The funny thing about the last three weeks of this five year pregnancy is that there is nothing to slow me down. Apart, that is, from the potager.
We have had a glorious week here at the foot of the Mont Ventoux. Eighteen degrees, wild garlic springing up on the banks (very nice with a bit of spring lamb from the local Bedoin organic butcher), the joy of Carpentras' infamous strawberries (the very floral ciflorette and garriguette varieties) every morning with our muesli, and seven days of lunch outside on the terrace!
In the painter's potager I am still digging. The plot that has been covered with horse poo and black plastic for two years STILL has couch grass in it. I don't know what it is about our new arrival but I want to get it ready for him. A sort of offering of the earth? Who knows.
Our flights are booked for April 14th to pick up our son in Bamako. Without spending a penny we have a second hand Mclaren three wheel all terrain buggy, a cool cot, two technicolour dreamcoats knitted by a friend, a suitcase of clothes, the baby sling and a Swedish polar bear in whose bottom our cat Babu is extremely interested. In the medical report it says Louis Joseph smiles a lot and his basic emotion is joy. My biggest fantasy is of my tending to the potager with him and the swedish polar bear dozing in the sun....Dream on!
Meanwhile, we aged future parents are just a tad nervous about our age and energy level and above all our C�tes du Rhone habit.
"Has he still got the Botticelli hair and the muscles?" asked a friend on the phone last night, quoting the chapter in my book (coming soon) about Julian and my first meeting.
"Tell her "said Julian "I've now got the Botticelli body and no hair" .
(Not true, of course, but we had a much needed laugh)
