Breakfast time: a piece of toasted baguette with butter and some of the plum jam I made a couple of weeks ago. Which reminds me that the porteuse de pain — the bread delivery woman — is going on vacation for two full weeks, starting tomorrow. We'll be left to our own devices.
I went to the supermarket and bought two loaves of good sandwich bread. I'm hoping the tomatoes will start coming in this weekend. I have a big can of tuna, some ham, and a whole smoked chicken. Along with plenty of lettuce, eggs, mustard, and sunflower oil. I'll make mayonnaise and we'll eat a lot of sandwiches over the next two weeks.
With Walt now out of commission for a while because of his névralgie cervico-brachiale (and his neck collar), our painting job has ground to a halt for a couple of days. I need to try to get started again today. And then somebody needs to start trimming that 100-yard-long hedge we have to deal with every year in September. Not to mention the need to cut logs for the wood-burning stove.
Sometimes I tell myself this life we have built here is not sustainable. We're getting too old, and it's too much work. Well, not so much too much work, but too much hard physical labor that people of our ages find it harder and harder to do. Some days, it feels like it would be very nice to live in a townhouse or an apartment in a village or town, with no garden to worry about. And shops we could walk to.
The cat and the dog might be a problem, though, so I guess we'll wait until one of them leaves us. Ten years or so, probably. After 17 years in Saint-Aignan, where would we go if we decided to move in 2020? To an in-town place down in Saint-Aignan? Another small town like Montrichard or Loches? Or a small city like Blois? A bigger city like Tours? Bourges?
It's something to think about. Meanwhile, breakfast is done, and it's time to go for a walk with the dog. That's the nice thing about living at La Renaudière. We can walk the dog without worrying about cars or a leash, and the cat can wander the hamlet and the vineyard without getting into too much mischief. Enough, but not too much.