Today the summer finally passes. It seems but a fleeting moment since the chill winds of March heralded the warmth of summer. Unfortunately this year, even in the south of France, the season was tardy in its appearance, with rain and a chill mistral keeping the temperatures down until mid-June. So this one has been shorter than the usual. Sure, there will be a comfortable warmth through September and possibly into early October, but the nights are drawing in and the leaves are turning to gold, reminding us that the winter is upon us with its icy fingers seeking out our lifeblood, chilling our bones and freezing our breath in the bitter air. Barely have we celebrated one new year than we will be seeing in another.
Summer this year has also been tarnished by personal factors, causing me worry; the end of a contract in late April and some serial messing about on the part of potential clients (one of whom was offering a salaried position and then decided that there wasn’t enough work the day I was due to catch the ferry back to the UK to start) hasn’t helped much. The situation is bad enough without people being dishonest about work prospects.
All of this means that we will definitely be returning to the UK. It also means that we have put our lovely French retreat on the market. This will enable us to drastically reduce our outgoings and both of us will be able to work. The commuting back to the UK seemed a good idea at the time, but then I had enough work to make it viable. The cutbacks in the rail industry are biting badly at the moment and I am not the only one scratching about for what little work there is. So, while I mourn the loss of the French life, now I just want the year to be over so that we can return to the UK, re-settle in our old house and rebuild our lives. We cannot do this until our tenant moves out in December.
All of this means that unlike last year, I was unable to relax in the garden and just enjoy the warmth of the season – knowing full well that this will be the last one.
While I am no longer governed by the academic year, the first day of September always fills me with a sadness for the passing of the summer – my season – and the portents of the winter that I dread. Yet, in a curious way, I like September, this mellow hybrid month, neither summer nor autumn. It still stirs in me the childhood feelings of the return to school, the chill mist-laden mornings and warm afternoons.
And I always think if this: September morning still can make me feel that way.
At least you tried your best. Good luck and our best wishes are with you on your return to the UK.
Sorry to hear of your predicament, I have sold everything in the U.K. and will live over in the S/W of France come what may, I have signed the papers to buy my attelier/ workshop ( with house built in ) and will finally settle down to a way of life not possible in the U.K. I hope all goes well for you both in the U.K., but I would not be surprised if you find a way to come back. Question, one of my tenants ( I own 2 flats in the local town ) works for the SNCF, or what ever they have changed the name to and tells me there are some big projects to extend the TGV network on the horizon, were your work contracts in France or the U.K.? because there may be some opportunities over here.
John, my work is all within the UK. My French isn’t up to training and assessing in French and I am unfamiliar with the SNCF rules and regulations.
I wish you all the best; French rules and regulations are a minefield for the French, let alone etrangers………
As Lord T says, at least you tried. Far better than never taking the plunge, and so forever wondering ‘What if..?’ for the rest of your life.
And it’s odd how we view the seasons – I’ve always hated the height of summer, and longed for autumn and it’s shorter days and cooler nights.