PARADISE RESTORED

If my feet are not exactly soaking in the pool at this very moment, I am in fact sitting on my terrace in France in 20 degrees - at midnight. I don't think that's bad, considering it's still April. According to the French it's much too early to open the swimming pools, they don't start going for a dip until way into July and think we are crazy vikings! (Which I definitely agree with - I'm with the French on this one). But taking two granddaughters down here for three weeks, and the weather forecast showing only yellow days and red degrees, we just had to get the water blue and splashing.

Which is some process…. But thanks to our very practical and accommodating friend and neighbour Jean-Marc, this was done in no time. Removing the pool cover and revealing what looked most of all like a cesspit and a home for all kinds of scary creepy crawlers, it was transformed in less than 24 hours into an inviting cool oasis.

Who lives in these depths?

Child labour much appreciated

Getting closer - less & less green

BLUE!

Paradise restored

Oh yes - I'm back in my paradise - with my family. The only one missing is my Oz expatriate, but she's been on the phone several times. And there was another family member missing for eleven days - the INTERNET! Changing operators here in France wasn't as simple as I thought - it took them seven days to deliver the new router and four more days to get it working. Then it took me a couple of days to get every laptop, pad and smartphone connected to the WiFi - and because I'm the only one who has enough patience to do this it was all up to me. But there was definitely a general agreement here that though very frustrating it's not all bad to be without the internet for a while - more time to talk, watch old films, cuddle up next to one another. 

Internet's here again! Geeks….

My husband seems happier here in our small village of Thuir, he eats better, has put on just a tiny bit of weight, his hair has grown back, he's tanned and handsome, plays poker with the neighbours, is generally more energetic. On one of the few grey days we've had we walked for at least an hour in the nearby mountains behind the small village of Ste Colombe de la Commanderie in the lower Pyrenees - climbing and descending the hills, coming through the well kept and newly planted vineyards, with the beautiful red soil that is so typical of this region, and so forceful that it touches me deeply. The breathtaking views of Mont Canigou were not visible on this particular cloudy afternoon, but we know where the mountain hides! And we see it from our terrace nearly every day.

Our village of Thuir

Yes, it was almost like before. Putting worries aside, concentrating on the here and now - the present, the surroundings, the views, the weather, the flowers, the almond trees - well, nature actually - those immediate joys that we all love in our family. And applauding our husband, dad and granddad who walked these hilly paths with a determined effort and felt so good about it afterwards.

Somehow and somewhere in this nature that we love there is a strength that carries us forward. I truly believe this.

MILITARY PRECISION

 

 

A glass of rosé will always help the process along

I've just started the process which is known as "the house seller's nightmare." But I pride myself on being a good planner and a logistics expert, skills acquired during a long life of working full time, with three kids in three different day cares - crèche in one area of Oslo, kindergarten in another and school in a third. If everything was not managed with military precision the whole day would simply unravel.

So my plan is watertight: 1-NOW) Packing, chucking and moving stuff out of living room so that decorators can move in. 2-APRIL/MAY) Packing, chucking, moving and storing everything visible in the rest of the house so that all rooms can be styled and staged for photography and viewing. 3-JUNE/AUGUST) Packing and moving things in cupboards, closets and drawers - and furniture. Basically - THE REST.

Going through one's old things is always interesting, and the worst is making decisions about getting rid of ancient trinkets, photos, cards, letters and kids' drawings and schoolbooks. And for me perhaps the most traumatic, the overall nightmare - is throwing out my books. Oh, how it hurts! First one round sorting out all my paperbacks that I know I won't read again, then a second round sorting the hardbacks. So much fantastic literature! So much pleasure it's all given me! Alas - there's a time for everything.

This one is allowed to stay

Most of the books with this sticker are allowed to remain in my collection - too many memories and good reads here!

At this time of year there's a flea market every weekend at every school in Oslo, and this afternoon my husband and I drove the few kilometres to my old school up the road to drop off the books. Although it's close it's an area I seldom frequent. I've reflected on why I don't, and I think the memories are almost too vivid, too overwhelming. The nostalgia is just too daunting. I have an extremely good memory, and it's almost like everything comes alive for me again and I'm transported back to my 60s childhood. I can literally see the cars, the bicycles, the kids in their 60s clothes (not a wide selection there - the way we looked in my school photo from 1963, in my last blog post). And the surroundings and the school haven't changed AT ALL! I lived in the apartment block next to the school, and I'm sure that if I walked around it I'd recall every stone, every path, every wall, every tree, every slope, every lawn (which we weren't allowed to tread on. As if we cared….) How all us kids, regardless of age, played hide-and-seek in dark winter evenings, ball games and marbles in long summer nights - when we were allowed to stay out much later because of the light. Do kids play outside these days? 

Smestad - my old school. My brother was photographed sitting on this wall on his first day of school! Even the colours are the same.

My apartment block. I lived close! I could run from home when I heard the bell ring.

Some of the old photos I've found clearing out closets, cupboards and drawers are fabulous! This one of my husband in 1971 - as he's climbing into a canal boat in Amsterdam. The text on the back claims it's Easter, so it's taken exactly forty-three years ago. He is 24 here, and I was still at school, 15 years old. I knew nothing of him, nor he of me - heaven forbid… That would have been improper!

2nd July 1983

I happened to drive through the woods around Oslo this afternoon and spotted quite a few patches of snow in between the thick undergrowth. But winter is definitely gone! And I find myself creeping out of my hibernation. My fantastic caring friends and family know exactly how to show me the joys of the "Primavera" - a colourful home cooked scrumptious lunch on an ordinary weekday at an old friend's house, a surprise visit and the sweetest flower from my lovely Danish neighbour, the grateful and happy birthday girl Mira. 

Scampi with mango sauce, quiche, salad, homemade bread and cheese at old friend Anne Grete's house 

Flower from sweet neighbour Lone

Mira 9 years old!

Carefully reappearing from hibernation, incredulously blinking at the brightness...