New Year's Message

And what a year it’s been. Monica and I have started a new life here in France. We are planning to find a new pace for our later years, slower, more reflective, more fulfilled. I’ve no regrets at leaving my job a little early. I could see there was an ever declining market for my particular talents. Of course, that is a sad indication of the way the world is going, but, as my colleagues at work said, you can’t buck the trend, old chap, not with what you have to offer. I took that as a considerable compliment at the time, but looking back, I’m not entirely sure that all of them were sincere, particularly Tony who I know had been angling for my post for many a long year. Well, good luck to him, the oily toad.
Still, never mind, Tony is welcome to the nine-to-five drudgery, the endless meetings and having to deal with Enfield. Here I am, happily ensconced in Rosbif-sur-Lie, not a care in the world, booze a third of the price of Sainsburys and a climate infinitely better than Essex. What do I miss? I suppose the pub, going for a swift one with the chaps, a game of darts and some of the most robust opinions you can hear this side of Basildon. Not much else to be frank. I certainly don’t miss commuting, squashed into some god forsaken train with some chap’s Guardian newspaper being waved in my face. Don’t the M25 either, that ring road round hell. There are inevitably a few niggles about our new life. Monica says I complain about the quality of the underpants here – can’t beat a sturdy pair of boxes from M&S in my opinion – and then there’s the really dreadful stuff that passes for paint. It’s thin and watery and falls off the wall as soon as you put it on. Oh well, can’t have everything I suppose.
I must say, our move to Rosbif has not been entirely without problems. We’ve still got the fosse issue. The stink is markedly less bad on cold days, particularly since I bought a sheet of fibre board to put over the hole. And the chickens have gone off lay again. They’re eating like small horses, but certainly not rewarding us with fresh eggs. I’ve told Monica they’ll have to go, but she tartly reminds me she never wanted them in the first place.
We did make a couple of resolutions on new year’s eve. Firstly we’re going to do our best to learn the lingo and secondly we’re going to install some decent heating. The stove is all very well, but it’s just one room and getting out of bed on a cold morning is no fun. I said to Monica, I don’t care what it costs, we’ll get a system installed that really keeps us warm.
So, good all round really. Bring on the next year, learn the lingo, integrate with the jolly old Frogs and bob’s your uncle, we’ll be happy as Larry, blending into village life like nobody’s business. Can’t wait.