How to have summer fun

So far summer has panned out slightly less well than expected. Take this morning for instance. It's windy, bits of cloudy, the tail end of a storm blowing out. All this in mid July. Small has had the biggest horrible fluey-cold, and now I have it, my voice husky, my throat sore, my nose rough-red. It had me checking for swine flu, but it's not, although my nose looks pretty swine ish. BF and I have fallen out enough, this time, for him to have left, for respite with friends. And this is a relief, as it happens, from what was going on before.

The gallery is ticking over but the village is agreed that this year there are just not the visitors. Meanwhile another shop has opened and 17 other holiday rental flats are being renovated, with large pool, up the road. So the place will either get much busier - good for us all - or no busier, with business stretched out between us.

Barney still has a bad leg from the dreaded grass seed, although he effects not to notice it, just plays with his latest favourite stone, digging up as much of the gravelled courtyard as he can. We still have two kittens - the boy, renamed Jasper, and sweet little Easter Cat, and their Mum.

Also we've added two teenagers - Teenage Daughter is back with her friend, and it's lovely to have them here, although they don't think so, because there is not enough to do (bar swimming in the pool/the river/cycling/hanging out/taking the bus to Narbonne, generally getting off their backsides and getting OUT THERE!), so they are forced to lounge around all day watching films, never lifting a finger, periodically raiding the fridge, Teenage Daughter complaining about lack of decent food/large town/anything really.

Meanwhile I'm languishing a bit, running the gallery where I can - yesterday I was open all afternoon and sold one postcard.

Spending - 30 euros at the supermarket

Income - 2 euros

Still no horse

The woodman has been living here four years. When people come to stay, he tells us, it's like this - a weekend is mates staying, a week is a holiday and two weeks is taking the piss.

When you live in the South of France people do come to stay with you, and why not - mates and sunshine, what could be better - and they're invariably generous and lovely and although it's hard work trying to keep fledgling business going as well as being sociable as the sun shines and the wine flows and your guests are intent on being on holiday, on balance it's good to have them around.

So why do they feel the need to criticise? These are the most popular: it's too hot/it's too windy/it's too cold/too many mosquitos. How do you cope with no one to talk to? (Still trying to get my head round this - I'm living in the most social place I have ever lived, where all the time people stop and talk, and I know lawyers, musicians, teachers, artists who show Internationally, carpenters and craftsmen, PR people, restaurateurs, all of whom drop anything to help and lend me their cars when mine goes wrong - a far cry from life in the city as I remember it), How do you manage without culture? (see last). I mean, do I fly back to England and say, why, how do you cope with the cooped in greyness, the fact that no one is friendly, that everything must be done at top speed and even best friends have no time for each other - and the cold? How do you cope with endless talk of money and house prices and security? How do you cope? No, I don't say any of this - and this is why. It's because there's good and bad in everywhere we live, and I am just trying like the next person to enjoy my life in a place I like, and, also, most of all, it's dead rude. So please, guests, come and stay and enjoy our place but keep your criticisms where they should be kept - to yourself.