HOME

I wrote this on Monday, it’s now Wednesday and I’m not particularly happy with it. I can’t put in to words how much these people, and this place mean to me, nor how exhilarating it is to sit on my favourite bench with my face to the sun, taking in the surroundings, the peace, the greenery for miles around, the beautiful old stone of the houses, the sounds of nature. Nor can I begin to describe the gratitude I feel for being able to go back there, to have lived there.

___

My alarm went off at 5.45am, a weekend at home would be the only thing that would blearily have me bounding out of bed at this time and rickashaying off of a piece of furniture; my hand finding the coffee machine before the light switch. With only a couple of people knowing of my imminent arrival in the Charente, I had knots in my stomach from restless sleep and the sheer excitement of surprising my nearest and dearest. 

Before I knew it, my train pulled in at 9.48am and there stood my Dad beaming on the platform, arms wide open to envelope me in a hug. I felt sheer joy being back in this sleepy place, at ease, calm, breathing in fresh air. The weekend passed us by in a haze of food, drink and perfect company. 

As we walked down to the river Saturday morning, I had forgotten how soothingly (some would say deadly, I’m sure) quiet this place is. The peace is eye opening, very freeing, you can hear your own mind and make sense of things — having physical space means, for me, that there’s mental space. We dined out for lunch, post dog walk, gorged on delicious cuisine and chatted about this and that, rarely a break in the conversation. After a somewhat long detour via a beautiful abbey and photographing a bewitching looking building, we were home. We sat, drank tea and did humble simple things.

A mere hour or so later we were heading out, there was a coupe (or four) of something sparkling with my name firmly on it, and hugs aplenty to hand out. The evening passed by in a blur of laughter, empty glasses and a sing song. Friends, a community, smiling familiar faces all making me feel incredibly content, nothing more, nothing less. 

I never thought I would feel so at peace in the sleepy place my parents decided to live and where I ended up spending one year, it’s the first place where I felt I could just be me, wearing what I like and taking my time with every little thing in life without a person passing judgement. How sweet. There’s never anything to really keep up with, people are going about their lives, making a living if they need to, enjoying the peace that comes with the French countryside. I had not realised quite how much I had been missing the country life until the Sunday morning vide grenier trip. A favourite past time - wandering through idyllic French towns, popping in and out of gardens and fields rummaging through unwanted things…Though that may also have something to do with my nosiness. Thanks to a cool crisp morning though this vide grenier was on the quiet side so we were soon back home cradling cups of coffee. 

It was the perfect Sunday; coffee and cake with the dearest of friends at my favourite cafe, where I discovered quince and almond is possibly my new favourite cake flavour, maybe alongside the squash cake my Mum had; and a Sunday roast with my family, and I was delighted by the fact that my plate was 80% vegetables. 

Monday morning arrived far too quickly for my liking but I woke knowing I’d be back so soon for much of the same and I have realised, there’s really not much wrong with the same.