The little rural cottage where I’m staying in the Dordogne is perfect and time has slowed down significantly. I can see why this sort of country farmland living is so appealing for busy lives in London. Pockets of the house seem to sum up the state of my being; “still life” and I keep taking photos of one particular area of the house in different lights.
I can’t seem to string a sentence together anymore and I’ve slowed right down, which means I am proving to be fairly useless in the “getting things done” stakes and keep having to go off for a siesta.
It’s tough being on holiday, especially when your host is busy rushing around mowing the lawn and chopping down trees whilst I am reading a book in the sunshine. It’s such a different situation being a guest on holiday when it’s someone else’s house. They aren’t on holiday and have jobs to do. They get up early because they know things need to be done before it gets too hot. They want to go to bed early, not party all night long. The Sunday market was a challenge when my children were here because they had all promised faithfully they would get up early, even after staying up all night, which meant they were all a little bit exhausted to say the least wandering around a busy market.
How perfect is this little corner?
I have even found locusts that have posed for me late at night:-
Taken lots of photos of the moon too, but of course they don’t really work.