Quote from a “How to cut a Grapefruit like a Hero” blog this morning:

“It’s a great idea to segment the grapefruit over a boil to catch any leftover juices.”

Oooo! Ouch, that would sting.
A bit too heroic for me.

Just back from seeing Madame and yes, we can now surely see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Thanks for all the good wishes.

And so the day has finally come and, after some delays, I will finally bring Síle into the clinic in Columbieres to have her new knee.
It is quite a hefty operation, rather more difficult than having a hip done so we are both quite apprehensive.
The procedure will be tomorrow and she will then stay in the clinic for a further six days before coming home at the end of next week.
Keep tuned in for progress reports.

And so, slowly, the cour/dump slouches towards becoming a Loggia*

* A loggia is an architectural feature which is a covered exterior gallery. The outer wall is open to the elements.Loggias are not meant for entrance but as an out-of-door sitting room.

All Gone.

And so three quarters of my beautiful terrace has been destroyed

Exposing the Cour to the light of day for the first time in god knows how long.

And so, in the light of day, the door into the cave looks its age. You realise that this is the original medieval foundation of the house, its massive stones standing there probably for 800 years.

But, standing on the last quarter standing of the terrace the sun gives us something to take our mind off the grey dust below.

This was probably taken in or around Derrynane in or around 1956 (a mere 59 years ago) Of me and my eldest sister D. God knows where my nephew in law Eugene unearthed it from !

Later Word.

Eugene tells me it is dated 1955 in the album, now I do remember that this was the summer of the heatwave and we were staying in the hotel in Glenbeigh so that means it was probably not Derrynane but Rossbehy, although I still think it looks more like the former- and that beach wasn’t too far away. But what amazes me about the picture is that, despite the bare feet, we were dressed so formally, D with a matching bolero on her sun dress and me in a tie for god’s sake, Síle suggests we weree coming back from mass of a sunday but In Bare Feet !
But what the picture does reinstate was that D and I were always an alliance, even though we were the bookends of the seven children, with nine years between us, we always formed a band of two against all comers- and still do!

In the latest edition of L’Herault, the magazine of the Department, there is a piece about the Arbutus which is a symbol of the area here. Now strangely the Arbutus was also a bit of a symbol in Cork where I was born as it grew there (and in Kerry,) uniquely but nowhere else in either the UK or Ireland. My great Uncle Billy when he built a house in Montenotte in the Cork suburbs called it Arbutus Lodge in honour of the large Arbutus in the garden there.
It is pleasing to see that this connection between Cork and L’Herault is acknowledged in the above piece in the magazine.

It was in December in 2006, just eight years ago in a couple of weeks time, when Síle and I came out and signed the papers which gave us the keys of Le Presbytere.

Those eight years have passed in the blinking of an eye and I have no regrets whatever for giving up our comfortable existence in Waterford to find a new life out here.
That we have had a few challenges over those eight years it is true but rising to challenges instead of staying in the comfort zone has I think kept us both getting too settled into old age.

To be honest I think we have now created a new comfort zone for ourselves here, but it is one that I cannot see us relinguish easily.