Our place in France Chapter 88

At this rate we will be having a white Christmas this year. The UK keeps sending us these cold fronts and although we are grateful for their generosity this is one kind of gift that would be better if not shared. As a result, we have been passing around the latest in cold germs and I was the most recent victim. Please don’t send any sympathy though – a whole day under the covers was just too divine for words. The only problem is that it is the wrong time of year to take days off to be ill. There are mince-pies to make; rooms to prepare and a thoroughly dusty house to clean. At the end of the week we are going down to join Pieter and Tilly in their new house and have Christmas with them. Tilly has promised us a thoroughly French Christmas meal and we are intrigued to find out what that is. All that I know for sure is that there will be no turkey, Brussels sprouts or traditional Christmas pudding. We will stay with them until Tuesday morning when we will all leave, they to Mallorca and ourselves to return to the Aveyron. When we get back we will have to get stuck in and do all the things that we didn’t manage this week so that all is as welcoming as possible for the new arrivals to France at the end of the week. We will squeeze in another Christmas dinner on Sunday before all travelling down to Toulouse to install the family in their rental accommodation. We plan to spend a couple of days with them to help them get settled in and then bring both the girls back here. Courtney will start school again on the 8^th (only two weeks break for Christmas) and Cassidy will spend a few days with her to get the feel of French schools. Courtney did a similar thing last year when she stayed with her friend down near Carcassonne and spent three days in school with the friend. She still says it was the best thing that could have happened to her so we are hoping that Cassy will feel the same about the experience. I do hope that the early morning cold will not put her off! She will of course be a in the hostel as Courtney is (total immersion) so won’t have to catch a bus before the sun gets up as she will while staying with  us. but until she starts there, they will both be braving the cold.

All of which is rather building up to say that there will probably be no blog until after New Year. So I will take this opportunity to wish you all a Happy Christmas and a peaceful New Year and look forward to continuing this saga in 2018.

Our place in France Chapter 87

I don’t want to think that winter has really arrived and is here to stay, because I know that it is going to go on until February or March , but I think I will have to admit the fact – Winter is here to stay! The past week has been one of minus temperatures with day times hardly getting above 5 degrees and night times going down to -8. That’s cold! To combat the cold, and to avoid having to stoke the fire all the time, we spend large chunks of the day in our bedroom which has a heater on and so is warm. The bathroom is also well heated so we can dash between the two easily. It is really only hunger that eventually drives us downstairs to find some food. This is definitely colder than last year and the weather office will bear this out On each days forecast there is a section on the history of records and it gives us the temperature on this day last year and what the normal expected temperature should be. It is definitely colder than last year!

We have used the time to do some indoor chores and when Courtney came home for the weekend she put up our little Christmas Tree and some decorations so the lounge now looks quite festive. The trees around the square have also now been decorated so that looks quite festive too. We are not sure if it is our imagination or not but we feel that after the recent outbursts in the UK about putting Christ back into Christmas, a number of businesses that advertise on TV are telling us to ‘Have a happy Christmas’ rather than a ‘Happy Festive Season’; Blackpool has switched on its Christmas Lights where as last year they switched on the Festive lights and we expect to see any moment that the Oxford Street Christmas Lights are on. You may not all agree with me but I think this is wonderful.

Most of the supermarkets here have an ‘English Shelf’ where a number of particularly British goods are displayed. This is where I always find my Bisto Instant gravy powder and until recently, Skiippy peanut butter. Skippy has now been promoted to the general shelves, I am pleased to note. This week I also found custard powder for the first time and, joy of joys, Christmas Fruit Mincemeat for our mince pies. They also have a comprehensive selection of Asian goodies which is where I find things like sweet chili sauce and Chinese noodles., It is a brilliant idea.

I am sure that I have said this before but the pharmaceutical companies and the chemists here really bug me. Between us, Neels and I take 8 tablets day. That is rather a lot to keep track of. In South Africa we were given exactly the number we needed per month, the pharmacist carefully counting out the number required and then labelling the container with the dose for each. So it made no difference to us if the original container held 100 tablets or ten – we were always given the amount necessary for a month. Here they have a different approach. If you have been prescribed 30 tablets for a month but said tablets only come in boxes of 28, they will give you two boxes. This means that at the end of the month you still have 26 tablets over, but they are tablets you take all the time so you just continue to take them and after 26 days you go  for a repeat. But the chemist then wants to repeat all the tablets on your prescription, some of which came in boxes of 20, 28, 10, 30, 60 or 90! And they all run out at different times.  And they don’t label anything! They do, however, give you a printout of the prescription for you to work out for yourself. I am impressed by the level of intelligence they credit to all the citizens of this country! All I know is that I find it very frustrating and disorganised to have my medications so higgeldy-piggeldy all the time. And I often wonder how many old dears have taken the wrong tablets at the wrong time.

Our place in France Chapter 86

I am really sorry about last week and the non-appearance of the blog, so I hope that this week’s chapter will make up for it. Last week was, in any case, a very slow week with nothing of note happening. Until Sunday, that is, when the annual Villeneuve Christmas market took place. We st had to attend thisds market as we had heard wonderful things about it and someone had already suggested that I sell my little dolls then, but as my stock is only eight dolls, I thought I would save that pleasure for next year. I foolishly mentioned this to Courtney who immediately zoomed off and put out names down for a stall selling knitted dolls, small table candles and fig jam. I see a lot of work in the months ahead!

The market was pretty amazing though. Everything is handmade and locally made and the creativity shown was incredible. Everything was of a high standard with items like wooden toys and bowls having a really tactile finish that just invited one to stroke them. There were, of course, knitted and sewn goods – clothing and toys, but also stained glass Christmas tree decorations and small decorative panels; cut-off wine bottles turned into tumblers, candle holders and bird-feeders. There were models of the nativity scene and other little buildings and much, much, more. There is a llama farm not too far away and they had a stall with a variety of goods. I bought a pair of gorgeous snuggly gloves which I have worn almost every day since. There were a mass of people crowded into the hall and with the heaters on too, it was a very cosy place to be.

On Monday Courtney went off to school as usual and I have to admit that I felt quite evil when I had to send her out into the freezing, dark morning to catch the bus. We consoled her with the thought that the bus was well heated and the school was more pleasant indoors than our house, which I think helped a bit.

Pieter arrived on Wednesday from Mallorca and Tilly joined him here on Friday after having been away in the States and Canada for almost a month. She drove down from Paris which she has done before, but had an appalling trip. About halfway here the motorway was virtually shut down after three accidents blocked the lanes. This was all due to an unseasonable snow storm which caught eve3ryone unawares, and she had to take a huge detour which added at least an hour to her time. By the time she finally arrived here, she had been on the road for eight and a half hours on top of a long flight from New York which culminated in her luggage being left behind there. Today, three days later, it has still not caught up with her and they leave early tomorrow to go to the new house. I really think Air France owes her some new clothes.

This afternoon we went to another Christmas market, this time a little further away at Lanoujoules. It had much the same content as the one the previous week but I was definitely a bigger market and there were other stalls added in which we hadn’t seen before. AND, there were more people What a crush But all very jolly and good-tempered. This time there were also stalls selling foodstuffs of various sorts. Home-dried prunes and fresh apples; delicious-looking apple desserts made with apple puree, cream and filo pastry; cakes big and small and plenty of biscuity things. Jams and jellies, tins and bottles of foie gras and confit de canard, to say nothing of the wine and sirops of all kinds. And then there were the takeaway eats – crepes, pizza slices and some rather strange aniseed cakes, mulled wine and coffee so there was a delicious aroma spread throughout the hall.

I hate to harp on about the weather but this latest cold snap that the north has sent on down to us was really not a kind thing to do. The last few days have been really bitter with day time temperatures hardly rising above 5 degrees and night times plummeting to as low as – 6 and -8. That’s really cold and we are battling to stay warm. Last year was cold but not like this and even the locals are complaining. Hope it will back off soon and get back to normal December weather. I am getting tired of feeling like a Michelin man with four or five layers of clothes on! In that vein, I just had to include a picture of Pieter all kitted out to go down to the laundry to get the washing.

Our place in France

My apologies to all my readers, but there is no blog this week. We are both perfectly well and the only problem is that I think my brain has frozen!. See you all next week

Our place in France Chapter 85

This was supposed to be a relatively quiet week with a few items filed in in the diary What a shame it didn’t stay like that! Monday, at least, lived up to expectations and we managed to stay home and get the house tidied after the weekend. Tuesday, we knew had an afternoon appointment for me, but not much else but we soon managed to find more to do. The car needed some work done on it after failing its roadworthy certificate, and we needed to make an appointment for that. And the supplementary glazing which we ordered nearly four weeks ago has not yet arrived so we needed to go and light a fire under someone at the depot. Somehow these things always take so much longer to do that one thinks.

On Wednesday, the car didn’t move from its spot in the lee of the church. Hallelujah! And nor did we rise until about 11.30 am. On Thursday was the appointment for the car and as it was rather early I opted out of going. Can’t think why!! Perhaps because I knew that Friday was going to be one of those appallingly early starts as I had to report to the hospital again before 8 am. Since we have discovered that arriving very early always pays off in the end, we try to get there first and rock up at 7.30. This means that when the queue forms I am at the head of it and am first in and first out for the procedure. Quite often we have ‘done’ the hospital, finished the grocery shopping and are back home again by ten or ten-thirty. Which leaves us a long empty day to fill with pottering around. Currently my ‘pottering’ consists of various forms of handwork – my little family of dolls is growing slowly; I am also knitting a gift for a friend; and then, of course is the tapestry cushion. At the moment, all have reached an impasse. I have run out of toy stuffing for the dolls and the only shop that appears to stock it has also run out but is expecting new stock next week. The wol that I started using for the gift turned out to be quite unsuitable and so I had to find something else in a suitable colour and start again. And the wool which came from the UK to fill the background of my tapestry picture was way to pale and will have to be returned, but in the meantime I have ordered more because no-one locally has anything like the colour I am looking for. When I ask if they can order some for me they look dubious and tell me that no-one does tapestry anymore. Well! I have news for them because I do, and it would be really handy if they stocked the stuff.

So what we did on Friday after the hospital was try to track down some of my requirements. It took nearly the rest of the morning, but when we finally got home again, we still wanted to do a Foreign Exchange transfer to send some of our miserable SA Funds over here so that we can continue to eat. For some reason, FNB make their Foreign exchange page so difficult that it always takes ages but this time we were sure we had got everything right and it still wouldn’t go through. Finally we phoned the Help Line and a very nice lady went through the whole procedure with us again, but she, too, could find no mistakes. Baffled, she  told us to leave it with her and she would investigate. So far, no news.

During the week, there had been numerous emails back and forth about a car that Andre would like to have waiting for him when he gets here at the end of December. Buying an expensive item like that without seeing it is no joke and buying it on behalf of a third party comes a close second. However, ever the dutiful parents, we all piled into our car and traipsed off to Toulouse to view said car. It was a glorious day with not a single cloud in the bright blue sky, but about fifty kilometres down the road the day clouded over and the next thing we knew, we were into thick mist. The closer we got to Toulouse the thicker it became, although there, the overhead electronic signs told us to beware of pollution. Well, whatever…..we were stuck in it all the way. We had been looking forward to having wonderful views of the Pyrenees all gleaming with the sun shining on the snow, but sadly it was not to be. Courtney showed her disgust by curling up on the back seat under a blanket and going to sleep. We had considered leaving her at home but decided that she was too valuable to do that. And she certainly proved her worth when we got to the garage that was selling the car. As the only French speaker among us, she acted as translator as the salesman took us through all the convoluted steps to buying a car in France. I think (hope) we got it all right in the end. Then we piled back into our car and headed homewards once more. We had packed a picnic lunch, but in these conditions we didn’t see much future in even looking for a picnic place. So we pulled into an ‘aire’, a French version of the British Roadside Services. Having ordered some thick hot chocolate, we looked around the cafeteria and saw various people blatantly eating their packed lunches, so thought, “Why not” and brought our lunch in too. Sirens didn’t go off and the police didn’t barge in wielding truncheons, so possibly the management had realised that everyone had at least bought a cup of something and it was just unfair to expect all their customers to go and sit out in the cold damp air. Warmed and replete we continued on our misty journey until………..surprise! Fifty kilometres from home the clouds cleared away and the sun came out and we were back to our perfect day of eight hours before. What ridiculous weather!

 No time to sleep in on Sunday. We had to be ready to go to lunch in the Salle de Fete at midday and this was a special lunch. All the people who had helped with any village and commune events during the year, were invited. So having helped shred mountains of fish for the Estofinade, I was invited. And Courtney also got an invitation for waitressing at the same event. And Neels got one too by association. The special lunch was scheduled to start at midday, so at about five past, we ambled down the hill to the hall. An hour later we were still standing around although we had been given aperatifs and some delicious snacks. Knowing these affairs only too well, we tried not to have too many snacks but when the starter was served (a large mushroom vol-au-vent) I realised that I shouldn’t have had the third one. The starter and its feather-light flaky pastry was to die for but was quite large. The main course came around already served – a huge spoonful of hache parmentier - cottage pie to you and me- with a cheese topping over the mashed potato. It is a very rich dish under normal conditions but this one was made of duck mince, which is not the most light-weight of meats. The server was ladling out the same amount for the whole hall – farmers, young children, old ladies, the whole lot. Needless  to say, I couldn’t finish my serving although the farmer sitting next to me went back for seconds! Then came a giant bowl of green salad, followed by cheese and then profiteroles filled with a sort of chocolate cream. Then they produced champagne and finally coffee. And they still weren’t finished with the days events. Still to come was the commune treasurer’s speech and then  the election of new board members. I probably let the side down as I slid out when Courtney left to go and study just after the champagne. Next year I will go an hour after the advertised time and hope to arrive just in time!  All in all though, it was a good outing and this year we actually knew some people to talk to and to sit with. It made all the difference.

Our place in France Chapter 84

A thoroughly dreadful week! This is far too early for deepest winter and yet here we are with daytime temperatures in the low single figure and night-times dropping down  to below freezing. If it is like this now, what will it be like in February, allegedly the coldest month! However, there is always a chance that we will get snow this year which could be fun for the young. I have to admit though that the supermarket seems to feel that Christmas is imminent and has erected a giant teddy bear in the foyer and an even larger Father Christmas in the parking area. There is no picture of the Father Christmas because I was just not prepared to stand in the rain to take one. I am pretty sure it will be there for a while and surely the sun will shine one day.

The chilly weather is not at all conducive to early rising and we have beaten all our previous records of staying in bed late. On Wednesday, we shamed ourselves into finally getting up just in time to shower and dress before lunch at one. Quite appalling behaviour! But why not? We both have good books to read, and under the blankets is cosy and comfortable, and all that finally gets us up is hunger and thirst. I recall a few years back that our friend in Peyrusse Vieille told us that she stayed in bed for three days because it was so cold, and she should be used to it. Not that that is any real justification; it just makes us feel better to know that we are not alone in our appalling behaviour.

Because of the bad weather, we kept putting off going shopping although we started running out of foodstuffs round about Tuesday. I am becoming a past master at concocting meals out of almost nothing. How lucky I am to have such a long-suffering husband. Of course once the weekend arrives and brings Courtney with it, I feel honour-bound to provide something more adequate, which is why we went shopping on Saturday morning in the pouring rain. Everyone was dashing into the store and the tiled floors were slippery with wet shoe prints but there was a sort of jolliness about it all, and no one (except perhaps ourselves) was complaining. As a bonus, we saw a deer standing in the road on the way home and Courtney tried to take a picture of it when it ran down into a field, but it was too far away and didn’t come out. What a shame! It is ages since we saw one anywhere close to the road.

I apologise for the lack of news this week but since we spent an awful lot of it in bed and only took the car out once…………. . You get my meaning!

Our place in France Chapter 83

This last week seems to have been somewhat disorganised again – it seems to be the way our lives go now, but when  I look back, I honestly can’t see why it feels like that. I just know that we seemed to have been overwhelmed with texts and emails and WhtasApps whizzing back and forth all the time, all requiring this or that piece of information. Which may well account for what I am about to say!  And that is……..I now know, certainly, surely and without a shadow of a doubt, that I am definitely losing my marbles! And how do I know that? Well……the most exciting and stupendous news of last week did not even get a mention in the blog and if that is not proof of losing my marbles, I don’t know what is! And the news? Well, only that the second member of the family is moving to France and will be starting work in Colomiers near Toulouse at the beginning of 2018. We are all over the moon about it and this news was partly responsible for the many texts and WhatApps that flew back and forth. As we had been looking for rental properties that would suit them, for some time, we could now step up our efforts a notch as we a date to work with. Then we got the news that they had booked their flights over here and suddenly everything began to be REAL. So on Friday of this past week, the two of us, and Courtney, took a drive to Gaillac, about an hour away. This is the town where Cassidy will most likely go to school, and not far from there is where we had found a dear little cottage for them to rent. Along the way, we found ourselves driving along one of those avenues we love so much. Because it seemed to be so long, we thought it would be fun to measure the distance, but even we didn’t imagine it would turn out to be five kilometres long. That’s a lot of trees!

The cottage is called Les Tournesols (The sunflowers) and I’m sure that in the right season, it will be surrounded by fields of these plants. At the moment, everything is a bit brown and dry, but the view from the cottage is lovely. It stands on a small hill and looks out over farms and fields for miles and miles. Finding it for them was quite a mission as it had to be the right price; in the right location and pet-friendly. This last I had thought would not be a problem as the French take their dogs everywhere with them, but strangely, not to rental houses which means that a lot of the ‘perfect’ places had to be discarded when I came to the bit that said ‘No pets’.

Still, we had a good day out and although we couldn’t find a picnic site to enjoy our lunch, we had fun anyway.

On Tuesday, we had a most frustrating day when we spent all day at home waiting for a parcel to be delivered. When it hadn’t arrived by 5 pm, Courtney phoned the Helpline and was told that the courier couldn’t find anyone home at the address. A blatant lie, if ever there was one, but we let it go when the parcel was promised for Thursday. So on Wednesday we all rushed into town to search for a bathing costume for Courtney. Yes, I know – buying a bathing costume in winter is hardly sane but her sport for this term will be swimming and the pool is heated so off we went. Villefranche was strangely quiet as we entered the town  and the penny soon dropped – it was a public holiday and nothing, simply nothing, was open. What a nuisance! So the shopping had to be delayed until Thursday which meant one of us had to stay behind in case the parcel arrived. Since I don’t drive, I drew the short straw and stayed home, but that was wasted because it still didn’t arrive. By 3 pm I was fuming and rang the office demanding the parcel. The very long-suffering fellow on the end of the line looked up the tracking number and told me that it definitely was delivered and was signed for by someone with a completely unknown name. Apparently, this time the courier could not actually find the house! I was now livid! What’s to find? With only five houses in the main village square, how hard did he look I really don’t think he was ever here. The next day we were out all day but just as we returned a call came in to tell us that our parcel was in Villefranche at the Netto supermarket. By now we had given up all hope but agreed to drive into the town to fetch it, but only next morning. So off we went again. Courtney and I went in and when I asked for a parcel that had been left there, the cashier was not at all put out. It turns out that this is a regular drop-off point for parcels. Finally we had our parcel! And I will never use DHL again. That may sound a bit harsh, and it would be if this was the first time this had happened but it wasn’t. DHL don’t like having go to out-of-the way places, it would seem

All’s well that ends well though. Courtney has her new phone and a costume and is pleased with both. We can sit back and heave a sigh of relief and try to get our breath back before the next chaotic week. Before then, we have question for anyone who may know the answer. Earlier in the week, we looked out of the  window and saw 30 pigeons lined up on the church roof. I’m pretty sure pigeons don’t migrate but they looked for all the world like the swallows lined up on the telephone wires prior to setting off. Does anyone know why they were there?

our place in France Chapter 82

Another well-occupied week which really started on Sunday when we took a major detour on the way back from the supermarket and came across the most breath-taking autumn colours yet. I keep taking more and more photos of the trees and their amazing leaf colours and I apologise if I am being boring, but, for us they are simply amazing and I keep thinking, ‘This is the very best. They can’t get better than this!’. And then they do. We are well aware this all this show is only a fore- runner to the bleakness of winter, but, my goodness, it only makes everything so worthwhile.

Pieter arrived back for a brief stay, mainly to be able to attend a lecture in Rodez, which just slotted in nicely with a business trip to Paris the previous week. This time he caught a train in Paris which dropped him off in a town we hadn’t visited before – Brive-la-Gaillard – more or less north west of us. It is approximately the same distance away as Toulouse, to the south. That’s about one and a half hours drive. Sadly the day was grey and gloomy and not at all good for pictures, although I have to be fair and note that there was nothing that really caught my eye as a ‘Kodak-moment’. On Tuesday evening, though, on the way to eating out (Pieter’s treat) we saw a sunset that vied with the trees for amazing colours. Not a wonderful picture, I know but there was very little ambient light and I have a fairly basic camera.

I missed a great photo opportunity on Wednesday when Neels and Courtney went to fetch a stere of firewood.  That is one cubic metre to all you non-Frenchies. The car manages half a stere at a time so it entailed two trips to the farm we get it from. At the farm there were only the two of them to load, although the farmer helped a bit with the first load, and then back at the house we formed a chain from the car to the wood pile and we all worked up a sweat getting it off-loaded. It would hae been a good picture but I just didn’t think of it at the time.

Saturday was my birthday and I was very spoilt. A few cards had arrived by mail, which had been spirited away until the day so I was presented with those when I woke up. There were plenty of messages waiting on my phone too when I woke that up and more kept arriving. Before long there was a tap on the bedroom door and Courtney appeared with a plate of freshly made pancakes with a variety of toppings for me to add. They were delicious. and I have decided they make the perfect breakfast food. The calls kept coming and then later in the morning our English neighbour who is only here now and again, came over to chat to us, having arrived late the previous night. When he heard that it was my birthday he went off and re-appeared some time later with a charming card and a bottle of champagne. Spoilt indeed!

So with a birthday at each end of the week, we started on a high and ended on another high. Only Neels’ birthday was really part of last week’s story. I am really impressed by the colourful ‘decorations’ put out by the fields and general countryside, in our honour. It doesn’t get all dressed up in its finery for everyone!

Our place in France Chapter 81

Another one of those weeks, I’m afraid, with very little to talk about and no pictures to show for it. The days are getting shorter all the time and it is becoming easier and easier to sleep through until 8.30 and beyond in the morning. Not that we were ever early risers, were we?!! Most days it is quite difficult to decide if the rest of the day is going to be sunny or cloudy because the windows are more often than not completely fogged up and make the room even darker. But it is so lovely to be able to snuggle down in a cosy bed that it is hard to resist. Which could account for the days getting shorter even if it is only in our minds.

The only thing that really springs to mind about the past week was an episode that happened on Tuesday night, which I like to call the ‘Curious noise in the night’. At about 2,30 that night we were both woken by a strange scrabbling noise on the roof above our bedroom. My initial thought was ‘Oh no! A ‘foine’” Foine, pronounced foo-ween, is a stone marten, a nasty little rodent that likes to nest in the attic spaces in houses in the country and reserve one area of the nest as a midden. I’m not actually sure what they eat but the midden smells really bad after a relatively short time. We had to deal with this problem once before in a house that we were looking after, and it was a horrible experience. Almost immediately, I realised that our house doesn’t have a roof space because the bedrooms are in the attic. Between the ceiling and the tiles is a thick layer of various insulating layers with all the tiles blocked at the eaves. So nothing could possibly get into it, and in any case the roof is three floors up with no overhanging trees or other handy stepping stones.

After a second or two while we tried to identify the sound, Neels got up and made sure the windows were all pulled in – just as a precaution. The scrabbling sound continued for a few more seconds and then stopped, only to start again after another second or two, but further up the roof. And then it stopped and we went back to sleep.

In the morning we tried to analyse what we had heard but could make no sense of anything. It wasn’t a bird sliding down the roof because there were no sounds of flapping wings, and in any case, the second round of scrabbling was higher up the roof and not lower down. It also wasn’t a cat as there is no way up to the roof, and no sound of an animal falling off the roof. In the end we came to the conclusion that it must have been an owl that had over-estimated its strength  and picked  up something in a nearby field but had dropped it while flying low over our  roof, turned around and picked it up a second time but dropped it again immediately. It collected the prey finally on the third attempt and flew off, flying soundlessly, as owls do.

We have no way of knowing if our interpretation of events is correct, but it fits and that is good enough for us. The greatest relief was in realising that nothing can nest in our ceiling space simply because we haven’t got one!

Schools closed on Friday and we got our part-time tenant back again for a short time. It is so nice to have some lively music around the house again and hear someone else moving around apart from ourselves. Schools re-open again on the 6^th November so we have to try and make the most of the ten days that she will be with us. Hopefully the news will be more action-packed for those days.

Our place in France Chapter 80

Once again, I can only apologise to those who expected a new chapter to be ready and waiting , first thing on Monday morning Last week I feel I had a bit of an excuse as I wanted to include Saturday’s jollities and then ran out of time to write it all up on Sunday. This week I really have no valid excuse – apart from the fact that it was a really boring week! No-one wants to read about someone getting on with their daily chores which are very much the same the world over, and when nothing happens, there are no pictures to illustrate with either. Oh dear!

There are some exciting items on the horizon, but I am not allowed to mention them yet, so we all wait in suspense. Something that I can tell you about though is the fact that the whole family has been nagging us to do something about getting the house better insulated. The upstairs, which is the new part of the house is not a problem as it is very well insulated. It is the lower floor where we spend most of our time, that lets in the cold. Earlier in the year, Neels, with help from both Andre and Pieter, managed to put thick insulating boards on the underside of the floor – in other words, the ceiling of the cellar – which made a fair bit of difference. But both Pieter and Tilly complained about the cold that comes in through the glass-paned front door. As it leads straight into the main living room, one can feel it quite well. So we started to do some research. Replacing the door with a double-glazed one was never an option as the door is not a standard size and would in any case have to be replaced, frame and all which would entail altering the existing door opening. As the outside walls are 60 cms thick, this was just not even a thought. Replacing only the door would be almost as difficult as – see above – the door is not standard size, but apart from that, having a door specially made would have been a lot of expense but without the tightly fitting frame, not as effective as a proper double glazed door. Option three and the one we finally decided on was  what they call ‘over-glazing’. This is a sheet of glass with a specially constructed frame which fits on to the existing door surround and seals tightly thus causing an air space between the glass in the door and the new sheet. People say that it works quite well, so we will have to wait and see. We have ordered the panel which comes ready to install, and should be here in about two weeks . Of course, since we started all these frantic preparations for winter, the weather has warmed up again and has been positively spring-like.

Although the days have warmed up a little, the signs of an approaching winter are still obvious, one of them being how short the days are getting. When I first started having to be at the hospital at 8 am for these eye injections, which was in July, we were leaving home at 7am in broad daylight, whereas the last time we left home at that time (last Friday), it was pitch black, and foggy to boot. And then of course, it gets dark at about five o’clock these days whereas before, it was light until 9.30 at night. With such vast differences, and the autumn leaves all around we are certainly more aware of the changing seasons than we ever were in South Africa.

During these days of inaction, I keep myself busy with my knitting and tapestry; stitching during the daylight hours and knitting while we watch TV in the evenings. Both projects are making good progress and I now have eight little dolls in my mini-family. Still haven’t really decided what to do with them when I get tired of making them. Any good suggestions will be gratefully received, as long as they don’t involve posting a box of dolls to South Africa. Last time anything was posted to SA from here, it took three months to arrive, and it was a cheque! Fortunately it was crossed and in Euros so we weren’t too concerned, just annoyed that it had been sent all the way to SA when it was really supposed to come to our address here. People outside of Africa have hardly any idea of how things (don’t) work there. They are amazed when we tell them that we require visas to come to France. “Visas? “ they say, “What is that and why do you need one?” “Why can you only get one in your home country?” And then when they say “Why did you come to live in France?” our stock answer is “Because we like it here and everything works”. Could there ever be a better answer.

Our place in France Chapter 79

So here we are again! To those of you who had just settled down with your morning cuppa, ready for your customary Monday morning read, my sincere apologies.

To backtrack a little -  Fanette spent last weekend with us again, and the two girls made more fig jam. They seem to have got it just right again and I can see that it is not going to stay on the pantry shelves for long. Courtney has promised us another batch this next weekend if she doesn’t have too much studying.

On Tuesday I had another eye appointment, an assessment after six intraocular injections. I had been hoping to come away with a prescription for new glasses but was, perhaps, a little disappointed to discover that I needed at least two more injections. However, apart from the early wake-up time, they do not inconvenience us at all and are not at all painful or have any unwelcome after-effects, so I’m not complaining. I would rather have my sight back as near to what it was, than not, so on Friday we were up with the sparrows (or before), o be at the appointed place by 7.30 am. The beauty of this is, of course, that we have hours of day stretched out ahead of us by the time we get back home again at about 9.30. and get through all the chores that have been set aside during the preceding week. Every cloud really does have a silver lining.

There is no peace for the wicked, they say and I feel we must be inherently wicked as we certainly don’t get much peace. On Wednesday we were up and about in good time to assemble all the necessary documents for Courtney to take down to Toulouse where she would be issued with a ‘long-stay visa’. On Wednesday’s, all the schools close at midday and as she had an open period before that she was free by 11 am. We collected her from school and went straight on to Toulouse, arriving at about 1.30. We found parking, near the office that she had to report to, which was part of a small shopping mall, where we also found a sandwich bar. We had plenty of time as her appointment was only for  3 o’clock. When we had to go through the same procedure, we had an interview to assess our general health, then an x-ray, then a so-called medical examination (which was a farce – the doctor just held our x-rays up to the window and pronounced us fit!), and then finally an interview with the person who actually issued the long stay permit, and I suppose we passed, or whatever because she stuck the appropriate piece of paper into our passports and we were done. Quite smooth and fast, we thought. Basing everything on that, we settled down for a wait of about an hour, but long before that Courtney sent a message to say she was finished It turns out that she just sailed through without any hold-ups. No preliminary interview, no x-ray, no medical check – straight through to the person who issues the visas! Perhaps it had something to with the fact that she was applying for a long-stay student visa or something like that. Whatever it was, she is now legally in France as a n adult student and we don’t have to deal with any more bureaucracy for another year.

She spent the night at home with us and went off back to school next morning at the unearthly hour of 6.45, by bus. I do feel a bit callous sending her out into the cold and dark, but am comforted by the thought that the bus is heated and the driver turns the light off once they have picked up all the scholars so that they can all grab a few more minutes shut-eye. That may have been an eraly start to the day but not as early as Pieter who left at 5 am to drive to Barcelona where he would catch a ferry to Mallorca. His apartment there, which he has been renovating over the last few years, needs now to be finished and put on the market. He is hoping to return to France at the end of November which will coincide with Tilly’s return from Canada where she and Jack will have just spent some time touring and visiting old friends.

On Saturday I had been volunteered to help, with other ladies from the commune, in preparing food for Saturday nights ‘ Estofinade’. There is no English word for this, but it is an annual feast whose main dish is a bit like a fish pie. It is a regional speciality of the Aveyron but everyone seems to be of the opinion that the one at Ols is the best, so there is a standard to be maintained! Apparently, in past times, barges would travel up the Lot River to Decazeville, which is further inland than we are, to collect coal that was mined there and transport it back down to Bordeaux  from where it was exported to various places. On the inland trip, the barges would fill up with dried salted cod and sell it along the way. As Ols is less than 10 kilometres from Cajarc, a port on the River Lot, it stands to reason that previous inhabitants would have had access to the fish and invented a special recipe for it.

So, once a year, the ladies of Ols go all out to make sure that they maintain the current image. When my neighbour, Anne, and I arrived at the hall at 2.30 pm we found the morning shift all sitting at a long table having just enjoyed a lunch of homemade soup, with bread and cheese to follow. Bottles of beer and wine stood around and they had just reached the coffee stage. Reluctantly they left the table an d as the some of the ladies joined us, the men peeled off to another part of the hall where they set up tables and laid them, organised a bar area  in an attached temporary structure and sorted out the gas requirements for the evening. Meanwhile we were all shown into the kitchen where another long table had been set up and covered with a paper ‘cloth’. Each lady was given a pair of latex gloves and a plate and next moment, as soon as we were all seated, huge pots were brought in , each filled with boiled cod. Our job was to separate the fish from the bones and skin and break the fish into small pieces. Six people worked from one pot, taking vast spoonfuls of the fish and putting it on the plates that we had been given. Working with our hands, we sifted through the ‘serving’ throwing the bones and skin into one container and  the morsels of fish into another. During the afternoon, I established that the morning shift had been peeling and chopping potatoes and wondered just how many potatoes that would have been. It took us until 5.30 to complete the fish at which stage it was carted off for the next part of the recipe. Meanwhile the men, having completed some of their work, were now carrying in crates of lettuces for salad. Before I left to come home and have a much needed shower and a change of clothes, I asked what time we should return for the meal and was told 9.30. Nine-thirty!! I would have to eat before that! That is after my bed-time!

When I got back to the house, it was just in time to find Courtney going out. Her friend had asked her to go along to help with the preparations too. Theirs was a different kind of help. Every year at this time, apart from the meal, Ols collects money for a retirement home somewhere (I haven’t found out where yet). In order to do this, the teenagers are all loaded on to a tractor trailer and taken to houses in the district where they offer to exchange a donation to the home for a rosebush in a pot. It’s  a charming idea and  apparently they generally get a good response. They came back at some time after 7 pm, having decided that they would also go and help at the meal, as waitresses. A quick sprint across the fields so that Courtney’s friend could change and off they went again. We rocked up at a little after nine and found our places at one of the tables. I noticed that the tables were no longer spread out all across the floor but had been pushed back to clear a space for dancing which was already underway. As we arrived, there were several people dancing what looked like a very complicated maypole dance, without the pole. I was told that it is a traditional dance, but I’m still sure it has its origins in maypole dancing. A group of eight people in pairs form a circle and then proceed to follow a set routine which included weaving in and out of the circle, singly or in their pairs, and dancing around each other until each person had changed partners with everyone else and was back with their original partner. It was both fascinating and entertaining to watch. And, as if that wasn’t enough, they are past masters at line dancing too. I love the way that all those that know the steps rush on to the floor the moment the music starts and then dance as if their lives depended on it. I imagine they are all counting furiously as they dance, or whatever it is that line dancers do. The live band was rather good and played ‘ordinary’ music too, which gave everyone else a chance to get on to the floor and do a few circuits. Although the total population of our commune is something like 150 souls including the old, the young, the decrepit and the just born, there were 300 people there to enjoy the Estofinade. The actual meal was five courses – a strange soup that one ate with a fork(!); a green salad with croutons; the famed estofinade – mashed potatoes mixed with shredded cooked cod and plenty of parsley; then cheese and finally apple tart.  Yum!

Good company, good food and good music all contributed to a very good evening

Our place in France

I'm so sorry everyone. If you have logged in to read the blog, you will have to wait another day. I just ran  out of time today but the next chapter will definitely be there tomorrow.
Until then .........

Our place in France Chapter 78

 

 We seem to lurch from a week of complete inactivity to a week of hyper-activity with no grey areas between. This was one of the hyper active weeks! They say that keeping busy is the key to staying young but no-one has ever said what happens when you constantly wear yourself to a frazzle. Well, I can tell you now that makes one very tired, especially if you are no longer in the first flush of youth!

So, to start off our week, we planned a fairly quiet day as Pieter was going to be out practically all day. However, by early afternoon Jack was driving the rest of us mad with his incessant jumping and bouncing. Earlier in the month, Tilly had applied for a passport for him, to use on their upcoming trip to Canada, and we had heard that it was ready for collection at a place called Capdenac Gare which is not too far from here. So we all piled into the car and set off, hoping Jack would fall asleep for the duration of the ride. In two twos he was fast asleep and got a good hour of much needed rest. Meanwhile we had a lovely drive through beautiful scenic countryside.

On Tuesday, Tilly had planned for us all to go to a bird sanctuary near Rocamadour to see the birds and watch a display of falconry and such. At first we weren’t too keen, as we have seen many similar displays, but we went with them, and I can say now that I am immensely pleased that we did. In the first place, the colours of the trees as we drove through them were spectacular, autumn now having definitely arrived. It made for a beautiful drive. When we arrived at the bird park we realised that it was mainly for raptors of one sort or another. It is also a breeding station for endangered species, although we saw no sign of chicks anywhere. Among the birds were falcons, kites, vultures, eagles, owls and parrots, to name a few. The show featured mainly these birds too. It started with a display of speed flying by the falcons and kites. So fast that there was no way I could photograph them as they flashed past. Then they brought out the vultures – what extraordinarily ungainly creature it is, with a clumsy, lumbering gait. They vary in weight from 5 kgms to 10 kgms and in wingspan from just over 2 metres to over three metres. These did a fly past from one raised platform at one end of the area to one at the other end, and it was intriguing to see how they really needed the height advantage to take off, in order to make the perch at the other end. Taking off from the ground is quite possible but needs a long hop-hop-hop before they can get airborne, and then they tend to keep low for quite a while. At the end of their part, most of the vultures were carried off back to their home perches, but one got left behind (on purpose, I think). The carers noticed it just before the next birds were introduced and shooed it off, telling it to go home. Rather sulkily, and with it’s head down, it complied – just like a naughty child! It was hilarious.

Next on the list were eagles – Golden eagles, Bald eagles, African Fish eagles, Imperial eagles, Bataleur eagles – they were all there. I may be biased but the Fish eagle performed best by catching fish after fish from a small pond. They were followed by parrots of the most eye-catching colours. One was brought around on the arm of a carer who tipped a seed into an outstretched hand for the parrot to recover. It was a very gentle touch. Actually, it was a macaw rather than a parrot. All in all, a wonderful show and a superb afternoons entertainment. After the show we on down to Rocamadour town and enjoyed seeing it again.

We skipped a day and then went on to Thursday and a long, long drive. Pieter and Tilly were keen to see their house again and we were equally keen to get a look at it in real life, so to speak. We set off bright and early on what promised to be a stunning day and pointed the Land Rover more or less south –west. Three and a half hours later we arrived at our lunch stop and had a delicious meal at minimal cost in a little restaurant which is about ten minutes from the house, and which I am sure, is going to become a favourite eating place for the two of them. Off to the house, and my goodness, talk about grand!! It stands on a small rise and looks out in a 360 degree view over fields and forest with the Pyrenees just visible in the distance. It is a double story building but as of now, only the ground floor has been restored. But that is enough on its own as there are three bedrooms and three bathrooms, study, lounge and kitchen/diner. Attached to the house is a barn with a courtyard in the middle of it and this has a complete ‘summer kitchen’ with a table and chairs for eating at out there. A separate small building which could easily be converted to a cottage, was used as a duck house and behind the house is a massive ‘hangar’ – an open fronted barn. Pieter always said he wanted a project, and I think he has one now. At present the owners are quibbling about the contents of the house – whether to leave it or take it – but although Pieter and Tilly don’t really want it, it is good enough to move into, because it is a large space to fill.

Friday was a day for everyone to gather their wits, do washing and hopefully get it dried and for Tilly to pack for a longish period away, with Jack. She left on Saturday to visit friends in the south of France, then on to some business meetings in the same area and also in Paris; then she intends leaving her car with her sister who lives near Paris while she and Jack jet off to Canada for a month. She expects to be back towards the end of November which should be just in time to sign the final papers for the house, and then they can move in.

So at the moment our household is reduced to five – the two of us, Pieter, Courtney and her friend. And by tomorrow night we will be three. We won’t know what to do with ourselves! I, for one, will certainly miss Tilly hugely. Apart from the company, she has taken over the kitchen while she has been here and relieved me of all planning, purchasing, preparing and cooking all the meals. It has been a real holiday, even if that does sound a bit illogical!

Our place in France Chapter 77

Well now! Let me see! What have we done this week that wasn’t too boring for readers? Sadly the beginning of the week was miserable weather and cold as well, so Jenny had a very quiet time with us. I think the high spot of those few days was Pieter treating us all to a superb lunch in Villefranche. Although the deal was not completely final we thought it was a good opportunity to drink to Pieter’s and Tilly’s health and to congratulate them on the purchase of a house here in France. The next day, Jenny left on a very convoluted flight plan, for South Africa. She had to change planes three times along the way and must have been completely tired out by the time she arrived home, but still went off to work to finish the day. Once there, I am not sure she still agreed with her original principles though – she had 900 e-mails waiting for her!

Although we hadn’t done much, it still made a draught when she left. I think I really like to have my chickens around and feel bereft when they leave to go back to their normal lives.

During this past week, while we have had too many people in the house and not enough beds, Pieter, Tilly and Jack have been sleeping in the neighbour’s gite , to relieve the pressure a bit. It has been very useful, to say the least. And they were able to stay on over this weekend too when Courtney had a friend to stay. Next week they will move back in with us and things can return to normal.

Meanwhile, Pieter has decided to take his car apart again and replace some worn parts. This seems to be a fairly common occurrence these days, not because the car is always wearing out, but I get the feeling that he enjoys working on it. It keeps him and Neels out of mischief though so I am not complaining.

To set minds at rest in my old embroidery group, I have to say that I have not been entirely idle lately. After the terrible chilblains I suffered at the beginning of 2016, I decided I would not let that happen again and have taken to wearing a pair of long bed socks which I knitted in wool and which do the job of keeping my toes warm and toasty. Having asked around unsuccessfully, for a pattern, I just went ahead and knitted them and they work perfectly. I made a rectangle with a tapered end, and then joined the side edges, which forms a seam along the underneath of my foot and up the back of the leg. A twisted cord threaded though the knitting just above the ankle keeps them from slipping off while a sleep. Perfect!

As well as that, I have been knitting little eight-inch dolls without much idea of what I was going to do with them. I had ideas of trying to sell them on a Christmas Fete, which I may well still do, or perhaps donate them to a worthy cause of some sort. I still haven’t decided yet, but I now have six little dolls and the ‘family’ is growing.

I also have a secret project on the go which can only be done at certain times when certain persons are not around. Very mysterious, isn’t it? This project is a tapestry but you will all have to wait until it is complete before I can show it to you. It was a pretty ambitious thing to start, I feel, as I haven’t been able to see properly for at least four months. Finding the correct hole to make the next stitch has, at times, been a real trial but I am getting there. I hope to have it complete by the end of November, if not before.

During the week when we had Jack to ourselves for the day, he and Neels put together a kit of a little balsa wood airplane. It was a very simple kit but it engrossed the two of them for a while. The pictures of them doing it are really quite sweet and indicate how well Jack has fitted into our household and our way of life. He is such a dear little boy – quite smart and with an amazing vocabulary in English, French and Spanish. Not bad for a five-year-old.

Sometimes, I am amazed at the care that has been taken to preserve ancient artefacts and historical buildings. At other times I am frustrated by the lack of information available about these things. For example, while returning from Toulouse where we had taken Jenny to catch the plane home, Pieter was driving and suddenly announced that this time, we were going to ‘find out what the little building was at the end of the path’. We were quite mystified until he pulled up and we saw a beautifully laid out path bounded by low stone walls, leading to a small building. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a well with a small cover erected over it. There was no village or other habitation close by, so there appeared to be no reason for having a well there, but attached to the wall was a very tatty notice referring to it as the Spring of Pleyjean. The notice had had more information but that had long since weathered away. What a shame. Getting home again, both of us  made straight for our computers to find out if Mr Google could shed any light but Mr Google was, for once, dumb. Never mind, we thought we will go to the Tourist Information in Villeneuve in the morning and they will know all about it. Ha! Ha! The poor little lady had never heard of it, but admitted that it was probably out of her radius and referred us to another tourist office. Hmmph! We haven’t had a chance to go to this other office yet but at this rate I am not holding my breath.

Our place in France Chapter 76

Summer is quite definitely on the wane although autumn is not yet properly here, if the night-time temperatures are anything to go by. At present we are wavering between lighting the wood-burner and saving wood, with saving wood winning. Instead we have a gas heater in the lounge but it doesn’t have the same effect as a glowing stove does. However, it does make warmth which is the main thing. A few days ago I happened to see the forecast temperatures for Hermanus and Ols, one after the other and they were identical at 19 degrees!

We started the week with a bang by inviting the neighbours over for a  drinks and snacks party. Tilly did all sorts of clever thing with snacks and we ended up with a really attractive table. It looked like a lot of food to me and I had visions of eating sausage rolls and other snacks for days to come but once the guests started thawing out a little, the food disappeared like fog on a sunny morning

After that it was Wednesday before there was more action. This was when Pieter, Tilly and Jack all left. Jack was meeting his grandmother in Toulouse and the two of them were flying off to the UK to go to Legoland – excitement itself! So Pieter and Tilly dropped him off at the appointed time and then continued on their tour of the French countryside, arranging to collect him again on his return on Sunday. Meanwhile Jenny had arrived in France a couple of days earlier and had gone to visit her aunt for a short stay. We all met up in Auch where we had a lovely lunch before brining Jenny back here. She and Ryan were here about this time last year and she was pleasingly enthusiastic about the small changes we have made around the house since she was here. The next morning we had a few chores to do and then went off to show her the dolmens that are to be found around in the woods. The origins of these strange structures is still mainly unknown although the general consensus appears to be that they area burial mounds. Two long stones form the sides with a huge flat stone on the top, and we believe that the whole was then covered in earth and grass to form a mound. They are alleged to be about 4000-5000 years old, and in the intervening time, the earth, grass and any small stones have been blown away or washed away, or perhaps, even dug away by wild animals. From time to time, archaeologist have tried to dig below the stones but there is nothing to be found and the thought is that a body would have been laid on the surface and the stones erected around it. A prehistoric mystery!

On Saturday with Courtney home from school and able to take a bit of time off from studying, we all went to Conques. This town is and always was, a major stopping point on the Route de Santiago de Compostela. It has an enormous cathedral whose windows were badly damaged during the war, but which have been replaced by a very well thought of artist, Pierre  Soulages. Personally , I don’t care for them as I prefer the rich colours of stained glass and his windows are in shades of grey and clear glass, but people rave about them so they must have some merit. Behind the cathedral, stands a massive stone-built building which is now pilgrim accommodation, , but was previously accommodation for the monks. There are still a few monks in residence but only a handful. The houses which surround the complex are quaintly medieval and make a charming back ground to the views one gets around the town. We spent a very enjoyable couple of hours wandering around the town hoping to be able to get into the cathedral, but there was a very long wedding service going on there and by the time we left again they had still not finished. Also, by the time we left, the clouds had come over and it was just beginning to spit with rain, so, as the parking area was a short distance away from the town and we would have got quite wet, had we stayed, we decided to leave that for next time.

On the way out of town, we passed a small bakery and bought a ‘Gateau a la Broche’ which Jenny had been wanting to taste. This is a regional speciality, and is a type of cake-on-a-spit. It is made by pouring a type of batter mixture on to a tapered rod that is held over a heat source and ends up forming a hollow, conical, pastry like delicacy. We really need more information about it as by itself it is a bit dry and we all felt that the hollow par should perhaps have been filled with something like whipped cream or thick custard. However, on its own, it was fairly tasty.