It’s a lovely early summer evening. We’ve just returned from a reconnaissance trip to Bourdeilles. We’re like young lovers making plans for all the new things happening in life. About half way through dinner Tom drops a bomb. “The love of my life. She’s breaking my heart.”
Now that drops a fork!
Every time we have a stay in Bourdeilles there has been another marriage crashed on the rocks of extra-marital affairs. The village is too small to sneak around in so everyone is sure to know sooner or later. Often one of the spouses is the last to know, but indeed they do find out fairly quickly. It’s not always a good idea to return home unexpectedly in this village.
Could this part of French village life be seeping into my blissful world?
“Haven’t you noticed how unhappy I have been? How I am just not up to my usual performance? Things just don’t seem to be working out.”
Do you hear something crashing on the rocks?
“She seems to have one blade running higher than the other, her starter is a bit tricky and I’m not sure what it will cost to get her engine up to par for the new owners.”
And, voila!, here is my true competition – the lawn mowers. Yes, mowers. Many of them. All in various states of working order. But all loved for their particular habits, curves and demanding temperaments. What else could a man ask for? And, given the messy disasters of adultery in Bourdeilles, what better mistress could a wife wish for?
Mow on, my lover of the bent blade, the slipping belt and the exploding engine. And keep your pecker in your pants.