Lockdown in France Part 4

On morning 45 of the lockdown I sleepily put Rach's socks in the bin, thinking they were used baby wipes. Chores King.

We've been eating very well recently. One evening, we made Poutine (fries with gravy and cheese) with Niko and Lara. I had to look away when the fries were being turned on the baking tray. I find that activity strangely stress-inducing.

That same evening, we watched OSS117 on my new projector - a film recommended by Niko and Lara. A funny French James Bond spoof, and a great central performance by Jean Dujardin, the guy from 'The Artist'.

Summer is well and truly here but it's not all good news. The brilliant purple leaves on the tree near the shop have turned a boring green and hayfever has turned me into a highly productive mucus factory. The inside of my eyelids and nose constantly feel as though they're being lightly brushed with sandpaper.

Isabelle gave us a tarp to attach to the side of the van, to help shade us from the increasing heat. The day I put it up turned out to be the windiest day we've had since we got here. It was like putting up a fucking parachute. I eventually got the thing up after much sweary flailing around.

The wildlife is abundant around here. Each evening, just as the light is about to completely fade, bats swoop and dive around the trees outside the van. It's beautiful.

In the mornings, flies buzz and flit around our heads inside the van, like kids excitedly trying to wake us up for their breakfast. It's irritating. You try to eject them all at the end of each day, but a few of the buggers always manage to remain on board.

Rach found a spider sitting on an egg sac on one of the leaves of our plant. Her suicide note was wonderfully written, be sure to tune into next week's blog for a sample.

There are clearly also foxes. Nine of Isabelle's chickens were massacred in the early hours a week or so back. Only five remain. I think they are still in shock too - they were unusually subdued when we took them some feed the other day. We're going to chip in for Isabelle to get some new feathery friends for them before we go.

There was a thunderstorm a few days back. It was great watching the lightning creep it's way right over the van and off into the distance.

I have a black hooded thermal pajama top which I can never put on the right way round. I always stand there for a second with the hood on back to front, looking like a confused shadow. Rach laughs every time.

We all ate cheese fondue on the patio at Isabelle's. Delicious. Then, a few days later we tried Lara's Tartiflette. Also very, very nice.

Isabelle said she struggles to understand a word I say. I can understand that. We talked about accents in the UK and France. Apparently, Marseille is a strong one. We did the Black Country accent for an amused Niko. Later, for a reason I cannot remember, Rach 'lovingly' called me a pig. Water off a duck's back, I said. Isabelle said, ''what?''

France eased it's lockdown on May 11th. The drone from the nearby road has all of a sudden become a constant, partly drowning out the sounds of the birds and the breeze.

Niko and Lara leave today, to make their way north. They plan to set up home somewhere in nature, grow their own crops, be self-sufficient. The very best of luck to them.

The new rule here is you can only travel 100km from your home. How that applies to us, we don't know. What we do know is that after seven great weeks, it's nearly time to move on.