The courtyard

I have always been something of a francophile. It is true that my enthusiasm for French culture and French life have been tempered somewhat over the years as I have had more experience of French bureaucracy, been subjected to more rudeness from some public employees and become more irritated by a certain Francocentrism (but you could argue that the Brits are worse with their insular mentality.) Nevertheless, my love affair with France is not much diminished and anyway I am living now in a Catalan area. One of the things I noticed early on in France was the relative absence of manicured gardens. Many private gardens are rather neglected, sometimes dusty plots with a bit of grass and a few flowers if you are lucky. Sometimes they hide behind iron gates. I never dreamt years ago that I would live in a property with those imposing gates and dusty courtyard. The previous English owners had built flower beds and installed a watering system for the beds and pots but, just a couple of months away and I can see how easily it could revert to its natural unkempt look of faded glory.