*SNOW * SKI * WINTER BREAKS*
Moving swiftly and effortlessly on from the condition of Peter Mayle (itis) and not expounding further on the alarming amount of people scurrying about displaying symptoms of I'malrightjackitis (see how easily that slips off the tongue) I turn my attention to my favourite occupation, the hugely inoffensive art of dollydaydreaming. Not only is this a cheap pastime but it is extremely satisfying although true to say not very lucrative.
I've been lucky enough to live in houses with a view. I've always been blessed with a little patch with which to push a spade in the ground too along with the space with which to indulge my passion of bonfires. Only yesterday we had the pleasure of raking up the copious amounts of enormous leaves freshly fallen from the fig tree's. Mingling with the smoke the aroma of old bay leaves and leaves from the walnut tree drifted and spiralled inoffensively in the air. I prodded and turned over the ever growing pile with an old pitch fork until well into the dusk of the early evening as storm clouds brewed angrily over the mountains.
I was just relishing the thought of a well deserved glass of the local Malpere vin de table from the wonderful neighbouring domaine of Le Fort when poised in mid flow of glass to lips His Lordship draws my attention to the night sky.
Head swivelling quickly round I recognise an opportunity for sheer indulgence in surveying the Pyrenees in all their glory, the first smatterings of snow layering themselves for the fast approaching skiing season reached in under an hour from Chez Nous.
Out comes the camera and I am instantly glued to the horizon, I daresay if I'd had the opportunity to go on a brilliant photographic course I could have captured the scene differently but it still gave me immense pleasure from the vantage point of my dollydaydream window.
I raced back into the kitchen excitedly but realise that something is slightly amiss. 'Where's my wine' I say to a languidly lolling His Lordship. 'Thought you'd lost interest and forgotten it' he said, it'll only go off in the glass.
Comments
Blossom
MY garden duties will be wrangling the roter-tiller through the garden, getting it chew frost-bitten green tomatoes into the ground and then groping for tennessee sour mash to cut the bitter alkaline soil taste, not able to see through dust covered glasses....