Plus écrivt de le stylo de M. Higgs! ~ Missive 3 ~ (More writing from the pen of Mr. Higgs!)

Dear All

Please find attached the latest edition of “It Happened one Thursday in February,” a working title based on a real life event, and hopefully, fairly soon you will be able to access, by invitation!!!, all previous missives and various other information via my own personal Blog!! You may also be able to add your own comments!! Watch this space!

However, that is not the hot news of the moment!! All being well, having got the provisional OK from Madame of The Chateau, and we think having persuaded the Notaire (Solicitor) of our ability to pay, we will shortly be moving into “Chez ‘iggs,” as it will affectionately be known; the servants quarters (farm cottage) of a nearby chateau. A long way from anywhere and the only address on the country road than peters out into little more than a track (marked on the map as “irréglièrement entretenue,” irregularly maintained!), other than the Chateau itself, but hopefully home for the next 12 months or so, with the nearest neighbour, by far, Madame who spends most of her him in Spain!! The story of this will form part of many other missives, but suffice to say, we will be rural and very isolated so need lots of visitors to keep us sane – book your space now, and if you don’t mind roughing it a little, the three- bedroom downstairs house has a large 4-roomed space in the attic, eminently suitable for a bunkhouse experience!!!

This also means that we are likely to be returning to England, to pick up furniture, about the last week in March. However, it will be a brief visit and therefore we don’t promise to be able to catch up with too many of you.

Enjoy the read, hopefully!!

Love and Best Wishes

Roger, Linda and Max (the intrepid explorer and loud snorer!!)


Somewhere in France
(at first at St Pons de Thomière, near Narbonne and the world’s second biggest area of vineyards!!, then finally in the Vendée ~ journey’s end or should that be beginning?)
07759 753892
rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk

Another day … another town or two … and more adventures and happenings along the way!!

Mon cher amis

Plus écrivt de le stylo de M. Higgs! (More writing from the pen of Mr. Higgs!)

You may notice a developing theme or two along the way – more French creeping in and further removal from the real world!! At least one of you, and yes you know who you are, replied to the first l……o……n……g email, with an altogether shorter one as they didn’t have time to write more! At the moment time is certainly not our master, as the length of this “chapter” will testify!!

Birthday Boy ~ lunch in Monaco, as you do!

In the first missive I wrote about popping to Italy for the day, well with a birthday looming, Linda asked me what I wanted to do and I suggested, as one does!!, why not go to Monaco for the day and take me to lunch!! (I promise that when we arrive in the Vendée life will become a little more mundane, or at least I think it will!!!)

After a leisurely breakfast of croissants, confiture Reines-Claudes (greengage jam) and café (coffee), we helped the dog into the car put in coats, just in case, and set off under a cloudless azure sky along the Cote d’Azur to the playground, and tax haven, of millionaires! I was a little unsure of driving to a place where I would be surrounded by Mercedes, Rolls Royce’s, Daimlers, Maseratis and Porches, but did think that hopefully parking spaces would be sufficiently big to house a mere Vauxhall Zafira!!

After the rush hour jams on the autoroute en route to Italy, we decided to keep to the coast road and first stop was a superb view point looking over the emerald Med with Villefranche-sur-Mer and Beaulieu-sur-Mer hugging the coastline far below and the bright sun reflecting back off the simmering waters. You may get attached to this a picture of me looking every inch of 35 with this seaside view behind oh, alright then 40, but certainly very relaxed!!

Then, just a short way along the road, we saw why the guide book described the village of Èze as; “a village on a rock,” as there in front of us and hanging delicately above the sea was a village on a rock! We stopped and discovered another absolutely delightful village with narrow streets and stepped passages that all seemed to lead to Hotel Chèvre d’Or, with a charming statue of a golden goat above the arches of its terrace, both looking out over the sea below, and Hotel Chateau Èze, both tempting, but one closed and both certainly out of our league! But after a pleasant stroll in the warm sunshine around a blissfully quiet site that in the summer would be hard to see through the thronging mass of tourists, we took coffee outside a café at the bottom of the rock, looking at the rock and watching the passers by going to or coming from Monaco, and not a recognizable celebrity amongst them!!, then we realised that the one’s we would recognised came in by helicopter!

Then, just a short but dramatic drive later we left France and entered the Principality of Monaco, now just a case of finding one of those oversized car parking spaces! However, what we hadn’t realised was that by coming by helicopter it meant that you left the large motor at home, and possibly even flew in off the large gleaming yacht, moored just a little way along the Riviera, in one of the multitude of exclusive marinas! Indeed, space is so tight in Monaco, as I’d only read a couple of days before, that they had reclaimed some of the ocean for a “new extension” and much of the new development, including parking, was underground! The old town seemed the best bet so we headed for the “Old Town Parking” and were mighty glad we had removed the bikes off the roof of the car and even wondered if we should have taken off the roof bars, as the roof was incredibly low, clearance only just and the whole think rather dimly lit, just to add to the excitement!! But after a tentative start, going down and a trip the wrong way down one of the aisles we found a space, decanted the dog and found ourselves five storeys below the ground with the only way up by escalator – another first for Max, who didn’t mind the sensation caused by a rising lift, but was a little non-plussed by all the other (smelless!) dogs around him in whichever direction he looked – the lift was surrounded by full-length mirrors!!!

Monaco, was a good choice for lunch and the whole place, bathed as it was in warm spring sunshine impressed greatly, even the lunch was great, particularly the sole Breton style, not extortionately expensive, at least the food - €13 for two medium beers did seem a bit steep! There was however, a glimpse of “how the other half live,” the two marina areas filled with large sparkling motor yachts and bordering onto exclusive and expensive looking boutiques.

Leaving the sunshine behind we once again plunged into the dark underground world of Monaco parking and had encounter the spiral exit road the wrong way, it’s really surprising the difference it makes being on the outside of the spiral not the inside!!

We drove a little further down the coast to the town of Menton, famous for its Lemon Festival, which was currently on, although we were not there for one of what appeared to be a series of riotous processions, involving the throwing around of large quantities of oranges and lemons. We also glimpsed the most amazing fruit constructions, with temples and other buildings and structures all made with thousands upon thousands of oranges and lemons, held together with elastic bands.

It was time to leave the bright lights and we decided to head once more into the mountains on a “pilgrimage” to a small village called “St Agnes” that shares its name with that much loved island, one of the Isles of Scilly that we have regularly visited over the last few years. It didn’t disappoint, being yet another fantastic hillside village, with the most amazing views, at this time of the setting sun and the lights of coastal Menton far below, starting to twinkle and remind us how near we were to the Mediterranean flesh-pots of the Côte d’Azur, albeit down the most tortuous of “alpine” roads often with little in the way of crash barrier. In France they have what seems an eminently sensible notion, that as far as safety goes the individual is responsible for themselves – obviously litigation hasn’t reached these shores. As with the other similar villages we had discovered over the last few days, the houses hung precariously one above the other making it seem as though the whole thing was growing out of the underlying rock.

A dramatic end to another fine day, and although a year older, I certainly didn’t feel it!!

Utilities ~ don’t you just love them!

In an earlier instalment I mentioned the sudden lack of heating one morning and the miraculous self-healing, well fingers crossed it has only done it once more, on the evening of my birthday and try as we might we couldn’t get it to come back on, and as we sat down to eat, thinking that we would have to put the gas heating on later if the temperature dropped once more, miraculously it self-healed once again and now legs and everything else crossed, it hasn’t done it again. However, now in the Vendée the nights don’t seem as cold and I have just crossed from the shower block at 11.00 p.m. wrapped in my towel with a jumper on, somewhat precariously as Dan the large St Bernard type dog who belongs to the farm, a youngster who likes to play and been known to playfully nip at the bottom, appeared from nowhere and with armfuls of towel, spongebag, trousers, flannel and the rest, as the towel started to slip I suddenly felt very vulnerable. I’m sure there will be more of Dan in a future missive as we get to know each other and come to an understanding about Max being too old to roll playfully around with a several stone giant!!

But back to the utilities, and you’ll be pleased to know, I’m sure, that the new gas cube has behaved perfectly and allowed meals to be cooked with no hassle and even come into its own when low ampere electricity has meant that we haven’t been able to blast the central heating on full to take off the chill when arriving “home” and have had to supplement the heating with the gas. Tonight, to give you just a flavour and to assure you that we are not going hungry, we had goats cheese gratin potatoes, flageolet beans and pan fried linge (a strong white fish) avec thyme and enchalottes, washed down with Muscadet de Sevre et Maine sur lie (meaning the wine was bottled whilst still fermenting (I’ve been swotting up on the wine!!, and due purely to academic research had to sample several over the weeks!!) for me and a Corbières for Linda – only I hasten to add a half bottle each!! This was rounded off by delicious pears a Poire William for me with a selection of cheeses (and without being biased the Stilton worked best with the Comté a close second!) and a Conference for Linda, we never could agree!! Tonight was a healthy night with fruit instead of one of the sumptuous delights so beautifully displayed, much like sweets next to a supermarket checkout, in the patisserie at the entrance to the shop!

But again back to the utilities, what’s left! Oh yes the water, and this hasn’t been plane sailing, freezing early on in our trip and then a fast drip from one of the taps meaning that we couldn’t leave the water pump on, without it bursting into life every few minutes to refill the tank. But fear not, my limited toolkit and lack of technical information about the tap, didn’t stop me sorting out the problem during a lull in the proceedings, whilst Linda did the washing – isn’t that rather sexist I hear you say, well I did the cooking, but I haven’t managed to train Linda to empty the chemical toilet – yet!! Actually, in truth all I did was take it apart and put it back together again and by a further bout of self-healing it dripped no more!

Fortunately, although I haven’t been able to delegate the job to Linda yet, the toilet seems to be OK, although thinking about plumbing, my internal plumbing did have a bit of an off day the other day, but nothing a drop of joie de vie didn’t soon put right!

Campsite lottery and the neighbours

Really, we have been pretty lucky with the campsites that we fairly randomly chose or were chosen for us by dint of being the only one open, in the area we wanted so early in the year. In many ways booking and arriving at a new campsite is a little like a lottery, but I guess the stakes aren’t so big and if absolutely necessary you could always up jacks and move on!

In the book we use to choose sites in France, there is usually a quote from a previous visitor, which gives their impression in a brief sentence. However, one person’s “friendly welcome” is another person’s dour faced business-like greeting, but of course it could be a different person or indeed a bad day!!

Restaurant / Supermarket “short walk” may refer to someone with very long legs and a member of the Long Distance Walkers Association and involve a lengthy car journey, following the ever present signs to the local supermarket, that promise you find it in “2 mns, 1eme gauche à la rond” (2 minutes, 1st left at the at the roundabout) and that sometimes seems wildly inaccurate. There are some supermarkets that we have looked for and find, by accident, several days later in a totally different part of the village!!

“Possible road noise,” might refer to the 2 a.m. hoodlums racing back for the disco on their highly-tuned (?) motos, bent low over the handlebars to increase their speed from 20 kph (approx. 12 mph) by a kilometre or two, or simply the gentle hum of the autoroute several kilometres away that goes quiet overnight anyway!!

“Excellent sanitary facilities,” well perhaps at the time of writing, at the start of the season, when the seasonal staff were still trying to make a good impression! Perhaps, not always the case out of season!

It all makes me think that perhaps the previous visitors may have all been Estate Agents ~ bijoux and desirable and all that!!

Then there are the neighbours! An Englishman’s home is his castle and there are some awful English families you encounter when travelling, who delight in living an impersonation of a football hooligan, but then in the south of France we were next to a French motorhome, which was surrounded by a temporary mesh fence, on the posts of which flew several French tricolours and vases containing huge bunches of brightly coloured and heavily fragranced mimosa and the older French couple appeared to choose each day whether today was to be a day that they replied to our cheery bonjours, or not! There’s nowt so queer as folk and that’ it seems, isn’t just those from Yorkshire!! Then on one very peaceful site; no wind, no traffic noise, friendly Danish neighbours, in the early hours an owl insisted on doing a great impersonation of a heavily distressed baby and sadly no-one came to comfort it. Perhaps the site handbook should carry a warning: “At all rural sites poss. Noise from local wildlife!!”

I nearly forgot, the chattering magpies, loudly “talking” in raucous rural French – how does that rhyme go: One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and four for a boy ...... but what is it for eighty five, they’re everywhere!!!

However, at the final campsite for the time being, the “friendly welcome from Irish owners” was spot on. As we drove down the long gravel drive the gentleman of the house appeared from under the beautiful stone arch leading to house’s large courtyard, closely followed by the lady of the house. As I knew the gentleman’s name I greeted him in French, although a “top of the morning to you” would have been more appropriate, shook hands with them both and then it became apparent that they had forgotten we were coming, although we had exchanged a couple of emails, but this was not problem it would just take a few hours for the water in the shower block to heat up. But after a few attempts to jog there memory about us; names, small old dog, house hunting – really to no avail and punctuated by a long and very noisy puppy who didn’t want to talk but wanted to play, the lady “ah well it doesn’t matter, how’s about a cup of tea before you sort the caravan out?” I accepted, but Linda declined and said she didn’t drink tea, to which the reply was well coffee then, or maybe a glass of wine!! She then went out to put the kettle on, at four thirty we declined the wine!, and the gentleman preceded to show us around, apologising all the time about the lack of water, then took us to show us the new gîte they were putting the finishing touches to, and before we knew it we were taken into the kitchen introduced to the two youngest children, the youngest of whom had just had his first full day at school, and despite the novelty of having an after dinner nap, as they in école maternelle (infants school) in France, he still looked exhausted, although did visit us when he had perked up later to be introduced to the dog! Then it was through to an amazing wood panelled living room for tea and biscuits and their life history, before so much as putting a single jack down!!

Never had such a warm welcome before, and as we finished the drinks and went out to site the van, we had to keep stopping to chat and be told about the area, who lived where, where the shops were, before they went off in a frenzy of activity to clean the shower block, check the electric and water was on and generally make sure that we felt truly welcomed even if not initially expected!!

The Storm

The previous night we had feared for the awning as the gusty wind billowed the ripstop and rattled the posts. Indeed, at midnight I had added a couple of guy ropes and been woken a few times fearful I would hear the sound of ripping or indeed flipping material. With the force of the wind, I couldn’t for one minute believe that the fabric could live up to its name!!

The following night initially followed a similar pattern; we had been out of the hills for the day, and driven back in the gathering gloom over the 630 metre pass as the temperatures plummeted, to close on freezing, the wind intensified and blew with it the makings of a snow storm.

Back at the campsite, we were now sole, or was that only foolhardy, campers – did the others know something we didn’t?! The temperature was a little higher, the moon veiled by thin cloud and the promise of this preventing the frost of the previous clear nights. In fact all seemed quite encouraging!

But, as the evening wore on the awning billowed and flapped more and as Linda got ready for bed, a couple of deep rumbling eddies violently shook the awning which in turn caused the whole caravan to shiver and shake! Before closing the bedroom door and turning off the light, Linda asked if we were taking down the awning, to which I replied that I thought it was too dangerous and hopefully, as it had survived the previous night it would be alright!

I then sat with a final Malt pondering the possible folly of my decision, as the wind eddied and gusted and the caravan shivered and shook (sounds like a 60’s pop group and new dance craze!!) , but a site inspection confirmed that the guys and pegs were all holding and the material, although billowing well, was strong and well stitched!

There continued to be fairly long periods of relative peace and quiet, although a distance rumble was always in evidence. Then from seemingly all different directions, you would hear a gush building, as the underlying roar, sounding more like a river in full spate, grew to a low rumble and seemed to bounce around the valley and ended up sounding like an over-excited run-a-way stream train. At these moments you waited with a mixture of anticipation and dread, as not all the gathering eddies hit us, some going down the valley, others were bounding off up the valley and others seeming to blow out before the fireman could add another shovel of finest coal.

Still wondering if I should regret my decision to not take down the awning, I went to bed after being blown around the campsite as I took the dog for his late-night constitutional and having to bend low into the wind to get to the sanitaires for a wash.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but the dog did wake me wanting to go out at about 2.30 and although still very windy, the worse of the storm seemed to have blown through, and whilst waiting for the dog to choose the right place together with the right smell to cock his leg, the awning for some considerable time stood completely still, before the next gust ruffled the fabric and rattled the poles a little. Good I thought as I returned to bed, the caravan will no longer appear like a boat tossed on a turbulent ocean and I can sleep until the next wouf of the dog – at 94 (in human years!) he gets up fairly frequently in the night!

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be and at 3.30ish with waves crashing and sails billowing and catching the swirling wind, I thought the worst had happened and the awning had finally given in to one enormous and lengthy gust. But the wind subsided, the awning settled back down and although still tempestuous outside I slept, fitfully and the dog (also mercilessly stone deaf at 94!!) wasn’t worried or even aware of what was going on outside!! He only realised a gale was blowing when he went outside and his ears were blown around and inside out and standing on three legs, unless in a sheltered location, was somewhat precarious! Finally, at about 6.50 am he awoke me as again the grey light of an overcast grey dawn were coming through the skylight, which gave me a great view of the scurrying clouds above. This reminded me of another bizarre feature of the previous night; strong winds usually equate to scudding clouds that at night often make it look as if the moon is the headlamp of a lone motorcyclist, fast and straight through, or at least behind patches of bushes or trees, but although at two thirty the eddies of wind had been roaring and rumbling around the valley at breakneck speed, the clouds around the moon were barely moving.

But at 7.00 the clouds were back on the race track, the wind seeming as strong as ever and the awning was billowing even more as the daylight revealed that several pegs had either been pulled out of the ground or at least weren’t holding down the awning anymore!!

Dog sorted, trip to the loo done and I was hoping to settle down for a quick cuppa, before tackling the awning, between eddies, and thanking my luck that as we had only really put the awning up to dry out from the previous site, we hadn’t filled it with chairs, tables, shoes and other paraphernalia; there was a solitary table and the outside temperature gauge, useful when taking Max out in the dead of night, when gauging what layers to put on!

One further particularly violent burst of ferocious wind, causing the caravan to tremble violently and for the awning poles to leave the ground and the tea had to wait.

The table was quickly dismantled and onto the back seat of the car, awning poles inside were removed and lain on the ground, external posts also quickly lain flat as another express train born down on me, heading so it seemed for our platform, so any remaining pegs were hastily unhooked, material roughly bundled and removed from the awning track and pushed, finally still and quiet, into the back of the car as the train roared passed the platform, it shook the caravan but there was almost an eerie calm as the billowing sails of the awning were no longer there to collect the wind. The poles were then quickly stacked out of harm’s way, the pegs retrieved and by now the kettle had boiled, the interior of the van was pleasantly warm, the dog and the wife were snoring quietly and the wind now just seemed to gently rock the caravan and rattle the cutlery on its stand.

Tea made, some of the blinds opened and pen picked up to put the night to paper and I glanced at the thickly forested hillside across the valley. Suddenly, there in front of my eyes was a graphic representation of what had been going on all night and why, as the rumbling and roaring built up in intensity with each eddy, you waited with baited breath to see if you were catching that particular train! The wind was swirling over the hillside, moving different sections of the wood, in no apparent order or indeed direction, but creating an ever changing pattern amongst the foliage that looked like the seaweed in the bottom of a rock pool being swirled and washed by an aggressive rising tide. Still one minute, a frenzy of activity another and moving around haphazardly as through at a whim, but then tide and time wait for no man, and strangely the radio controlled clock seemed also to have been blown off course and said 7.00 a.m. instead of what I hoped was nearer to 9.00 and a chance to escape the windy valley for the day and hope the wind had blow itself out by the evening!! However, the wind had the last laugh, for as I put my pen down and picked up the cuppa, as through to emphasise the point and let me know the wind had not finished with me yet, a fierce gush crept around the back, shook the caravan and rattled the bedroom door. It was obviously time for me to take Linda her morning coffee, so we could escape to the peace and quiet of Carcassonne in winter!

Out of the Maelstrom into the Snowstorm

It was going to be called out of the frying pan into the fire, but that was altogether too hot!

Later in the day, the wind still buffeting the caravan mercilessly, we decided to go ahead with our plan to visit Carcassonne, and leaving the caravan rattling and shaking and hoping it would still be upright on our return, off we went through St Pons de Thomière and picking up the Castres road for a short time before picking up the lower category road signposted Carcassonne.

The road started well enough with ............ But, fearful that it might all be too much for you all, the rest will have to wait for the next instalment!! When you can also hear about; “The cock struck one, as the torch flashed around the greenhouse” “Dented pride,” and “Perhaps it’s all getting to me!!”

So much to write and so much time!!!!!!

Amour et grosse bises!!! (Love and big kisses!!!)

Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love

Roger, Linda and Max ~ wouf, wouf
(donnez moi le pain, s’il vous plait!!)