OCC Writer Don Selkirk, aged early 50's. A year ago wanting to find solace to write and paint he bought a cottage in Provence. It is an old rambling stone farmhouse set up in the hills among almonds and peach orchards, olive groves and vines. – It’s a comfortable, large renovated place. Dark cool rooms with old worn polished floors smell of lavender and hot summers air of herbs, grass and crushed thyme. Outside are warm honey coloured stone terraces, walls and a rambling shady secret garden. A stream trickles down from the hills behind through the chestnut woods, warmed by south facing sun into a limpid natural rock pool at side of cottage – It’s all very secluded, private and relaxing. Don often suns in the buff and swims there too. He spends a lot of his time outside, cycling, walking through the hills and woods, relaxing in a hammock thinking of plots, painting or writing.
He cooks for himself, enjoys good wine, listens to music, drives down into the small village and goes to market once a week.
Don is tall, fit, greying slightly, green/brown speckled eyes twinkle. A casual dresser, quiet, laid back and has a very open view of life.
Lately he has been thinking it would be pleasant to enjoy some company – not too close. But apart from meeting the odd tourist in the village bar, chatting to the locals and some passing excitement with a French girl who stayed for a short while, he has spoken little.
A couple of weeks back he placed an advertisement on the internet offering room in the cottage in a separate wing as a self contained apartment. He had kitted it out for visitors. He had emphasised it was quiet and he valued his own peace and space- but anyone wishing for a private let for the summer could apply.
Surprisingly he had received a reply from the US by return. A person – he knew not who- not even an initial had replied saying they were a writer and needed to get away and rent for a while. The person did not say male or female – or offer any description – just said the idea of peace appealed- and suggested a week’s trial- if it worked out- then could the let be extended.
Intrigued at the mystery of a fellow writer- Don thought why not!!!! If it was a guy he did not like-then he could take care of himself- if it was a woman – he would honour her privacy as long as she did the same in return.
Now the person was in Paris – the last email gave a train time arriving in Avignon this later this afternoon – he would prepare a simple dinner as welcome – then drive down the hour or so- collect his ‘guest’ and hope all would be well. He had sent a photograph so the mystery person at least knew what he looked like.
IC –
The arrival
The TGV from Paris cruised into Avignon on time - sleek sliver and fast. Don stood at the barrier – intrigued, he realised he was excited at the thought of a stranger- he scanned the faces of people as they approached- families, business people, a few tourists, some older locals returning from holidays or visiting friends- a pretty mademoiselle, dark and sultry swinging her hips as she caught Don’s appreciative glance – Humm he thought – some other time! It was a mixed bunch- but they had all passed without acknowledging him. So where was his guest?
He cooks for himself, enjoys good wine, listens to music, drives down into the small village and goes to market once a week.
Don is tall, fit, greying slightly, green/brown speckled eyes twinkle. A casual dresser, quiet, laid back and has a very open view of life.
Lately he has been thinking it would be pleasant to enjoy some company – not too close. But apart from meeting the odd tourist in the village bar, chatting to the locals and some passing excitement with a French girl who stayed for a short while, he has spoken little.
A couple of weeks back he placed an advertisement on the internet offering room in the cottage in a separate wing as a self contained apartment. He had kitted it out for visitors. He had emphasised it was quiet and he valued his own peace and space- but anyone wishing for a private let for the summer could apply.
Surprisingly he had received a reply from the US by return. A person – he knew not who- not even an initial had replied saying they were a writer and needed to get away and rent for a while. The person did not say male or female – or offer any description – just said the idea of peace appealed- and suggested a week’s trial- if it worked out- then could the let be extended.
Intrigued at the mystery of a fellow writer- Don thought why not!!!! If it was a guy he did not like-then he could take care of himself- if it was a woman – he would honour her privacy as long as she did the same in return.
Now the person was in Paris – the last email gave a train time arriving in Avignon this later this afternoon – he would prepare a simple dinner as welcome – then drive down the hour or so- collect his ‘guest’ and hope all would be well. He had sent a photograph so the mystery person at least knew what he looked like.
IC –
The arrival
The TGV from Paris cruised into Avignon on time - sleek sliver and fast. Don stood at the barrier – intrigued, he realised he was excited at the thought of a stranger- he scanned the faces of people as they approached- families, business people, a few tourists, some older locals returning from holidays or visiting friends- a pretty mademoiselle, dark and sultry swinging her hips as she caught Don’s appreciative glance – Humm he thought – some other time! It was a mixed bunch- but they had all passed without acknowledging him. So where was his guest?
