Chrissie Green farming in Normandy with husband Tim
Summer term ending means lots of suppers out after I give the last lesson of the year. All good fun but a little worrying that I might put extra strain around the middle of the new dress bought for nephew Christophers wedding at the end of June.
Just a few days before the wedding Tim and I went for supper at the chateau with Mrs Dufresne, her son Gilles and his wife Veronique, who have their own independent apartment within the chateau. Inevitably, when we all get together talk goes back to our early days of arrival in France and the daft things we did.
When the girls still attended school in town I used to collect Gilles children in the morning and take them to junior school, Veronique brought them home. "I can tell you now," she said, "do you remember driving up to collect them in your little white Mini and parking on the gravel?" "Yes," I smiled – fond memories. "Well each morning as you drove off, your Mini deposited a pile of farm muck on the gravel outside the door."
There must have been just enough time for dry mud to work its way loose coming up the hill, and be jolted off as Id tear off up the drive, doubtless almost late for school again! Gilles used to rush out with a shovel and dispose of it in the flower border, and Veronique could never understand why some parts of the garden collected so much gravel in the soil. Ignorance is bliss.
Our nephews wedding was a sentimental journey for us. Tim and I started dating (how old hat) at a summer dance at Reaseheath Agricultural College (long before Helen Archer was a student there). On that evening he took my hand and led me out to the lake in the grounds, we walked to a lovely old tree and in true romantic style he said: "Smash your fist into that trunk, go on." Like a lovesick fool, I did. It didnt hurt a bit. I dont know what it was but the bark was soft and "corky". I had faith in him even then.
About the same time we introduced our mutual school-mate Jill (Jiggies) to Tims brother Alan. Their first date at another local family summer hop was less successful. However, time saw us eventually married with just six months between our wedding and theirs – poor Granddad Green.
As Jill declared herself pregnant (with first Christopher, then Lyndsay) I found myself in the same condition with Abi and Beth (when Cherry was a year old).
Now, here we are turning full circle, Christopher is working on conservation at Reaseheath, and that is where he and Lucy were married, with a French-style vin dhonneur for the guests, and photos on the lawn in front of the lake. Cherry was very quick to take a snap of her Mum and Dad under the famous tree, and we were very pleased to be there at all, as luckily F&M restrictions had been lifted.
Chrissie Green farming in Normandy with husband Tim