I have never been particularly attached to material things ... and especially houses, unless there are eventually some strong memories or special moments associated to them. This might therefore be the most probable reason as to why I have grown attached to the Jongieux house.
Tributes are to be paid to humans, but because I will unfortunately not be able to continue using its premises and moving freely about it as I have in the last six years, I feel I need to praise its "characteristics" for future record.
I have known it throughout the inclemency of all sorts of meteorological conditions, and there it stood always proud, whether surrounded by centimetres of snow or embellished by rose buds and little yellow wild flowers.
It harboured a few of my most intense feelings and witnessed many of my intimate moments, having always been discreet about them.
Some of my best cooking moments were experienced in it and I almost felt that it did (passively) enjoy the "creative" flavours, which literally took over the whole rooms as I pationately strolled round the kitchen.
I had never imagined that I would have to do without it as part of my life and a "home" to come to, when being in France, but I do believe that the next house, though naturally different, will be as equally friendly, allowing me to establish the same sort of "relationship" I developed with the Jongieux house ... the house I will remember ... forever.