And so it begins...

Okay so its rained constantly since we arrived in England and I know this is going to sound strange to some of you but in a funny way I’ve quite enjoyed it. You see, I’ve just swapped Languedoc for England and the south of France has been struggling under drought conditions for many years. It got hotter and dryer every year I lived there so much so that the little river that runs around the property we lived in would dry up for at least two months every year. So the rain hasn’t bothered me but ask me again in a month..!

I’ve consumed large quantities of traditional fare; fish & chips, roast beef & Yorkshire pudding, rhubarb crumble etc., and I’ve also consumed huge swathes of English humour and on one occasion, the first day back in fact, I partook of both at the same time. I was deep in the countryside passing through a pretty village when I spotted a little shop. It was a Sunday afternoon and it was open (heavenly) and the moment I stepped inside my nostrils were assailed by the aroma of sausages sizzling in a pan.

‘Can I have two sausage sandwiches with lashings of brown sauce please.’ I asked probably over enthusiastically.

As the lady set about making the sandwiches the door opened and in came four or five chaps who were out on a bike ride. They too admired the mouthwatering smell of the food.

‘Hands off they’re mine..!’ I said and so began a bit of playful banter of the sort I’ve missed enormously.

So, so far its good to be back in England but the journey to get here was not without its stresses. I’ll hand over to Rousseau my adorable ginger cat to tell you all about it.

I’ve never liked that cage they put me in when they take me to visit the vet. It’s very cramped for a fine fellow like me and although I constantly complain my humans just simply ignore me. The problem is they are much bigger than me and can just swoop down and pick me up. I do have remarkably sharp claws and could easily fight back but I don’t want to hurt my humans, I’ve become quite attached to them. They’re sweet people, especially the female one although I would rather she wouldn’t call me ‘Roussie-Poussie’, my name is Monsieur Rousseau..!

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I’m cleverer than they know. I saw how my lovely home was being emptied and I knew something was up when the only thing left was that despicable cage. So I hid and for two days they couldn’t find me. They got in quite a stress about it. In the end hunger got the better of me and when I came home they grabbed me and shoved me in the cage and off we went to the vet.

They made me sit in that cage in their nice and roomy camper van while they went into the notaires office. The one called Wendy explained very nicely why they had to do that but the one called Fisher said ‘you do know that he doesn’t understand don’t you.’ Well of course I did, I understand everything they say which was alarming because when they came back I heard Wendy say, ‘right then, we’re off to England..!’

Of course, I didn’t know exactly where that was but I have instinct and I knew it was going to take a long time. I wanted them to know I wasn’t happy with the plan so jiggled about a lot and cried like a newborn human until the one called Wendy opened the cage door and sat me on her lap. She put me in a harness (fetchingly a similar shade to my beautiful fur) and then attached the dogs lead. I have to admit, to begin with I was a little perturbed but as we bowled along I got used to it and even began to enjoy the adventure.

On the third day we drove onto a train that took us through a long tunnel and when we came out the other side my humans seemed thrilled, saying things like, ‘Hurray’ and ‘We’re back..!’

This time the journey was much shorter, no hotel was involved and within a few hours we had arrived in the ‘Land of the Golden Stones.’ Well, that’s what I call it and I can’t wait to explore.