Life goes on

Life goes on - I have been on my own for nearly a year now, and until the tragedy of Violet's accident I was beginning to think I was coping rather well. But coping means dealing with everything that life throws at you.

The house seems in mourning - funny how a much loved animal leaves a presence even after death. Billy is inconsolable most of the time - but because he is still only a very young dog, he seems suddenly to forget to be sad and charges after a fly or chases his tail. When I played tennis this morning as I usually do every Monday morning, he sat mournfully by the court most of the time, until he forgot to be sad again and charged off. Animals are a joy and a comfort.

I am sitting in my kitchen with the French windows open, Wimbledon on the television,
it is a quintessential English summer evening in the depths of the countryside, and it is difficult to be sad for long. I am actually rather enjoying the single life -I am musing over a wonderful book my daughter brought back from New York for me, called the Painter, the Cook and the Art of Cucina by Anna Del Conte and Val Archer, and wondering what I shall cook tomorrow evening when friends come for supper.

There is a large bowlful of my favourite scented roses from my garden in front of me, Souvenir du Docteur Jamain and Madame Alfred Carriere - a glass of Cotes de Provence rose at my elbow - perfection really. This really is a new beginning for me after 43 years of a marriage that was less than perfect, but which produced two quite wonderful daughters, feisty, independent, beautiful, intelligent and a total joy. I am so proud of both of them.

Wish me luck

Sunday afternoon

I am going to garden today - the garden is a little wild, but looks amazing. All the planting I did 4 years ago before my 60th birthday party, has suddenly exploded, the roses are rambling everywhere, there is clematis climbing through everything, and the peonies are absolutely huge and flopping everywhere. It looks absolutely divine. There are foxgloves and love in the mist, and masses of hardy geraniums - I just love it.


A real, romantic, slightly overblown, English garden. This house and garden give me so much pleasure, it almost hurts, and I just cannot bear the thought of losing it. I tell myself that Violet had a wonderful life here, and that is some consolation.

Yesterday I took the dogs for a long walk, slightly varying the usual route so as not to get too upset and Billy chased a rabbit and almost caught it - stopped by a metal five bar gate that he couldn't get through! I thought, 'Oh, if that had been Vi she would have caught it before the gate.'

But - it is the first time he has properly chased one, so he is following in his darling mummy's footsteps. And, do you know something? I realised that even if Vi had lived, she would have had a very poor quality of life. She would have never have been able to go for lovely long walks, or chase rabbits, or foxes. I did the right thing, however much it hurts.

Let's hope that life picks up from now on - I am going to get the B & B up and running as quickly as possible. Shane is coming this week to spend a day mending catches, moving garden furniture and helping me get the loggia dining area up and running, and his electrician friend is coming to sort out all the broken patio lights, light switches, security lights, socket outlets, etc. so things are moving. I just need to take a deep breath and try to move on.

The birdsong is still amazing - it is a requiem for Violet.