The Biggest Baguette I Ever Did See - Sunday 2th Sept

Imaging trying to fit that into the toaster!

The Spanish dancers at the Teyran Market

Sunday morning in France. How sweet it is to awaken to the birdsong, the outline of light behind the curtains which is a sure sign that it is going to be a sunny day, and the smell of percolating coffee. It's a bit nippy to have breakfast outside any longer, but we still enjoy our daily lunch in the courtyard and it's proving to be a lovely sun trap.

Our plans included a drive over to Teyran to check out the "Marche du Terroir" which roughly translates as a market of local country products. Teyran wouldn't be a particularly interesting venue apart from its tiny tightly built village centre, where there is little room for vehicles, and lots of small passageways to explore. We shoe-horned the car into a parking spot and walked up into the church square to be greeted with the sight of four ladies in Spanish dance clothes swirling to the rythmn of the fandango. All around us, tucked away in different alleyways and cul de sacs were stalls offering a wide range of products from pickled snails, tripes in bottles, local wines, paintings, knitting, pottery, woodwork and a huge selection of sausages made from all sorts of animals (including donkey I have to say).

My favourite stall was the bread stall (quelle surprise) and the two young guys who were operating it, were doing a roaring trade selling off large chunks of the biggest loaf of bread I have ever seen. If I hadn't been leaving for England in 48 hours, I would have happily purchased a piece, but instead, we settled for two rather delicious circular sweet pastries filled with sultanas and vanilla cream.

We managed to turn down pottery cicadas, house number plaques, stone sundials and any number of lavender products and with the music from Swan Lake wafting through the sun filled streets, we left and headed back home for lunch before driving up to Ledignan.

With the help of a couple of the staff, we got Mamy installed in the car and took her for a lovely drive through the surrounding countryside. I think she thoroughly enjoyed seeing new villages and vistas of the Cevennes Mountains which were really quite close to us, and it certainly gave her a great topic of conversation when we left her with her pals awaiting supper.

Home just in time to order a delicious anchovy pizza from Mr Marco and I am headed for bed in view of my date with the dentist tomorrow. This time I definitely am not going to forget the appointment time. Once that is over and done with, I must pack my suitcase and prepare for my departure on Tuesday. There won't be any blog for a week but I hope that you'll check back after the 7th October. I am leaving Jean with a fridge full of all sort of appetising meals and he already has a couple of lunch invitations, so I don't think he is going to pine away. Meantime, I am missing him even before I go, and I can't wait to get back to La Belle France.

Je Reviens.

A couple of Photos - Saturday 27th Sept

Sommieres - the old clock tower above the town wall


Changing colours in the vineyards

I Nearly Lost My Nerve - Saturday 27th Sept

I know I said No More Curtains but this really is the last one!

I have the sneaking suspicion that I am starting to suffer from senior moments. “Starting” says Jean; “How about it becoming a permanent state”.

On Wednesday (despite me losing Tuesday) he kindly phoned the dentist and made an appointment for 11am on Friday morning. The moment he told me, I went and wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck it up in full view. I then proceeded to get up on Friday morning having spent half the night raiding the medicine chest for pain killers, and convinced myself that the appointment was at 3pm. I have no idea why I didn’t consult my bit of paper, and we duly presented ourselves and were met by a slightly annoyed dentist who pointed to her computer screen which clearly stated that I should have been there in the morning. Meantime I would have sold my granny to have had the job done and the pain stopped, but now I have to wait until Monday morning.

This partly explains why there was no blog yesterday. I couldn’t think of anything particularly jovial to tell you about and I seemed to spend a lot of time sleeping off the effects of the pain killers that the dentist issued, and finishing off the final curtain.

Last night was much better and we awoke to another gorgeous sunny day and drove up to Sommieres market in order to buy some bits for friends and family back in UK, and also to meet up with some of the folks that we had met last week. This time we braved the long queue outside the terrific little boulangerie and I was rewarded with a very good sacristan. Mind you, now that I am becoming something of an expert, I must confess that the one at Lunel Market was definitely the best so far. I suppose it’s a bit like your first love – you never quite get over it!

There can be few nicer ways to spend an idle hour than nibbling your way through a whole sacristan while wandering past the sun-warmed stalls selling herbs and spices, lavender and lace, roast chickens and cheeses and home brewed beer.

We arrived at Delices du Liban just before midday and didn’t spot anyone we knew, but within five minutes, the gang began to show up. Some of the folks from last week were there and in addition, there were a few new faces, a couple of house-hunters and the general easy coming and goings. In a way, it’s a bit like being at a rather nice open-air English country pub and the babble of French and English mingles very happily.

Thanks to Douglas who is the senior member of the group, I discovered how the eating and drinking system works. At first I was a bit surprised to see someone sit down at the table and haul out half a baguette, two slices of ham and half a melon. I imagined that the owner might have something to say, but instead, our host came and plonked down a litre carafe of rosé wine and a handful of glasses. The next bunch to arrive were bearing a tray of fresh oysters. Douglas peered at the shells and said, “Hmm looks like they got the expensive ones”.

I asked what the going rate was and he looked very serious as he informed me that the usual ones are 2 euro 40 a dozen but the big ones are around 2 euro 80”. Bearing in mind the fact that you would probably have to take out a bank loan to purchase a dozen oysters in London, it sounded like a reasonable price for lunch, especially when we were washing it down with a very nice wine which was setting us back about 8 euros a litre.

Douglas then went into Hunter/Gatherer mode and disappeared for five minutes before returning with a sheet of aluminium foil in which nestled a sort of crepe filled with spicy mincemeat.
“Where is everyone finding all this food?” I queried. Douglas waved his hand indicating the busy market square in front of us.
“The Mum of the guy who runs this place does the crepes, and the cousin does the oysters and then you can get fresh bread from over there next to the chap with the sausage stall”.

He went on to explain that the couple that ran our hostelry had toyed with the idea of doing food, but realised that they were far too busy keeping up with the demands of their thirsty clientele to be fiddling around in a kitchen. Hence the fact that you bring you own lunch and they supply the drinks. How organised is that!

Rather than risk a flare up in the tooth department, I turned down offers of oysters and crepes and carefully sipped on the rosé wine, all of which resulted in me getting home with toothache and a headache.

Never mind; a snooze, the last chapter of my book and a nice gentle walk in the vineyards this evening rounded out a very pleasant day all in all. Tomorrow we are going to nip over to Teyran and see what goes on at their village artisans market before driving up to Ledignan to take Mamy out for a spin in the new car. Hopefully the weather will hold, and the golds and red and yellows are steadily overtaking the green.

I’ve just seen the forecast for my trip to UK. Rain on Tuesday and Wednesday!

I've got a Nerve - Thursday 25th Sept

We want the creeper to grown on the house, but this might be a bit excessive!

No writing tonight, and I have no excuse other than the fact that the three missing bags finally arrived today, plus the missing carton of camping equipment, and the house has looked like a bomb site ever since.

I haven't been further than the front gate all day and therefore have nothing of any interest or excitement to impart, other than the thrilling information that I am going to the dentist tomorrow to have a nerve killed in my tooth. Since it has been killing me all week, I reckon it has got it coming but I am none too sure about how Jean is going to cope with being in such close proximity to things like novocaine (of which there had better be a lot) and the sound of drills (of which I hope there is not so much).

The dustbin got emptied which goes to show that if you hang on long enough, the bin men will come along.

Farewell Thabo Mbeki. It sounds like a bit of a sad day for South Africa, but maybe the ship of state will get back on course once more. I have friends in America who are worried sick about the state of their finances, and I must confess that I am rather glad that the baby spinach is looking healthy and we could always survive on acorns judging by the number that plop down onto the car every day. It's a funny old world, but I am very content with my bit of it.

"If It's Tuesday It Must be Belgium" Wednesday 24th Sept

The colours are changing - The Esplanade Charles De Gaulle (but you knew that!)

I felt really bad when I woke up this morning and realised that it was Wednesday. I had spent the whole of yesterday thinking it was Wednesday and I had watched Jean nobly put the bin out last night. This meant that he had to leap out of bed this morning while it was still only half-light and go and bring it back in before the neighbours realised what idiots we were. (OK Jean, what an idiot I was).

Time is a strange thing when the hours are governed by sunshine and a slow pace of life. There is always so much to do, but the actual time of day, or day of the week seems to be very unimportant, hence the dustbin spending the night all alone on the other side of the road without any other bins to keep it company. Tonight he totally refused to put it out until he heard the rumble of Philippe putting his out.

Speaking of our neighbours, what a lovely feeling it was today when we were walking up to the village and prepared to cross at the pedestrian crossing. I realised that a vehicle had stopped for us, and on looking up to wave my thanks, I realised that it was Nathalie from over the road. How nice to be exchanging cheery waves with a neighbour once more.

We had gone up to the Mairie to finalise the paperwork on the new car, only to be handed another sheaf of forms to be filled in. However, we did make the encouraging discovery that if we go to the Montpellier Aglomeration office in Castries, they will give us a composter for free (or just about free). The leaves are about to begin falling and we really could use the proper kit if we are going to produce some good mulch for the garden next year.

The garden seems to be a bit confused at present. In the corner from where we moved the pile of wood for Michelle, we have discovered no less than two bright yellow crocuses in full bloom with more following. Whether they think it is Spring I don’t know, but they are in for a bit of a surprise when they realise that it’s only halfway through September. We’ve managed to replant just about all the bulbs that we dug up while turning and enriching the flower beds, and now we are just about ready to put the garden to bed and wait and see what happens after winter. I phoned Mum today and she informed me that she had put the heating on already, and she advised me to bring my thermal vest and a couple of warm jerseys with me.

Great news. I sent the shipping company another rocket yesterday and low and behold, the local delivery guy phoned to say that he was bringing our three missing bags plus the box of camping stuff that went astray, round to the house tomorrow morning. It’s been three months since we saw those bags and for the life of us, we can’t remember what’s in them, but I do know there is a fair amount of reading material which will be welcome.

I have just started reading “When A Crocodile Eats the Sun” by Peter Godwin, and it is desperately sad to read about the decline of Zimbabwe even though the writing is exceptionally good. I just hope that the present political upheavals in South Africa will soon be smoothed out and that our remaining friends and family who still live there will be safe. I loved my time in Africa, but this sort of reading makes me so glad that my children and grandchildren are safe and happy in Australia, and that we have found a home in France.

The threatened rain in the forecast must have decided to go elsewhere because they have changed their minds and are now promising us another week of glorious weather. The sheer joy of being able to sit out in the midday sun in the courtyard without burning or perspiring is just wonderful. No wonder those little crocuses couldn’t wait to pop their heads up.

We've Got A Ticket To Ride - Tuesday 23rd Sept

The lads taking a shower in Antigone

Now don't you go pulling the plug out Fred. This water's just the right depth!

The Place Royale Du Peyrou - I'm the King and we're not having anyone else up here!

Doing the tourist thing aboard the Montpellier "Petit Train"

This morning, we watched in amazement as the man and his wife boarded the train, complete with two suitcases, a brief case and half a dozen bags of shopping.
“Do you think he reckons that this is the TGV to Paris?” asked Jean.

I had to suppress a giggle and I turned my attention to the group of men next to me who were busy putting up a series of small tents. We weren’t at the central railway station in Montpellier; we were in the Place de la Comedie, waiting for the little tourist train to depart at 11am, and the tents were being prepared to house the upcoming Artisans Fair which will be held from this coming Thursday until the end of the weekend.

The “Petit Train” that trundles around the centre of the ancient city is a very pleasant way to see some of the narrow streets and excellent viewpoints, but it still didn’t explain why our fellow passengers had so much luggage. I suppose this was their last bit of sightseeing before heading back home, and I must admit that we had all chosen the perfect day to be tourists.

The first thing I noticed when we got off the tram at Corum and started our regular walk through the Esplanade Charles De Gaulle, was that everything has changed colour. The trees are fast turning yellow, and with a slight nip in the air, most of the inhabitants of the city have changed from their summer plumage into rather more dark drab colours. The students only wear black from what I can make out, and everyone else had on a jacket or a thick jersey to ward off the autumnal chill. The open air cafes under the trees weren’t doing any trade at all and the regular coffee drinkers had moved into the Place where the sun warmed the clientele as did the strong sweet coffee.

The little train pulled away on time and I pressed the English audio guide to my ear in order to bone up on what I was seeing. Nothing! The ticket office man had assured me that I didn’t have to do anything, but I realised that I actually had to press a button every time the French commentary started up. Consequently, I was still finding out about the egg-shaped Place de L’Oeuf while everyone else was halfway up the hill.

The frustrating thing about the tour is that the carriages all have a roof, and this stops you from seeing the most interesting bits. It’s all very well to be at street level, but the view is mainly of shop fronts with the occasional glimpse down side streets. My aunt, who was a great historian, always told me never to look at old buildings at street level, but to always admire them from the second storey upwards. This is where the real architecture is, but short of craning my neck and risking having my head knocked off by a passing stone wall, I had the feeling that I was missing an awful lot.

Never mind. The sun shone, our feet had a rest, and the bits of information were interesting. Clearly the driver had a few favourite points of his own along the way, and he paused outside a little bakery and hollered for a “pain au chocolat”. This gave him the chance to point out to his passengers that this was the best bakery in town, and I have the feeling that his breakfast didn’t cost him much. The taped commentary pointed out a particular gateway through which could be seen an historic staircase, and as we approached, the solid gates opened as if by magic, and an elderly lady stood back to reveal the aforementioned staircase before shutting the gate again firmly as we trundled off. I wondered if they phoned ahead or she just listened for the rumble of the approaching train, but she was bang on cue.

One of the best viewpoints in Montpellier is at the end of the Place Royale Du Peyrou. This is the sandy area with little other than an equestrian statue in the middle and a sort of folly at the far end. Apparently the king decreed that nobody should have any sort of monument higher than his, thus ensuring that the good people of Montpellier had a jolly good vantage point to view their city and the mountains beyond in the years to come.

We did the odd jobs that needed doing, one of which was to purchase two new batteries in order to bring Ralph the blue plastic bird back to life. He was obviously in need of having his pacemaker upgraded but I think he is feeling a bit post-operative at present, because we haven’t had much of a chirp out of him.

I think I know how he feels. Even sitting down and being a tourist is a pretty exhausting pastime and I think an early night might be on the cards.

Step Away From The Axe Mother Dear - Monday 22nd Sept

The back route to Braggasargues in the Gard region - no more grapes!

I heard from my pal Maggie today that England was enjoying some really great autumnal weather. A bit nippy but lovely blue skies and no rain. What a welcome change after the rotten summer that they have experienced. I thought I’d give Mum a call and see how she was enjoying being out in the garden, and she gleefully informed me that she had been trying to take down her bird table.
“I had a go with a saw but I got a bit tired halfway through, so I thought I might try the axe”.
I begged her to desist from either and to go inside and have a large sherry.

Unfortunately I know where my genes spring from, and if there is a job that needs doing, I won’t rest until I have fathomed out a way to do it. I do hope that by the time I go and visit her next week, she will have all her digits intact and Molly the Labrador will have stayed well clear of any swinging axes.

If I had a euro for every time that I have climbed up the step ladder today, I could retire a wealthy woman. However, it has been worth it, and the curtains are now in place and looking super. We got around the sewing machine problem by purchasing a few rolls of the very clever iron on tape that instantly turns to glue the moment it gets hot. In a trice I had the side seams stuck down, but I did the decent thing and hand stitched across them where I had joined them just in case someone gave them a bit of a tug, and they fell in half.

It was so lovely sitting out in the courtyard today. The sun has changed its course considerably and the table is being nudged further and further towards the bedroom wall in order to benefit from the warmth. There was a bit of an edge on the breeze, but tucked away round the corner, I sewed and sang along to my music, and decided that early autumn was a fine time of year to be in France.

My mother asked about my French studies and I had to burble all sorts of excuses, but this evening, I had the best French lesson possible. Jean’s internet business links us to the worlds largest on-line shopping mall, and we do most of our shopping on-line which is no hardship at all, since we then receive a very nice cash bonus from the reward points. It was time to do the monthly shop which we used to do through the USA Mall, but this time, I needed to shop through the French Mall and what fun it turned out to be. It’s amazing how quickly one can translate various words when in search of a really snug thermal vest or a long cosy nightdress. I even managed the check-out procedure and was delighted to get an instant 30% off my purchase. I did mention to Jean that if I were to shop every evening, I could probably pick up the language in no time, but he wasn’t buying it, not the way I wanted to buy it! It’s a free membership so if anyone is interested, have a look at The Home Shoppers Club .

We went for a walk this evening just to stretch our legs a bit and it’s amazing to see how fast the gardens are changing. The geraniums are just about over and the last of the petunias are putting on a brave show, but clearly it is time for them to move over and make way for other things. The climbing ivy and their various cousins are changing to a beautiful red and gold, and there is a distinct nip in the air by about six o clock. It’s lovely to come home, close the doors, draw the curtains and put our feet up. Tomorrow we are going into Montpellier and then I think a quick detour to Leroy Merlin and the Castries Fruit and Veg shop might be on the cards. We’ve started replanting all the hundreds of bulbs that we lifted, and I think a garden fork is something that we can no longer do without.

Right now, I am hoping that the weather will stay nice in England, but just in case, I am also hoping that my thermal vest arrives here in time. Who knows, we might even get our three missing bags by the end of the week, and then all we’ll need is our missing box which was actually on the truck but which “got lost”. Talk about hurry up and wait!