It’s been a while since I last wrote a blog - several weeks in fact. The magazine layout for the website certainly took up most of my time as I focussed essentially on that. Christmas and New Year festivities added further interruptions. When I did find time to myself it was to have long walks with Freddy but only when the heavens allowed. (As a byline, I should perhaps mention that while Freddy tags along as my side-kick most of the time when I’m doing my research, Nigel and I take all three dogs together for walks around Chateauneuf-de-Grasse as it might appear that only one four-footed friend gets the walkies around here!).

For the moment, I would class it as being somewhat the rainy season on the French Riviera as rain, and yet more rain, descends upon us. Generally, the first three months of the year here can be wet and dreary, but of course not every day. Wonderful warm sunny days do occur, but it is true that longer spells of wet weather can affect us and recently this has been the case.

I suppose it’s something we don’t like to discuss as the Cote d’Azur evokes long, hot sun-kissed summer days, languid autumns and spectacular spring days with some of the bluest skies you’ll ever see - but we certainly can get our fair share of rain. And for the moment we are deluged. The little river Brague that flows normally silently alongside our garden is gurgling, nay, whooshing past. So far it has yet to flood the field opposite but if the heavy rains continue it probably will. I’ve attached a photo to show you how magnificent it can become; though once the rain subsides it’s back to being the gentle babbling brook that it is most days.

But this weather is great to stay indoors, write my blog and bring you uptodate with life here. Many of you have wondered how Mr Le Pussycat is coming along. I’m happy to say that his tongue ulcer has cleared completely and he looks really well. Sadly, two of our adult cats, Percy Panda and Chou Chou, have taken a dislike to him. This all began when Mr Le Pussycat became brave enough to join us upstairs after we’d finished for the day down in the office. As it was Christmas time Nigel and I took to saying that the two were doing a stint of Christmas carolling for us - but it upset Mr Le Pussycat and he took to hiding on top of our tall fridge to escape them. I have since placed a warm, crocheted blanket there for him (yes, once upon a time, before computers and AMB, I did crochet) . Things are a little better but not much and he returns to the top of the fridge when the two start being silly towards him.

The three dogs are all fine. Maggie May continues to enjoy a quick doggy paddle around the pool, regardless of the weather. She then makes a bee-line up the stairs, jumps on our bed and rolls around in the blankets to dry off. Freddy refuses to go out - pure and simple - which means I have to drag him outside and stand in the rain with him to show solidarity. Archie’s the Big Tough Lad and and nobly goes out when needs must - or when a heavy truck goes past and then he’s off whoofing down the garden at it.

Ah, yes, the garden. This is all rather bleak, brown and soggy but the birds still love it. We have a Persimmon Tree standing rather forlornly outside our office, devoid of all leaves but still with a few bright orange fruit dangling from it. The birds adore it and starlings, blue tits, robins, black caps, black birds, chaffinches and mistle thrushes have come to gorge themselves on its juicy offerings. Interestingly, this year I’ve noticed far more robins in our garden than usual. Being territorial birds they have each chosen a particular section of the garden as their own. I so enjoy their birdsong with its short melodic phrases, some high, others low. But it is the song of the blackbird that captures my soul. As I write this there is one singing now, and I have a sudden flashback to my childhood in England when it was time for bed. So often I’d lay there listening to their pure, liquid gold melodies. Utter magic.

While it may seem that the sunshine has forsaken us for the moment, we do have splashes of gold and bright yellow rippling through our landscape: the Mimosa is starting to flower. In fact the Mimosa trail began yesterday and goes through 8 lovely villages: Bormes, Le Rayol, Canadel, St Maxime, St Raphaël, Mandelieu, Taneron and finally Pégomas. The first Grand Corso will be held in Pégomas on Sunday 27th January while others will be held in Mandelieu and Bormes-les-Mimosa in February. If it stops raining I plan on doing the trail this weekend as, even if it isn’t sunny, the tiny scented mimosa buds are enchanting enough to warm the cockles of anyone’s heart.