Sleep of the damned

The good news is that the house in Argelés sur Mer turned out to be a great find. Another old, traditional house in a narrow street with lots of colourful foliage climbing down the walls. It’s owned by a Danish artist who has done a lovely job on the interior. We had a great chat over a couple of glasses of rosé on the huge roof terrace. I had already decided that she was a fascinating woman when I asked her where she goes when she lets out the house during the summer (unlike many of the people who rent out houses she actually lives in hers all year). I nearly sprayed my rosé all over her when she told me that last year she headed off up the mountains with a one person tent and stayed there for the whole summer. This woman has white hair, for God’s sake! The only concession she made for comfort was when she decided that a bigger tent might be more practical and went back to civilisation for long enough to buy one.

So now I have a new home from 29th May until 17th July. But how am I going to sleep at night (in her bed) while she’s sleeping under the stars being buzz bombed by mosquitoes? She could be trampled to a pulp by a posse of blind hill walkers or strangled by an overgrown vine.

I’ll just have to take up meditation and stock up on lavender oil.


2 responses to “Sleep of the damned

  1. Bronacos


  2. John Ryan

    Makes me want to buy a tent and head off!

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