Issue No. 23

Around these parts people tend to get a bit carried away when the sun
shines. The far north, or the north pole as those with a sense of humour in
the south call where I live, isn’t as grey and wet as some make out but it’s
rarely too hot to handle.
Come the summer, shutters are flung open, front doors are left ajar,
barbecues are fired up and boules are polished. It’s remarkable how in the
winter it resembles the land of the walking dead, not a soul to be seen, then
a bit of sunshine and everyone is out promenading, cutting hedges, putting
out honesty boxes alongside eggs and strawberries, plums and potatoes, or
nearer the coast, boxes of gleaming blue-black mussels on ice.
We don’t have anything to sell. If it grows in our garden and we don’t eat it,
the animals will. We do barter our relative youth and strength though. Mark is
in demand with older neighbours when it comes to lifting things or carrying
something from one barn to another. I am in demand when it comes to
running about catching escaped animals who seem to want to run free in the
sun. In return we are rewarded with excess fruit or home made wine, most of
which tastes like cough medicine and makes for an effective weed killer.
So if you come to a tiny village in the middle of nowhere rural France on a
sunny day and see a short woman chasing a goat across a field shouting
“stop you bugger”, you’ve probably found my village!
Have a great summer,
Bisous
Janine