Our house

Well, it's not exactly ours, but sometimes it feels like that. We know it so well, love to arrive and hate to leave. We first came here in 2001  and have been at least 10 times since. I know this because I do tend to sign Visitor Books and there we are, year after year, as I go through the book I've just found on the shelf.

When we first came the owner, Didier, was a young guy who had built the place with his brother (we suspect the brother was more the builder!) and he was a nice enough guy, but he lived in Avignon and couldn't get up in the morning, so his parents often came to see us off. Now he is a real professional, often has his wife and daughter with him, and treats us as 'old friends' - which I suppose we are.

The house is not what people expect - it is neither an old village dwelling, nor is it a modern villa. It is a house built into the rock at the top of an ancient village, where most of the houses are built into the rock. But ours is full fronted with glass windows, so even if we sit inside in the shade it is like sitting outside. The verandah/patio is where I spend most of my time - reading, looking, and would you believe this week starting an online course in Anglo-Saxon Literature . . . I know! 

And the reason this is my blip - because I haven't been anywhere else today - and really why would you.