I truly hope you and yours are well.
First a huge welcome to new followers, and a massive, massive thank you to everyone who wrote to me last week encouraging me to carry on writing my weekly whimsies despite the troubled times we all find ourselves in. Honestly I was quite overwhelmed, you are my “tribe” and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your friendship and support, for your messages and your camaraderie.
I also have another tribe, made up of fur and feathers. Before France (BF) I never had an animal of my own. I lived in London, worked long hours and away from home a lot. Within months of arriving here however I was faced with a dilemma. We’d intended to explore France for 3 months by bike. But, one day, sitting in a café in the lovely port town of Boulogne-sur-Mer with my mother-in-law, everything changed. She let out a horrified gasp and I was sure she’d seen the man behind me tucking into a huge plate of steak tartare (raw minced beef, guaranteed to give non-Frenchies the heebie-jeebies). But no, she said she’d caught sight of a kitten outside, being attacked by a much larger cat. When I looked, there was nothing there. I topped up her wine glass and thought no more of it.
Leaving the restaurant we headed to our van and underneath the big front wheel was a tiny black and white kitten, covered in blood, its nose all but hanging off. We took it home with us, stopping on the way to get a pipette from the chemist to feed it with, it was so tiny. We were quite certain that the poor animal wouldn’t make it through the night but we wanted it to feel safe and warm and cared for at what was surely it’s demise.
The next morning, I woke very early and went to check on the creature. The box I’d left it in was empty but I heard a meowing from another room. The kitten had climbed a curtain and was hanging on, it’s big green eyes were wide with fear . I lifted it down, cuddled it and fed it some more kitten milk from the pipette. We called it Winston. We never went on our tour by bike, our BF dreams were irrevocably changed by the tiny kitten. Instead we got a dog called Churchill which was going to be put down, to keep the cat company. Then another cat, another dog, more cats, another dog. Chickens, ducks and geese. Sometimes plans don’t go the way you imagine…
In the meantime, if you’re staying home like me, stay safe mes amies and amis, in the end we are one big tribe and we will get through this difficult time. On Instagram and Facebook I’m posting photos of places you request (I have a massive archive of photos and we can all day dream of the day we can travel again) – so feel free to join in as everyone is chatting about their favourite French places…
Virtual hugs and bisous from France,
Wishing you and yours well,
Author of My Good Life in France: In Pursuit of the Rural Dream – ebook, print and audio, free on Kindle Unlimited (UK) and on Kindle Unlimited Australia and soon to be published My Four Seasons in France: A Year of the Good Life (April 2020)
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