How can it be September?

Summer has rushed past with 'nary a glance from the men baking in the sun'*. And, so now, it is September, the season of spiders, cider and slow sunsets. 

Something miraculous has happened in Cousein Bas. Where there was a heap of muddled stones, there now rises a polished wooden cross. Nearly every hamlet in France boasts a cross, or 'calvaire', and ours had withered. Thanks to the efforts and passion of neighbour, Brigitte, our mayor has seen fit to re-establish this ancient marker. 



We've had visitors. Perfect Scottish yummies, Tricia and Dave. We showed them the graffiti in Tulle, then coffee-ed them at one of the ubiquitous Cafe Bogotas. I resorted to Nicaragua yet again; the 'free' mini-biscuit and cocoa-ed almond make it one of the most 
luxurious experiences for the coffee connoiseur...




The Tricia

The Dave
We then moved them on to Argentat for lunch with the most miserable pizza man in the universe. 




And then on to the dams... 


The usually turquoise water had turned a leafy green!



And then on to Gimel Les Cascades, where the lack of rain had rendered the cascades quite lacklustre... So we sought minor distractions.

Look. There's Kevin in the distance... Looking cool.



Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the kitchen becomes slightly more kitchen-y.


We've moved our super-comfy cast iron bed into the sitting room (because we wanted to offer the height of luxury to our guests!), so the caravan, now they've left for Spain, is superfluous. We've moved it away from cottage #1, thus clearing a vast area of tarmac for Kevin to look like an old Frenchman in. I put a mild bleach solution in the water canisters to clean them. Must remember to give then a good rinse out when we next take off to see the rest of Europe...

The courgettes are slowing down, but look at the flowers that promise more to come! Such audacious blooms! All busy with bees.



Ostracised...
I've continued to paint the south wall of cottage #1, this time, utilising the tower. I still can't reach the top though!



Kevin, today, at this near finished stage, suggested that we repaint the walls a taupe colour, as 'these white walls are too blinding'. Really? He can do it. Though... Greece, Turkey, Italy and all of the islands of the Mediterranean don't mind about their plethora of white walls. Sunglasses?
Poireau- This is French for 'leek'. This makes me feel even more protective of Hercules Poirot.

* Patrick Ness

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