When we arrived here at Tourners we were greeted in the street by a very excited Monsieur Albert. He positively sashayed up to the car with a tremendous air of mystery and waved at me with his whittling stick. “Wind down the window” he had a lot to tell us. He had been back to hospital 3 times during our absence. We must have looked suitably dismayed because he warmed to his subject immediately and he demonstrated with wide arms the vast quantities of “something or other” that the hospital staff had removed from his person on each occasion. Finally and ceremoniously, with the timing and flare of a real story-teller, he rolled up the leg of his French Blues (Overalls) to reveal a rather smart urinary catheter bag strapped to his leg.
He told us in graphic detail all that had befallen him and his bladder. He may have been aiming for stoicism, but he couldn’t hide his delight at all the fuss and ado. The trousers were rolled back several times to exhibit the finer features of the bag; with solemn and precise pointing and tapping at measurement indicators. He said that his friend up the road had a catheter in situ for 18 months but that he fully expected to make that record look paltry. Same as in Oz, the public hospital system in France is always playing catch-up.
Clematis at the Front door.
We have never seen the Clematis over the front door in full flower, but this year we have timed it perfectly. I will be sweeping fallen petals and fluff out of the hall way for months; a small price to pay.