If ever I had considered
running a Bed and Breakfast establishment to occupy myself, I think I have now
been cured of that silly idea. Mary’s time with us came to an end on Tuesday
and it was with sad hearts that we took her off to the airport in Toulouse. We
so enjoyed our time with her, especially
the time spent playing real Scrabble (when we were home) and showing off
‘our’ part of France (when we were out). Hopefully this will become an annual
event and I am already looking forward to next years’ holiday.
The following morning
found us in furious cleaning mode as we swept and dusted while the washing
flapped on the line. Our next guests, a cousin of mine from the UK and her
husband arrived later that afternoon and for a while there was plenty of
chatter. We haven’t seen each other for a few years, during which time all
sorts of things have happened to our families –weddings, children changing
jobs, grandchildren arriving – you know the sort of thing. They also, have not
seen much of this part of France, so we could show off all over again. Unfortunately,
the weather was little unfair to them and the first few days were quite cold
and grey. We did, however manage to fit in a trip to Auch to visit the great
Cathedral and have a look at the Grand Staircase (but not walk it) before
lunch. The drive home included the little villages of Ordan-Larroque and
Barran. The first is just a very pretty little village, looking lovely at the
moment with all the flowers out; while the second is worth a visit because of a
curiosity – it has a twisted steeple to the church spire. We were not sure if
the twist was by accident or intent but came to the conclusion that it was by
intent. It is far too regular to have warped into that shape. While we were in
Barran, admiring the steeple, we wandered around the churchyard and were
interested to see that they have a military graveyard at the far end . Instead
of a simple War Memorial listing all the names of the dead of the village,
there are individual graves, each marked with a simple white cross. As is so
often the case in this type of graveyard, the crosses are arranged in strict
rows, but at the one side, lying at right angles to the rest, and possibly
facing East, were four graves of soldiers with very definitely Arab sounding
names, a star and crescent on the headstone instead of a cross, and something
written in Arabic. But also on the headstones was a message saying that they
had fought for the liberation of France but had paid the ultimate price. I
thought it a rather nice touch to have buried them with their comrades.
The rain came and went
and made planning any outings quite difficult but we went into Eauze – nice and
close - and looked at all the pavement markings and other traces of the
pilgrims who walk to Santiago and the Church of St James. The symbol of St
James is a scallop shell (the old Shell petrol sign too) and everything to do
with the pilgrims has this sign of St James on it. The route through the towns
is often marked with brass scallop shells let into the paving; special pilgrim
accommodation has a scallop shell on the door; and cafes which offer
inexpensive meals especially for the walkers will also be marked in a similar
way. Just at the moment, there are dozens of pilgrims on the route. No, make
that hundreds, and on Saturday and Sunday we came across many of them in Eauze
and then in Manciet. We spoke to a small group of three the other day and asked
where they had started walking and how long the whole trip would take them. They
had started in a place called Puy-en-Velay, twenty days previously and still
had a month and a few days still to go!
On Sunday we attended my
favourite kind of market – the Vide Grenier. This literally means ‘Empty the
loft’ and is a glorified Car Boot Sale. There must have been fifty or more
stalls selling everything from junk to very good china and cutlery. Last time
went to one of these, we bought two jigsaw puzzles, this time we bought a salt
cellar and a bedside lamp. The salt cellar in the house has a serious problem
in that the salt doesn’t seem to run out of the little hole in the top, so
bought what I think is really a pepper pot and we are short of a bedside lamp
anyway, so when we saw a good-looking one for two euros, we couldn’t resist.
We have never really
explored Manciet, where the market was held, in spite of it being only five kilometres
away, so after having a reviving cold drink, we ambled around exploring all its
secret corners and found some charming old houses dripping with wisteria.
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