Friday, 19 February It felt like we were preparing for a dangerous, perhaps impossible mission. All week long I was amassing staples – oil, pasta, tins of tuna and tomatoes. Closer to departure, I bought perishables and David stocked up on another essential, wine. When

Friday, 5 February “By the end of next week,” our green guru Claire said, “it’s going to look like Verdun.” That was in early November last year. The indoor renovation of our property in the Perche had been going on for months, and

Friday, 15 January If you saw the above photo while still deranged with grief over the recent death of your last beloved lost dog, would you have been able to resist saving her from the pound? If you are normally a responsible, rational adult,

Friday, 1st January For the last weeks, it seems I have been living almost constantly in the dark. I wake and work and walk Tasha before the sun comes up, and often don’t go outside again until the dog’s late afternoon promenade,

Friday, 11 December In the sweet and funny 1993 film Groundhog Day, Bill Murray plays Phil Connor, a curmudgeonly weatherman sent to small town Punxutawny, Pennsylvania to cover the eponymous event.* A snowstorm retains him in the town and, it turns out, in time:

Friday, 20 November Where would we be, I sometimes shudder to think, if my friend Tala, a second-career gardener, hadn't trawled the internet and found Claire, another second-career gardener.   Last year, when we bought Deux Champs, our property in the Perche, it came as

Friday, 6 November I got my wish and am back in Paris but it’s been a bit of a rough week. The American elections have made concentration on anything else close to impossible. Whatever your political views, it’s distressing to see a

Friday, 23 October Poor Paris. She has been getting short shrift in this Paris-Perche Diary; Covid-19 keeps getting in the way. First the two months of confinement during which we holed up in the Perche, then the subsequent period when Paris seemed sad and

Friday, 25 September As I was saying last week, before a fire interrupted me: Sometimes I look at the barn we are turning into living space out here in the Perche and am surprised it’s still standing. The masons, back from their summer

Friday, 18 September Today began like most second Fridays. I woke up and worked on my blog, walked the dog, ate breakfast and worked more on my blog, this one about progress on our barn reconstruction project, as well our growing knowledge of this

Friday, 4 September As a child I dreaded going back to school in September. During the summer my mind softened like overripe fruit and firming it back into academic shape loomed darkly in my psyche. The condition lightened a bit in early adulthood, then

Masonic dustFriday, 31 July Our place in the Perche this morning is more crowded than Paris. Or so it seems. We left the eerily quiet city early today in order to beat the heat (37°C/98.6°F) and the hordes of holiday

clouds approachingFriday, 17 July Every July my husband David and I have the same exchange. He says: “Summer is now here. Paris will calm down and empty out.” And I reply: “No it won’t. Not until August. July is one big traffic jam.

Friday, 3 July This morning I woke up at 5 to mild panic: I am supposed to write a blog today and I do not have a single idea. After a few minutes tossing and still not even a hint of a plan, I

Friday, 19 June Our third major renovation project in six years is now underway. After Berlin 2014-15 and Paris 2017-18, it’s the Perche 2020-21. Or so we hope. If there’s one thing we’ve learned from experience, it’s pay no attention

The Wild One amid the wild flowersFriday, 29 May On our walk through the Perche countryside this morning, it occurred to me that Tasha the dog has some striking similarities to Voltaire’s Candide. For those of you who have not read the eponymous

Friday, 15 May When it comes to French history, I should know better than to rely on the internet. I should know to go straight to my friend Diane A-C. Last entry I sketched the history of the May 1st labour holiday in France

Friday, 1st May It’s May Day, a day to celebrate spring and labour. With nature and work much on my mind this 46th day of our confinement, it’s a timely holiday.   Happy spring from my flower bedThe earliest known observation of the

Life under a Super MoonFriday, 17 April When we still had our Berlin life, I wrote about my husband David’s sixth sense, his inner GPS. At the time I believed this gift was limited to his ability to home in on a good

Friday, 3 April “More bubble baths,” I said last December, adding to the list of my resolutions for 2020. I had just walked out of a Neal’s Yard shop in London, where I was stocking up on their heavenly Seaweed & Arnica Foaming

Friday, 20 March Today it is hard to imagine that two weeks ago, when I last sat down to write this blog, my husband David had just flown to the US for a 10-day family visit. That he was planning to come back and

Friday, 6 March Sometimes I ask myself what it is about Paris that I love so much. Near the top of a long list is the fact that so many of her buildings and monuments were here hundreds of years before I was born

Creative skyFriday, 21 February We are nearing the end of a week here in the Perche. The days have developed a gentle rhythm, starting at 6, if I am lucky enough to sleep that long. I waste no time getting dressed as our bedroom

Friday, 31 January Today is a sad day, not because the sodden weather has merged Paris rooftop and sky into one lump of grey or because it’s too warm by 10°C/20°F for the end of January, but because come midnight

Friday, 10 January Think back, look forward. That is what January is for, especially one marking the beginning of a new decade. How do my musings from a year ago, for example, appear now? What might these 2020s hold?   Out with a bang: sunrise