Christmas Missive December 2012



 

Dear All

Just finished the Christmas cards and both commented on how for the first time for several years there were no deletions, nobody no longer with us, no empty chairs as it were.  But, it’s not the time to be maudlin, ‘tis once again the season to be jolly.  So having a couple of days ago donned the red suit and doled out the presents to the assembled children of the parish – Ho! Ho! Ho!, and here we go again!  ...... This time last year we were in our new house and most of the rooms were habitable, except the downstairs en suite bathroom, which we have subsequently discovered used to be a two horse stable, with our bedroom above part of the hayloft!  Our return to France after last Christmas was delayed a little as the UK Passport Office didn’t like my new photo (couldn’t believe how good looking I was!) and wanted something to play down the stunning looks, although Linda thinks it was the use of a French photo booth!!  But, we were straight back to the stable renovation, in readiness for our first visitors at Easter, (it will have been a record breaking 33 this year!) as well as trying in vain a lot of the time, to get back to work on the barn / summer kitchen roofs. Winter in the Vendée was wet for much of the time and for several weeks for once colder than back in the UK, with a couple of snowy periods, one that went on for some time with unprecedented cold temperatures – for one week the frozen snow meant we weren’t able to get the car out of the hamlet and the bread van and post couldn’t get in.  Thank goodness for the freezer, but more of that later!

Once the septic tank company had caught up after the inclement weather, they got around to us and for a few days the peace and tranquillity was once again shattered as they drilled out the solid rock in front of the house for a large 3000l tank and a modern micro-station that much to the consternation of the neighbours doesn’t require a sand bed filter.  We had to get the salesman to convince them it was indeed cutting edge technology rather than us pulling a fast one!!  And as such technology doesn’t come cheap; it doesn’t get the use that it might, as we can’t afford the food necessary to feed such a system!!!!  But, joking aside, we were able to get the garden dug over and due to the previous incumbents (the chickens) not having the use of modern facilities, the soil is amazingly fertile and we grew lots of fresh produce and filled the freezers, which sadly failed in the wet weather that the Vendée had whilst we were in the UK in October – fortunately, friends found them defrosted before they started to rot and were able to re-freeze the ruined stuff for us to sort out on our return – oh c’est la vie as they say in these parts!!

Our October visit to the UK, also ended up extended as my Dad had to have a major op, from which he has made a good recovery, and will hopefully be back driving again and able to take my Mum for her two daily shopping fix!  But, this ended up our only trip away this year, the caravan languishing unused in the garden.  But we are hopefully going to remedy this next year with an Easter trip to Biarritz being planned, as well as more “Pet Shop” duty in York as most of Linda’s sister’s family go to Africa on safari in February.      

Briefly, the rest of the family:  Daniel and Lisa who are joining us for Christmas in France this year, which will be the first time they have seen our new house.  They remain very busy, Lisa working long hours in Cheltenham as well as continuing to run the local St. John Badger set and Daniel working during term time as a cover supervisor in a Gloucester secondary school and working school holidays at a local leisure centre.  He is also very busy with St John running the local Adult Division and increasing his Child Protection role.  We were able to help them with block paving their drive when we visited in October, which will help with parking which is a problematic in their busy road.

Victoria and Dermot are still in Plymouth, Victoria’s job being made permanent.  She has been working very hard a s a new teacher getting to grips with all that entails , as well as taking on the role of Duke of Edinburgh Scheme co-ordinator  They also bought a house in the middle of the year – a real bargain, dint of needing a vast amount of work doing on it.  But they have both been working very hard on the renovations and it is really taking shape and will be a lovely large house (previously two flats over four floors!) when they have finished, at least they have managed to get the heating in time for the colder weather.  Fortunately, Dermot’s submarine is in for a refit so he has had a lot of time for DIY!!  All her work, and perhaps the expense of becoming a house owner, well at least a mortgage payer, slightly curtailed her wanderlust this year, only managed the Isles of Scilly, France and Switzerland, but is already looking to next year – so far; Austria (partly with work), France/Spain, Holland (with school) and somewhere tba in the summer!!

Well, once again Joyeuse Fêtes as they say in France.  Remember, this is but a brief Family Christmas Missive for more “what we’re doing” visit the blog http://ithappenedonethursdayinfebruary.blogspot.com , or for a more esoteric offerings try the new blog: http://rogerscreativeurge.blogspot.com !! 

Love from



Roger and Linda

 

Nature in all its fury!

Quel monde formidable or loosely translated ~

What a wonderful world!

It’s certainly a wonderful, albeit at times formidable, world and the elements can often seem unstoppable as demonstrated recently, when our peaceful village roared to the sound of the normally gently flowing burbling brook turning into a raging torrent after in excess of 24 hours of very heavy showers and more prolonged rain.  Funnily enough almost 12 months to the day since we last saw this, although I think it happened more recently, when we were away in England.

The pictures, before and after, speak for themselves:

“Our” stream

 

 

 

                                         click to play the video

Our garden

 

 

 

click to play the video

The Ford

 

As you can see we couldn’t get across the bridge or wade through the ford to take the picture the other side!

On the way back from taking some pictures we met our neighbour who wanted to know if Linda had had a good time in England, and had she gone from St Malo on the ferry, he then added, with that twinkle he has in his eyes, particularly just after lunch!, that if it continues to rain for much longer we could take a boat to England from the bottom of the garden!!

 

Why The Vendée

We are often asked the above question, and although it was in some ways “luck” there is a long version of the story that I’m sure many of you have already heard, if not ask us next time you see us!

But, for the moment suffice to say that The Vendée reputedly has as many days sunshine as Mediterranean coast of France and has nowhere near as many Brits as the Dordogne, which has at least one English language newspaper and it is not uncommon for UK cars to outnumber French ones in the local supermarket!

Linda left me on Friday, no no, not permanently or indeed due to anything I said, she went to England, Plymouth to be precise for a girlie weekend with Victoria and various other girlie members of the family!!  So I have been left busy doing various and seemingly not ending DIY projects, feeding myself (although friends down the road must think I’m neglecting myself and wasting away as they have invited me to eat with them on two of the evenings!), a bit of walking, keeping the home fires burning as we’re having a cold snap and I even figured out the washing machine as I was running out of warm socks due to the cold spell!!  In addition to this I’ve been busy on the computer with emails, blogs and even editing the website of the Association of Countryside Volunteers, for which I am the Vice Chair and Editor – all in all a thoroughly modern man, so much so that I was quite horrified when I joined a group of French walkers at the weekend and the end a wall was used as a make shift table for refreshments – biscuits washed down with wine for the men and orange juice for the women and it wasn’t that all the women had drawn the short straw and were driving, no it’s just the way it is hereabouts!!  Can’t help feeling it was a good thing Linda was away, she’d have rocked the boat, if not grabbed the wine bottle!!  But equality in France, the country of Liberté, égalité, fraternité, is another story, to which one day I may carefully return!

I mentioned emails above and one of them was a request, for a reference, for an ex-colleague, they even track me down in deepest rural France, the wonders of technology!  It appears that I’m no longer an institution (thank the lord!!) and for “reasons of compliance” a hard copy of the reference must be posted and an emailed version is not acceptable!!  The form duly printed and filled in and I find that the envelope marked England blue , was empty – it’s the envelope of stamps for sending to England and they’re blue in case you’re wondering, so I needed to go the local village for stamps and the post box.  Interestingly, if the envelope had contained a stamp, I could have stuck it on the letter when I had finished the form, popped downstairs around the back of the house and put it in our post box (an actual box!) remembering to flick over the red tab to alert the postie that there was a letter TO COLLECT – what a brilliant service and one we only recently discovered, thought it was only for older people who couldn’t get out and about very easily.  I’ve not tried it yet but apparently you can, if you haven’t got a stamp, leave money with the letter and the postie will do the rest, bringing back the change the next day if necessary!!!  The fact that it was a blue stamp I needed not a red one for post within France, I thought it best not to risk it!

Arriving in the local village, I visited the Mairie, the Mayor’s office, not because I wanted to chat local politics or the like, but because at the back in a small room is a small bureau of La Poste, with all the normal services including banking.  This is France’s response to the mounting cost of running rural Post Office branches, they don’t shut them they downsize them and put them into municipal buildings – what an inspired and eminently sensible solution!  Having entered the building I found there was someone in the bureau and one person waiting outside; the French take confidentiality and privacy very seriously and it might I suppose be banking matters being discussed, therefore queuing customers are requested to wait in the corridor with seating provided.

I “Bonjoured” the gentleman who was waiting and moved down the queue.  We were then joined by a lady who we both “Bonjoured madam” as she took her place in the queue, the customer in the office obviously had a lot of business to cover!  A man then entered and started to ask the lady, in fast French, something about the village hall, and as she seemed as confused as I was trying to keep up, the man at the front of the queue said “Oh! You’re English” to her, to which I responded that by quite a coincidence so was I, as was the man!  Three English people in a row, the lady deciding it must be because Christmas is looming and we were all posting early for Christmas, the French don’t really do Christmas cards!!  Then, when the door opened and another lady joined us it seemed almost natural to greet her in English as well, and you’ve guessed it, it was now four in a row – what did I say about the Dordogne!!  I often wonder when such a coincidence occurs what the odds of it happening would be, but it would take a better mathematician that me to work it out, I’ll just stand in awe!  

Having finally got my stamps, said “I guess its good bye rather than au revoir” to the queue, which was fortunately still devoid of a French person, they might not have understood, I left and the boulangerie caught my eye!!  Well, Linda had talked about the chocolate brownies they had been eating!  I decided a treat was in order and asked for a La Festive, a rather chewy but incredibly tasty brownish baguette, just as the religieuse caught my eye – a patisserie that is rather wicked despite the name!  So, somewhat sadly I ordered one, sad in the same way that I sometimes find people in restaurants dining alone, and was delighted to see it was duly put into a cake box that could quite easily hold three or even four of these calorie rich treats said to resemble nuns!!  On the way home I also thought that that the neighbours wouldn’t spot my sad individual cake, thinking instead that I’d bought a welcome home cake for Linda, she’s due home tomorrow.  Rather ironically, later in the afternoon one of the friends down the road called in to invite me down to share the curry they were having, so the religieuse languishes all alone in the fridge and I’m left with a dilemma; elevenses before going to meet Linda off the train, half each for tea tomorrow or buy another one and argue about who’s going to have the fresh one!  Life can be so stressful!!!  

P.S. We shared it, well she does proof read the blog posts, but we did find something equally rich and lovely for the other half!!  religieusesreligieuses

Quel monde formidable or loosely translated ~

What a wonderful world!

(with thanks to Google translate, not that I needed it in this case! – call it a comfort blanket! -and Bob Thiele (as "George Douglas") and George David Weiss, who wrote the song Louis Armstrong made famous!)

 I’ve said on more than one occasion that it’s great to have the time to stand and stare, take photographs and generally marvel at the wonders of the natural world that are all around us and constantly changing.  Just the other day I was reading an old copy of Country Walking magazine, and in it was an article about a children’s writer and illustrator, called Jackie Morris, and I was particularly struck by two things she said.  First, she said that she never minded doing the same walk over and over again, as she always saw something new and it changed with the seasons and over time, a sentiment I’m sure most of us would agree with, with the proviso that sometimes new walks and places are equally good.  Secondly, and I was vividly reminded of this when driving Linda to the ferry very early the other morning, those that know me well will realise that early mornings don’t feature much as I’m rather prone to burn the midnight oil – indeed as I write this the minute hand is rapidly climbing towards the “witching hour!”  But, back to that early still dark morning, heading north towards St Malo as the dawn was trying to break, but the black clouds of racing storms were doing there upmost to prevent daybreak!! Jackie Morris describes how she loves walking in a particular place “at the beginning of the day, when all the colours are washing into everything.”  What a wonderful image and this was it in dramatic action, this morning, from my study window!!
 

Back in the days of the original blog, when the select few amongst you received a varied monthly blog of our exploits, my thoughts and rants and anything else that took my fancy, for some time I wrote a section called “Ici devant nous” or “Here before us,” which often chronicled the amazing flora and fauna around and about.  Well, I suppose in a way this is a return, as I intend this to continue as a “monthlyish” offering.  As always, hedging my bets, not because I’m worried about finding suitable copy, no more concerned that there will be too many amazing things going on to restrict myself to once a month!

 

As the intro has gone on a little this time, I’m going to confine myself to just one rather funny incident, which again took place just outside my study window.  A few mornings ago we had our first significant frost, and awoke to a white world.  Needing logs for the fire I went to collect some from the barn and was puzzled by what appeared to be much frantic bird activity in the leaves of the beautiful mulberry tree in our neighbours garden.  Had it been spring with a plentiful crop of tasty fruit I wouldn’t have been at all surprised, instead have checked to see if the magnificent pair of golden orioles that gorged there earlier in the year had returned.

Closer inspection brought a smile to my face, as the bird activity was actually an avalanche of the huge leaves that had been clinging on to the tree, despite most other trees having lost all their leaves.  I guess the frost was the final trigger and rather like visiting a barber for a number one, what had been a magnificent head of leaves, now lay in a thick carpet around the foot of the tree, with very little left on top!! 

However, that isn’t the end of the story, because a day or two later I was again out at the front of the house, taking the compost bin to the garden, when I heard tapping coming from the same mulberry tree.  Again instinct told me it was the wrong time of the year for a woodpecker to be at work, and anyway the tapping was rather too leisurely for any self respecting woodpecker!  Again, closer inspection bought the answer, as I said above there was very little left on top, but that which was there, either monsieur or madame le voisin (neighbour), I couldn’t see which because there was a stone outbuilding in the way, was using a very long stick to dislodge – they were obviously only going to clear up these leaves once!!  Well, as this picture shows they had very thickly carpeted the grass below, and you might spot the “lazy woodpecker” leaning against the tree if you look closely!!

Just occasionally we hear church bells

As many of you will know, we have just returned from a visit to England, a trip that started off as about 4 weeks and ended up as nearly six, as my Dad had to go into hospital for major surgery.  It was good we were able to be there for when he went in and for his return, remarkably just 4 days after what appears to have been a five hour + operation, returning to the ward at about 4 o’clock in the afternoon and wanting us to visit that evening.  He was well enough to have four visitors for an hour and a half, whilst we waited for the registrar to confirm that they had successfully done what they set out to do!!  When he was home and settled we were able to return home, to our sleepy part of rural Vendée.  Regular reports assure us he is making steady progress, but it will still be several weeks before he can start to drive again and already my Mum is having withdrawal symptoms, as she can’t go shopping everyday!!!

Although six weeks is a long time to be away, and the day after we returned our lovely French neighbours came over delighted to see us back, and worried that we had decided to stay in England!!!  We had got a message to them about our delayed return, but they were still pleased to see lights on in the house again, all the other houses in our little hamlet, of which only two are regularly inhabited, hide behind us, so they would have felt cut off again like they had been for the five years the house was empty before we moved in!!  But, looking back, we did manage to fit an awful lot into our visit this time, the first since our return after the New Year in January.

We started by driving from here to Norfolk, via Dieppe and Newhaven, for Linda to drop me off in Caister-on-Sea for my annual gathering of the ACV (Association of Countryside Volunteers), before she drove on to York to catch up with her family and meet the latest addition – Harley who had been born back in August, his Dad, Linda’s nephew, is a biker! After an enjoyable and successful gathering I got a lift up to York to join Linda and similarly catch up with everyone there.  We then went down to Daniel and Lisa’s in Stroud, as somewhere in the distant past, I had reputedly offered to help Daniel block pave his front garden to ease their parking problems!!  Arriving as it was getting dark in very heavy rain (about the only rain we saw all the trip!!) we found Daniel and his friend having a mud bath as they finished off taking off the turf and soil, which Daniel was having to carry in large plastic buckets through the house (hall, living room and kitchen) along a strategically placed path of black bin bags.  Amazingly when the bags were later removed, you could hardly tell he had muddily slipped and slid through the house numerous times.  The next few days were thankfully sunny and the quagmire drained quickly, and apart from meeting some good friends for lunch and our traditional Saturday morning coffee in Mill’s Cafe in Stroud, meeting whoever happens to be around, we managed to get the job (several thousand pavers) eighty percent finished in the time we had.  We also then spent some time in the annex at the back of our Stroud house “tidying up” and consolidating things after Victoria had moved her things out into her new house in Plymouth (more of that later), hired a van and managed to empty the storage unit we have been renting for the last 3 ½ years, into the annex.  The annex is now stacked high and we won’t be able to get anything easily out of it, but we will be over a hundred and eight pounds a month better off, and there was the possibility that this amount was about to have VAT added in addition, part of the austerity measures we are hearing so much about!!  However, not all good news as we got back to an unexpected UK tax bill, having been given duff information a year previously.  Having had a bit of a rant (managing to avoid mentioning Costa coffee et al!) at an incredibly patronising technical advisor, we’re now introducing our own austerity measures!!!!

That done and with a car full of things we had collected or found when sorting out the storage, we headed for my parents and then fairly quickly on to my cousin’s new house just outside Worcester for a family get together.  I had had the presence of mind to get my Dad to add me to his car insurance, which meant that we could all go in his car, rather that squash my Mum and Dad in with the log basket, beer making equipment, bread making machine, slow cooker etc.  As you may gather, we once again have the time to use those labour saving gadgets that at the time seemed such a good idea, but we were always too busy to remember.  The bread machine has already been put to good use on those day’s that the bread van (camion boulanger) doesn’t call, as well as using it successfully for the first time to make pizza dough – may become a regular for visitors next year!!  Booking has already opened and some slots are already taken!!!!  

A few days followed at my parents trying to make an inroad into the list of jobs my father had ready for us, as well as several others that then became obvious or at least came to mind!  As they say “no rest for the wicked” although not sure how that panned out with our luck in avoiding the rains in the Vendée and present devastating storms in the UK (“it never rains on the righteous!!”) as we returned to Stroud to do some more on the drive.  We were nearly able to get it finished before heading off to Plymouth, via Thatcham to pick up Tyler, to spend a few days with Victoria and Dermot. Here we would see their new house, meet some more of Dermot’s family and thoroughly warm up the house, very necessary as the weekend was the first cold snap of the year, which at the time had precious little heating, but it’s surprising what a good party and a few drinks can do.  Thankfully, the heating has now been installed and next stop a shower!!

The house that Victoria and Dermot have bought and already worked incredibly hard on, was a fantastic bargain, dint of being badly converted into two flats and generally, although sound and with new windows, neglected over a long period of time – where have I heard that before, a bit the case of “like father like daughter, we’ve both had extensive renovation projects recently, both likely to continue for some months to come!  The house is huge, with lovely big high rooms (kitchen, games room, lounge, dining room, three bedrooms, study, a bathroom and another on the way and a reasonably sound two storey lean to with plenty of potential) lots of potential as well as lots of stairs, currently a round trip from the kitchen in the basement, to the toilet on the top (3^rd) floor is over 70 steps!!  That and a plentiful supply of DIY and the gym won’t be necessary for a while!! Already it is looking great and their plans for the future are admirable.

Back then to the Forest of Dean and D-day regarding my Dad’s op, with a round trip to the hospital of over fifty miles, we spent quite a lot of time in the car and by the hospital bed and back to where we started at the top of the page.   

On our return, always a long journey and as the ferry was rather cold we didn’t get as much sleep as normal but fortunately we had been warned of the bloodshed in the kitchen.  Indeed, it had been cleared up before we got back by some kind friends down the road, who we had asked to pop in and get a letter that needed posting that we had left strategically, obviously thinking we might have been delayed.  Coming to get the letter they were quite literally greeted by blood all over the kitchen floor, liberally “watered” down with beetroot and blackberry juice.  The recent unprecedented rainfall, that we missed being in England but that seems to have now arrived in England since our return to France, I guess we must just be lucky, had cause a leak in the downstairs bedroom, which caused the electricity to trip and the freezers to no longer freeze!!

Since our return, we have been slowly getting back into the routine of DIY and gardening, with a pause as Beaujolais nouveau arrivée and karaoke beckoned, my rendition of Tom Jones’ Delilah being in danger of quite literally bringing the house down although there were a couple of  bravos as we beat a hasty retreat shortly afterwards!!  There have however been some difficulties getting out of bed in the morning, it’s the shutters and the dark mornings in France, you just don’t realise its morning, as some of our normally early rising visitors will attest to!!    We are also being very careful as the females in the three local English couples we have the most to do with have had a shattering time; broken wrist, seven broken ribs and a broken humerus, in that order.  But, as people keep telling us, at least that’s three, although ‘er with the ribs might disagree!!!

After all the hustle and bustle of the last few weeks, it was great to be back even though for a few days it was so dark and so quiet that it was difficult to sleep, something I used to find at my parents house, particularly before the village had street lights and the Severn Bridge (the first one!) was built, yes I’m old enough to remember both, and I hear you asking what’s the significance of the bridge; the rush hour starts earlier now the village is within commuting distance of Bristol and Bath!  It’s even been quiet during the day as it’s a relatively quiet period in the farming calendar and the other day, with the light breeze being in the right direction, I could even hear the church bells from the next village, some three kilometres over the hill, if the wind is too strong you can’t hear the bells for the trees!!!  That’s until the peace and quiet was shattered by our neighbours starting to re-roof their barn (is it a case of keeping up with the Joneses or simply a reflection of the recent storms, reputedly over 160 cm of rain fell in only a few days!) and our other neighbour who is both fairly deaf and heavy footed starting her car, I think her driving instructor told her to listen for the revs!!

Now, I must away and prepare for my next “gig” – photo enclosed and if that doesn’t do it, think Lady in Red with a gender change!!  And, still not there?  Tis the season to be merry – Ho, Ho, Ho!!!

 

 

You and you

But, it’s a bit more difficult than that in France, as I tried to explain recently to Jean-Luc the Chairman of the local Leisure Committee and Père Noël arranger who was sitting next to me at a celebration lunch recently, which although another story, went on until eleven o’clock at night!!!  

With lunch well under way after the customary kisses and handshakes on arrival.  Canapés and a couple of aperitifs later and we were sitting down beneath the gazebos under a reasonably sunny sky with the jugs of fruity rosé having been liberally replenished and the main course now finished.  As is usual in France this was followed by the cheese course and red wine was strategically placed along the table, again quite normal for the cheese course despite being regularly told that the trend is changing somewhat to chilled white wine – maybe for connoisseurs or simply a trend that hasn’t yet reached our part of deepest France!  Well, having passed the cheese down the table I started to pour the wine to those around me and turned to Jean-Luc and proffered the wine with a “pour vous” to make sure he wanted some, adding that as he lived just over the road he didn’t have to worry about driving home, although I was to discover later he did have to negotiate the highway with a heavily laden wheelbarrow, but you’ll have to read on to find out why!!!  Having accepted the wine, by sliding his glass along the table, he then rather confusingly said quite firmly and as I was in the process of pouring – “Non!”  Even the least linguistic of you will realise that the action meant yes, but with a verbal no!  Puzzled, and making a suitable facial expression, momentarily thrown and unable to verbalise “I’m sorry, but I’m confused!”  He added “pas vous, tu, que tu es mon ami” which in translation, as I said at the beginning is confusing, meaning “not you, you, as you are my friend!”  As Shakespeare might have said to vous or to tu, that is the question!!

I suppose, it’s all a bit like “to kiss or not to kiss,” a constant dilemma when going to any social function in France, with the added confusion of “how many!”  Let me elucidate, it is quite the norm to greet females and children by at the very least a peck on each cheek, although for good friends, family or Parisians (in that order), that might increase to three, four, five or even six!  Then there’s the men, who must all be greeted by a shake of the hand, however with very close family and friends a peck or two on the cheek isn’t unusual.  As reserved English folk, as you might imagine, something of a dilemma, so to be sure, I’ve come up with a formula – two kisses for woman and children unless they proffer a hand and physically push you away or simply in the case of children run off, or if they take the lead and go for three or more!!  Then, a handshake for all the men, with the possible addition of a hand on the shoulder, arm or elbow (women, children or men) if it seems necessary.  I did say it was confusing and imagine how long it takes for everyone to greet each other in a crowded room!!  Indeed, business meetings often have a fifteen minute lead in to make introductions and greet colleagues, prior to the official start time!  However, that doesn’t work with social events, where there is an added confusion of when to arrive!  A lunch invite for twelve o’clock seems to mean anything from 12.20 to 1.00 o’clock, as well to remember if you’re preparing the food, have it ready for 12.00 o’clock and it could be spoilt before it gets to the table – salads come in handy in the summer!!  Basically, it’s not just learning a new language, but also a whole new culture, which each time I learn more reminds me of that wonderful series of television adverts, for one of the high street banks (as it seems with all the best adverts, I remember the advert but not the company, a bit like remembering a joke without the punch line!!), where they stress the importance of knowing local knowledge or customs when doing business abroad; such as never finishing what food you have on your plate in China, as your host will think you are still hungry and bring more food, each time the plate is cleared!!  As I said, it’s confusing!!

Writing this reminds me of an incident a few months earlier and now I guess I’ve got two friends!!  I was working in the garden when the local fauchage man (local handyman / grass cutter / roadman / odd job man) employed by the local commune by the mayor and his council came to cut the communal areas in the hamlet.  As mentioned above it is customary in France to greet other men with the shake of the hand and a “Bonjour Monsieur,” a title always being polite, not simply “Bonjour.” So remembering my etiquette, I greeted him as described above, but whilst still shaking my hand firmly, he equally firmly said “Non!”  A similar puzzled expression to that above received a “Non Monsieur, Alain.”  So I guess it’s now alright to tu him, but as its first name terms maybe it should be ...... no let’s not go there, I’ll stick with my tried and tested formula, at least until I have sufficient French to get out of a sticky situation, should the need arise.

So, although somewhat confusing, I trust that should you regard yourself as a vous or a tu, your now know the appropriate etiquette, although a word of warning here, as we have discovered with most things French, the protocols and customs are often very different in different parts of France and as the French think the English are reserved, may well treat you differently anyway.  On my arrival, one of the ladies at the lunch proffered a hand which I sidestepped and she like the rest of them got a peck on each cheek instead.  Her response was something along the lines of “I didn’t think the English did things like that,” mind you by the end of lunch she had arranged to come around to my house for a cold shower, but that is quite definitely another story!!!

Oh, and the journey home with the wheelbarrow I mentioned earlier; Jean-Luc had agreed to bring a game of pallets for post-luncheon sport as well as a selection of board / card games.  The pallets, customarily played by the men but at which Linda excels and could well end up representing France or maybe England, should it become an Olympic sport, consists in a nutshell as I may have mentioned in an earlier blog, of two teams throwing fairly heavy 5 cm diameter metal discs (coloured or numbered to identify the different teams) onto a 30 cm square target made of 2 cm thick lead – hence the wheelbarrow!  A small disc is thrown first and then the team nearest to this at the end wins and scores as many points as it has discs nearest to the small one, may be one point or as many as six if the opposition aren’t very good or simply unlucky.  It is usually the first team to 12 points that wins.   

Une petite pause sur la terrasse

Quel est ce monde, si plein de soins,

Nous n'avons pas le temps de se lever et regarder. 

William Henry Davies ~ Leisure

What is this world, if full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No apologies for using this quote once more, but it is just so apt and reminds me how lucky I am to have the time!  I’ve also translated it into French and it still scans quite well, now I just need to learn it sufficiently to retort to our neighbour the next time we are sitting outside having a very English Tea break and she passes with a somewhat surprised “Ah, une petite pause!” hence the title of this small piece.

At a recent petite pause, we were far from idle, as there was just so much birdlife to see, and at times to duck from; as the swallows, who in many ways stole the show, used the space between the buildings as a wall of death repeatedly flying round and round in close formation, as many as six at a time.  Then, one or more would peel off and either rollercoast down towards us and backwards and forwards between the house sometimes seeming to play chicken with us, who would duck or swerve first!, or they slalom in and out of any open door or window – barn, garage or indeed house – before a tighter wall of death sequence and back out into the general mêlée.  Who needs animals in a circus when you have nature’s own fantastic antics?  And, the swallows don’t stop there, as not only are they the aeronautical acrobats but they also do a mean high wire act (although when the young are just learning to fly it can be a little tentative, the less confident staying nearer the supports!), as well as clowning around just for the pure joy of chasing each other or laughing at the strange English couple sitting drinking their tea below.  They have also sent the odd “custard pie” our way, but it might be tempting fate to say they haven’t scored a direct hit – YET!!

But, it didn’t stop there, as in the time it took to drink the cuppa and force ourselves back to work we witnessed even more visually as well as audibly!  There was a blackbird and a little woodpecker who repeatedly flew, with a purpose, from the wooded bank behind the neighbour’s house to the garden of another neighbour and back.  They were obviously intent on something, which we later discovered was the rapidly ripening and equally rapidly disappearing cherries on the neighbour’s tree!

Distant mewings alerted us to a pair of huge buzzards soaring high above the hamlet on the warm currents rising from below, as mere specks high in the azure blue of the cloudless day, they were far too high to be hunting, even their keen eyesight wouldn’t have spotted a tasty field mouse from such a far-flung vantage point.  No, they were simply having fun and finding time to stop and stare, albeit aimlessly, well fed and happy on this warm sunny day.  With our own lunch looming fairly rapidly, we really ought to have dragged ourselves away from this remote display, but the languid mewings were cut into by the closed and louder sounds of the hoopoe – hoo poe, poe, poe, poeee .... and the nearly repetitious cuckooing of our neighbourhood thug, although our particular one has the tendency to add an occasional extra cuc – cuc koo, cuc koo, cuc koo, cuc cuc koo!!, in no obvious pattern, having the time not only to stand but also to listen, we spent some time trying to work out if the extra cuc was regular or erratic (OK, ‘er indoors is bound to pick up on that line and say that actually it was only me, not her!!)  Having just decided that the pattern was irregular, not to be outdone, and maybe trying to grab my attention, the hoopoe started to miss out the poe!!

Finally, there were the chickens noisily scatting around for any tasty morsel, behind the nearby barn, the cooing pigeons passing backwards and forwards further down the drive and the redstarts, who had successfully reared their brood in our open barn, bopping up and down with their squeaky warbling competing with the scolding chuckles and short twitters of the blue tits who had successfully nested in a small hole by our garage door. 

What with the pigeon piazza, the swallows multilayered spaghetti junction and the blackbird / woodpecker boulevard / motorway and all the various tweets and twitters, I’m tempted to say that thankfully there wasn’t a mobile phone in sight to shatter the peace, even though it wasn’t all that quiet.  And .... with so much going on there was a real danger that the petite pause would become somewhat grand!, and once we have our cour cache (hidden courtyard) très grand.  But, although this might stop our immediate neighbour from noticing us slacking, we will still, as during the recent weather, dine in the company of 1000’s of passersby, if the multitudes of vapour trails criss-crossing the sky are indicative of the evening rush hour.  Hopefully however, like the buzzards, they’ll be too high to really notice and certainly too far away for us to hear the unspoken tut-tuts or to see the nearly raised eyebrows as we have yet another petite pause.  But to that I’ll simply say -  Pas le temps de voir, en plein jour, Streams plein d'étoiles, comme un ciel de nuit. ~ No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night. A little more of that wonderful poem!                  

One can but hope!

Okay, it’s July 14^th in rural France, a bank holiday to remember Bastille Day, July 14^th 1789, the start of Liberté, égalité, fraternité (Liberty, equality and brotherhood) and so as you can’t forget the Revolution, this tripartite motto is liberally plastered on every public building and beyond.  But, that apart and from me normally so laid back and tolerant (unlike her indoors!), the man featured below was an out and out prat, who should have lost his liberty, it would be hard to find his equal and there was little brotherly love evident in the assembled crowd and I came mighty close to telling him!  I think all that stopped me was the worry that an outburst from me would have been “water off a duck’s back” as I am sure I wouldn’t have been the first and highly unlikely to be the last or it might simply have inspired the crowd into an impromptu lynching!!

As in many communities the length and breadth of Metropolitan France and beyond in areas referred to as Overseas France, this day warrants celebration.  Indeed, in our own small commune (parish) there had been a very sociable aperitif  laid on by the maire (mayor) and conseil municipal (municipal council) at which this year mention was made of our commune’s gold award for citizenship and was followed by a picnic and games afternoon – predominately the women and children playing board games or cards and the men outside playing the local game of palets, where teams throw small metal discs onto a heavy lead plaque laid on the ground, the scoring and principle being I guess a little like tiddly winks!!   Proceedings were then brought to an end by the presentation of the gardening awards for the year and a further verre de l’amitié (glass of friendship) or two soaked up with thick slices of the local brioche (soft sweet bread).

Then, this year it was back home to sleep off the rich brioche as much as the several glasses of friendship, including a very small and very strong absinthe fabriqué a la maison of a friend down the road.  A strange tasting and lingering liquor it certainly was; my English drinking partner deciding it was a little like a very peaty but also very sweet whisky, which we decided went better in the coffee that was subsequently poured into our empty, albeit syrup lined glasses.  We both felt the taste had lingered, when some hours later when we picked up our friends to go to one of the nearest towns for this year’s Bastille Day feu d’artifice (fireworks), it was still there!   

My ever roving ears first picked him up out of the crowd, although he would have been better suited to the gutter, after we had parked the car, had a glass of wine from the outside bar, under the beautifully floodlit tower of the church whilst awaiting the lantern procession, which we dutifully joined to walk to the fireworks.  He and his friend joined the procession just behind us and as I have a tendency to eavesdrop, shortly picked up on his slightly bizarre conversation with his female friend.  Herein would appear to be the root of the problem, to which quickly I would happily have taken an axe had I one handy, as you might have guessed by now this guy really irritated me and by the looks and comments all around, not only got to me but also a lot of others!!  The problem seemed to be his need for requited love and he had obviously decided that the only way into her ..... heart, I guess, was to be a loud brash show-off, fuelled it would seem by a drink or two as well as the being egged on by the object of his affections who tantalisingly waved in front of him her ..... heart, I suppose that would be!!

The strange conversation behind us involved some over the top advice on whether the object of his desires should have a life of her own or visit her mother whose own life seemed to be rapidly diminishing.  The advice seemed from a distance to be rather self centred; after all he was trying to get into her ...... heart, or something like that, and rather oddly seemed to suggest as she had the rest of her life ahead of her and her mother had had her life, she the object of his desire, should give up on her mother and life her own live to the full, and he was more than happy to help her with her ...... heart, which seemed slightly surprising in view of the rather heartless appearing advice.  Happy, he was well on the way to entering her ...... heart passionately, as we arrived at the fireworks and he announced loudly to the person of his heart’s desire and anyone else who happened to be within a considerable radius how exciting it all was and hopefully it would rise to his considerable expectation and not be a damp squib!  Then, the surrounding street lights went off to darken the night and make the forthcoming pyrotechnics even more striking, to which said gent firstly made an over the top suggestive “Ooooh, it’s gone all dark!”  The darkness was quickly followed by the first salvo of fireworks, the accompanying musical soundtrack all but drown out by the ooohs and aaarghs of the strident suitor, who kept up a noisy running commentary, with lots of ooohs and aaarghs of growing intensity, loud dismissive comments, when after a few initial bright loud bangs that lit up the night sky and surrounding countryside, he sneeringly said “Well, is that it then!”  What it seems he hadn’t realised, as well as how irritating he was being, was that at occasions such as this the French pull out all the stops and displays are organised with seemingly scant regard to the cost.  This meant that having been determined that it was all going to be a short, hardly worth stopping drinking for affair, giving him a chance to get back to his own quest, he needed to become even more outrageous if only to save face.  Unfortunately, the worse he became the more his intended seemed to help him rise to the occasion (all the alcohol could have made it difficult without her help!) and the brash, dismissive and scathing comments grew more and more intrusive and irritating, to the extent that when the finale exploded into the night air, it was almost a relief that his ill-chosen words, comments and lusting would now stop.  The spontaneous and rapturous applause at least drown him out and I couldn’t help but wonder how many of the surrounding watchers and enforced listeners were applauding extra loudly with a mental picture of someone on the inside of their hands, in the hope that this might have a similar effect to a voodoo doll, and I’m sure most of us would have stoically born the pain of sticking pins in the imagined effigy!

Needless to say we didn’t hang around and made sure that we weren’t anywhere near the annoyance as we went back to the car, I’d have hated it to get ugly, which might just have spoilt his chance of worming his way into her ...... heart – I’ve always been a sucker for a happy ending!!    

And finally ..... what was it that “One can but hope?”  Quite simply that the man in question, or should that be questionable man and indeed his partner who encouraged him and played along, are tourists here on holiday and will shortly be going home.  Well after all, somewhere on the list of reasons for moving to France must have been to get away from pratish Englishmen, particularly those on holiday – but, somehow that doesn’t quite work!!

An really finally, an uncanny postscript:  This afternoon we had an invite to afternoon tea in the chateau, to find during the course of the conversation that Monsieur is in the middle of transcribing onto the computer a children’s fairytale he has written.  When I confessed to also being a writer, I proceeded to tell him the rough synopsis of what you have read above, to which he responded, near bursting with excitement, that he too, on the same day had been writing in the fairy story about Liberté, égalité, fraternité, now how strange is that!?!  Almost as strange as the conversation that ensued, dissecting the motto, deciding that it was rather dated and in real terms somewhat impossible, but as an underlying principle it probably still hits the spot.  You see our conversations cover a lot of ground and at times become quite deep and philosophical, in our quest to put the world to right!!! 

When was the last time?

(This time was Saturday 23 June 2012, but only just!!

OMG, the smell of the greasepaint, the lights, the buzz of the audience, the butterflies, the making it to the end of the song and the subsequent rush of adrenalin, were all there, well maybe not the greasepaint – little now covers the weather-beaten wrinkled face!

It wasn’t however a case of midsummer madness and since the loss of my captive audience during school assemblies the chance to “perform” with the associated buzz has been sadly lacking.  But recently, as the house has come on and particularly when the roofing has gone well or the sun has shone, I’ve found myself busting into song and revisiting my past song book!  I’ve even digitalised it, with the sole purpose of being able to enlarge the script; the eyes aren’t what they were! 

But it was just a couple of nights after midsummer’s eve, a time when across France there are scores of Fete de la Musique, showcasing local talent, be it the local music school, the Association Musical or just locals keen to do their “party piece!”  Indeed, the events are not only encouraged by the government, money is made available to sponsor such events.  On midsummer’s eve, we had attended such a fete, put on by one of several local music associations, where members of the commune are encouraged to join the choir (children’s or adults), or play an instrument as part of a group or solo, and most importantly are encouraged (warts and all) to perform as soon as they can, and despite mistakes and wrong turnings there never seems to be any ridicule, they have certainly adopted the sentiment behind that classic poem by Dorothy Law Nolte – Children Learn What They Live, the following seem to be the salient lines:

...... If children live with ridicule, They learn to be shy......

...... If children live with encouragement, They learn confidence.....

If children live with praise, They learn to appreciate......

If children live with approval, They learn to like themselves......

Increasingly during recent times when I have watched musical performers there has been that urge to be up there doing it myself, you know the frustrated rock star syndrome; well in my case folk star!  Tonight, in a small village nearby the urge peaked and towards midnight I uttered to the friends we had met up with that I wanted to sing, the shy and retiring bit of me needing help, a  push, someone to say to the organiser – “we have a friend who can do a turn!”  I needed that someone to put my name forward, but at pushing midnight after a glass or two of wine, it was a case of making sure that they knew I was serious and it wasn’t just a case of “oh I wish I was up there doing that!” and it wasn’t just the drink talking, although we had a conversation about Dutch courage!!  They did indeed think I was joking, but eventually they realised I was deadly serious and on their part perhaps it was the glass or two of wine that gave them the confidence in me – never having heard me utter a musical sound previously!!  Bravely, or they could have been thinking foolishly, they went in search of the organiser and secured me a spot, still I’m sure thinking I would back out and quickly retire!  But, the seed was sown, the adrenalin kicked in and the French introduction I had been mulling over for some time was revisited and slightly panicked about.  I suggested perhaps I needed a minder to translate my “Frenglish” should the need arise, although I have always found myself to become fairly “fluid” in French after a glass or two!!

Suddenly, it all moved very quickly and with my bi-lingual helper at my side I was on after the present turn had done his next song.  As his song finished, I was hastened across the tarmac to the stage steps, up the steps into the lights and introduced.  I muddled through my introduction about the song being from Scotland; a love song where the lady thinks the man is trying it on and has no money or indeed joie de vivre, but then discovers he is a wealthy count and so madly falls in love and gets married!, the ficklity of song and life (!).  Then it’s that first crucial note, and as an unaccompanied singer, it is a bit of a case of make or break, pitch it too high and you squeak and too low and you growl miserably.  Fortunately, the five second tuning up before once more treading the boards, had paid off and the note although perhaps not perfect, was as they say in the profession; “Close enough for folk!!!”

It was only during the second chorus that I suddenly thought that the lady in the song was called Lyndsey, the same name as the daughter of the friends we were with, who had taken that great leap of faith, or possibly stupidity, and effectively vouched for me despite never hearing me sing previously.  A strange and rather fitting coincidence!  Fortunately, there ended up with no egg on anyone’s face and all the old buzz was there and the amazing feeling when even those people at the bar had stopped their conversations and turned in amazement, astonishment or even agony at what was going on on the stage.  But, I felt I was back, I’d done it with a little help from my friends and not only did it feel good it felt right.  The buzzing went on all night it seems as I had the most restless night I can remember in a very long time!  It may have been only one song, but hopefully it will lead to many more to audiences other than; Linda, the shower nozzles and anyone who happens to be in earshot when the windows have been thrown open to let the summer sun in!! 

An earlier act had done Edith Piaf’s “Je regret rein”; moi, Je regret deux points, my latest “debut” had taken so long to happen and after so long a period of absence hadn’t been on the home turf of St Laurent de la Salle, but I suppose thinking about it I had sung at our Christmas party in Le Boutet, but rather informally without the need for lights or indeed the greasepaint and with an audience of five – hardly an auspicious re-launch of my singing “career,” but in true “the glass is half full” optimism, it could only get better as even the shower cubical has 6 nozzles!!  

And in answer to the title, I couldn’t actually remember the last time; on stage with lights and a “public” audience until I started to write this and it came back to me - February 22^nd 2008, the day before my birthday, at The Grove Folk club in Leeds, an old student haunt and incidentally the longest running same venue Folk Club in the world.  Where on an eventful week, several years previously, I had returned to revisit the past at a time when the future was due to change dramatically and to also relive past glories.  It was the week we finally made the momentous decision to move to France and were busy spilling the beans to family and friends!  How strange is that!