Migrants

Our swallows left the other day, after days of air displays above the garden, where swarms of flying things spiralled in the warm sunshine. Then more arrived, possibly down from Britain, having a few days R'n'R before their onward flight. Further arrivals since, blackcaps, replacing the redstarts. and the robin and red squirrels are rulers of the garden once more, now the foreigners have cleared off.
 Some we are glad to see the back of, hornets both Asian and European, Oriels which squawk at dawn, and a hundred varieties of fly and things that bite. Some we won't see, the wonderful skeins of cranes will be heading South in a month, but we will have gone, flying North.

I wonder who might be glad to see the back of us? People have been very lovely, we have been hugged and patted at night markets, restaurants and caffs across the terroir, offered and given meals and gifts, and we have a collection of cards with addresses with exhortations to stay when we return as travellers. A corner of my heart will always be French now, but it is my British soul pushing us home.

Home will be, for 6 months, while our house purchase and renovation proceeds,
Damory Court Street,  Blandford Forum Dorset, full address in yr email,
after which we move down the road to Lower Bryanston, only a handful of houses there so postie should find us.

I type this in an echoing house which is taking us forever to clean, sooo boring, cleaning, no wonder I haven't been very good at it, clearly. Packing took forever, decisions about discarding, giving away, selling, throwing and I still had sleepless nights thinking it would never fit on the van with all of Paul's precious workshop, but it did, thanks to Flash Gordon's. Those of you who came and stayed, still left us with bottles of strange spirits one third full, tequila, white port, americano, armagnac, Old Nicks. Those of you who never came, You Know Who You Are, have left us with weird cocktails odd compots sweet and savoury and packets of dried peas and beans that might plant a field. Think what feasts you have missed, by never visiting, passing through. I kept telling you how near we were to the Pyrenees and Spain, so you could call in; there, you've missed your chance, we did it often, it was great!

I have fixed up an @gmail.com  but how I pick that up with no internet after Thursday 8th October I don't know. If you lose this information don't worry. In the words of the ever-intense po-faced D Day-Lewis, "Stay alive, I will find you".