Le Couvent Diary

A happy time was had by all, great evening at Erzsi's on Christmas Eve, two geese and Bourdic wines on Christmas Day, before setting off camping at the mazet on Boxing Day.

Ali bought me a fab sleeping bag for Christmas, so what was I to do but agree to sleeping in a 9 square metre hut in the middle of the vineyards in December? After all, seven bedrooms all with their own bathrooms can make one forget the essential things like - will we be warm enough?

So off we trundled with the dogs, soup, breakfast and good books. (Actually the car was filled to the gunwales, but mostly dog-stuff - oh yeah?)

It was magical. I was never less than sweltering thanks to a roaring fire and zillion-tog sleeping bag. The books were excellent and it was wonderful to be away from the phones. But the real corker was waking at 2am when Kit the labrador decided on a comfort break outside. The moon was so bright you could have read outside. Looking back towards the lights of Roujan, Caux and Neffies just made me grin. It's hard to feel anything other than enormous gratitude when you look up at a billion stars.

Next day voices drifting up the hill announced the arrival of Erszi, Heather and Alex who'd come for a walk, some lunch and a bit of pruning. The views were beyond divine.

The great thing about dogs is their enthusiasm. Never having met before, Kit, Flynn, Biba, Jasper and Alfie rendezvous'd near the mazet with Ali & I and six friends. The dogs did a few manic turns around each other then scampered off for a fantastic walk together. They didn't stop for one second of our hour's walk. It was just a joy to see.

I haven't blogged for ages. Normalement (Norman Lamont for the initiated) I cycle the dogs before breakfast, get breakfast ready, then do the blog. However, for the last month there have been horrible little seeds from puncture vines littering the vineyards. Seven new inner tubes and two teflon tyre liners later I have given up. Now I have to walk. It takes much longer. Hence no blog. I'm praying for rain so mud swallows up the seeds. They're horrid and their latin name is Tribulus terrestris. The Latin name tribulus originally meant the caltrop (a spiky weapon), but in Classical times already meant this plant as well. They are formed so that wherever they sit there is always a spike facing upwards. Poor Kit the dog gets them in her paws all the time and we have to stop every few metres over some patches to remove them from her foot. I blame it on the fact that she's so fat. Flynn the husky moves so lightly they rarely lodge in his paws.

I've also read that the pesky Tribulus terrestris is sold as nature's viagra. Kit the labrador has several little pricks of this every morning and she's showing no odder behavioural traits than usual. Should I just be shovelling the seeds up and flogging them as the first sex aid ever to be sold from a convent? More later.