Oh dear, Charles tells me there have been only 2 sightings of the Round Robin this year, so the pressure is on to make it 3 before the year is out.

I do confess to a certain lassitude and ennui this year and can only apologise.
Being sent for those health checks in June was a real jolt, a reminder that I was not, after all, immortal, that the natural order of things that we have expected all year, could, conceivably, be challenged. But we're OK at the moment, and father-in-law is still here, despite everything the doctors said in January. Neither the heart failure nor the aggressive medication have taken their toll on his existence, despite several bad falls when his heart stops, and his insistence on continuing to enjoy the odd glass of wine.
But we cannot leave the house for more than half a day, and the strain of waiting for the inevitable tells. It is particularly hard for Paul, who goes in first each morning.

So we have been so grateful to those who have been to see us this year, especially as family visits were fewer, due to Kerry's pregnancy and Emma's work, - her summer season at Beaulieu was successfully busy. Then there has been the relief of finally making some good friends here and enjoying the yea-ha dance classes and Randonneurs walks, on which talk always, but always turns to food. Such things have been so important for feeling less isolated, as early August was when our last visitors came.
I should then have written about the stunning autumn, (please note folks, September and October are the best months to visit unless you are intent on baking in temperatures of over 90 degrees or on dining at Soumensac, otherwise, May,) I could have written about the mostly excellent French Health Service, but was not sure if you'd really be interested nor if I wouldn't be mis-interpreted as saying 'it's all so-o-o much better here, as happened on another forum.
And I might have covered a couple of extraordinary French lessons at the start of the new term, where I encountered for the first time, the kind of British person I have been told have migrated here, whose conversation begins,
"How England has changed..." and who proceed to voice such stunningly awful generalisations and stereotypes that my jaw dropped, - it did do wonders for my fluency, but I don't think I made any new friends.

And now our plans for the coming months, because of our situation, all seem to be directed towards preparing this house for sale. And then what? It's not that we have become disenchanted with France. How can one be disenchanted with a place where you can eat outside all summer, drive for miles on good roads that are almost empty and walk wherever you please, see the Milky Way and sleep in perfect darkness and silence, hibernate with a woodburner, chestnuts and good local wine? Somewhere where the seasons still give rhythm to life, views can be endless, where your car can gain new dents every time you have parked at the Supermarket and where you can go out to post some cards for 3 January birthdays and go to the bank, (all shops and services have been open since Monday,) and come back with a bag full of oysters and a Galette du Roi for less that 10 euros? It's just that this year has been so without focus, except framed by medical appointments for Des, that we wonder where are goals are now, what we will plan for the New Year.

The best bit of the year came right at the end, when we were able to return to Britain for the birth of our second grandchild, Reuben John, who arrived the night after my birthday. So now I am hoping my birthday might be forgotten so I can remain sixtyumptyoo until I receive my telegram.

So, right, a resolution, I'll blog again soon, with a more amusing theme.
A very happy, peaceful and fulfilling New Year to you all, full of love for you and all your families.