Around these parts

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