Not funny, honey

St Jean-Baptiste

This is our new log burning fire. Lovely isn't it?

Unfortunately it remains disconnected. (Heaves heavy sigh and prepares to reveal all).

The day started badly with The Little Bar Steward asking to go out and play at 4am. We're used to him wanting to go out at first light, but that isn't until 5am so I was particularly displeased this morning. Misty wasn't at all sure that it was a good idea to start the day so early but she was 'persuaded' to go out at the same time and I crept back to bed.

But.

We were expecting workmen and once I was back in bed I just couldn't sleep properly in case I overslept.

Of course it would be a good idea to set an alarm clock, or even to have a clock in the bedroom but that isn't the idea of retirement at all.

So I tossed and turned until I decided that it really must be getting late and I should get up.

It was 6.30.

At 9.45 the workmen turned up. They were in ill-humour.

'Madame', said one, 'Do not speak to me of Cahors today'.

I remembered something I read the other day in the local newspaper.

'Ah, there is a strike by local artisans, n'est ce pas?'

'They have completely blocked the town with their manifestation' he said with a Gallic shrug that says so much (not).

They continued unloading their van and I went back to my bill-paying activities and my on-line argument with France Telecom.

A little while later one of the men appeared again. Does Madame have a bombe because the chimney has a wasp's nest in it and the wasps must be removed before they can insert the chimney liner? Of course Madame would have a bombe somewhere but exactly where had she seen it last?

The bombe was found and insecticide sprayed liberally down the chimney from above.

No good.

'Madame? Where is Monsieur?'

Monsieur had gone out to get some bread and milk but was expected back shortly. Could Madame please call him on his portable because surely he must have one with him (never mind the awful reception in these parts) and he should immediately go and find a stronger bombe because the one she had given the men was foreign (English) and wasn't up to the job.

Jon returned a while later with two new bombes which were inspected, found to be of the type recommended by the pompiers so it must be good and therefore the contents were also liberally sprayed down the chimney.

The honey bees, for that is what they are, remained buzzing around the chimney until the workmen decided that they would go for lunch and search the shops (as soon as they were open) for an even stronger bombe.

Now, we should state at this point that we are not happy about the murdering of defenceless bees and had thought that a bee-keeper might have been found who would want to take them away. However, the damage was done and over lunch we checked from time to time for further bee activity around the chimney and also in the salon where the some bees were escaping. All seemed quiet.

Some hours later, the droning and rattling of an old white van, worn out with carrying cast iron wood burning stoves around the French countryside was heard climbing the lane.

It stopped just short of the driveway. It clunked. Men got out, shouted at each other, banged doors, started the engine again. More clunking, more shouting, and an odd sort of grinding noise .... Then the mobile phone came out.

The other chap came to explain. The van had broken down. The gear box wasn't working suddenly. We weren't surprised, that was the clunking sound we had heard.

The van lay abandoned in the middle of the lane, nothing could get round it and we hoped that both sets of neighbours were out because the breakdown truck couldn't arrive for another 90 minutes.

Meanwhile back up the chimney more bombes were unloaded and chimney emptying activity continued.

Bucket loads of soot and other general debris came down for inspection.

Ugh. Finally the breakdown truck arrived. There was a frenzied activity as the workmen packed up their tools and loaded them into their van on the back of the breakdown truck.

They were very sorry Madame, but they were leaving now as they had to go with the breakdown vehicle. Unfortunately as all work is planned in advance they may not be able to return to complete the work for another 2 weeks. But anyway, hopefully the hot weather would warm up and release all the honey that is stuck to the chimney like superglue because it will have to be removed before they can insert the chimney liner.

Two very fed up looking young men left the area.

On a positive note, it is 30 degrees outside and we really have no need to light a wood fire just at the moment.

Just as well, really.

Anyone fancy some sooty honey on their toast tomorrow morning?

Hot, hot, hot

Ste Audrey


Just to wind up all you workers and shirkers out there in Brownland. It's 32 degrees again today and sun, sun, sun.

The pool is so inviting when the weather is like this and it makes up for all those weeks of rain, floods and garden water features that we seem to have only just got over.

It has given me the chance to sit and catch up quietly on paperwork; tax forms of various types and paying a few bills (ugh). I've also put in some heavy reading time and finished The Virgin Blue by Tracey Chevalier (not the most brilliant book I've read recently) and Random Acts of Heroic Love by Danny Scheinmann; this book didn't do anything for me to start with but I'm so glad I read it to the end where finally I understood the way it was written and found it very moving - especially the epilogue. I do recommend this book and if you, like me, find it difficult to start with, do stick with it, it is truly worth the effort.

The Virgin Blue is one of my reading group books for June and Random Acts was purely for relaxation. I'm hunting for a new book now, so many on our shelves that I haven't read yet.... Do I turn to the Sebastian Faulkes book that I've been putting off, or maybe go for one of the 'I moved to France and wrote a book about it' books that are not quite as alluring as they were, except to compare notes. I could have another go at Bill Bryson's 'Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid' which Jon laughed aloud at the other day when he was reading it, but I didn't find quite so amusing, or the gentle 'Trowel and Error', Alan Titchmarsh's autobiography.

On the other hand, I have a year's worth of foodie magazines that really need culling, scissors in hand to cut out the best of the recipes. Or maybe I will return to my embroidery or knitting or mending that has also piled up.

Nah.

It's the pool for me. Splash!

Happy Birthday, Blog

St Alban



It is one year today that I made my first post on this blog. Such a lot has happened and it was really interesting to read back over it and see what was going on this time last year. No new windows, no pool, no kitchen, no chalet.

We heard yesterday that the wood burning fire will be fitted on Tuesday and the stairs and new front door should be along the following week.


We re-established contact with our English friend who has worked out here as an electician and plumber for nearly 20 years and went 'missing' from our contacts for nearly 12 months. He has agreed to come over and fit the shower unit (which has been languishing in the garage since last August) and also do the electrics for us in the loft. He rewired the house completely 3 years ago, so we know he will do a really good job. Unfortunately he is about to go on holiday for 3 weeks so the shower will have to wait a while longer.

The sun is finally shining, the temperature has soared to over 30 degrees and farmers all around us are making hay. The hum of tractors and hay wagons has been continual now for three days and, as I write, Monsieur D is whisking our hay once again before he comes back later today, or tomorrow morning to gather it into huge rolls.

The potager is coming along nicely. I feared I would lose all my tomato plants to blight again but I treated them a few weeks ago and they seem to have recovered nicely. There are courgettes sprouting all over the place, bean plants are flowering and the three cucumber plants I put in very late seem to be establishing themselves nicely, as do the melon plants I bought on a whim and thought I'd try this year. Unfortunately I have lost one 'Charentais -type' melon but the other two are looking good and the watermelon equally so. The blueberry bush I feared would be washed away the other week in the latest stream/floooding incident is standing firm and has plenty of fruit waiting to ripen.

Both apple trees look as though they are very sparse this year, one is fairly new and in the wrong place so I suspect it will either be transplanted or removed this autumn, the other is very old but does give some lovely shade in the garden so it will be staying.

On a beautiful Sunday like today, there is only one thing to do. Find a good book, go and sit in the shade near the pool with a refreshing long drink and enjoy the weather.

Cheers, everyone.

Baby news

St Hervé

Once upon a time, some years ago, I was given a new name. Our first grandchild, Alice, called me 'Pomme' for a while until she decided that I was her 'Grandma' instead. The reason should be clear. My name is Smith and I became a Granny. (No I am NOT green!)

An ex-colleague, witty chap (you know who you are!) used to find this very amusing and I would find apple labels stuck on my chair, my computer and even, occasionally on my back. (I'll get you back one day Clarkey).


And so, a very, very brief visit to the UK last weekend was hopefully to be timed with the arrival of our latest grandson. Unfortunately he wasn't interested in meeting his grandparents over the weekend and only just put in an appearance today, two days after we returned to France.




Baby Riley was born this morning at 7.20am, the phone call to say that our daughter was about to go to the hospital came at 4am and we tried to go back to sleep, but just dozed. They have both been kept in unexpectedly for 24 hours but we hope that all will be well in the morning and they can return home.

The quick visit was to attend a 30th wedding anniversary party for some friends and it was a long-standing promise we had given before we left the UK in early 2007.

What a fantastic weekend we had, lots of laughs, a brilliant party in a wonderful hotel in the Surrey Hills and catching up with some people we hadn't seen for many years. The highlight of the weekend was a ceilidh/barn dance - again something we haven't done for a very, very long time. Jon amazed me by always wanting to be the first on the dance floor and even my protestations about having a bone in my leg and a sore toe didn't deter the man from dosy doe-ing, swinging his partner and promenading all night long.

Honestly, I was knackered!!!

And that was before we had a 'last drink before bed' and finally crawled to our rooms at around 2.30 am. Sunday dawned clear and sunny and we headed to our friends' house to help them move chairs around the garden and put out a buffet lunch. As she was their godchild Youngest Daughter, Son-In-Law, two sons and bump came along to lunch too. Many suggestions being bandied around as to how to persuade the bump to enter the world but we already knew we would be on the plane soon and wouldn't get to meet him even if he did start heading world-direction.

We don't know which of these brilliant ideas she tried out yesterday but obviously one of them must have worked.

We, in the meantime, have been back to work. Admin today, trying to save the garden tomorrow - finally we have a weather forecast that says it will be sunny until the weekend and no rain. We'll believe it when we see it, but it is a nice thought and we can plan to rescue the tomatoes and beans that are beginning to slide down the bank into the field. Happy Days!

Thank you so much friends for a wonderful weekend. May you have another 30 very happy years of marriage. Much love from us both.

And love too to baby and his family xxxxxxx

High days and a few days off

St Guy

Too much to do, too little time to do it in.

We're going away for a couple of days so the cats have just gone on their holidays. Figgy complained and swore for a while, Misty cried all the way there 'Are we nearly there yet?'.

The cattery is lovely though - the people there are very kind. It's an English-run cattery and very popular so we have to ensure we get booked up early for busy times, which this isn't. Apparently they are already fully booked for Christmas and have been for weeks.

There is little we can do for the neighbour's cats but we will leave them a little food tucked away here and hope that they will find it and make it last until Sunday evening when we get back. We are very suspicious that the little tortie is pregnant but hope that she will be OK and that her owners will look after her when the time comes.

Speaking of which, today is the day our youngest daughter's baby is due - no signs yet, and when ever has a baby been born on time? It would be lovely if she can have it soon though as her last two were both two weeks late and she really doesn't want that.

I'm off to clean the pool, plant my replacement tomato plants (the first lot got blight again) and pack.

Back next week.

Cat Chat

Ste Diane

We have a couple of problems.

This ......

and this ......

They are quite sweet really but they aren't ours.

The tortie is a female and the tabby is a male kitten (unneutered). They started calling by a few weeks ago and gradually they are spending more and more time here. We started by refusing to have anything to do with them, in fact we actively chased them away but that had no effect and the tortie obviously enjoyed the attention because she was here more and more often.

Last week we took a better look at her. She is obviously under-nourished so we gave in and started to feed her. Now she has been joined by the boy who we think is her son. He is nothing but fur and bones but such a beautiful cat with a really loud purr.

We are fairly sure they belong to the neighbours, who are tenants, as the cats appeared around the same time as the tenants moved in. They don't seem to be being fed though, just last week the neighbours weren't seen for four days and the cats were here all the time. They do seem to disappear when the neighbours are home but they always return after a short while.

Misty and Figgy strangely take no notice at all of these two. Figgy, who has been seen chasing off other cats in the past, was even seen licking the boy in a grooming way yesterday and quite often allows him to follow him on his mouse hunting rounds.

We've not allowed them in the house, we just give them a few biscuits now and then. The dilemma facing us is how far we go with caring for them. If they aren't being fed then they surely won't have been vaccinated - the little boy should be neutered soon too. We're going to be away for two days soon and can't do anything for them. We'll have to review the situation when we get home and see what happens. Meanwhile, we hope they start putting on a bit of weight - I wonder if their owners will notice?

Silent Sunday

St Médard

Neighbours

M. Cazard's sheep

Copyright Sue Smith June 2008

Musical interlude

St Gilbert

We have, for some time, been intending to attend one of the Saturday morning concerts given in Cahors Cathedral. They are usually organ recitals and are just 30 minutes long.

The Cathedral is surrounded by the market square, the recitals are free and advertised as the Market Concerts.

We arrived in good time and had a few spare minutes to shuffle through the market before the recital began. I say shuffle because the population of the Lot has probably doubled in the last few weeks as the summer migrants (yes, just like birds) have begun to arrive in their droves. Car number plates are the give away as here in France, currently but probably not for much longer, the last two digits of the number plate denote which département you come from. Ours is 46 so any French vehicle showing a final 06, 96 or, the most disliked by the locals, 75 (Paris) is a holiday-maker or a summer migrant. Add to these the English, Dutch, Belgian and German vehicles and we locals will soon be in the minority.

So, the market was, to coin a phrase 'heaving' and every other voice (and I'm ashamed to say the loudest) was English. Friends all over were greeting each other with a cheery

'How was your winter?' or,

'Have you opened the house for summer?'

Added to these were the transient holiday makers excited by the choice of fresh (and very local) vegetables, fruits and cheeses. The stall holders themselves had multiplied too from a couple of weeks ago and there were peripheral stalls selling clothing, jewellery, handbags and other non-food items. One colourful stall was selling brightly coloured African gowns and I can't for the life of me think who would buy one and wear it in this fairly conservative area where jeans and a sweater are the norm for winter and jeans and a tee-shirt for summer (amongst the French anyway).

We made our way slowly, avoiding tripping over the many brightly coloured wheeled shopping bags which are the latest fashion accessory but a health and safety nightmare for the unsuspecting and finally entered the cathedral.

Today's concert was performed by trumpet students from the city's music school. They were tuning up as we entered. The youngest was around 8 and the oldest probably in his thirties, but the majority were teenagers. There were about 10 in total and they performed various pieces in groups, duos or solo accompanied occasionally by the organ. The standard varied but they all had a good go at their pieces which were sometimes conducted or prompted by their musical director a smartly dressed gent who chewed gum all the way through the recital. The organist had a two foot long beard was wearing grubby jeans and tee-shirt and wafted an odour of eau de unwashed. The students were all casually dressed.

Throughout the recital people came and went, some just popping in for a look around the cathedral were attracted by the music and stayed for a performance or two before moving on. People chatted during the students' playing and it was all very informal.

We couldn't help commenting to each other how, if in England, the concert would have been attended by parents, family and friends, all in their smart clothes; the students would have probably been told to wear a uniform black trousers or skirt and white shirt, and the musical director would certainly not have been wandering around chewing gum! Vive la différence and all that.

Lunch bunch

St Norbert

The weather is iffy. Luckily the rain held off yesterday although what had been a beautiful morning (complete with bright, golden haze on the meadow and corn as high as an elephant's eye) turned into a rather grey lunch time.

We still held the book group lunch in the garden as it was fairly warm and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Jon and I were a little frazzled round the edges as, as usual, everything took longer to prepare than we had expected and we were still mixing salad dressings at midday when our first guests arrived.

We had poached salmon, two types of quiche and many salads. Then cheese, followed by poached peaches and nectarines with marscapone cream. Almost all the dishes were empty by the end of lunch and everyone complimented us on not only the lunch but also the chocolate brownie squares I served with coffee.

Luckily for us, there was just enough poached salmon left for us to have some salmon fishcakes for supper, served with a nice lime mayonnaise and a few chips (extra naughty, naughty but we had earned them).

It was a satisfied group then, who discussed our previous two months' books and selected books for July, August and September. We find it easier to select three months at a time so that anyone visiting the UK can pick up books there, or we can save on postage by buying them all from Amazon. The books we selected are quite a mix. Jonathan Tropper's new novel 'How to Talk to A Widower' for July, Andrea Camilleri's 'The Shape of Water' (the first in his series about a Sicilian detective and his very amusing colleagues), and Doris Lessing's 'The Golden Notebook'. I must add them to my Amazon wish list and ensure we get them before the next meeting.

Rain, rain, rain

St Kévin


Happy Birthday to Alice, with lots and lots of love xxxxxxx

The last three days have been wet, wetter and wettest. We haven't uncovered the pool since Sunday morning and the garden water features have been coming and going. No sooner does the rain ease off and the streams disappear than the rain gets heavier and they start up again.

On a positive note, it is bright and dry now, if not brilliant sunshine and the forecast for the next two days is sunny.

Which is just as well as mother is coming to stay. She arrives tomorrow morning. On Thursday it is our turn to host the book group lunch and twelve people would be prove a very cosy affair in the kitchen so we hope that the forecast is correct and we can lunch in the sunshine.

Jon and I have been browsing Amazon.co.uk to see what books we can find to suggest for the coming months. The last two we have read were A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, a riveting novel about two women in Afghanistan, and What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn. What Was Lost is published by a small publishing house called Tindall Street Press, based in Birmingham. They publish what they label as 'contemporary regional fiction' and have an impressive list of works. What Was Lost won the Costa First Novel Award and Ms O'Flynn appeared recently at Hay on Wye book festival. It was an intriguing book. I think I may well read it again sometime.

My other book groups have given me Eric Newby's The Last Grain Race and my surprise postal book this month is Unweaving the Thread by Monica Tracey. Newby I know from his other works but I had never heard of Monica Tracey and when I saw it was 'another' Irish novel, my heart sank - however, I started reading the first chapter and I am really enjoying it - don't like to put it down. With this postal group we each make notes in a little notebook that travels on with the novel, I took a sneak preview at what other group members had thought of this one and they all seem to be of the same opinion.

In between my book group books, as I had caught up and had some spare time, I read Jilly Cooper's Wicked!, which I picked up in a charity shop on my last trip to the UK.

I used to like Jilly Cooper, lots of innuendo, puns, nothing too challenging, but this time I found the book a bit of a chore - maybe all the new novelists and the challenging books the groups are giving me have changed my tastes!