I wasn't going to write today. Inexplicably I didn't wake up smiling, but tired and lethargic, the thought of cleaning a bathroom full of tiles and stainless steel filling me with a slow dread.
Another pigeon French phone call with the guys at Monsieur Piscine eased one worry; Bruno, the guy who actually comes to fix piscines, who has thus far been unreachable due to him being "incredibly busy", will call me when he returns to the office. Great.
So coffee and fruit buying at the weekly village market was our only journey to be made away from the villa today.
We have already sussed out our preferred cafe on the small strip of eatery and drinkeries in the village, Le Bar Solei striking all the right notes - good strong coffee, free snacks if you order alcoholic drinks including new drink of choice Rose Peche (iced Rose with Peach liqueur - not something I ever imagined enjoying) and as the name suggests, it's in the sun, which also goes some way to explaining why the Rose is so refreshing.
We watch people go by, including our friend from the other night Inge, who either doesn't see us or chooses to avoid our gaze. We don't mind either way, it's early and the coffee hasn't kicked in yet.
At the market we pick up supplies for today's menu - salmon, radish, petit pois, and fruit.
Would you believe two lemons almost cost us €3 had we not only had €2.30. We're they ripping us off because we were English? They were sizable lemons and probably produced twice as much juice and twice as zesty than those minute shriveled specimens Tesco offers. But still you have to wonder.
The bathroom task has still not been addressed, and the sunshine and warmth outside is not helping my focus. I curse and strop through the whole process, making it take twice as long as it could, berating myself for doing so all the while.
It's a bad trait and it takes half an hour of sunbathing by the pool to rid myself of the feeling.
Yet still I can't shake it off entirely as every time I see the dark green algae tinged pool I wish it was clean and blue so I could dive in, a welcome respite from the heat of the day.
Restlessly I take in a chapter of my current read, the short chapter a revelation of how life could be different if we could cast aside the shackles of commerciality and engage with the earth and nature.
A fine ideal.
I decide it's time I engage with this damned swimming pool, if Bruno won't come, I must try myself, for my own sanity at least.
I spend the next hour brushing Algae and leaves from the pool walls and floor. It looks marginally better.
Natasha looks a little crispy having deservedly lain out after ironing a dozen sofa cushion covers, and offers the idea of getting tonic from the village, a refreshing idea when coupled with the gin and limes we bought earlier.
Yet en route the guilt creeps back in and I feel a desolate annoyance at what I have achieved today. I sulk there and back before inexplicably setting up the sprinklers on my return.
The heat must have got to me, it could explain my mood and after a few days a solid sun I'm feeling guilty for the grass and plants.
The simple process of watering them gradually restores my mood and clarity, as if refreshing my memory of where I am and how simple life can be.
I prepare a sumptuously fresh meal of baked Salmon with lemon (worth every penny), Rosemary par-boiled/fried potatoes and petit pois, accompanied by a gin mint julep.
It is gratefully received by a ravenous, sun drenched Natasha and we toast by the fire, her more literally than me.
In the kitchen creating this fresh meal I felt alive and content, as I did watering the plants. No coincidence that the process of watering plants is what made part of the meal I made.
Simple pleasures can unravel and untangle wrought iron thoughts and strains, something I come to realise as I put pen to pad tonight and say goodbye to the day.
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