French Housewife

Going for the burn

The summer is whizzing by here in the SW of France.

I’m afraid I’ve been rather remiss at (not) posting in July. Je suis desolee! I have my excuses I promise. My grandmother was taken very ill and into hospital mid-July. At one point we weren’t sure if she was going to make it. Consequently I went back to the UK for a week to keep watch while my mum and her husband went on a holiday they, frankly, needed to take to keep their own energy levels up.

I loved spending time with my Gran. I tonged (my sister witheringly tells me this word is no longer in use?!) her hair, gave her foot rubs and hand massages – I even bought her the cakes she used to buy for me as a child. We had lovely long chats about her childhood in Ireland – it was a special time for me to share with her. Fortunately she’s now out of hospital. But it makes that emergency pocket of funds to be able to get back to the UK at any time all the more important.  I’m sure other ex-pats living in France are far more organised than me when it comes to having those Euros put to one side.

July in the Lot though, was a strange one, two weeks of teeth chattering cold spells – replete with log fire.

Fortunately when my nephew (see photo) and his BF (Later Updated: Note my nephew and a  lovely reader both pointed out that BF means Boyfriend. Tom; I know you are not Ant’s boyfriend. Should I use BFF? Mate? Dude?) arrived for a week we had sunshine. They then went on to spend five days (yes really!) canoeing on the Dordogne river. Hopefully they had such a good time they’ll forget the fact that we broke down on the auto-route on the way – eek. Thank goodness Pascal came to the rescue (although there was a lot of shouting and tearful exchanges involved).

They arrived back at chez moi lean, mean and super tanned. While one of my BFs has always steered me away from those canoes (claiming the canoe and the Dordogne were responsible for a rather painful urine infection she contracted when she capsized – oops!) I’m re-thinking a day out on the Dordogne this summer; although it has to be said the thought of Pascal and I in a canoe is already making me nervously reach for the Rescue Remedy.

I’ve been getting lots of comments and emails about my pieces for the Daily Mail. Merci! I really appreciate you not just taking the time to read them, but also getting in touch. If you’re wondering what the heck I’m on about, and fancy having a nose on my life here, and  before I moved to France, then go to the Daily Mail website and in the search box enter my name: Samantha Brick. The features I’ve written should come up.

I’d love your feedback good and (eek!) bad.

A bientôt,

Samxx