A senior moment.

Back from London to be met by two very happy and enthusiastic boyz. From the back flips and pirouettes you'd think I'd been away for a month not a day. The two of them have now positioned themselves in the kitchen and are trying to shame me into giving them a biscuit with their ' how could you leave us?' routine.

What should have been a simple 24 hour return trip turned into a travelling nightmare. Heathrow was closed by snow for much of Thursday so the first flight of the day from London into Toulouse simply didn't arrive. Thankfully,there was a substitute British Airways aircraft that had been stranded in France overnight and we were all loaded onto that. With two loads of passengers it became very,very full which was just as well as it was very,very cold having been parked on the sub-zero apron for twelve hours. Goodness me! How the French passengers gave loud and sustained expression to their joy at discovering that there was a total lack of catering on board . The captain hoped we would get away with a two or three hours weather delay but what no one had counted on was the decision by the French air traffic controllers to chose this particular moment go on strike . We eventually got a take off slot at three and arrived into London in pitch darkness to be met by a lack of buses to deplane us. The atmosphere had turned distinctly revolutionary by the time the steps were wheeled up. So much for getting into town for lunch!

Up at four this morning to head off in a cab to the airport for the first flight back. Twenty years ago I used to be able to bounce on and off planes all day,every day with the nonchalance and vigour of youth. These days I'm ready for a nap by the time I've responded to the whimsical charms of the gauleiters at the security gate.

London was wet, Toulouse is damp.

London was miserable. Grey, chilly and very,very wet. Despite the elements (or perhaps because of them) the shops were crammed to bursting point with European visitors benefitting from the strong Euro. After half an hour waiting in line I finally got to a check out and arranged with Fortnum's for the cake and christmas pudding to be delivered to France . They won't ship that other staple of the British Christmas, mince pies, because they are too fragile! Long term readers of the blog will remember that the hamper I ordered from Fortnum's in October last year didn't arrive at the house in Italy until six o'clock at night on Christmas Eve - talk about cutting it fine. Let's hope that things move more smoothly this time round.

The Rentokil mans visit to the house has done wonders. He fixed a brass rail to the bottom of the doors in from the garden ( so the little critters can't squeeze through the gap between the floor and the door) and then put down a dozen or so little cardboard boxes in the boiler room and kitchen. All this happened on Monday and since then nothing. 'The font' is delighted, so I am doubly delighted. Thankfully, only field mice and bats - no sign at all of bigger rodents.

Huge excitement at two this morning. A branch from an old pine tree was dislodged by a sudden gust of wind and fell with a huge crash onto the swimming pool cover. In France every house with a swimming pool has to have a safety alarm in case a toddler or drunken adult falls in and drowns. Of course the falling branch managed to trigger the alarm ( which until then we didn't know we had) and much fun was had by all wandering around the garden in the rain in the small hours with a torch trying to find out a) what had happened b) where the ear shattering klaxon was located and c) figuring out how to turn it off. Wilf and Digby thought it was great fun - 'the font' less so.

The damp weather has brought on Digby's rheumatics. He wants desperately to join Wilf on a long morning walk but after two or three hundred metres he starts to limp and then becomes tired and irritable with the pain.Hip dysplasia is a problem with the breed and the only remedy is to make sure he rests when it's really damp.

Off to the airport.

A quick post before rushing off to the airport. With Christmas almost upon us, and our preparations for the event being non-existent, a hurried trip back to Fortnum's is called for . In practice this means that I have to make sure that the Christmas pudding and Christmas cake are despatched to our little patch of paradise so as to arrive in plenty of time for the 25th. I shall be back from London tomorrow evening.

The Rentokil man arrived yesterday afternoon at the exact same moment as the telephone engineer ( four weeks late ), the joiner ( unexpected ), and the plumber ( on time and expected). After some initial confusion over their respective roles, ( the joiner took being asked to mend the leaking shower with good humour), everyone settled down to work. It seems that we have field mice that have chosen to nest in the warmth of the boiler room. The more adventurous of them clamber up the pipes to visit the kitchen directly above. As for the expensive 'mouse scaring' electronic system ,that only works where there is absolute silence. We have a clock in the kitchen that renders it completely useless. One learns something new everyday.

Wilf and Digby are in fine form.