Memories are made of this
Memory in itself is an enigma. We imagine that we can recall stuff accurately but when we compare stories with others we discover huge discrepancies, and that is why witness testimony always seems so dodgy. I distrust people who identify a stranger that they once saw from a photo, or can remember which day they saw something, because I certainly couldn’t. One thing is sure, memory isn’t like a film, it is just there in patches, and then it’s the brain that makes it into a story.
I am staying in the house at Chabaneix, just me and the dog, a house that I never lived or even stayed in before, although I am surrounded by familiar objects and there are tons of photos to remind me of the twenty two years of vie commune. Indeed from the photos one might imagine that life had stopped 19 years ago. Rosie said to me this morning that perhaps for John it should have....
Yesterday I was visited by Keith and Patrice, friends that we met in our first year in France, and who had managed to stay friends with John through all the years, something of a feat it must be admitted!
I was comforted to hear that in the last few years he had become more comfortable, even though he clearly wasn’t managing to keep up with his house work. Keith felt that he just didn’t want to, and when I mentioned that he had rejected the home help that I had organised Patrice said that she wasn’t surprised because he didn’t want intrusions that might have disapproved of his smoking etc.
He apparently talked about his children with pride and pleasure despite the fact that he didn’t ever let me or them know!
Driving around the area I get flashes of memories mixed with periods of “I don’t remember this road at all...” I was driving to Ars from Aubusson and it was all unknown, until suddenly it was the place where John had crashed with the butchers van taking the girls swimming! All came back in a rush... so weird.
Last night I was invited to a meal in a restaurant to celebrate Jean the sheep’s birthday, but as an alcohol avoiding, socially awkward vegetarian with an anxious dog I declined. I am glad that I did, because I awoke this morning with a terrible headache, I think due to a sinus cold, which would not have been improved by socialising. Especially as my ability to refuse alcohol is very fragile and I am pretty sure I would not have succeeded.
I have cleaned windows and mirrors in an attempt to improve the luminosity, but Creusois houses are dark, and so success has been limited. I made a start on the grass but it is raining so my efforts have been curtailed. We are lucky to have kind and helpful neighbours and while this visit hasn’t achieved everything that I had hoped I have made a start.
I cleaned the glass and also the black mould on the paintwork
The spider plants are holding on!
I have removed all John’s coats and the coat hangers from the mantelpiece, not sure what to do with them now.
Marco is not a morning person!
I have cleaned the glass, but the wall will not come clean.
You would not believe what a bugger this mower is to start, you have to pull the cord while you are sitting on the seat, I think that I will be obliged to ask for help every time, grrr!
I am staying in the house at Chabaneix, just me and the dog, a house that I never lived or even stayed in before, although I am surrounded by familiar objects and there are tons of photos to remind me of the twenty two years of vie commune. Indeed from the photos one might imagine that life had stopped 19 years ago. Rosie said to me this morning that perhaps for John it should have....
Yesterday I was visited by Keith and Patrice, friends that we met in our first year in France, and who had managed to stay friends with John through all the years, something of a feat it must be admitted!
I was comforted to hear that in the last few years he had become more comfortable, even though he clearly wasn’t managing to keep up with his house work. Keith felt that he just didn’t want to, and when I mentioned that he had rejected the home help that I had organised Patrice said that she wasn’t surprised because he didn’t want intrusions that might have disapproved of his smoking etc.
He apparently talked about his children with pride and pleasure despite the fact that he didn’t ever let me or them know!
Driving around the area I get flashes of memories mixed with periods of “I don’t remember this road at all...” I was driving to Ars from Aubusson and it was all unknown, until suddenly it was the place where John had crashed with the butchers van taking the girls swimming! All came back in a rush... so weird.
Last night I was invited to a meal in a restaurant to celebrate Jean the sheep’s birthday, but as an alcohol avoiding, socially awkward vegetarian with an anxious dog I declined. I am glad that I did, because I awoke this morning with a terrible headache, I think due to a sinus cold, which would not have been improved by socialising. Especially as my ability to refuse alcohol is very fragile and I am pretty sure I would not have succeeded.
I have cleaned windows and mirrors in an attempt to improve the luminosity, but Creusois houses are dark, and so success has been limited. I made a start on the grass but it is raining so my efforts have been curtailed. We are lucky to have kind and helpful neighbours and while this visit hasn’t achieved everything that I had hoped I have made a start.
I cleaned the glass and also the black mould on the paintwork
The spider plants are holding on!
I have removed all John’s coats and the coat hangers from the mantelpiece, not sure what to do with them now.
Marco is not a morning person!
I have cleaned the glass, but the wall will not come clean.
You would not believe what a bugger this mower is to start, you have to pull the cord while you are sitting on the seat, I think that I will be obliged to ask for help every time, grrr!