WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
Writer in Wonderland
BY LESLEY TRUCHET
Having sold or donated all our furniture in the UK, we arrived here in early March 2013
with an assortment of cardboard cartons and little else. Following various trips to French
junk shops and retailers of household goods, our home began to lose its emptiness, hubby
organised his workshop, I planted vegetables and we were ready to relish the abundant
delights of life in the Aveyron – despite the sun’s reluctance to put its hat on that season!
Regrets? Never. Previously dwelling on a busy road near Manchester, here we can wander
naked in our garden (should the fancy take us) and play loud music without fear of
complaint by our neighbours, who are situated so far from us that we think twice about
walking to see them. When we venture out, every turn of the road opens up a vista of
panoramic beauty, tempting us to visit the breathtakin gly lovely villages nestling in the
valleys or perched high atop the hills. With visiting friends we have explored the area,
discovering stately châteaux, ancient churches and mediaeval towns. We have returned
from trips to the local markets laden with local cured pork, cheeses made by farmer’s
wives and vegetables that don’t resemble lumps of plastic. When we feel particularly selfindulgent we have satiated our appetites at several quaint restaurants, sampling the
delicious local dishes.
Life doesn’t get better than this, except for what I miss most …
Several months after settling in, some English friends kindly invited us for a meal one
evening. During the consumption of the culinary delights we discussed the various foods
which we missed from across the Channel, such as bacon, fish and chips and Sunday
lunch at the local pub. I pined for them too. However, what I missed most of all was the
twice monthly meet up with my fellow writers in Oldham Lancs. They were a very
friendly bunch of writers and I found the meetings inspiring and enjoyed them
enormously.
Borrowing Alice’s response to the Gryphon: ‘It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was
a different person then,’ I turned my face away from the UK. The craving for bacon, fish and
chips, real ale, and roast beef and Yorkshire pud gradually merged into fond memories,
but the lack of fellow writers left a hole in my life. Here in France, with more precious
12 | November 2016