders in to shore it up or rebuild it. Consequently, the garden is a disaster area: shame, since it used to be very pretty (see picture). The red-leaved prunus (presumably the cause of the problem) has been sawn off, and the planting scheme currently comprises cement mixers, concrete blocks and wheelbarrows. André and Huguette who live across the street from the building site will be enjoying the unaccustomed light.
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