A short drive away and we’re on to our next house-sit. Someone said to me once, ‘Why would you travel all that way to walk someone’s dog?’, but house-sitting is so much more. It’s comfort and companionship, a tiny peek into different lives, a chance to live eyes wide open. It fulfills my need to stay awhile, to live like a local (I know I’m … Continue reading A Little House in the Pyrenees-Atlantiques.
Mist hung low in the valley. It came towards me in great swirls. The village only became visible when I reached the big house on the left. But I saw the parked van in the field above straight away, and immediately afterwards the man in the high vis. vest, glowing eerily orange, a gun slung nonchalantly over his shoulder, a wiry terrier trotting along by … Continue reading Not so idyllic.
An everyday Paradise. We’re surrounded by fields and woods, sky and space. There is a house next door and we can put out a hand and touch their barn, but we hardly ever see them. We hear their cockerel crowing, and see their sheep grazing. But there is nothing to intrude upon our feeling of being little lords of the manor. We are here to … Continue reading Still in a French Country Idyll.
We’ve only left the house to eat. We are in a tiny village. A handful of houses, the prettiest of Maries, and a twelfth-century church. Old stones, salmon pink and pale cream, mottled with grey and brown. Green leaves protrude from minute square windows. I think of them as wide arrow slits. Shutters, beams, towers and porticos.We can see all of this glory from the … Continue reading A French Country Idyll.
Wondering Woman 