Just got an email I nearly junked without reading because it had no subject. Something made me read it, and it informed me of the death of a lovely lady whose holiday apartment we rented in France. It was attached to her house in the Cevennes, above her art and ceramic studio, and most evenings we'd join her and her husband for a glass of wine in their beautiful garden filled with fuschias of every type imaginable. Every Christmas she sent us lovely watercolor cards she had painted of the gorgeous scenery in her village. I always looked forward to them and have kept every one. I'm pretty sad right now. I think she was the wife of Banana lady's cousin. Family, but that wasn't what made her special. She loved to get pictures of the kids and asked after them, even though she only evey met Hebe as an infant. I vividly remember Hebe sitting in the hallway in that apartment with her hand over her ears and a look of shock on her face as she encountered a hairdryer for the first time. A happy time with lovely people. I always hoped to return to see her again.
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The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity Amelia Earhart
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