Missive 21 ~ More of "The Chronicle."

August 2010

Dear All

Hopefully you will find Missive 21 attached, just in time for the end of the month, campsite technology permitting!?! We are currently having a few days away in the newly registered caravan, using up some camping cheques we had when we first came to France, so I’m relying on the campsite Wee Fee (or Wi Fi to the rest of you), again the wonders of modern technology!

We are staying on a site very close to the beach just south of Royan, at the mouth of the Gironde estuary. We are going home on Saturday, then have about 10 days before we return to England on the 15th September for about a month. Hopefully we will catch up with lots of you then, although we are as always flying “here, there and everywhere” around the country visiting family and friends. As things stand we are around Stroud the weekend of 18th September and maybe a couple of days later in the visit so may see some of you then.

It’s the jam / chutney making in earnest season at the moment, and we are rapidly running out of jars again. If we are likely to see you during our visit – ALL JAM JARS GRATEFULLY RECEIVED!!!

Love

Roger

rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk

Mes chers amis

More of “The Chronicle” ~ Missive 21

“There is a terrible English word, ‘sensible. I cannot bear this ‘sensible,’ it has nothing to do with the senses.”
Said by a Spanish Lover in Joanna Trollop’s book of the same name.

“It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined.” Henry James.

To pick up briefly on the theme of “Finding the Higgs” (Missive 19), I have since we moved here sent our many visitors simplified routes of how to find us in the back of beyond. On all of these I tend to go by the names of the next destination and where I use road numbers issue a “public service announcement” suggesting that the road number may have a different letter prefixing it or be totally different to what appears on the map or the number I suggest!!. Indeed, the French road numbering system remains to me, and many others, another of France’s mysteries (see below). But read on – finding us couldn’t be easier!!

It was therefore no surprise to find the following line in an article in The French Paper, a relatively new and rather interesting English language newspaper: “French road numbering is unsystematic and can be very confusing (!)” But the same article goes on to explain “E” numbers, not those in processed food that have in some cases the reputation of sending children totally doolally!!, but rather the United Nations international E – road network.

Basically, if you are trying to get to us from the SW:

• Pick up the E 05 at Oxford and turn right at Poitier, or
• If coming from the N / NE pick up the E 15 somewhere between Newcastle and London, take the E 402 at Calais to Rouen and pick up the E 05 and follow the instructions above.

With either, should you arrive at Algeciras, on the South coast of Spain, you missed the turning at Poitier!!

Or if you’re feeling very adventurous – mind you you’ll have to be very quick to find a Higgs, she’s back at the weekend in the UK!!, you can take an “E” road to China, which reminds me of that well-known Yorkshire saying – Ee by gum!! But enough frivolity, before her indoors starts to tell me I’m rambling – as if!!!

We’re back this missive looking at The Chronicle and picking up on some of the themes mentioned last time and here again to remind you:

Writings / Poems / House / Garden / Menus / Postcards – Letters / Projects / New Words / Flowers and Trees / Animals and Birds / Sketches / Descriptions / Planting advice / People / Food / Miscellaneous ~ not forgetting a section on St Laurent, that was added later.

New Words

The plan here was to really learn French, and despite certainly only being a little nearer to being able to hold a conversation, we did this evening talk to Mickaël the local farmer about his recent holiday and discovered that he had visited Limonsin, where it was very hilly, very beautiful, thickly wooded and green, and he had had a good time fishing amongst other things! We were also able to tell him that we are about to go away for five nights in the caravan a little way down the coast at Royan, then coming back for ten days or so, before returning to England for about a month. This is slightly longer than intended, but we need to fit in seeing Victoria on her return from China, my Mum and Dad, Linda’s family in York, a trip to Stroud (Daniel and Lisa and anyone else), a family gathering one weekend, a conference another and one or two people and places in between! So it’s a bit of a case of “ici, la et partout!” Perhaps some of the words are rubbing off and we are getting a little better!! Then, earlier today we met a very chatty French couple who moved into St Laurent at about the same time as we did and who always pass the time of day if we bump into each other. They speak no English but we managed to say that Linda was going home to make jam in the jars we had just bought and I joked that I was going to sit down with a coffee and watch. I went on to say that I was going to be in the garden in the hot sunshine and realising that they might think I was going to sunbathe, managed to make sure they realised it was to work in the garden – something that they can relate to as they have a fantastic show of flowers in their garden.

So, although perhaps we are not dreaming in French, apparently a sure sign that you’ve finally got it, we are at least beginning to get there!!

Then, there have been the “Clever Words” series in the last few missives, featuring some of my collection of quotes and sayings that I am constantly adding to, as I have discovered does Monsieur (M.) from the chateau, who when he discovered this said to me “But, you and I are like twins!!” (it was the second or third coincidence of our conversation!), but I pointed out that he in fact lives in the big house and I live in the small one at the end of the drive, not now, but previously the servant’s quarters! Talking about M. brings me neatly to another somewhat strange learning of new words!

M. popped around the other day firstly to invite us out to lunch, and knowing about my photographic exploits, to ask if I would be able to take some photographs of some of his family portraits that hang in the chateau, in order for him to email them to a cousin who is compiling a family history. Some hours later, and a couple of cups of coffee, as seems to be the case when we chat, I returned home downloaded the photographs from my camera, where necessary “fixed” them by cropping or manipulating the exposure / colour and sent them to M. by email. I thought I should explain what I had done and why there were two of some of the pictures and not others, but was a little concerned that although his spoken English is excellent, his reading of English might not be, so decided to use a translation site to translate my message into Spanish, M’s chosen language despite him being a Frenchman!! There followed a number of exchanges in English and Spanish about these and some subsequent photographs, and suddenly it dawned on me, that having come to France to learn French, I was now conversing with a Frenchman in Spanish!!! Now whenever he sees me, apart from flinging his arms in the air and shouting “Olé Olé Olé” he spouts forth whole streams of Spanish as though miraculously I have become fluent overnight!! But, and it’s a large but, I can now visit a Spanish disco and confidently ask the DJ for one of my favourite songs by Chris de Burgh ~ la señora en rojo! Aarrh, sounds so much more seductive and evocative than simply: Lady in Red!!!

Almost as bizarrely one of our recent guests added considerably to my knowledge of the Australian language. Some years ago my children’s Secondary Headteacher (I shall name no names!) who had worked for some time in Australia, told me that whilst there, she had spent much of her time wearing rubber thongs!! I was mightily relieved that she didn’t say “only wearing” and even more relieved to find that the “garment” was not what I had immediately thought, but rather the very practical and obvious Australian name for flip – flops, interestingly often called thongs now in France!! Then, a recent visitor, who will also remain nameless, but interestingly another Headteacher, Primary this time and due to retire at Christmas (you and no doubt many others know who you are!!) asked me if I knew what the Australians call Speedos swimming trunks. Having to admit that I didn’t, and slightly alerted by my previous knowledge of the language, I wasn’t surprised when he informed me that they call them “budgie smugglers!!” Several times during his visit he was heard to mutter with a giggle “budgie smugglers!!,” (perhaps it’s for the best that he’s retiring!!) until his wife, obviously getting tired of hearing the term, said she didn’t know why he kept saying this as he didn’t have much of a budgie for his Speedos!! - what a put down, but he didn’t say it again!!

Our patch “St Laurent” and not so far away!

Our patch! : Games afternoon / Presentation ~ We have basically said that wherever possible we will attend village functions and show our faces and try to talk to some of the longer standing St Laurentians. So it was that we attended this social afternoon on a recent Bank Holiday and also our new English friends who live just around the corner had entered and won the best garden prize for an old house and we felt we should support them.

So it was that we arrived at the designated time, shook hands with a lot of people as is customary in France, watched M. le Maire and his friends playing a local game called Palette, where you throw small metal discs at a target lain out on the ground, trying to work out the rules which weren’t as simple as we first thought! When it became obvious that we were not going to be invited to join in, we joined the women and children inside playing board games (at one point I was the sole man!!) and played a game of Triominoes (three sided dominoes) with a group of older women, one of whom we had met before and who obviously felt that she knew us well, as she took great delight in correcting one of her cronies about where we lived!!

Then it was into the hall for a “verre amité” – a glass of friendship – and huge slices of one of the local specialities, brioche, a rich soft buttery bread! Then the prize winners were presented with lovely pot plants together with much merriment. A good time was had by all, and with seemingly little regard for the drive home!!

Ploughing match ~ This took place on the same day as one of the events below, but as it was local as I said above, we put in an appearance. The event was an all day affair, with novices in the morning, lunch and drinks for the competitors and the main event scheduled for 14.30, at which time we dutifully arrived. Having been here in France as long as we have, we should have known better, as lunch was still well and truly underway, and other than a fairly impressive line of about 15 enormous tractors, varying in age but all supporting a mammoth seven furrow reversible plough shaft, we were the only spectators who had arrived and stood around trying to look both knowledgeable, nonchalant and inconspicuous! Well, over half an hour later there was a flurry of excitement, as the competitors (average age about 16 who hopefully hadn’t been partaking!), leapt into the waiting tractors, started them with a roar and with a total disregard for health and safety zoomed off to predetermined stations dotted around the field, their large shiny and heavy ploughs waving precariously behind them and at times rather close to the now thronging masses who had either now finished lunch or had read 15.30, for the publicised 14.30, due to previous experience!!

That was as exciting as it got, as when in position, very much in their own time, the competitors spent some time measuring, marking up and psyching up, excruciatingly slowly did a marker strip up and down, before doing more measuring and waiting for the judges to mark the first bits!! Despite a small beer, the lack of excitement was just too much and we decided to call it a day and visit pastures new, in the hope of some exhilaration! To this day we don’t know who won, but as we left we noticed that there were so many trophies that everyone would appear able to win something, even if as a spectator sport is was akin to watching paint dry!! I also mused about how the enormous tractors would get home that night as the competitors were too young to drive them on the road and their “co-drivers” seemingly in most cases parents, there to advice, help with the measuring, cast knowing looks and unsuccessfully hide disappointment due to their body language, had spent lunchtime and the periods of time between each round of judging propping up the bar!

Not so far away! : Fête de le Blé et la Terre ~ Having left the paint drying, we went off in search of excitement and it might seem incredible, but we found it amongst the sheaves and ears of the Wheat and Soil Fete! This took place in the next village to ours and as we had passed through the village over the previous few weeks the activity had been promising as signs appeared first, then a collection of old farm implements, then staging, fencing and all the trappings of excitement!!

And indeed as I said, when we arrived there was excitement aplenty, with the throngs of people being entertained by a large band of “enthusiasts” dressed as old (as in times gone by!) farmers, although in the case of the man who appeared to be the “main man,” obviously an old retired farmer. He appeared to own much of the vintage equipment both on static display and at work, as he spent the whole time walking proudly around, big smile on his weather beaten face, or overseeing the various demonstrations of the old farming equipment, at least on one occasion with a glass of wine in his hand. The displays and demonstrations were impressive, not least as they traced the journey of wheat from the ploughing and sowing to harvesting and threshing using a variety of old-fashioned machines, with a total disregard for health and safety – large unguarded fly wheels flying, belts spinning at alarming speed, large prongs forking up the straw in close proximity to people’s heads and fingers close to the hoppers feeding in the stalks of grain. You’ve got the idea – unadulterated fun and not a safety garment in sight.

We were having so much fun and it was a lovely warm evening, that we stayed quite simply till the party was over, the evening entertainment being a concert of Vendée based up and coming or semi-professional acts, who by and large were very entertaining and usually reached the high notes. Two performers however, stood out from the rest a lady singer with her own fan club (her teenage son shouting the loudest!) and a quite simply breath-taking piano accordion player, not a dry eye in the house, who can’t have been older than fourteen!!! He had the place in uproar and almost silenced the compere, who certainly liked the sound of his own voice!!

But, the entertainment also continued on the field away from the stage, as it seemed that the only way out for all the exhibits, including a couple of very large cows, was between all the stalls and finally, with a sharp turn between the bar and the arena around the stage, so as “electric” accordion playing and Edith Piaf songs warbled from the stage large tractors and trailers, steam engines and more did battle with the crowds and the low slung electricity cables on their way home after a highly successful and thoroughly entertaining day!! More than made up for the après home decorating experience of earlier in the day!!

Music dans la Rue de la Loge & Luçon night will have to come next time as time and space are running out rapidly!

People

As I said before obviously one person, a certain Monsieur, has featured a lot in previous missives and I can’t let a recent encounter go unrecorded! A couple of days previously he had told us that the egrets had returned and were “hanging like grapes” from the trees at the far side of the largest of his three lakes, and he thought they would make a great photograph. He even said he had thought about phoning to tell us, but didn’t like to disturb us!

So the next morning I suggested to Linda we went to see if they were there, as the sun was in the best position for a good photograph. As we set off out of our yard, we met Monsieur who had ventured out to check his post box, which is on the post on the other side of the road, underneath ours and both underneath a large old oak tree. He was wearing a garment that I had noticed him wearing recently, particularly as on one or two mornings there has been a definite autumnal chill to the air – a black hoodie!! After chatting for a few minutes, we told him where we were going and he asked if we would mind if he walked with us, so we set off down the road to enter the park by the back gate as we usually do when M. is in residence. By now the sun was creeping up in the sky and warming up, so M. put up the hood to keep the sun off his head, as he has even less hair than I do!!

As many of our conversations revolve around scoundrels and rogues, I thought it opportune to tell him that dressed as he was he would be refused entry into many shops in the UK as hoodies are associated with young “ner do wells!” Appreciating the joke he was still a little puzzled as to the implications, but I suppose that France has just banned the burka, so the French are not adverse to a bit of “clothing control!” We continued around the corner and despite entering the shadow of the trees, M. continued to walk with his hood up! As we crossed the end of the area that he calls his flower meadow, we spotted an empty beer bottle, where no beer bottle had been a few days previously and some way inside M. private property.

M. was concerned that it meant someone who shouldn’t have been, had been into the park and conversation turned once more to how he would like live CCTV whilst living in Spain to keep an eye on the place. Then, he decided to pick up the bottle to take it home for recycled and proceeded to carry it in a fashion that looked as though he was about to take a swig!! I told him that this made him look even more like a scoundrel or a rogue, and quick as a flash he retorted that didn’t we realise he led a double life (the irony being that on several fronts this is actually true!!), sometimes the respectable Count living graciously in the Chateau, but at other times he led an altogether darker more sinister life of drink and debauchery, and this from someone who had told us they didn’t drink!! (But here we were to discover there really was another side, involving drink if not the debauchery!! But that’s another story!!) He then carried the bottle like that all the way on our walk back up passed the Chateau, where he put the bottle down by the inner gates, the hood now down, the charming immaculately mannered Count had returned and as such must escort his such amiable charming English companions out through the main gates after so delightful a walk!!

Food

Or I suppose this should be Food Map, an “offshoot project” (see I can still put out the jargon!!) based on food but feeding into the kitchen initially at least!! In my many wanderings, be it a stroll around the park after supper or a more serious twelve miler, I am forever coming across food growing wild in the hedgerow, in the woods or wherever. So it seemed logical to make a note of where the best finds could be had, particularly as on one occasion we collected some very second rate sweet chestnuts before I stumbled across a sunken lane that seemed to be sinking even more under the thick carpet of nuts that covered the track – so much so that poor Max had real problems negotiating a pain-free path! But, these gleanings were fantastic and I improvised a bulk chestnut roaster as we had so many. So in the next month or two, when this year’s chestnuts are ready, this lane will be our first port of call hoping that “lighting strikes twice!!”

Now the list of ditch food, as we have started to call it, has grown to epic proportions. My mother phoned one night in the middle of our tea and wondered what we were having, when I said ditch apple pie, she said what’s that and a new term was hatched! Indeed, now each of the sites is being added to a map so we know where to go as each item comes into season, hoping this year they are as good as last!!. Now often the “treasures” that I bring home are of an edible variety!!

“Ici devant nous!”

Jumping frogs “ain’t got nothing” when it comes to the jumping stakes, a mere 25 times their body length just paled into insignificance!! Walking over to the garden a few days ago, a small something leapt into the air and travelled an amazing distance before coming down to earth. Closer inspection revealed it to be a light green / brown coloured cricket / grasshopper like creature about 3 cm long. And then a quick measure of the jump came out at 2 ½ metres or 250 cm, which a quick calculation will tell you is 83 times the creatures own body length, or to go back to the analogy of the last missive and the now less than springy frog, like a 1.8 m person jumping about 150 metres – now that would be impressive and rewrite the Olympic record books, and make the drug test team twitchy!!!

But keeping on the jumping theme, how do you get a large black dog (Tottoon) to jump vertically three feet into the air!?! The answer is quite simply sent her off down the path in front, so that it is her that stands on the four foot plus black and vivid yellow snake that just happens to be basking in the late summer sunshine. Having jumped high into the air, a quick glance and a tentative sniff persuaded her that it was best left alone. Alerted, we crept forward and were surprised that the offending creative had stuck its ground and was in no hurry to go anywhere. Some quick and rather cautious photographs; how very useful telephoto lenses can be!!, and we made a large detour as the snake hurriedly slithered off into the undergrowth and we hurried off to look up this close encounter, partly out of interest, but also to be sure that we didn’t have to rush Tottoon off to the local vet, as we were looking after her that day!

As always the wonder of modern technology, in this case the internet, came up trumps and identified the snake as a Western Whip snake, not venomous but capable of giving a nasty bite and prone to be aggressive!! Even more thanks for telephoto lenses!! We also discovered that you tell if a snake is venomous by the shape of its eye; a round pupil means non-venomous and a slitty eye you have to watch out for! Well something to get someone else to check out for you, or again put the telephoto to good use!! When we discovered this piece of information Linda said well I could clearly see the eye was round – me? I wasn’t taking any chances and certainly wasn’t going to make a habit of staring a snake in the eyes to check, particularly as someone recently told me that being bitten by a grass snake, rather plentiful in these ‘ere parts, is about as painful as two wasp stings – ouch!!!

My original “thought!”

The French Mysteries I posed in Missive 16 have been solved!! Well, at least one and two halves of the seven I presented you with!! I make that 28.6% or nearly a third success rate, (plus temps sur mon mains and it’s good to keep the brain active!!) and not bad to start with!!

French Wood piles: Perhaps the most boring explanation and only part of the answer, is that in some cases the piles are owned by people who sell it on to the many people who are installing wood burners to beat the high price of oil, as is the case with the local farmer!! I have also decided that there is something of a status symbol in having a large neatly stacked pile of firewood – neatness as well as size does seem to be important!! Also, perhaps with the above section in mind, I’m tempted to wonder if the owners of the piles are a little worried about what might be lurking in the lower layers, and consequently keep adding to the pile so as not to get to the bottom and disturb wildlife that might have moved in!!

Céteaux meniere: Here my French Mistress sowed the seeds of an explanation, suggesting that my scribbled note perhaps related to something I had read on a menu or seen outside a restaurant as it bears a resemblance to the dish “sole or truite (trout) meunière.” Research in my fish book discovered that a fish a little like a baby Dover sole is called séteaux or cétaux in French, but my large French dictionary translates meunière as “Mistress of the Mill, Miller’s Wife or longtailed titmouse!” So what then are the possibilities: simply a sole / trout dish, this dish as devised by the miller’s mistress or wife, or a fish fillet stuffed with a titmouse – take your pick!!

BUT, French Sticks or Baguettes: still largely a mystery, although again my Mistress tried to help! Maybe, she thought, the people are catering on mass for a canteen such as for school dinners, but if this was the case I think the camionette de boulangerie (baker’s van) would deliver them! Then she thought maybe the leftovers could be used for a popular French dish – pain perdu or perhaps you might know it better as eggy bread!! But as she says, there’s a limit to how much of this you could eat, and none of the people are carrying large quantities of eggs, as well as the bread!!

Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love, Roger and Linda

And maybe to come next time? Who knows as we will have been away in the caravan for a few days, taken luncheon with Monsieur and spent half of the month back in “dear old blighty!!”