Aujourd'hui

Dawn is the loveliest moment of the day the doves waken me with their cooing. My morning routine to have a wander in the garden, the cool dewy air is always reviving. I say Bonjour to the plants and flowers. Drink orange pekoe tea, waiting for the honey bees to arrive from Madame Lisle’s hives. They buzz in as the sun dances before it sizzles. In the mornings the garden hums with life.

Peter is right when he said I have Miss Marple traits. Since coming here, I have felt strongly this house has secrets. I want to explore the attic. People tend to leave all kinds of interesting things in attics. I’m hesitant to ask Peter’s permission, he could think that an intrusion. Of course, I could do that if I say I’d like to put my small trunk there. That’s taking up space in the bedroom.

I won’t return Du Lille‘s call, he takes his mother to mass, after that they lunch at Madame Lisle’s bistro, he’s a man of rigid habits. I would have gone to Madame Lisle’s for lunch, she’s a gossip and like all gossips, well informed. Sunday is not her best chatting day, most families lunch out on Sundays. French family lunches are long affairs, Madame Lisle will most likely be busy until five o’clock. I'm sure she’s hiding something about the war years, but what could that be?

Peter came home as breakfast was being served. Looking, I have to say, somewhat hung-over. He’s gone to play golf in La Baule. The Brits enjoyed exploring the Loire valley. They were famished this morning, so I cooked Eggs Benedict for them. Nice and easy, better than a high calorie English breakfast. There is a buffet with a lovely selection of cheeses, fruit and croissants. They scoffed much of that as well. I’m not sure where they’ve gone today? They floated some suggestions. Not that it matters to me, where the guests go to.

The cove is deserted I could go there and read my book. I’m only part-way through the Martha Gellhorn biography. Her colourful life as a war correspondent would be a fascinating film. She never really loved Hemingway, their relationship wasn’t one of passion, certainly not on her part. Her novellas are worth reading, those are so well written and racy. Gellhorn was never a boring woman. It seems remise of the film industry, that her life should be neglected. Gellhorn had one of those strong mature faces that never aged much well into her sixties.

I should write a review for my book club. Send that to Davina Tallboys in an e-mail. She hosts the book club discussions. Davina is bossy to an extreme; the Vicar's wife, she runs the poor man ragged with her various organisation activities. She's not keen on the French, never approved of the Common Market. According to her, if the French can do us down, they will. She was quite put out when finding I'm a Francophile. Heaven forbid that she should ever become a Member of Parliament. She has aspirations in that direction. Much like Madame Lisle, Davina’s an intrusive compulsive gossip.

This line from Robert Frost's Fire and Ice, keeps buzzing in my head. "We stand around in a ring and suppose; But the Secret sits in middle--and knows."