To Build A Home

This day three weeks ago we awoke in the "studio" apartment that we were to call home until October.
Natasha referred to it as the garage and as soon as Ros was gone we swiftly upgraded ourselves to the Grand Cabanon, or Large Cottage figuring that as we would have to clean it eventually we may as well enjoy the luxury a little.
Yet oddly enough it has not been until we have moved back into our more humble abode, freshly spring cleaned, with a few choice items from the villa and some indoor plants, that I have begun to feel a sense of homeliness.
A sense of guilt and constant unease as if doing something we weren't supposed to always plagued us before. It also briefly gave us the false sense that we were kind of on holiday here.
So ironically it was the arrival of my sister Ruth, visiting us for a four day holiday that broke the spell  - we moved out of the cottage and into our intended quarters so she could rightfully enjoy the cottage as a holiday maker should.
Granted you could say we spent most of her four day stay as holiday makers ourselves, yet I prefer the term "holiday guides" or even "reps"!
We showed her the beaches, St Tropez town, our favorite village of Grimaud, cooked, drank and sunbathed lavishly. It was a joyous occasion, the tonic for a week of feeling a little lost and confused. Knowing that what we had got ourselves into was this time a good thing, but not really knowing what to do with it.
Straddling the line between enjoying what was before us without guilt and taking it seriously without getting bogged down can be tough.
This is the ardour of working in a holiday destination; how do you find the balance between enjoying the luxurious surroundings all seemingly angled toward holiday makers and visitors and realizing you are here for work, to work, to save, because you don't want to clean villas and sweep leaves the rest of your life.
Since Ruth left two days ago we remain in our apartment, tonight reading with jazz on after a fine meal of paprika lemon white fish in a chick pea, courgette and tomato relish. It has a sense of home now, despite that home in this case is one room.
We spent the day on one section of the garden after I was gently coaxed out of a sense of despair; the aftermath of the debilitating effects wind and rain can have on a man.
We felt proud after. Sore, but satisfied. It occurred to me that if we treat this garden like well and spend time in it then where we live will not only be in the four walls, one room we currently call home, it will expand beyond the door and gradually radiate into the plants, grass and soil beyond.