Grandfather Jean with Priscilla and Baby IhlanBy now some of you might be checking on the dates and thinking that I am slacking. In fact I spent the whole of yesterday uploading the diary to the Blog. I am something of a Babe in the Woods when it comes to the high tech stuff but hopefully you are pleased with the results and many thanks to those kind folks who have already written and said how much they are enjoying it.
We took a bit of a break around 5.30pm yesterday evening to go and visit Jean's pal Joseph in the next village. I mentioned earlier that we hadn't been able to get hold of him and it turned out that he had been in hospital, so we reckoned that a quick "cheer up" visit would do him good. We hadn't been there five minutes when the phone rang and it was his daughter trying to track Jean down. What are the odds of that! She then proudly announced that he was a new Grandfather and that Priscilla had produced her son around lunchtime. (Trust a Frenchman to arrive in time for lunch!)
Great excitement all round and we headed for home and hit the telephone and the emails to announce the arrival of little Ihlan. (I really am going to have to confirm that spelling but I am sure that was what was written on his crib.) What joy to see this little bundle of life firmly latched onto his Mum and to know that all had gone well. Jean had dressed in a suitably grandfatherly but slightly trendy fashion so as to give the newcomer the best impression, but in my role as honorary Grandmother, I must confess that I sat in the very hot room and perspired profusely and spent a great deal of time mopping behind my glasses which led everyone to believe that I was overcome with emotion. In a way I was. He's a very special little man and it was lovely to see how Priscilla had taken to motherhood in such a calm and loving way. She has worked with and cared for many little ones while helping her mother who works at a crêche nearby, and now to have her own babe is the realization of her greatest dream.
The father had done the clever thing and having got to the hospital on time and stood his ground throughout the delivery, he had been taken out for lunch by his Uncle so we have yet to shake his hand. Priss comes home from hospital on Monday and they move house on Saturday, but they seem singularly unfazed at the prospect. We bought them a large and fairly heavy pot plant which can go into their courtyard and hopefully Sapho the dog won't knock it over, and it should carry on flowering until Ihlan is nearly three months old. They will be round to collect their car seat once they have found their feet, and secretly I know that both Jean and I are itching to get our hands on our little grandson again.
We drove to the hospital via Clapiers and called in at the Bio Nursery where we bought the plant. It is a massive American style garden shop with a large section devoted to fish and an assortment of ferrets, hamsters and rats. There was another section for Bio facial products and a restaurant for Bio snacks and drinks, so they had pretty much got all the bases covered, but it is easy to see that the holiday season has ended and there were far fewer people around. The traffic was light and the variety of number plates has almost returned to the local "34". Jean tells me that fairly soon they are going to do away with the old style of French plates where you can tell where someone comes from by the last two digits. "Damn fool Parisien" you can shout when you see anyone driving badly with "75" at the end of his number. In fact you could probably shout it just because they have got the number, even if they are obeying all the rules of the road. They must be completely used to being shouted at down here and probably find it charmingly provincial and colourful.
Tomorrow we are invited for lunch with Mamy up at Ledignan and we are going to tell her that we will attend the picnic which is being held the following Monday for all the residents of her care home. I know she is really hoping that we will go, and I daresay we can make ourselves useful by getting behind a couple of wheelchairs and helping move the elderly folks out into the open air for a change.
I am now about to load the brochettes with a large bowlful of chicken breast chunks which have been lolling about in a marinade for an hour or so, and we can put them on the barbeque, eat some and freeze the rest. The whole trick of dieting is to have something tasty on hand at all times which isn't ice cream, a large slice of pizza or a bag of pain au chocolat. There are still five lurking at the back of the freezer by the way, and they know that I know that they are there even though I keep trying to hide them under piles of green beans. I shall have to ensure that the freezer door is shut at all times lest they make an escape and turn up on a plate somewhere!
A footnote to the City Fathers of Montpellier. When grandparents are trying to find their way across the city to visit their latest addition, it would be a huge help if the street names of the city were visible and were not tiny blue squares attached to old walls and usually half covered in ivy. This does not make for marital bliss in the map reading department.
We took a bit of a break around 5.30pm yesterday evening to go and visit Jean's pal Joseph in the next village. I mentioned earlier that we hadn't been able to get hold of him and it turned out that he had been in hospital, so we reckoned that a quick "cheer up" visit would do him good. We hadn't been there five minutes when the phone rang and it was his daughter trying to track Jean down. What are the odds of that! She then proudly announced that he was a new Grandfather and that Priscilla had produced her son around lunchtime. (Trust a Frenchman to arrive in time for lunch!)
Great excitement all round and we headed for home and hit the telephone and the emails to announce the arrival of little Ihlan. (I really am going to have to confirm that spelling but I am sure that was what was written on his crib.) What joy to see this little bundle of life firmly latched onto his Mum and to know that all had gone well. Jean had dressed in a suitably grandfatherly but slightly trendy fashion so as to give the newcomer the best impression, but in my role as honorary Grandmother, I must confess that I sat in the very hot room and perspired profusely and spent a great deal of time mopping behind my glasses which led everyone to believe that I was overcome with emotion. In a way I was. He's a very special little man and it was lovely to see how Priscilla had taken to motherhood in such a calm and loving way. She has worked with and cared for many little ones while helping her mother who works at a crêche nearby, and now to have her own babe is the realization of her greatest dream.
The father had done the clever thing and having got to the hospital on time and stood his ground throughout the delivery, he had been taken out for lunch by his Uncle so we have yet to shake his hand. Priss comes home from hospital on Monday and they move house on Saturday, but they seem singularly unfazed at the prospect. We bought them a large and fairly heavy pot plant which can go into their courtyard and hopefully Sapho the dog won't knock it over, and it should carry on flowering until Ihlan is nearly three months old. They will be round to collect their car seat once they have found their feet, and secretly I know that both Jean and I are itching to get our hands on our little grandson again.
We drove to the hospital via Clapiers and called in at the Bio Nursery where we bought the plant. It is a massive American style garden shop with a large section devoted to fish and an assortment of ferrets, hamsters and rats. There was another section for Bio facial products and a restaurant for Bio snacks and drinks, so they had pretty much got all the bases covered, but it is easy to see that the holiday season has ended and there were far fewer people around. The traffic was light and the variety of number plates has almost returned to the local "34". Jean tells me that fairly soon they are going to do away with the old style of French plates where you can tell where someone comes from by the last two digits. "Damn fool Parisien" you can shout when you see anyone driving badly with "75" at the end of his number. In fact you could probably shout it just because they have got the number, even if they are obeying all the rules of the road. They must be completely used to being shouted at down here and probably find it charmingly provincial and colourful.
Tomorrow we are invited for lunch with Mamy up at Ledignan and we are going to tell her that we will attend the picnic which is being held the following Monday for all the residents of her care home. I know she is really hoping that we will go, and I daresay we can make ourselves useful by getting behind a couple of wheelchairs and helping move the elderly folks out into the open air for a change.
I am now about to load the brochettes with a large bowlful of chicken breast chunks which have been lolling about in a marinade for an hour or so, and we can put them on the barbeque, eat some and freeze the rest. The whole trick of dieting is to have something tasty on hand at all times which isn't ice cream, a large slice of pizza or a bag of pain au chocolat. There are still five lurking at the back of the freezer by the way, and they know that I know that they are there even though I keep trying to hide them under piles of green beans. I shall have to ensure that the freezer door is shut at all times lest they make an escape and turn up on a plate somewhere!
A footnote to the City Fathers of Montpellier. When grandparents are trying to find their way across the city to visit their latest addition, it would be a huge help if the street names of the city were visible and were not tiny blue squares attached to old walls and usually half covered in ivy. This does not make for marital bliss in the map reading department.
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