The Savoie is idyllic. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to, rather like Devon on steroids but with mountain ranges. But this tosh about a peaceful life in the country is, well, tosh.
I am pleased to report that the well-known and well-documented international terrorist conspiracy to keep me awake has another victim: Rupert. I never thought I would see the day but since we have been here he has been woken up by:
An over-sexed or over-something moth living in the beams
Rats or some rodent with fast friends running over our heads
Cows mooing (I am not joking, it woke me up too)
A neighbour’s dog running upstairs
Lambs bleeting (I noticed he ate his roast lamb with particular gusto on Sunday)
Dogs barking (no change there, we are in France after all)
Tractors racing (or at least that’s what it sounded like)
Cockerels crowing (to be expected)
It feels like we’re living in a mini-farm. But I love it. I have invested in some multi-coloured ear-plugs and am fighting the forces of evil. Rupert says he can’t wait to get to London next week for a bit of peace and quiet. I might just stay here with my earplugs in.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008