France 2014 Number 16

And so, as our holiday in France draws to a close once again, we have time to look back on all the memories we have made – places we’ve been, people we’ve met and things we have done and seen. We have certainly been extraordinarily blessed in meeting and knowing so many people here. People who are not only very kind and hospitable but who open their homes to us even when they are not there themselves. I sometimes wonder if they ever  realise just how much richness they add to our holiday experience. Staying in hotels around the country would certainly be another way of doing things but only by living in a village, amongst the locals, can one really experience the local culture. And it is this that brings back to France time after time.

This year we visited a new area – the Charente – where we had visited briefly last year and the year before that, but this year our two month stay there gave us far more time to get to know new friends. We were also able to join in with some of the community events which drew us even further into the local lifestyle, and which we enjoyed immensely.

Every week we have religiously bought a lottery ticket for the French National Lottery, (not the Euromillions, we are not greedy) hoping that by supporting the national game, we might have a better chance of winning! We tell ourselves that if we won a huge sum of money we would just stay here and not go home, but luckily we haven’t had to make that decision and our total winnings over the four months has been the grand sum of six Euros. It’s a nice dream, but only that. Moving away from South Africa at our age would be ridiculous and extremely difficult, but we have nothing against dreaming. Meanwhile, for as long as possible, we will holiday here each year, enjoying it hugely but always knowing that at a set date we would return to our own house and home.

Since we arrived back in Espas, our home-from-home, the good weather that we enjoyed in the eastern half of the country disappeared, and to start with it was very cold and miserable. After a while though, days became warmer and today is a whopping 30 degrees. During the past week, we have done very little but we did take a very pleasant amble along some of the country roads that we have not explored before.

Starting from the house, we took the ‘back’ road to Manciet and then went on to St Christie d’Armangnac, a little place slightly off the road that we would normally whizz past. Here we found probably the oldest chateau and church combination that we have seen. Neither were terribly attractive, the church was, surprisingly, locked and both were in a shocking state of decay. At some stage, the two buildings had been joined by a second story gallery, no doubt so that the Lord of the Manor could attend the services without getting his feet wet, but what a sad sight. Parked in the  portal of the church was one of those old horse drawn hearses with the coffin stands for use inside the church, standing alongside. It was in remarkably good condition, and having seen so many of them, I begin to wonder if they are still in use.

Continuing along our chosen route we ambled along through the prettiest countryside. The wheat fields and vineyards are lush and green at the moment, while the maize is just starting to appear. The Gers landscape is one of soft rolling hills with patches of natural forest in the gullies. It really is one of the most attractive areas of France.

We must have driven through about four little villages and a number of tiny hamlets before we came to Monguilhem at about lunchtime. This is quite a large village with a sizeable square surrounded by the usual plane trees. When we got there though, the square had been covered over with a deep layer of sand and wooden walls had been erected all around, with grand-stands outside that. Being ever nosy, we climbed the stairs that led to the stands and discovered that the square had been converted into a bull-ring. Had we been going to watch, I would have opted for a seat on the top row of the stands as the walls looked far too flimsy for my liking. In any case, the bull fighting was only planned for Monday, which is Pentecost. I have no idea why, but Easter and Pentecost are the two big bull fighting occasions around here. And they don’t kill the bulls – they just annoy them and the bull fighters get chased around.

The town also has a very old church which was re-dedicated in about the 1850’s to Our Lady of Salette after two children had a vision of the Virgin and were given important messages to broadcast to the world. I looked it up on the internet and the messages were mainly about living a good life, in the religious sense, and encouraging world peace.

We found a delightful restaurant to have lunch in before ambling home again taking a slightly different road back. Tomorrow is going to be busy as we try to squeeze everything back into the suitcases it arrived in, which always seems to be a battle, and then on Tuesday we will take the car to our friends house where it lives in the garden until we return, and then they will take us to the airport to catch our plane to South Africa. And so comes to an end the latest Cannyvanners blog.

France 2014 Number 15

Since our return from Breil to Lezignan,  Neels had been hard at work finishing off all the little maintenance jobs that he was doing around the house. Some of them were not so little, like fixing a major leak in an inlet water pipe, and others were quite trivial, like repairing the wooden slatted plate rack that had lost one of its slats. They all took time though. However, by Tuesday evening practically all the jobs were complete and we could look forward to a stroll around the market the following morning. Lezignan market is always worth while as it is one of the bigger markets and the stalls have a huge range of items for sale – fruit and veg, of course, but also clothes, toys, hardware, haberdashery, fabrics, electronic goods, cell phones, flowers and seedlings, fresh fish, meat and bakery goods – to name just a few. The stalls spread out from the centre of town, up and down all the side streets, and one could wander almost all day and still miss a couple of stalls. We had just gone to look, but when we saw the man selling cell phones and accessories, Neels nipped back home and got his phone which has needed a new battery for ages, and found the right one to replace it. And at a reasonable price.

The rest of the day was spent trying to get all our clothes back into the suitcases ready for the onward trip the following morning. It was at about this time that we discovered that our faithful ‘Jane’ had died. At first we thought it was also just battery problems, but when nothing would bring the device back to life, we realised that without a Tom-Tom there could be real problems ahead! The first part of the trip would be no trouble as it involved taking our hostess to the airport at Carcassonne, and since she has done the trip many times, she would be able to guide us there.

As expected, getting to the airport was easy although I have to say that without our guide we would never have found it. The French have this really annoying habit of pointing you in the right direction with a big clear sign, and then never giving you any more information  about the place you are trying to find. Having dropped her off and found our way out of the airport again, we drove around  a couple of circular scenic routes until we finally got on to the right road to take us towards Toulouse. We had decided not to use the motorway, but to take the more attractive ‘old’ road which runs almost parallel, but the closer we got to Toulouse and its complicated ring road, the more nervous we got and finally when we saw a sign pointing towards the motorway, we took it. We missed ‘Jane’ terribly and were both a bundle of nerves after a very short time. So many signs to watch for and so much traffic! And they all seem to know exactly where they are going, and all travel at great speed. But we made it and were soon on the stretch of road we know very well and heading for our home-from-home at Espas. On the way, we stopped in Auch which has lovely big shops, to buy a few groceries and while we were there, we thought we would treat ourselves to a new Tom-Tom. Well, it wasn’t so much a treat as a necessity – it was either that or a divorce – and the Tom-Tom was on special anyway!!

When we got to the house we found that someone had been in and cleaned everything beautifully and had even left some flowers in a vase for us, the frig was running and the water was hot. Wonderful. We unpacked a few things, had a quick supper and fell into bed. But before we could fall asleep, there was an ominous scampering and pattering of little feet on what seemed to be the ceiling, so we blocked our ears, deciding that whatever was up there could wait until the morning. By morning though, tenants in the roof took second place to the frig which had turned into a freezer overnight and frozen everything solid. Isn’t it strange how cucumber is never the same when it thaws out as it was before it was frozen.

So it was off to the supermarket again to restock, where we met my cousin and she ended up having lunch with us, which was lovely and we all had a good natter, but it was quite late when we found time to investigate our unwelcome guests. Having dealt with these creatures – stone-martens – before, we were not thrilled with the idea of doing it again so were delighted when we could find no sign of them in the main loft. But there were still scrabbling sounds coming from another part of the roof, a sloping, lean-to type of roof with very little space between the tiles and the ceiling, and definitely no chance of even seeing what might be in there. In the end, Neels stood underneath that section of ceiling and every time there was  a sound he banged the ceiling with a broom handle. They seem to have got the message as it has been quite silent since Saturday morning and it is now Sunday afternoon.

Meanwhile, while hunting for beasties in the roof, we came across an electric timer. On closer inspection Neels found it was defective but managed to fix it and we now have the frig-turned-freezer plugged into it so that it runs for two hours and then is off for two hours, and it seems to be fine. It will certainly do for the short time we will be here.

Since we arrived back in the Gers the fine weather we were enjoying on the eastern side of the country has disappeared and we are back into winter clothes. We haven’t quite got to the point where we switch on the electric blanket, but it is very close. It’s a good time for reading and relaxing but certainly gives a new meaning to ‘chilling out’!

France 2014 Number 14

We arrived in Lezignan about mid afternoon on Sunday 11 th May. It was a painless drive as there were no trucks and we used the motorway all the way. We hadn’t seen pour hostess for about a year so there was plenty of catching up to do. She warned us that the two days that we had before heading off to the eastern side of the country were going to be fairly busy, and she was quite correct. Luckily she had a shopping list to fill at a supermarket which is right next to a MacDonalds, so I was able to nip in there and do some internet work. That evening our brains were given a severe workout as she had invited some French friends for dinner. Our hostess speaks fairly good French; Neels acquitted himself very well and I stumbled along with a word or two here and there. Of our guests, the wife speaks pretty good English but her husband, not a word. That may sound as if it could have been a very awkward dinner party but in fact it was good fun and we all laughed at each others mistakes. I feel they must have enjoyed themselves as it was really late when they finally left.

The next day a friend came along to do some jobs around the house and stayed for lunch too, while we tried to sort out our clothes for the next week. Knowing that we would have haul everything up four flights of stairs made us opt for the least amount possible, while still making allowances for snow on the nearby mountains as well as some possibly very hot days. Eventually we made our decisions and were able to pack, ready for our departure the next day.

The following day’s 550 kilometre drive to Breil-sur-Roya went very smoothly. The last few kilometres along the Cote d’Azur are always frustrating as the road consists of a series of tunnels, each one followed by a high level bridge. The glimpses one gets of the coast from the bridges are tantalizing but there are no stopping places whatsoever and certainly no photo stops! We found our friend’s apartment with no trouble and, having lugged everything upstairs, settled ourselves in. It was an early night for us all.

As the 15^th was our hostess’s birthday, we drove out to Sospel for lunch and either impressed, or terrified, her with the twisty hairpin roads. When we arrived there, it was market day which is always fun. Having been to the town twice before, we could show off our knowledge of the town by going directly to the various ‘sights’ without having to waste time wandering around the unattractive parts of town. We treated the birthday girl to a delicious lunch eaten out of doors under a canopy with the river tumbling along next to us.

Over the weekend we had a bonus visit from Pieter, our eldest son. He is currently skippering a large motor yacht which is, at the moment, moored in Genoa, about two hours’ drive away. He arrived on Saturday mid-morning so we all went out to the tiny village of La Brigue and then up to the chapel of Notre Dame des Fontaines. This little chapel was built after prayers for rain were answered by a spring suddenly appearing high up in the mountains. The chapel was built on the spot, in the 12^th century and the interior was decorated with frescoes in the 15^th century. The amazing thing about it is that the frescoes have never been re-touched and are still as vivid as they were when first painted.

We just had to show both our guests the wonderful village of Saorge which tumbles down the side of the hill some ten kilometres north of Breil so we had booked a table for lunch on Sunday in the ‘Belle Vue’ restaurant in which the tables are in an area which apparently hangs out over nothing, and which has a most spectacular view of the Roya River valley. The food was good too! All too soon it was time for Pieter to leave, but what a bonus to have had him to stay for a while at least. On Sunday night it rained during the night and was quite a bit cooler when we got up the next morning. However, we had promised ourselves a trip down to Menton on the bus, so off we went. The 1 euro bus now costs 1 euro 50, but is still a bargain. We could all sit back in comfort with no worries about hunting for parking at the other end, and the bus leaves from almost outside our apartment so what could be better!

The centre of the city is pedestrians only and it was a pleasure to amble down the street looking first at this shop and then that, but the goods for sale were astronomically expensive and we did not buy anything. There was also a cold wind blowing that kept catching us at the intersections that made things a little less pleasant, but we had a good day and managed to fill the time until the bus returned to Breil. And that was really our last day there as the next day was spent clearing up and cleaning up; doing laundry and finding somewhere to hang it to dry.  Then the following day we were off back to Lezignan.

No time to rest though (as if we needed it!) as the very next day, Thursday 22^nd, we had arranged to have lunch with a friend who has a house close to the little village we stayed in last year when the family visited us. Although her house is brand new, it looks for all the world as though it has been there for about 100 years. It is stone built, and all the doors and windows have been recovered from old buildings, as well as much of the interior décor and fittings, while the garden is mainly indigenous plants which are looking fantastic at the moment – wild geraniums, lavender, cosmos and many evergreen shrubs. It is really hard to believe that it hasn’t been here forever. Having ooh-ed and aah-ed over the house we then all hopped back into the car and went off to a small village nearby called Cucugnan to have lunch in a restaurant. Cucugnan is a most delightful village, dominated by a restored windmill. After lunch we walked up the hill to the mill and found not only a grain mill and a bakery, but a shop selling the goods baked in the bakery, and then a forge and someone making wrought iron bits and pieces, as well as a few rather nice little general shops. A real gem!

What should have been a simple and fairly quick outing turned the following day into an all day affair. The basis of it all was that another friend was taking his car to be resprayed at a workshop in Narbonne where we would meet him, all go and have a bite to eat, then take him home where we could all make use of his internet connection. I’m not quite sure just what happened to the day but we eventually only met up at about 1.30 pm and had lunch before dropping off the car and things sort of went from bad to worse and we finally got home at about 7pm.

Saturday was just the opposite. It turned out to be a stay-at-home day with lots of odd jobs to do around the house. First, Neels finished off a fairly major plumbing job that he had started  a few days back. Then he began sanding the doors to the cupboard under the stairs so that they closed properly. At the same time, I mounted a small plaque next to the postbox requesting that no junk mail be delivered here. Then I had to go and hold doors so they could be sanded along the edges. Meanwhile, our hostess was fearlessly clambering around on the roof removing a strange weed which grows on the tiles in this area, after which she painted a small section of wall and went on to do some gardening. At the end of her garden she has a small shed, built of  brick, and a barbecue next to it. Because one could easily sit and eat out there, such a thing is known as a ‘cuisine d’été’, or a summer kitchen. To make hers more attractive, she has pasted a giant photograph on to the back wall, put a frame around it and attached windows on each side to give the impression of a view through an open window. Next to the barbecue, she has pasted another blown-up photograph of a view through the vineyards to a castle. The picture is the shape of a Gothic arch and this one has a stone surround so that it appears to be a scene from one castle of another. They are amazingly effective and lend a certain amount of depth to both areas.

France 2014 Number 13

Our last week in the Charente had arrived and we greeted it with mixed feelings. We love the house and the location, and have enjoyed the short forays we have made into the surrounding countryside. We have met some lovely people, both English and French speaking, who we would definitely like to keep in touch with and visit again sometime in the future. On the other hand, we found that looking after the pets, lovable as they are, proved to be quite restrictive and prevented us from making any long, all-day trips to places further away. And quite often, when we did have a good day for sight-seeing, it was a also a good day for mowing the grass. So, there have been pro’s and con’s.

We had deliberately kept the week free of any engagements as we realised that there would be a certain amount of ‘time juggling’ taking place. With the uncertain weather it would be quite a challenge to leave the house spick and span, with all the bed linen washed and ready for ironing, as well as managing to have most of our meagre wardrobe also clean enough to move on. After all, one can hardly arrive at a friend’s house and ask to do a load of washing immediately. And as the week shortened, the juggling got more frenzied.

Not wanting to leave without saying some goodbyes to the more special of our new friends, we invited one couple over for a drink and snacks and then realised there was nothing resembling a snack in the house, so off we went to the supermarket intending to rush straight back, but then we began to wonder why we were in such a hurry. We took ourselves off to a coffee shop for a cuppa and there met another new friend. We began talking and she more she spoke the more we found we had in common. Eventually she apologised for having to leave, but said that she had just taken on a new ‘rescue’ dog and didn’t want to leave it alone for too long. But please would we come and have a drink with her at her house the following evening. When we got home, I Googled her village, and was a bit horrified to discover that Google has never heard of it. She had drawn us a detailed map, however, and we wondered what we would find when we got there. We needn’t have worried – there is in actual fact, a decent-sized village and her house is a dream cottage. I am so glad we met her as otherwise we would never have found this little place.

Friday was D-Day for the roadworthiness re-test and Neels went off in good time and some trepidation to discover the results. We really needn’t have worried. As the mechanic who did the repairs to the car was also the roadworthy inspector, he could hardly fail it again. To give him his due though, he did show Neels the underside of the car and just what he had done which all looked good. It is such a good feeling to have that little sticker on the windscreen again!

Although I was longing to start sorting through our clothes and to begin packing, we didn’t dare to do so in case we frightened the cat and it disappeared. It has been known to happen to other people. So for most of Friday we sat around reading and sewing trying to appear as if we were here for the next two years and nothing was out of the ordinary. I think we succeeded as the cat was still with us on Saturday until we put him into his travelling basket and put them both in the car. The fact that he muttered all the way to the kennels didn’t really bother us, and the lady who runs the kennels obviously knows them both so we feel sad to say goodbye, but happy to know that they are in good hands.

We leave the Charente on Sunday 11^th May and may be out of touch for three weeks as there is no internet where we are going. If we get lucky and find a WifI point, there will be another chapter of the blog next week.

Our trip south was long, fairly slow but uneventful. Slow, out of consideration for the old lady – the car, not me! It was interesting to notice the architecture  changing as we progressed, as well as the  farming  styles. We started with crops and a few cattle in the north, then more cattle and sheep in the central areas and finally goats and vineyards as we approached the south. Travelling on a Sunday was good idea after all, as there were no heavy trucks on the roads – they are forbidden to drive on Sundays We were delighted to come across one of our favourite tree-lined avenues somewhere down the road, and felt as if we were ‘coming home’.

France 2014 Number 12

When the sun finally decided to appear on Wednesday, we took advantage of it and jumped in the car for a drive around the countryside. There are dozens of tiny villages and hamlets within a radius of less than twenty kilometres from where we are, so we just selected a few of them and then joined the dots to give ourselves a circular drive. We started off though by popping in at a friend’s house to photograph the bluebells growing in the little woodland he has behind the house. They are so beautiful and such a delicate shade of blue. Then we set off on our round trip – Lezay, where we went for the Brass Band concert, then Vanzay, Messé, Vancais (tricky one that, with Vanzay just a short while before it), Chey then back to Lezay and home. Lovely farming countryside, all green and gold at present with the wheat coming on and the canola flowers just about going off, and big clumps of woodland and forest where the trees meet over the road to form a green tunnel. The village houses in this area are all built of stone but the stone has been shaped into regular brick-shaped pieces and carefully laid in courses, like brick. It is a very attractive style and naturally with walls that are a metre or more thick, the houses are well insulated. It was a scenic drive but not a very photographic one.

A different friend phoned that evening to ask if we would like to go to a vide grenier with them the next day, and of course we said yes. Fortunately they collected us and we all went in one car, or we would probably still be driving around in circles trying to find the village. There was a fair turnout in spite of the grey weather, and a small group of men playing piano-accordions and clarinets lent a very ‘French’ atmosphere to the affair. After a while the grey day lightened up and it got quite warm in the sun, so we went into the hall to see an art exhibition put on by the local amateur art group and a couple of more professional artists from the region. There was some beautiful work there and not too out-landishly expensive, but nothing that I could easily fit into my suitcase, I’m afraid. By the time we left at lunchtime, it was drizzling again and people were packing up early.

By Friday, there was a very real possibility that we would run out of clean clothes to wear, so in spite of the weather, which now couldn’t make up its mind whether to rain or not, we did two loads of washing and turned the back verandah into a Chinese laundry and hoped it would get dry. After lunch, when it seemed as though it was, after all, not going to rain, we went out. We had promised ourselves that we would get back to the Chateau at Dampierre sur Boutonne so that is where we were aiming for. All the way there we were driving in and out of showers but they were short-lived and we hoped that when we got there it would be in a gap between two showers.

We had set ‘Jane’ to take us via the shortest route which always involves a lot of narrow lanes and farm roads, and as a result, we came across a remarkable little park on the site of the origin of the Sompteuse River. A small hill slopes down to an area where the many springs have been channeled into two wash houses and an extraordinary oval pool, before rushing away in to the valley below. The area around has been cleared and someone has planted many varieties of hydrangeas in beds, with a placard listing them all. It must look amazing when they are all in flower. This was near a small village called Sompt. But we couldn’t waste too much time, so on we went to the chateau. We were very lucky to find that an English-speaking guide had started to work there just that day and we were her first tourists.

The Renaissance-style chateau is built on a small island in the Boutonne River, which may have been a good idea from a defence point of view, when it was built in 995 AD (!!) but it has been at the mercy of the river ever since then, with frequent flooding and marshy ground underfoot taking their toll. The last and almost final disaster to strike was a terrible fire in 1992 which nearly destroyed the whole place. The village folk rallied round and most of the 17th century furniture was saved, including some incredible 18^th century tapestries and some priceless artwork. The chateau has been rebuilt several times in its life, but the present building dates from about 1550 AD. The ground floor is mainly reception rooms and the kitchen, with bedrooms and sitting rooms on the first floor, while the enormous attic space houses a collection of artefacts from all around the world, collected by one or another of the owners at various times. And then there are the gardens. Once beautifully laid out formal gardens, they went through a period of neglect and flooding and are only now being restored Perfectly clipped hedges form a labyrinthine maze to the rear of the chateau, while behind that is a long curved hedge with arches cut in it. Behind each arch stands a perfectly formed ball shaped shrub, and the disciplined rows of planted woodland taper off into the distance. Keeping it looking like it does must involve a huge amount of work, and expense, in a country where workers are few and labour costs plenty.

The only really good day of the week was Sunday so we leapt into the car and pointed the nose east. We had been asked to go and find a motor-racing circuit known as Val de Vienne about 45 kilometres away and to report back on the facilities. We were not impressed with ‘Jane’ as she had never heard of it,  but we asked her for the nearest town and then found it ourselves – eventually. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere this track appears to be well-maintained and well-used. There was a motor-cycle meeting on the go when we arrived, so we got out to have a look. Was that ever a mistake?? The wind, from which we had been protected while in the car, was absolutely icy and although we both had on fleeces over our jerseys, it was just too cold to sit and watch the racers with any sort of enjoyment.

On the way home we stopped briefly at St Martin l’Ars when we caught sight of a splendid chateau through the trees. But once again, it proved to be a derelict building looking very sad and forgotten. One can only guess at the wealth that the original owners must have had to own and run a place of this size. Obviously the current owners are unable to do so. So sad.

France 2014 Number 12 (Pictures only)

France 2014 Number 11

A rather boring week all round, I would say. The weather has been cold and grey, not at all conducive to driving out and sight-seeing but apart from that we have been quite busy trying to sort out the repairs that have to be done to the car for it to pass the road-worthy test. First of all, we drove down to Ruffec where there is a reputable Peugeot agent and workshop to find out if they agreed with the inspector who told us that the whole back axle needed to be replaced. Unfortunately, the inspector was quite right and the agent, with a gleam of dollar signs in his eyes, offered to book the car in right away – at a huge cost. We said we would consider it and returned to Sauze-Vaussais. A friend put us in touch with a qualified mechanic who offered to find us a good second-hand part, and to fit it with the aid of a friend, another mechanic, for half the cost of the agency garage. Had we been in South Africa, we might have had serious misgivings about letting a back-yard mechanic do the job, but since the work will be later scrutinised by another inspector and this time hopefully pass the test, we thought it was probably all right.

All of that took up almost the whole day and it wasn’t until the next afternoon, when the sun peeped out for a short while, that we took ourselves a little way up the road to a tiny place called Sainte Soline. Apart from wanting to just ‘go and see’, we needed to take the second car that was left here, for a run to keep the battery charged. By the time we had driven the eight or so kilometres to the village, the sun had decided to cooperate and had rolled back most of the clouds for us. The village is on the River Dive and next to it is a large open area that we presume would be full of picnicking families in summer. At one end of the area is a netball court and a boulles court. A charming pathway has been created to wind through the trees and is slightly raised, no doubt to prevent flooding of the picnic area. It was very quiet with just the sounds of the birds and the soft chuckling of the river, and we thought it a lovely place for a picnic. Apart from the park though, and the usual 12^th century church, there were a series of bath-houses along the river bank. Unlike the wash-houses that are fairly commonly seen and which were, and sometimes still are, used for washing laundry, these bath-houses had three shallow, wide steps inside them, the lowest one being on a level with the water. We are fairly sure that the idea was to slip off one’s wrap while inside the house and then slide into the water, either to bath or to bathe. They are obviously not in use any more, and the water has a strange grey colour which is a bit unappealing. Quite picturesque though!

On Saturday we decided to have a change of supermarket and went to Lezay which is about eight or nine kilometres in the opposite direction to Sauze-Vaussais. First, though, we needed to find a tabac, a tobacconist’s shop where one can buy papers and magazines, birthday cards and toys, cigarettes and smoking accessories. I was looking for a birthday card for a friend and we needed to cash in our winning Lotto ticket – all of two euros worth! As I turned to close the door behind me, my eye was caught by a rack of new-release books, and especially by one book entitled KNYSNA in huge letters. This was the very last thing I would have expected to see in a small bookshop in France so we quizzed the owner about it. Apparently it is all about the French football team and their trials and tribulations during the 2010 World Cup, which for them was a total disaster. We then told him that we had actually lived in Knysna for many years and he asked us how to pronounce the name correctly, and what were we doing in this part of France all the way from South Africa etc etc and by the end of the conversation we were friends for life.

Later that afternoon our back yard mechanics phoned to say that they would be picking up the car at eight the next morning. Horrors! We didn’t know that eight o’clock even existed but we managed to be up and decent in time. Then, seeing that we were up so early, and seeing that we have only cleaned the house sporadically over the past few weeks, and seeing that we have no idea if Veronique is going to be fit enough for work before we leave, and seeing that it was a thoroughly miserable day anyway, we got stuck in and cleaned the house properly. By the time we had finished everything was sparkling and dog-hair free, although I know it won’t last long. And not too much later, there was a ‘toot-toot’ from outside and the car was back – fixed and ready to go.

Hopefully the weather will clear up again soon and we will be able to get out a bit more. We have some places in mind that we would like to visit, but it needs to be good weather. So we are holding thumbs and hoping that the Met. Office is wrong in their forecast of grey, miserable days for the foreseeable future.

France 2014 Number 10

Well, would you believe it?! By Monday it was time to cut the grass again! No wonder everything around here is so green and lush – it never stops growing at great speed. My guilty conscience pricked me into pulling some more weeds out of the vegetable-patch-to-be, but it is really hard work. It hasn’t rained now for about two weeks and the clay soil has dried out and is starting to crack. Getting a fork into it to lift the weeds is like trying to dig into concrete and if I stand on the fork for a bit of added leverage, I am in danger of falling flat on my face or on my behind, depending which way the fork wobbles. However, I dutifully did a bit then gave up and spent most of the rest of the day doing my embroidery, which was far more satisfying. Meanwhile, Neels roared up and down the lawn and ended up doing both front and back. It certainly looks wonderful when just done – a bit like the cricket pitch at Lords with its dark and light stripes.  It’s never-ending though and will have to be done again in a week’s time, and even then it will be about three days overdue.

After all that exertion, we gave ourselves a day off and went to Niort to enjoy it. Niort is quite a major town to the west of us, about an hour’s drive away. It was a beautiful sunny day with not too much traffic on the road so we had a really pleasant trip. Our guide book had told us that there was underground parking near the centre of town so we made straight for that and found a place easily. In fact it would have been hard not to find a place to park there as there are 400 spaces on seven levels. I think the biggest problem is actually finding your car again when you want to leave. Woe betide the driver who doesn’t take note of his parking space number!

When we emerged into the daylight, we were horrified to find that the day had suddenly changed from a lovely clear sunny day into a somewhat overcast one with a freezing wind blowing. Not very conducive to wandering around sight-seeing, at all. However the town had been recommended to us as a worthwhile place to visit so we set off to find out why. At first we were a little disappointed to find some beautiful old streets full of ancient buildings which had been spoilt by one or two of the facades having been replaced with plate glass, but as we walked further into the town we came across more and more original shop fronts that must surely date back to the 16^th and 17^th century. In fact, after we had got over the shock of seeing the plate glass fronted old buildings, we realised that the whole town is a mixture of old and new, some of which works well and other which looks a bit incongruous. For instance, the pedestrianized road which leads from the Place de la Breche, the lawned square which covers the enormous parking garage, has two bronze serpents which indicate the entrance to the street. To my mind, they look totally out of place and would be far more at home on a Chinese pagoda, but then I am not an artist. To find the real ‘old town’ we had to walk right down to the end of the road but were rewarded for our persistence. The River  Sevre Niortaise runs along the edge of the town and on the one bank is a massive chunk of masonry which is all that remains of a medieval castle built by Henry II and his wife Eleanor of Aquitane. The two towers, known as donjons, still look perfectly capable of keeping marauding armies at bay. Nearby is the market hall, a glass and steel  building where markets are held every day, under cover. Not far from here one finds the inevitable cathedral of Notre Dame and not too far away a building which is today an exhibition centre but was built in the 1500’s as a town hall. Called Le Pilori, it was a reminder that the mayor of the town was also the local judge. Two iron collars fixed into the wall allowed the criminals to be pilloried, and had to wear a board on which was written their crime. No doubt passers-by could throw tomatoes and rotten eggs at them!

By now it was getting late and ever mindful of the fact that we always have two hungry animals waiting for our return, we set off home again but made two stops along the way. The first was to a small field of tulips which are grown every year at this time by the Round Tablers of the area. One can stop in there and buy 20 tulips for 10 Euros and all the proceeds go towards cancer research. I think 50 Eurocents per bloom is quite expensive in South African terms but it is an excellent way of raising money for a worthwhile charity. The man in charge when we were there was quite upset that the icy wind had all but destroyed the crop, but there were still enough blooms for us to get an idea of how brilliant the colours must have been when they were at their best. Our other stop was at a tiny village called Celles sur Belle where there is a spectacular Royal Abbey (Abbaye Royale) with precise formal gardens laid out below it.

We felt frightfully grand on Wednesday, when we stayed in, and the hairdresser came to us. One of a number of English speaking hairdressers in the area, she was recommended by the owner of the house we’re in and we found her to be very good. Very business-like and efficient, she breezed into the house and in no time had the carpet in the kitchen rolled up and out of the way, her bits and pieces laid out on the table and was ready for the first cut. Snip! Snip! And an hour later she was gone. Neels had his usual cut while I had a cut and blow-dry, having washed my own hair while she was cutting Neels’. We are both highly delighted with the results and we can see why she is so busy.

Seeing that we were now respectable again, we thought that we should take the next day off again and this time went north west to St. Maixant l’Ecole. We had read a piece about the town which encouraged us to visit it, but what a sad little place it turned out to be. In reality it is a stunning little town with ancient buildings, cobbled streets and the expected cathedral but more than half of the shops are empty, some for sale others just completely neglected. When we spoke to a local shop owner about it, he said it was due to the big supermarket just down the road. The population is just not big enough to support both the little shops and the supermarket, and guess whose prices are better? It’s a very sad situation, made worse by the fact that there is a large secondary school in the town, which has an excellent reputation but which will close down if people start leaving the town. Although it sits in the centre of a  tourist area – the Sevres River valley – I doubt if that alone will be able to save it. What a shame.

Friday was spent mainly getting the car ready for the roadworthy test it was due for the next day. The old lady is now 17 years old and has given us extremely good service over the four years that we have owned her, but it was with a little trepidation that we went off on Saturday morning. There was no real reason for this feeling, just a small worry that her age might be beginning to count against her. Well, it was not unfounded as the inspector said that although in the main, the car is in first class condition, there is a part that has to be replaced before he will give us the certificate. He must have seen our expressions of horror at the thought of expensive repairs and after having given us a discount on the test itself, offered to do the repair over next weekend. He is, after all, a qualified mechanic. Whatever we decide, it has to be done by someone, and quite soon, as we only have another three weeks at this house and then we have to face a journey right across France to the eastern side of the country. At the moment we are driving more or less illegally as we are not displaying a CT (Controle Technique) certificate on the windscreen, so we are hoping that he will contact us on Tuesday to say that it is ‘All systems go’ for the repair.

France 2014 Number 9

The weather forecast had predicted good weather for Monday, so, hoping they were correct, we had planned what sounded like an interesting drive out for the day. This time the forecasters had got it right so we set off on our planned route which followed the course of the Boutonne River from its source in Chef Boutonne, on through Brioux-sur-Boutonne, then to Dampierre-sur-Boutonne and finally to St. Jean d’Angely. All in all, about eighty kilometres away which isn’t very far but with stops to sight-see, it took us until well after lunch time. Had we gone further, we would have come to the confluence of the Boutonne and the Charente Rivers just before the Charente reaches the coast and flows out into the Atlantic Ocean.

In Chef Boutonne, the road to the source of the river is well sign-posted and a narrow road wound in and out of the houses leading us down the hill until we came to what appeared to be a lavoir, a wash-house. What we couldn’t see from the car though, was the little grotto at the near end of the was-house where the water was bubbling out in a clear, fast stream. The water was ice-cold and I doubt if it was any warmer when the old ladies of the town came down to do their laundry in the old days. And modern detergent manufacturers think that they have invented the ‘cold water wash’! Think again. At the far end of the wash-house the water flowed out again and so the river began..

The road follows the river fairly well, on through Brioux-sur-Boutonne where there was an ancient Roman river crossing which was used by pilgrims on the Satiago de Compostela route. Further on we came to Dampierre-sur-Boutonne which is dominated by a magnificent moated chateau. Apparently the history of the Chateau can be traced back one thousand years which makes it quite impressive. Unfortunately, although it is advertised as being open all year round to the public, a large notice on the gate advised us that they would only be opening again at Easter, so we have definitely added it to our to-do list. By now it was close to lunch time but there was nowhere in this small town that was open for business so it was back into the car and onward to St. Jean d’Angely. We were so hungry by the time we got there that we dashed into the first place that we saw and had a bite to eat. Only later when we were exploring the town did we discover another, much nicer place called, strangely enough, ‘Ellis Park’. We couldn’t find out why. The town itself, was established by the Romans and has a wonderfully preserved medieval centre with a ‘Kodak moment’ around every corner. There is a colossal ruined cathedral in the centre which dominates the whole town, and next to it what was once an abbey but has been transformed into the municipal library, and art studio and a music school. We were interested to see groups of quite young children being taken around on a sort of guided tour of all the sights that we were visiting. We have noticed this before on previous trips and have always been impressed with the value so obviously attached to the country’s heritage.

Our next outing wasn’t until Thursday when we just did a round of some of the small and closer villages that we hadn’t yet seen. In one of them, Chaunay, we noticed some amazing 3D murals, but apart from that one would think it was a ghost town. We also saw a signpost to a chateau that was supposedly a National Monument so off we went. It took us a while to find the place, mainly because the next sign was facing the wrong way, but we got there in the end. What a sad sight! What was a magnificent stately home is suffering from neglect and has fallen into disrepair. A handmade banner which was drooping from the gates bore a painting of the chateau with a wind turbine coming out of each tower and the word ‘NON’ in huge red letters below. We tried to find out if the place has been deserted because of an impending wind farm development,  but so far have not been able to.

Saturday was, for us, quite a busy day. Although we are not residents or members of the commune, we had been invited as visitors to join the Annual Commune Dinner. Perhaps this would be a good place to just explain the very complicated divisions of the country. France is firstly divided into Regions, ours being the Poitou-Charente. This is then divided into Departments and we are in the Deux-Sevres. The Deux-Sevres is in the Arrondissement or District of Niort. Niort is the capital of a number of Cantons and we fit into the Canton of Sauze-Vaussias, which in turn is made up of a number of Communes, each of which is presided over by a mayor and council. The Commune of Clussais la Pommeraie consists of about 600 people, all of which received invitations to the dinner, but only 100 responded and came. Probably just as well! We were treated to a lovely meal which we enjoyed, sitting at long tables, French and English mixed in together, and drank probably far too much wine. The meal, which started at 12.30 finally ended at about 4 o’clock after which there was a hush over the whole area and a sound of light snoring!

The afternoon siesta was very necessary as we had arranged to join some friends that evening, to go to a brass band performance in a nearby town. Two bands were on the programme – one being the local town band and the other, a much bigger group, representing one of the other Departments. It was a great performance – plenty of stirring music, clashing cymbals and thundering drums. It was lovely! We were impressed by the number of young people in both groups and by the expertise displayed. I’m not sure about this, but it would appear that if one wants to be a part of an orchestra like this, you have to pay a fee to belong, and you don’t get paid to perform. However, we have also heard that every Department is required  to allocate a certain percentage of its income to cultural events, so we are not really sure about how it all works. But it was a thrilling concert.

Finally, on Sunday, we went to the first of the Vide Greniers  in the area. This is a massive car boot sale and can have stalls that run up and down both sides of a main street and spread into the side streets as well. Being the first one of the season, this was a quite a large one and well supported. We really only go to look but we ended up buying a four disc DVD series of a Patricia Cornwall story, for one euro. I’m happy with that.

France 2014 Number 8

My goodness! What a boring week. Each day brought more chilly, grey, damp weather with the only difference being that on Thursday it simply poured with rain. Which was a great shame as Thursday was the day that we had arranged to drive to Angouleme, about 75 kilometres away, to meet some friends for lunch. They actually live about 150 kilometres away so we split the distance and Angouleme came up as a handy halfway point. We left home in mist which gradually became  drizzle which eventually turned into pouring rain. What a pity. We had never been to Angouleme before but had read a bit about it and were looking forward to seeing the wonderful old buildings that they have, some of which have been decorated with amazing 3D murals. However, it was good to see our friends again, to have a delicious meal and to catch up on what we have all been doing. On the way back to the parking garage where we had left the car, we came across one of the decorated buildings. This has just whetted our appetite and we will have to go back and see more of the city.

The copious rains of the past month, and the months before that, have ensured that everything is growing at a remarkable pace. Trees that are quite bare one day will be covered in blossom two days later. The fields had just been ploughed when we arrived here – now they are ablaze with the bright yellow of canola/rape-seed, which is known as colza here. Seen against the dark clouds which we have had plenty of lately, the great swathes appear almost luminous. While driving through a forested area the other day, we noticed masses of bluebells on the forest floor and crocuses on the verge. Most people are keen gardeners and every house has a vivid splash of colour in front of the house – daffodils, tulips and a number of flowering shrubs which we have never seen before. It certainly brightens up the day.

My computer too, brightens up my day and entertains me enormously. When we arrived here, Mr Google realised that we were in France and decided that we were probably French-speaking. Consequently, everything that I looked up on the internet came through in French and I had to keep asking to have the page translated. Eventually I got tired of that game and set the computer to automatically translate everything into English. The results are sometimes hilarious. For example – there is a river near by known as the Boutonne River. At its source is a small town that we have visited , called Chef Boutonne. I suppose it got its name by being the main town on the Boutonne River but when I ask Mr Google anything about it, he persists in calling it Big Buttons. On another occasion, we were looking for a small village called Coudre, not far away. We couldn’t find it on the map so asked Mr Google for help. Well, he wasn’t much help because I kept getting websites that offered me help with sewing instead. Coudre in French means ‘to sew’, and of course I had set the computer to translate all the French into English, automatically. It gave us a good laugh though and I’m sure will come up with a few more.

One of the highlights of each day is going for our walk. Strangely enough, the sun often peeps under the clouds at about five o’clock and bathes everything in that wonderful yellowish light that we sometimes see in South Africa too, in winter. The lawn and trees, now in full Spring green are a real sight and the little lane that we walk down has changed from the muddy path lined with bare trees to an enticing green walkway. We enjoyed it previously, but we enjoy it even more now.

France 2014 Number 7

Winter has returned with a vengeance and this past week has been very cold with icy winds. It didn’t worry us too much on Monday as we had to set to and do the housework. Our charlady has had a rather nasty argument with a motor mower and will apparently be out of action for some time. Having a big hairy Labrador in and out of the house, and wet ground outside, makes for quite a lot of cleaning so we were kept busy for most of the morning. Then it drizzled in the afternoon which was all it took to persuade us to stay indoors. That night the mercury dropped to 2 degrees and by lunchtime the next day had only made it to 6 degrees. A very good day for reading and sewing and listening to the radio. A huge roaring fire in the grate that night not only made us feel better but looked wonderful with the enormous flames leaping up the chimney.

However, the next day we just had to get out and about so we took a short drive to Ruffec about twenty kilometres south of where we are. (By the way, I was looking at some of the back chapters of what I have written and somewhere I noted that the nearest shops to us are twenty kilometres away. I don’t know where that came from because the nearest shops are eight kilometres away.) Ruffec is a quaint little town that seems to have most of what anyone would want and has two large supermarkets, numerous butcheries and bakeries and a number of places to eat ranging from fairly smart restaurants to coffee shops. We were very touched to see that all the trees were wearing leg warmers – how kind!! No, that’s a joke, but the trees really did have knitted or crocheted bands around their trunks, a bit like the pink cloth that was wound around all the trees in Hermanus for  breast cancer month. The knitted pieces are all different colours and must have looked quite spectacular when new, although they are a bit grubby and faded now.

We didn’t get out again until Saturday when cabin fever struck again. This time we went to Civray, also about twenty kilometres away but in an easterly direction. Not as nice as Ruffec but does have a remarkable Romanesque church which has a highly decorated interior. I would never be able to concentrate on the sermon if I had so much to look at! On the way to Civray, we noted three places to look out for on the road back – a chateau, a dolmen and a porcelain factory. At last, something to see apart from churches!

We turned off at the road sign marking the entrance to the chateau and were surprised to find ourselves on a dirt road. All country roads are tarred here, even the most minor of them, so this was very strange. The road deteriorated rapidly, but at the end we could see an imposing gateway so we bounced along toward it. There was no sign to say this was private property, in fact, no sign at all so we slowly crept through the gateway and found ourselves in what looked like the farmyard of a rather large farm. To the left of the gate was a giant pigeon loft in perfect condition but the building straight ahead of us just looked like a large house in rather sad condition. On the right of the gate, with the boundary wall forming its back wall was a small house, partially hidden from view by a very overgrown hedge. There appeared to be someone there, but as we realised that we were on private property, we backed slowly out of the entrance and looked around for some other road that led to the  chateau. Everything looked terribly muddy and unused and we were not prepared to get stuck in the mud, so we finally gave up and went back to the main road. Later when back at home, I looked up the chateau on the internet and discovered that what we had found was, indeed, the chateau, but also that it is privately owned and is not open to the public.

The next item on our list was the dolmen. A dolmen is an ancient burial site marked by three upright stones, with a flat capstone across the tops. Some of them date from 4000 to 3000 BC and the size of the capstones is remarkable. How these ancient people managed to raise the stones in the first place, and then to balance them on the three uprights, is amazing. The thinking is that, at the time, the sides would have been filled in with earth and small stones and more earth piled on top of the capstone to form a mound, but that this lighter material has been weathered away leaving only the ‘skeleton’ of big stones. Anyway, it seemed like quite an interesting thing to go and look at. But when we got to the spot, the parking place had been barricaded off and neither side of the road had any space to stop, so we had no option but to drive on.

Never mind, we thought, we still have the porcelain factory to visit at St Saviol. Imagine our disgust at ourselves when arrived and found the factory still closed for the two hour siesta! Fortunately though, the building has windows on three sides and we were able to see what sort of porcelain it is that they make, and some of the prices. It looked very fine and some items were beautifully decorated, so perhaps it is just as well that they were closed as I may have been persuaded to buy something.

After these three scenic disasters, one would think we would just give up and go home, but there was one more oddity that we were determined to find, and it was, more or less, on the way home. At a tiny place called Pers is something called a ‘Lanterne de Morts’ – a lantern of the dead. Usually erected in a cemetery, these lanterns are generally about seven metres high and are often cylindrical. There is a small door at the base while the top has openings that face the four compass points. There is often a ledge at about table height on the outside of the tower. This was where flowers or other offerings were left. The small door allowed someone to enter the tower and climb to the top where a fire would be lit, and maintained, from the day a person died until the day of burial. They date from about the twelfth century. Luckily we found the church quite easily and the cemetery next door. And there at the bottom of a small incline was the lantern. In this case, it was a square tower with sides of about one metre and easily seven metres tall. It would have to be a really small person who climbed in through the door at the bottom, but they were smaller, then, weren’t they? There were also some very very old grave stones dating from the eleventh century that were covered in engravings and all in a beautifully maintained graveyard. This is something that always amazes me about France, or perhaps it is Europe in general. Here we have a tiny village with no obvious signs of life, and yet the grass verges are neatly trimmed and the graveyard is neat and tidy, and the flowers in the boxes outside the mayor’s office are bright and cheerful and obviously watered regularly. It is something to do with ‘community’ living – something one doesn’t come across very often in South Africa.

France 2014 Number 6

Hooray! We are legal again. On Monday we got an SMS from the Prefecture in Auch to tell us that our new residents cards were ready for collection, so on Wednesday we drove down to collect them. Not really a fun trip as the weather this past week has been quite nasty and cold with a lot of mist which made driving unpleasant. The round trip was in the region of 800 kilometres and took us eleven hours all in all. Of course, that included the stopping time in Auch to pick up the cards, and while we were there to have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat. When we arrived in Auch, we made for our favourite parking area as usual and were horrified to find ourselves being waved away by the police. So there was no option but to drive away from the top of the hill and look for parking elsewhere. But with the big parking area closed, every available space was taken and very soon we found ourselves down at the riverside and cruising slowly along looking for an empty space. At last we found one and as luck would have it, almost at the foot of the stairs up to the top. It is not called the ‘Escalier Monumentale’ for nothing. This monumental staircase has 238 marble steps and that is if you only count the steps that one uses to go up or down. Seen from above, the stairs would resemble a series of interlocking ‘Y’s’ or for those that know embroidery stitches, herringbone stitch. At the top of each upright of the ‘Y’ is a landing with an extra two flights of stairs to the next landing where the next upright starts again. Sounds complicated and it is! A masterpiece of nineteenth century building. A jolly long way up for someone who ‘doesn’t do stairs’, but I managed to get all the way to the top with many stops to admire the view! With the twice-life-size statue of d’Artagnan of the Three Musketeers fame watching our progress, we had to make it all the way. When we finally reached the last step, we discovered that the parking area had been closed for a wreath-laying ceremony at the war memorial which is in the same place, but which was now over, and the parking was more once more open to the public and their cars. If only we had arrived fifteen minutes later………………!

Our route home was along the scary road again with all the trucks and at one stage we overtook thirty four trucks in one convoy. We were so glad to get home safely.

The next day, now that we had got ourselves into driving mode, we thought a little drive out to one of the neighbouring villages would be an idea so off we went to Melle, about twenty kilometres away. It was actually a bit disappointing as the town itself is quite dreary, it’s only claim to fame being three twelfth century churches. Being of that age, there are no spectacular stained glass windows and any stone carvings on the exterior have all weathered quite badly which is a great shame. Melle is also the site of the oldest silver mines in France but unfortunately they are closed for winter at present so we couldn’t go into them. We will just have to make another trip there next month.

On the way to Melle we met the local version of the gentleman with the foreign accent who phones people saying that he is calling from the Microsoft Windows Customer Centre. There we were, driving along admiring the view, when we saw a car pulled off to the side of the road ahead of us. The bonnet was up and a man was peering into the engine compartment. There was no other traffic around at all, so when he flagged us down, we stopped to see if we could help. He came running over and said something in very strange French about ‘petrol’, which we took to mean he had run out of fuel. We offered him a lift to the nearest town to buy some, but when he realised that we spoke English and not French, he switched to rather broken English and asked for money to buy petrol. He then launched in to a long story about his card not being accepted at the filling station although he had plenty of other money with him. He then showed us wads of notes in his wallet which he said were Hungarian, and asked again for ten euros. By this time we were beginning to smell a rat – how could ten euros help with his fuel problem, as we were miles from anywhere; why would he have those strange notes in his wallet when Hungary has been part of the EU since 2003; and why was he so adamant that he didn’t want to be taken somewhere else to get fuel i.e. away from his car? We apologised to him, saying that we had no cash only a card and drove off. The more we thought about it, the weirder it seemed. We are quite sure that it was a scam.

Since then the weather has really deteriorated. Friday and Saturday were icy cold with rain and more mist. Both of us found things to do around the house and the days passed quite pleasantly.

Saturday evening, though, was the highlight of the week. One of our new friends had popped in some time ago and sold us tickets to the annual amateur dramatics group’s show, which this year was a pantomime. They had been practicing for weeks and the result was highly entertaining. Apart from the forgotten lines, the ad libbing and the lack of real acting ability, it was a pretty slick effort and totally hilarious. The audience, consisting mainly of ex-pat British who are well versed in the ways of pantomime, all participated with great enthusiasm and boo-ed or whistled at the appropriate places; interacting with the players as one should. As it was the second night of a two night run, the actors had all gained a bit of confidence and the ad libbing almost got out of hand as more and more of them forgot their lines At one stage there were three actors on the stage looking at each other blankly. Two of them pointed to the third who then cocked her head towards the prompt who was standing in the wings. Being a little deaf, she first moved a bit closer to the prompt then disappeared completely into the wings, only to reappear a moment later with an indignant look on her face and say to one of the other two ‘It was YOU’. The audience howled with laughter. The fact that wine was served both before the show and in the interval probably added to everyone’s wild enthusiasm! It was a great night out and even the fact that it was bucketing with rain couldn’t spoil it.