La fin

Some one once said that the real stuff of life lies in the day-to-day. If I could remember who it was I could lift this entry from a long list of things with semi-colons separating them into something altogether more elevated. Pity I can't, then, and that you're stuck with a list. In 3 days our year in France draws to a close. I cannot recall having ever felt more reluctant for something to come to an end. Here are images I want to remember from our time here. Some will make little or no sense to you. All the same, here is my list of things and experiences that have shaped my - and our - time here, and which I will miss ...

The house in St Nazaire les Eymes; four distinct seasons (the snow, the cherry trees in bloom on the mountain, the heat of summer with crickets as constant companions and right now the exploding fire of the trees); central heating (yes yes yes yes!); the kitchen chez Garcia; the sun setting on the high peaks of Belledonne as the bats turn up to play; sitting out on the lawn looking out over Belledonne drinking rosé; mountains; long, slow bike rides up to 800m or 1,000m on Les Balcons de Belledonne - 2 hours up and 15 minutes down; every single lunch and dinner outside for 6 months.

The grey market in yoghurts at home ('One of those is most certainly not worth one of mine!'); gym #1 - the howls of mock derision from the punters as Stephanie - or perhaps Flores, Fabio, Valentine or Isabelle - from Vita Form refuses to gives us a pause during a 5-minute long bicep track; #2 - strange, faintly biological sounding terms such as 'moitié inferieure' and 'amplitude complete'; #3 - hand shakes, hair dryers and bonjours all round; #4 - 'en haut, en bas; en haut, en bas; en haut, en bas' (which, because it contains 4 rather than 2 syllables is way more rhythmical than 'up, down; up, down').

Driving at 130 kph in the Peugatty Veyron (farewell to the Pépémobile, which we hope has gone to a good home); la Dent de Crolles looming over the Gresivaudan Valley; motorways (especially the Rocade Sud) and the glorious French road system in general - not a crumbling shoulder to be seen; Orange, and in particular the endless supply of crepes; the bureau chez Garcia and lightning fast internet; very firm beds (actually, won't miss that too much) and square pillows; fireworks at the drop of a coin and fetes galore; La Gorge up on Les Balcons; Le Mollard, partout …

 Watching the Tour de France (including our amazing day at Alpes d'Huez) and Classicos with Cam and Michel (merci pour tous ces bons moments); Scenes de Menages (until Camille jilted us for her computer); violent spring and summer lightning and thunderstorms over the mountains; Terry Pratchett and the watermelons who suck back; rice pudding, semolina yoghurt, and creme brulée yoghurt from La Laitiere; Barcelona rice (indeed, anything to do with that wonderful city); cherries (lots and lots of them); major sandle tan in July; ace roast chook and fresh goats' cheese from the Crolles market; dreadful wine at $10 and fantastic wine at $5 a bottle.

Corks in wine bottles (remember those?); 48 degrees in the sun and radio/tv warnings to stay inside (which I didn't hear as I was outside mowing the lawn at the time - and lived to tell the tale); tiled floors and stairs; sleeping with the windows open in summer; fresh apricots that taste like kissing a baby in the sun (if that's not stretching a point too far); baguettes petrissées at $2 a pop; little chocolate Manivals from the patisserie up the road; pink latticework in the evening sky as the setting sun lights up the jet trails; people who are capable of having a debate about something important without resorting to intellectually sloppy accusations of 'political correctness'; the slow, unravelling sonic whine that the Pépémobile lets out when the ignition's turned off (bet Aston Martins do that, too); the gold chook (who we fear may have wound up in some pot).

The old cross-eyed cat that launches himself at the food on the table; sleeping in the grange up at Montgaren with Rosalie; Thursdays with Cam on  campus before she started gainful employment; melons - cheap and unfailingly excellent; chorizo which never misses; Camille heading out for dinner with fellow canteeners (posh ones!); Rosalie sounding and looking like she'd been at school for 5 years rather than 5 months as she trotted out her dialogue in the end-of-year play; Ema's clafoutti and tomates farcies; wonderful terms such as costaud, hyper, maxi, giga, sacré; Beaufort d'été, tomme de brebis and our Crolles cheese woman's fresh chevre - glorious cheeses all.

The well worn track to the Crolles market on Sunday mornings with Camille, followed by coffee in St Ismier; the paddock just up from St Agnés where I want to be buried (but not any time soon); our 'mexican' hommage to Doddie at her wonderful gravesite with the whole family for her birthday; the boulangerie (we all have our fav cakes); the drive along the A41 into the Domaine Universitaire. And above and beyond all else, so much time spent with my family - reading, lazing, cooking, watching telly, seeing films (great cinema in the valley - no ads, free parking, Pulman seats, $10 a ticket!), eating, travelling, driving to new places, playing cards, just being together ...