A couple that I forgot to post, which explains why I didn't think it was that long since my last posting!

Nudge,nudge,wink,wink!!

I’m waiting in today, to see if last night was my Peter Mayle, “truffles in paper” bag moment, or my NHS “you’re in severe pain, aren’t you?” moment.  The latter I should perhaps explain, the other might become more obvious later on, but suffice to say it refers to being “in the know!”  But, the pain goes back to when out walking on the edge of Minchinhampton Common, near Stroud, about ten minutes walk from where I had parked the car.  On a short, steep bank made treacherous by days of rain, I slipped a short way and experienced a searing pain in my right knee, which it soon became obvious wasn’t going to be “walked off.”  It took me an excruciating hour and a half to get back to the car and then somehow I managed to drive the three miles or so home, at the end of which I was barely able to get out of the car.  It was one of those few occasions that my wife, then an intensive care nurse, took pity on me and accepted that something was seriously wrong, so back into the car, with increasing difficulty, and off to A & E at the local hospital.  There after a reasonably short wait, I was seen by the on-call doctor who, it transpired, also worked in the same ICU as Linda.  He diagnosed a torn cartilage, gave me painkillers and set about sorting out an appointment to see the consultant about an arthroscopy.  It was at this point, winking at Linda; he told me that I was “in severe pain, aren’t you?”  I was and therefore it took me a while to understand the winks at Linda, and I was certainly in no fit state to utilise the Queensbury Rules and fight for her.  But, with nothing more than a wink and a nod, it was a case of it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, and the appointment came through quite a bit quicker than I expected!!

But, back to today, well actually last night when it was the Annual General Meeting of the commune’s council, or the rather better sounding Ceremonie des Vœux, as it’s known here as not only are the parish accounts presented and the future works for the year discussed, but newcomers to the village, either through birth or moving in, are welcomed with a small gift.  After the formal part of the proceedings there is offered a verre del’amitié (a glass of friendship) or indeed several with ample supply of tasty morsels including the amazing local garlic bread - préfou - flattened baguette dripping in butter and with lashings of garlic, not for the faint hearted!  It’s perhaps this latter part which accounts for the amazing turnout, as we estimated about a third of the whole commune were there, from the tiniest tot (one of the newcomers, only a few weeks old) to our eighty two year old neighbours and beyond.  Conversation, for us, is difficult as the room is very full, very noisy, very hot and the French particularly en masse, talk incredibly fast!  We however got by, and ended up catching up on some of our neighbour’s news as well as having to remind many of those there (the adults!), that on this occasion incognito, I was Roger, not Père Noël!  I nearly had my cover blown several times, particularly as the glasses of friendship became more plentiful.

With the party largely in full swing, we decided our brains needed a rest from an overload of French, the language rather than the people, I should add!!  So we fetched our coats and made the rounds saying goodbye, a cheery wave to each group sufficing with this number of people,  the customary double bissous (kisses) would have taken forever, (it was however unavoidable on arrival, double kisses for the women, handshakes for the men and in most cases as it was the first time we had seen people this year a bonsoir, bonne année and woe betide us if we forgot the bonne santé as well!) but we did feel it polite to formally take our leave from the Mayor and thank him for his hospitality.  Linda passed first and shook his hand and said good-night and thank you and I followed.  At this point Sébastien , the Mayor, much to the amusement of someone he was talking to, fired of a rapid stream of French at me, before I was able to ask him to slow down.  Looking puzzled he rethought what he had said and slowed down enough for me to get the gist of what he was saying.  Basically, our hamlet has over the last year drawn the long straw, and had a lot of work done, that involved a new drain being put down the road, resulting in the road being resurfaced and a new parking space created, largely for us, in front of the communal oven and by our garden entrance.  Not only a superb large parking spot suitable for the car and the trailer, but its construction involved the filling in of a ditch and some levelling to the side, which makes it considerably easier for us to get the caravan in and out of the garden.  Many of you will know that absent Welsh neighbours had effectively blocked our previous parking space, and despite the best efforts of the Mayor to resolve the issue, up until this point he had been thwarted in his efforts, the neighbour ending up being rather rude to him!

So, what he was saying was that the work in Le Boutet, and in particular but without having said as much, the parking space, was a thank you – a petit Cadeau - for being Père Noël for the children’s party!  Well, they do say it pays to keep in with the Mayor of your commune in France! Having finally “d’accord”(ed) him and realised what he talking about, I then said not a little present but a large present, hopefully with a suitable glint in the eyes!  I followed it up, rather tongue in cheek, with a question as to what might be next year’s present?  To which he responded a small box of chocolates – before I could get in my suggestion – getting us a decent internet line, an ongoing bone of contention, which he thankfully saw the funny side of!! 

As we parted both chuckling, Linda followed me out and said, I only came in part way through that conversation, but it seems that he wanted to know if we would be in tomorrow so he can bring you around a small gift for being Father Christmas!  Hence, my reading of the conversation was totally thrown into doubt, and why I am waiting to see if Sébastien arrives today with a box of chocolates and I have to explain my weird response to him yesterday evening!!   Suffice to say, with each gust of wind I think it’s his car arriving, but it’s getting on in the afternoon and still no sign of the chocolates, and despite the rain starting up again, perhaps I’ll take the dog out for a walk, in case he calls!!

 

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As a slight rider to this, talk of my trying to remain incognito whilst not dressed in red and sporting a large beard, reminds me that my cover may have been well and truly blown during the last census in France.  Local people are employed to go around and give out the forms and help with their completion. 

The census lady arrived for our appointment, was shown in by Linda, took one look at me and said “Ah! Père Noël”, so I’m not sure if that was what she wrote down on the form or not!  And, I wasn’t even dressed the part!

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P.S.  It’s now tomorrow and still no sign of the Mayor or the chocolates, so perhaps my French is coming on after all!!

January 2018

All my kingfisher experiences rolled into one.

All my kingfisher experiences rolled into one and more.  The darted drive across the narrow inlet alerted me to its presence.  Then it returned to the same branch, to dive again in case I missed it the first time!

Then came the curved fly pass, low over the water, closer and closer to where I sat silent and enraptured.  First the orange underside, then the once seen never forgotten brilliant electric blue as it levelled out passing close by, and did I imagine the slight dip of the wings in proud salute to the watcher?

Several minutes passed, before I was alerted once more to the flash of blue coming in low from the left to another overhanging fishing branch.  Another darted dive, further along the bank this time, followed by several more, the pickings were obviously good.

Then from through the woods along the trail behind me, the sound of an approaching excited young child coming at a run, just as the kingfisher came in for another low level fly pass alighting on a post stuck in the water, above a sign – Entrée Interdit; missed photo opportunity as the child’s exuberance sent it on its way before I could shush the young boy and point out the magical encounter.  An earlier, rather fuzzy long distance photo had to suffice, but you could make out the shape and above all that memorable blue.

This was only the fourth or fifth time I’ve had the privilege of sharing a moment or two with this majestic and secretive creature, coming shortly after one of our neighbours had just told me there was a kingfisher, or Martin pecheur as they are know in these parts, frequenting the stream below our house.  Each of these other sighting, exciting enough but largely just a vivid splah of colour etched permanently in the memory:

·       Jogging, yes I was younger then but still not particularly fond of this form of exercise but it was for charity, over a small river near Huntingdon when we briefly lived in a doctors flat, whilst waiting for our house purchase to go through, at a brand new hospital that Linda had been given a job helping to set up the new ITU.  Just a flash of unmistakable blue.

·       Walking the dog, in this case Max, near St Michael’s Mount, Penzance, early in the morning before catching the first helicopter to the Isles of Scilly, for our then annual pilgrimage.  Another flash of blue.

·        Near the railway viaduct at the end of Frome Banks Nature Reserve, a small secretive place a mere stone’s throw from the centre of Stroud.  This time a first, as the jewel of a creature sat briefly on a suitable fishing branch, intent on the clear rippling water below.  All too soon it gave up and flew away, perhaps sensing my watching graze, but without undue alarm.  I can’t now even remember if it made its distinctive whistle, a “tee - eee” or a “tsee” sound.  If it did it was probably drown out by the water trickling over a small waterfall, or indeed the excited pounding of my heart!

·       The most recent before today, was several sightings, all in the same place.  Again on the River Frome, near Stroud, this time just across from the District Council offices in Ebley Mill.  On the first occasion I was walking alone except for Max, the dog, and had that fleeting flash once more burnt into the memory.  Some weeks later whilst leading a guided walk, I chose this spot for the lunch break.  As we sat on the river bank chatting, I did that classic no – no for a guided walk and said that here was a good spot for looking out for a kingfisher, but as there were quite a few of us, chattering away over our sandwiches it was very unlikely to happen (a bit like on a misty day waxing lyrical about the fine view that you can normally see here!).  Then low and behold, a top speed fly pass, unfortunately so quick that none of the others saw it, and I’m sure had it not flown back a couple of minutes later and been briefly spotted by a couple of others, they would secretly have been sure I was making it up!

Interestingly I wrote this just prior to reading an article in the paper about someone’s trip to India and more specifically to the Ranthambore National Park for a spot of possible tiger spotting – it’s by no means guaranteed that you’ll see one, it’s a vast area with a resident tiger population of only about sixty tigers, and if you were an endangered species would you visit the tourist hotspots!  Mandy Appleyard, who wrote the article “As holiday experiences go, seeing tigers in the wild is, for me, as good as it gets.  I have to concur having been there and fortunately had similar good luck on our safaris!

This got me thinking about not only my kingfisher experiences, but other sightings that stay similarly etched on the brain, long after the event, so there follows a few more close encounters of the natural history kind.

17^th Sept 2018   Lac de Léon