Leave cancelled

If the greasy film of crud coating my keyboard is any indication….I have been away some time. My mind is a complete blank. I have no memory of the past few weeks. Is it possible the aliens stole my brain? Perhaps they needed somewhere to store their socks. Those guys sure had a lot of feet. Here’s my hot tip – forget Armenia as an emerging market. If Manolo, Jimmy and Mr Clark opened outlets on Jupiter, they’d clean up.

I am actually back on planet earth, flip-flops/wellies (open shutter and delete accordingly) planted firmly on the ground. It’s my favourite time of year. La rentrée. Everyone, kids and drones alike, have returned to their desks – leaving all the more of la belle France profonde free and empty for me to enjoy. All the grockles have returned to the cities and the village is breathing slow and easy once more.

The weather is beautiful. Still and warm. The only sounds are sheep bells and the thin cry of a buzzard up high. I spent last week in Blighty – it rained constantly and I saw the sun once, but that was on TV so it didn’t count. When did British newsreaders become so irritating, patronising, whiney, plasticky, fatuous, and frankly, dim?

We didn’t pack coats. Sometimes I worry for us (evidently not enough on this occasion.) We got soaked walking from car to supermarket. So wet. Someone was standing, just off-screen, hurling buckets of water at us. Sideways. Dripping.

What else?

Err. We did a big rellie-meet. Extended family. Being friendly to strangers. Doesn’t come naturally. I have to admit, a little social lubricant was required. Then, soon enough…I was everyone’s bezzie mate. It wasn’t appreciated when I dripped my glass of red over the parchment of the family tree. Fancy leaving it rolled out over the dining table. Der. I found out I’m distantly related to King Kong. Honestly. His great grandmother’s cousin’s brother, was a circus ringmaster and apparently used to take liberties with the lady-chimps. Et voila! I always thought there was something disconcertingly simian about Aunt Esther.

Hey guess what? We’re skint again! Yay! But when you live in such a beautiful, fab place, surrounded by those you love, it’s not so bad. We are stinking rich in ways that matter so much more. I sound drunk. I’m not. Except, perhaps on life.

So, a cheerful Mya signs off. My fecund jardin calls, I’m off to pluck, pick and plunder the fruits of the cinnabar soil.I promise to come back soon. Have a great day now! Mwah xxx