Clearly I was tiring of all the excitement; rather than moving on to new pastures, or meadows, I’ve stayed put, and weathered the storms. By comparison with holiday weekend, there’s no excitement at all. There’s a few people to impose myself on, but the bar and the pizza cabin are shut. The storm, predicted by notices on the games room door, turned out to be a humdinger; some people managed to sleep through, despite torrential rain (again); lightning flashes and at least one enormous thunderclap, quite close by. The weather took out two trees, one a fairly weedy, and probably diseased one close to the van; and when I went top the bi n area this morning, found a 40′ oak had been uprooted and toppled – it fell at 9am, according to Clément the deputy manager, who heard it from reception. The grounds staff were on the case quickly, wielding chainsaws and trailers to drag the stuff away; the oak is bit more of a challenge.

The rain continued into the next day, so I spent some time editing the Health Centre newsletter for back home, using the better WiFi in the games room. Keeping dry. That being said, I’ve been getting my steps in, did the long walk over the far side of the river and over the town bridge; wandering up to the rugby pitch where there were a bunch of youngsters kicking a ball about (spot kicks to goal were impressive); wandering up to the shops. After my extravagance of the €10 veg box last week I didn’t dare go to the Wednesday market. Managed to score a big bag of local walnuts, and a small bottle of walnut oil to take home. I stocked up on microwave veggie meals, in case I need to take them into the UK. I have two beef based instant meals in the freezer compartment, which should see me home. This morning I went to my favourite florist, at least down here, to buy some flowers for my hosts this weekend. On the way back was a reminder of the Resistance activity hereabouts, with the memorial. I’m also reminded of the story about the little French Jewish lady who would only buy Bon Maman jam, (made two villages away) because the owner had offered shelter against the Nazis.

Said hello to a chatty Dutch couple setting up their tent: they were expecting their daughter and her family to join on the next pitch. Also, a younger Dutch women walking her rather nervous chow. And made friends with Steve and Chris from Herefordshire, in a pretty Transit conversion. It was only when I went to see them for a coffee, that I made the connection between the woman with the chow, and the chatty Dutch couple, on adjacent pitches. Derr.

Whiling away a drizzly afternoon with Chris and Steve was fun: exchanging routes and campsites; and family stories and histories. Chris had a fascinating career as an emergency care nurse (I may have got the terminology wrong, sorry!); while Steve, after training as a toolmaker, got into satellite comms engineering with BT, then into IT hardware. I’ve a fondness for engineers, and their mindsets; like our Allan, they are useful people to know. They were about to work their way up the west side, trying to avoid the worst of the weather.

Prompted by conversations about practical thinking, I started doing some reading on neurodiversity. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned my suspicion that a lot of my childhood and student behaviour and into adulthood, seems to fit the patterns of ADHD. I remember last year having the conversation with the German lady, Ute, in Orio about her son’s autism. There’s certainly an inherited family trait of ‘quirkiness’, which my Dad certainly exhibited. I sent the list of traits to Alli, who responded by saying “All the world’s daft except thee and see and even thee’s a bit touched.” It’s fair comment; and I’m not really qualified to make a diagnosis.

Tomorrow is going to be a journey of discovery; going to stay with Mike and Jan near Niort. It’s over fifty years since we last met; memory being what it is, I’m sure we will be prompting each other a lot: to be honest, my recollections are hazy. There’s a part of me wants to forget the idiocies I committed in my youth, (see ADHD above) which I why I was reluctant to join any reunions or recollection websites. But the past catches up; at least I get the chance to apologise! Mike’s proud of his wine cellar, so I can make a small contribution, from my mobile wine rack.