Twitterings from the South of France

Forget running this place as a self catering holiday destination in the South of France I’m seriously thinking of opening up a private maternity hospital as an alternative. What is exactly is going on around here ? The garden is resembling full spring in all its glory and its only April. By the time everyone arrives its going to be showing shades of Autumn or worse still Christmas.

I was busy in my role as ‘Yummy Mummy’ and ‘Perfect Housewife’ two roles obviously which I combine effortlessly when I innocently collided with yet another new arrival to Le Chateau who didn’t appear to have made a prior reservation. Now I like visitors (obviously) and quite frankly the more the merrier but this is quite extraordinary and I can only put it down to my incredible marketing skills.

I am now rationed to one visit a day only to The Ham Room because of Mme Chaffinch and her imminent arrivals. The Ham Room holds all our non essentials. Make that essentials actually as I am rapidly realising. Now I seem to be barred from the Potting Shed which again holds another essential like a very large indoor washing line. Mme Bird of unknown variety has made herself a nest perched on the edge of the wicker bicycle basket hanging rather jauntily on the old wooden door. Now as any old fool can tell you which I’m about to do, occasionally doors need to be opened to get from one room to another and indoor washing lines are quite useful for wet washing on rainy days. Rather problematic wouldn’t you say ?

Wise Owl arrives in the village laden with English Tea and other assorted goodies from Waitrose. We settle ourselves down for a jolly good natter. ‘You’ll never guess what I found at the décheterie’? I exclaim triumphantly, ‘A pair of shabby chic chairs’ she replies. I try again. ‘You’ll never guess what temperature the pool reached the other day’? I venture, ‘74 degrees’ she shoots back quickly. And it just gets worse. I’m seriously perplexed that she seems to practically know my business before its even happened. ‘I can’t understand it’ I eventually admit, how do you know all of this' ? I mean she’s not known as Wise Owl for nothing but with this startling ability she could become a millionaire overnight.

She pauses and seems to relish her words. ‘I read your blog she finally admits. ‘And you believe every written word’? I ask rather taken aback.

‘So if I were to offer His Lordship up for auction on e bay or something equally unlikely you would believe that too’ ?

That stumped her.