S is for Summer's Over

S is for Summer’s over

Il fait un temps de chien — The weather’s lousy

There are certain unmistakable signs here that winter’s on its way. The tourists have all gone and the Chinese restaurant has closed for the season. Some less hardy souls prepare to shut up their houses and return to the UK.

You start smelling whiffs of coal fires and the leaves begin to fall … and fall… and fall. Though before they do, the autumn colours are spectacular.

A succession of men in boiler suits arrive at the house. They are delivering oil for the boiler, servicing the boiler and sweeping the chimney. They invariably all arrive at the same time. The winter cover goes on the pool; the cats realize this, and start scampering all over it. Winter activities resume — Gavin goes back to his Occitan classes (I’m opting out this year as I wasn’t really that good), and we begin giving English lessons to the old folk of St Antonin once again.

But at the moment, in mid October, it’s still sometimes warm enough to sit outside in a T-shirt. So we make the most of it.