Don't want to

Trip Start Jul 19, 2009
Trip End Oct 25, 2010

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Flag of France  ,
Saturday, June 28, 2008

Driving down to Hautefort, the sight of the castle never fails to amaze.
As if seeing it for the first time, I gasp - it is truly beautiful. I love it, it touches my soul.
I wonder, can you be in love with a building?
Still I haven't visited it yet, isn't that strange? I was adamant to do so this time.
It's not gonna happen, we're leaving tomorrow.
I stare at the splashes on my t-shirt - it takes a moment to realize I am crying.
Well, that just about sums it up, I guess. We're leaving - I don't want to go.
I try telling myself it's goodbye, not farewell - I shall be back in September.

I didn't get round to telling you about the times I went swimming, in the rivers and lakes. The Vézere, the Dordogne, Coly, l'etang Coucou, lac du Causse.
The water so cold  the saying  'freezing your tits off' suddenly makes perfect sense.
Nor about the friends we visited, the restaurants, Le Grand Coderc story not told.
Or the swallows - they moved up a door and have nested in our cave. One and a half nest they built. Three eggs have hatched to delicate little blue and grey things. Their heads lolling on the rim, the silliest grins on their faces, eyes shut. The parents unwittingly brought some brown chicken feathers to the nest, making the little ones look like some exotic species. The mum, pushed up higher and higher as the babies grew, eventually moved out to perch on the edge of the half-nest. She'll be teaching them to fly soon, but we won't be around when that happens. We'll have to leave the door open, Bernadette will keep an eye on them.

Mieke has finished the top she was cementing, it looks great, slate with pebbles and bits of colored glass. Patsy and Femke made chair covers and Peter is doing something with gravel in the garden.
All working towards wrapping it up, while I'm hiding in a hot attic, typing my bit - but truth be told just trying to find some solitude. Not easy, people are walking in and out here as if it were the central station on a busy day.
Well, at least Amsterdam will be quieter. Funny how people think the countryside is all peace and quiet - I'll finally get to rest back home. Visitors will leave after dinner instead of making themselves at home for weeks on end.
But I loved having them, of course. Always welcome.
Patsy's husband Ron will spend the night here, he's come to collect Patsy and George.
This afternoon Peter drove Femke to the airport, we just had a call saying she was home safe.
I 'm half way through cooking our last dinner here. That's my job, being the only decent cook of the lot.

Sorry, I'm just gabbing on, what I really ought to say is I'm sad, miserable, unhappy, crying - and I never cry unless I'm in love, so what does that mean?
Tonight I shall lie under the stars for the last time, listen to the scuttling of small animals, the croaking of the frogs and the cries of the night birds.
I'll count my blessings and be truly grateful for the wonderful time spent here, but still,
don't want to, I really don't want to leave my beloved Clédat

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