As you know we have been really busy and the Thursday a couple of weeks ago was no exception. We were working hard with a friend in her garden in over twenty four degree heat, not getting home until 6pm; we returned to the house which looked like the “before” house on a programme where obsessive compulsive cleaners come to clean; the kitchen was full (and I mean full) of rubble, dust everywhere, I could stand it no longer so we set about taking wheelbarrows full of rubble up to our dumping spot (you all have a dumping spot in your garden in France!!)
By 11pm we were finally showered and ready to sit down with a glass of wine, dinner was in the oven, and watch one of our favourite programmes. Given the time, and that our neighbours have kids, Rich went out in his pyjamas (comprising of a pair of shorts and T shirt) to get the dogs in; they were nowhere to be seen in the garden! So he came running back in to get a torch (remember if you choose a house in rural France you need a torch because it is very, very dark!) and collect me in my pyjamas (consisting of a pair of cropped white trousers with white hearts on them and a pink vest top) to help him.
As we got outside we could hear a commotion going on in the ditch just outside our garden. (In rural France there are no main drainage systems unless you are in a town or city so most gardens have ditches at the side for excess water to drain away). Now picture the scene…..
…we had been remiss and not cleared our ditch since living here so it was waist high in nettles, grass, that sticky grass and brambles; and where were our Welshies? In the bloody ditch trying to get a hedgehog!! There was snarling and barking and grunting going on, neither of them had their collars on (because we take their “clothes” off when it is time for bed). So out of the garden we went and Rich, my hero, plunged into the ditch, nettles brambles and ticks and all!! My role was to shine the torch.
Both of our neighbours were still up and we live in a hamlet that is literally a circle, so they were looking at us out of the window and I can imagine the conversation now: “What are they doing now?!”
“They are running about in their ditch”
“What have they got on?”
“I don’t know they have their dogs in their with them! Perhaps it is a cultural thing!”
“Oh ze mad English!!”
In the meantime Rich had managed to get both dogs, who had moved a large log to get out of the garden under the fence, and we brought them in where I made them both sit and told them, in my best stern voice, that they were very very naughty.
Harley looked distraught, but Wiglet looked like she couldn’t give a shit!!
With that I opened the door for one of the cats and out she ran again, with Harley in hot pursuit followed by Rich and I. In my best stern voice I shouted “Do you want me to get cross again?” It worked! They both stopped looked at me and ran in, straight up the stairs to bed. Rich looked at me and said “you frightened me then!!”
So we went in and hit the wine, turned the dinner down and decided to watch the programme on +1!!
What happened to the hedgehog? It snuffled away.
What happened to the ditch, we cleared it out the very next day!!
And when we went to lunch with our neighbours? They thought it had all been hilarious and very entertaining, and they had wondered what the hell we were doing!
All part of the adventure….