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!