Posted by: kathandroger | August 11, 2012

The tumbling squatter and the Frenchman’s piles.

Our squatters have finally left us. Due to the fine weather, they felt it appropriate to stay another few days and it was a pleasure to have them here,especially as they left the gite in perfect order. But it was difficult for me, as the three boys and their dad needed constant entertainment during their stay. So fishing and cycling, pastimes that I normally hate, had to be endured. The local fish population wasn’t decimated, but it was certainly shaken a bit by the constant bombardment of various chunks of bread, sweetcorn and cheese. The cycling generally went well. We have a large selection of bikes, and it was amusing to see Dad choose my wife’s trusty old mountain bike as his preferred steed, with the saddle perched at it’s highest level-I was fearing a nasty injury if the seatpost broke. But talking of injuries we did have one spectacular tumble.On returning from our last expedition, I took the band along a very narrow ridge through the woods above the river valley. To be truthful I hadn’t been that way this year and it was rather overgrown, in fact the party was down to three due to various flesh wounds incurred by overhanging brambles. I had fearlessly forged ahead, but stopped to warn the boys that the next track was a bit dangerous. No sign of Nick or Matt. Eventually the latter puffed up and brought the news that his brother had fallen down a cliff! A hasty backtrack revealed an undamaged youth, looking up at us in some bewilderment from the bottom of a steep drop of some several metres. And much more important, the bike was also undamaged! But where had he landed? None other than in the Mayor’s splendid back garden! There was no way back up, so after delicate negotiation with Mr and Mrs Mayor, a bashful Nick emerged triumphant from the impressive front entrance. After riding home on a flat back tyre all was well. I’m not sure I will be asked to take them out again though!

Piles and piles. All over the countryside here you see them. The summer occupation for the wintertime hunters seems to be to go to the woods and gather logs. They are usually piled onto an ancient tractor and trailer combination and puffed home to be made into the intricate and precise logpiles which adorn our neighbourhood. Each pile has to remain usually for a year or two, and then provides winter comfort. I’m going to build one someday.


  1. Well as Head Squatter I have to say that it was an absolute pleasure for us all to be suffered for another week after we should have gone home. The (second) welcome we received was wonderful and as for the entertainment that was provided to us by the trusty new author of this blog what can I say apart from the fact that we would happily be entertained again next time!!

    However all good things have to come to an end and so we are now safely back in good old Blighty and after tonight we won’t even have any Olympics to watch so we really will have to go back to normality tomorrow…..:-((

  2. and the mayor laughed at me because i said i was english… how rude!

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