Just to let everyone know that we've finished the gite, and are taking bookings!!!
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Chapter 5 ( Miracle in France!)
A "miracle" has happened here in France.....
We were at the Saturday market yesterday in Mussidan and went to the Outillage ( HGV which travels from town to town selling DIY stuff, kind of like B+Q on wheels) .
They had some xmas stuff for sale and there was a poster for these Christmas teddies for sale at E29.99. On further inspection they looked rather familiar so we ordered one.......
For the bargain price of just 5 Euros one little 6 year old girl is now the proud owner of a shiny, new and VERY red, RED TED!!!!!!!!
Anyone who knows us well will appreciate the enormity of this event, and now the aforementioned 6 year old thinks that living in France is suddenly FANTASTIC! Hurrah, hurrah!
Even better, the parents of this enfant terrible have hatched a cunning plan that the child must "earn" this new Ted by being good.... Now we have an ANGEL!!!!! Now that truly is a MIRACLE!
xxxx
We were at the Saturday market yesterday in Mussidan and went to the Outillage ( HGV which travels from town to town selling DIY stuff, kind of like B+Q on wheels) .
They had some xmas stuff for sale and there was a poster for these Christmas teddies for sale at E29.99. On further inspection they looked rather familiar so we ordered one.......
For the bargain price of just 5 Euros one little 6 year old girl is now the proud owner of a shiny, new and VERY red, RED TED!!!!!!!!
Anyone who knows us well will appreciate the enormity of this event, and now the aforementioned 6 year old thinks that living in France is suddenly FANTASTIC! Hurrah, hurrah!
Even better, the parents of this enfant terrible have hatched a cunning plan that the child must "earn" this new Ted by being good.... Now we have an ANGEL!!!!! Now that truly is a MIRACLE!
xxxx
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Chapter 4 ( New Year 2006)
Dear All haven't done one for a while, been somewhat preoccupied but will attempt to provide relavent update. Some of you will know some of this news and maybe even had a piccie but tough you shouldn't have visited or gotten a personalised one.
Back in December Ellie had to provide the good people of Mussidan an exhibition of her Folkloric dancing. Cue the Salle De Gerbeau (massive modern gym like warehouse place), Saturday night. Place packed. They have nothing else they would rather do? Ellie and 5 of her 'little house on the prairie' dressed friends take centre stage and produce an incredible display which sends the place rocking (there maybe a little poetic licence there) as they step and trip and circle to the sound of two accordions. Could it get any better? Of course. Who should appear in his traditional french costume? None other than Kevin (just so french). Poor bugger doesn't know what hit him. One minute he's having a nice time and the next he has Ellie running after him asking him for a kiss. And then to cap it all he and his older mates have to join the little ones to do a combined display which involves sustained holding of hands. Ellie appreciates we have the camcorder and afterwards comes over to ensure we got it all on video.Available at a small fee.
Our first attempt to earn some cash was an almost unmitigated disaster. Xmas market. Sunday morning in Aubeterre (Surrey in France). Up early. Children harvested a bucket of Kiwis in the dark. Set off in minus 60 degrees celsius. Testicles were lost after half an hour. Sold very little except my Vin Chaud which I must say was rather tasty. Kids sold 2 Euros of Kiwis. Returned home feeling rather glum. They have no taste.
Decorating before Xmas. It's a girl thing. Must look nice for the inlaws. No yellow gingam allowed. So rip all of it off and then some of the hessian and battons underneath to reveal a plasterers nightmare. Concrete and plaster which free falls of the walls. Too much pour moi. Call for Serge the pasterer. Contray to popular myth he arrived to quote when he said he would. He came and did the job over the two days exactly on time AND he did it well!!!! I had a happy wife (well almost).
Xmas : Mum and Dad arrived eventually from Bristol. Too much fog at Bergerac so they visited Bordeaux and then got a coach up. All at no extra cost.Their arrival was greated with glee especially as they had a suitcase of pressies for littleys. A week of the obligatory too much food, sausage roll making, musical christmas crackers (don't ask) and an attempt at Disney monoploy. Cinderella costs 180 Euros. Quite cheap if you ask me.Dad and I continued my vigil against the accursed ivy which strangles my trees. We all visited Sharon and Anthony ( friends in Sourzac) who at last have an inhabitable space and had to drink cognac at 11.00am.Fortunately the fog had lifted enough so they could return to blighty from Bergerac.We forgot to go to the local Lotto. Social suicide.
The Brodies arrived the day after. They had driven. They were tired and a little frazzled at the edges. But were we glad to see them or rather the contents of their car? Poor old Roge and Karen had been our postal address in the UK for all our e-bay winnings and 200 meters of mypex weed suppressant fabric. Stick that in your boot and smoke it: But it was great to see them; This bloody co,puter keeps going French on itùs ozn qnd the letters get qll ,ixed up: I zill try to type properly: We had magical frosts where the trees shimmered as if dusted in icing sugar or even fairy dust: We feasted on freshly murdered crab which was absolutely delicious even batman thought so; They left us; all alone and sad but decidedly fatter,
Since Son and I have done our dining room; no more fabric on our walls thankyou; just off white distemper paint from Farrow and Ball which she cant change her mind about as it is so expensive: The dresser is decked in green glass and ze could almost be back in Wallington or even Streatham: As we now have a place to sit in nice surroundings ze decided to have the Fritchleys for lunch: Roy Karen Evelyn and Lily: I cooked Indian: Fresh coriander is prohibitively expensive but essential; As usual cooked far too much and have been having dhal and chicken pasanda for breakfast lunch and tea: At least I am regular:
Last Sunday ze zent to the cinema to see one of the most culturally relevant films of the century; Wallace and Grommit and the Curse of the Were Rabbit in down town Mussidan: An elegantly renovated church which was fab: In English with French subtitles incroiable: It brought in all the Inglish; average age 79; But we felt a certain resonance as our bunny problem persists: Fecking rabbits everywhere: More rabbits than you could shake a cassoulet pan at: They must be catholic as plainly contraception is not a considered option when it comes to bunny family planning: Bastards:And I bet most of them are:
That will do for now:
A Bientot Love Tone xx
Back in December Ellie had to provide the good people of Mussidan an exhibition of her Folkloric dancing. Cue the Salle De Gerbeau (massive modern gym like warehouse place), Saturday night. Place packed. They have nothing else they would rather do? Ellie and 5 of her 'little house on the prairie' dressed friends take centre stage and produce an incredible display which sends the place rocking (there maybe a little poetic licence there) as they step and trip and circle to the sound of two accordions. Could it get any better? Of course. Who should appear in his traditional french costume? None other than Kevin (just so french). Poor bugger doesn't know what hit him. One minute he's having a nice time and the next he has Ellie running after him asking him for a kiss. And then to cap it all he and his older mates have to join the little ones to do a combined display which involves sustained holding of hands. Ellie appreciates we have the camcorder and afterwards comes over to ensure we got it all on video.Available at a small fee.
Our first attempt to earn some cash was an almost unmitigated disaster. Xmas market. Sunday morning in Aubeterre (Surrey in France). Up early. Children harvested a bucket of Kiwis in the dark. Set off in minus 60 degrees celsius. Testicles were lost after half an hour. Sold very little except my Vin Chaud which I must say was rather tasty. Kids sold 2 Euros of Kiwis. Returned home feeling rather glum. They have no taste.
Decorating before Xmas. It's a girl thing. Must look nice for the inlaws. No yellow gingam allowed. So rip all of it off and then some of the hessian and battons underneath to reveal a plasterers nightmare. Concrete and plaster which free falls of the walls. Too much pour moi. Call for Serge the pasterer. Contray to popular myth he arrived to quote when he said he would. He came and did the job over the two days exactly on time AND he did it well!!!! I had a happy wife (well almost).
Xmas : Mum and Dad arrived eventually from Bristol. Too much fog at Bergerac so they visited Bordeaux and then got a coach up. All at no extra cost.Their arrival was greated with glee especially as they had a suitcase of pressies for littleys. A week of the obligatory too much food, sausage roll making, musical christmas crackers (don't ask) and an attempt at Disney monoploy. Cinderella costs 180 Euros. Quite cheap if you ask me.Dad and I continued my vigil against the accursed ivy which strangles my trees. We all visited Sharon and Anthony ( friends in Sourzac) who at last have an inhabitable space and had to drink cognac at 11.00am.Fortunately the fog had lifted enough so they could return to blighty from Bergerac.We forgot to go to the local Lotto. Social suicide.
The Brodies arrived the day after. They had driven. They were tired and a little frazzled at the edges. But were we glad to see them or rather the contents of their car? Poor old Roge and Karen had been our postal address in the UK for all our e-bay winnings and 200 meters of mypex weed suppressant fabric. Stick that in your boot and smoke it: But it was great to see them; This bloody co,puter keeps going French on itùs ozn qnd the letters get qll ,ixed up: I zill try to type properly: We had magical frosts where the trees shimmered as if dusted in icing sugar or even fairy dust: We feasted on freshly murdered crab which was absolutely delicious even batman thought so; They left us; all alone and sad but decidedly fatter,
Since Son and I have done our dining room; no more fabric on our walls thankyou; just off white distemper paint from Farrow and Ball which she cant change her mind about as it is so expensive: The dresser is decked in green glass and ze could almost be back in Wallington or even Streatham: As we now have a place to sit in nice surroundings ze decided to have the Fritchleys for lunch: Roy Karen Evelyn and Lily: I cooked Indian: Fresh coriander is prohibitively expensive but essential; As usual cooked far too much and have been having dhal and chicken pasanda for breakfast lunch and tea: At least I am regular:
Last Sunday ze zent to the cinema to see one of the most culturally relevant films of the century; Wallace and Grommit and the Curse of the Were Rabbit in down town Mussidan: An elegantly renovated church which was fab: In English with French subtitles incroiable: It brought in all the Inglish; average age 79; But we felt a certain resonance as our bunny problem persists: Fecking rabbits everywhere: More rabbits than you could shake a cassoulet pan at: They must be catholic as plainly contraception is not a considered option when it comes to bunny family planning: Bastards:And I bet most of them are:
That will do for now:
A Bientot Love Tone xx
Sunday, December 4, 2005
Chapter 3 (PIFIFF)
When we first arrived at La Feuillade we refered to it as Paradise (tongue in cheek). The land was beautiful and bountifiul ; what with walnuts, sweet chestnuts, puff balls a plenty (there is a very scrotal theme going on here!) and recently, more Kiwis than you will find in Auckland (more of this later). But as we all know Paradise is never what it at first seems.
Last week I visited a place alien to those with scrotae. A place with Cilit Bang (something to be found on a dutch prostitutes menu perhaps, main course of course), limescale remover, scrubbies, and Vanish. I ventured under the sink. Why I hear ask do you go there? That is not a place for men.
As you know we are metered for water here and being frugal, having a leaking tap under the sink is not good sense, financially.
Having played Monsiuer Le Plomberie back in the UK on many times. I thought 'Pas de Problem' .
Error.
Cue PIFIFF (" Plumbing in France is Fucking Frustrating"). I grabbed my circular pipe cutter, and the leaky tap, after a little resistence was excised from its moist location. Victory is mine. But no. The Frenchie's plumbing doesn't fight fair. The inlet was 20mm, the outlet was 22mm. I had heard rumour of these different sizes but had paid no heed. After all, we all know, size isn't important.
Three hours later, 50 miles plus and having visited 4 different outlets I returned home with a 20/22mm connexion and appropiate other bits.During these three hours I saw many a shrug of Gallic shoulders, accompanied by the utterance 'Desole',or ' Quel dommage' and learnt that 20mm is no longer available.It is only found in old houses. Very helpful/useful. But finally (with help of Batiland* a DIY outlet not a country for homosexuals) I can see and end in sight to this unecessary water loss. But how naive I was.The 20mm pipe continued to drip. Mocking me with its wettness. To solder copper pipe it has to be dry.
Eventually I conceded defeat.
Call for Yannik. ( he cleaned my stack 2 days earlier).
Much to our surprise he appeared a mere 1/2 hour later. A French Chevalier in his gleaming white van.
After explaining the problem he disappeared behind my boiler, unconnected a pipe and blew out the offending l'eau.
I showed him my presoldered connectors and my compression joints. We took it in turns,and he showed me how to do it properley ( copper connectors and manually applied solder)
We shared a special moment when finally we were plumbed and sec. A cup of coffee and he was gone, in to the night.
But it wasn't over yet.
It leaked.I couldn't call him back. It was one of my joints which oozed.
So after flooding the kitchen, drenching the back of the boiler and the Chrissie decs, and eventually applying a touch more solder and heat to the offending joint, I claimed victory.
But as some geezer said somewhere ' The battle may be won but the war is not over'. I fear that the spectre that is French plumbing will return, stronger and more frustrating.But this time I have Yannik's number to call, and call it, I will. For as we all know life is too short to be spending time blowing old French plumbing behind one's German boiler.
Now, those Kiwis I mentioned earlier.
We have a glut. We have more taut testicles than a knackers yard. Kiwi fruit when not ripe are very firm, brown and hairy.
Ma has told me how to make them soft. But I have no recipes for Kiwi jam? Kiwi vodka? Kiwi jelly? Kiwi soap?
Aidez moi SVP.
* : Bati is caribbean slang for gay
Last week I visited a place alien to those with scrotae. A place with Cilit Bang (something to be found on a dutch prostitutes menu perhaps, main course of course), limescale remover, scrubbies, and Vanish. I ventured under the sink. Why I hear ask do you go there? That is not a place for men.
As you know we are metered for water here and being frugal, having a leaking tap under the sink is not good sense, financially.
Having played Monsiuer Le Plomberie back in the UK on many times. I thought 'Pas de Problem' .
Error.
Cue PIFIFF (" Plumbing in France is Fucking Frustrating"). I grabbed my circular pipe cutter, and the leaky tap, after a little resistence was excised from its moist location. Victory is mine. But no. The Frenchie's plumbing doesn't fight fair. The inlet was 20mm, the outlet was 22mm. I had heard rumour of these different sizes but had paid no heed. After all, we all know, size isn't important.
Three hours later, 50 miles plus and having visited 4 different outlets I returned home with a 20/22mm connexion and appropiate other bits.During these three hours I saw many a shrug of Gallic shoulders, accompanied by the utterance 'Desole',or ' Quel dommage' and learnt that 20mm is no longer available.It is only found in old houses. Very helpful/useful. But finally (with help of Batiland* a DIY outlet not a country for homosexuals) I can see and end in sight to this unecessary water loss. But how naive I was.The 20mm pipe continued to drip. Mocking me with its wettness. To solder copper pipe it has to be dry.
Eventually I conceded defeat.
Call for Yannik. ( he cleaned my stack 2 days earlier).
Much to our surprise he appeared a mere 1/2 hour later. A French Chevalier in his gleaming white van.
After explaining the problem he disappeared behind my boiler, unconnected a pipe and blew out the offending l'eau.
I showed him my presoldered connectors and my compression joints. We took it in turns,and he showed me how to do it properley ( copper connectors and manually applied solder)
We shared a special moment when finally we were plumbed and sec. A cup of coffee and he was gone, in to the night.
But it wasn't over yet.
It leaked.I couldn't call him back. It was one of my joints which oozed.
So after flooding the kitchen, drenching the back of the boiler and the Chrissie decs, and eventually applying a touch more solder and heat to the offending joint, I claimed victory.
But as some geezer said somewhere ' The battle may be won but the war is not over'. I fear that the spectre that is French plumbing will return, stronger and more frustrating.But this time I have Yannik's number to call, and call it, I will. For as we all know life is too short to be spending time blowing old French plumbing behind one's German boiler.
Now, those Kiwis I mentioned earlier.
We have a glut. We have more taut testicles than a knackers yard. Kiwi fruit when not ripe are very firm, brown and hairy.
Ma has told me how to make them soft. But I have no recipes for Kiwi jam? Kiwi vodka? Kiwi jelly? Kiwi soap?
Aidez moi SVP.
* : Bati is caribbean slang for gay
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Chapter 2 (En Vacance)
It's Wednesday morning, the fair one lies dormant upstairs, the enfants terribles are gently squabbling next door, nothing changes.
Well that is not quite strictly true. If you happened to be a tired old sweetchestnut tree you wouldn't be feeling so smug this morning.As you lie in a crumpled mass of rotting stump in the detritus of your fallen leaves.It was dead already, a health hazard and it was asking for it.
Yesterday my new petrol driven chainsaw went hunting. No longer the apron strings of electricity to tie me to plugs of the maison. This thing has teeth and it was hungry. The branches and stumps which previously mocked me with their immunity to the chainsaw soon fell to the awesome power that is my Stihl M250 BC-S. I need to get out more!! ....And so I did.
Back to our front of house. For those of you ignorant of what I am a wittering, at the front we have a stone wall topped with a nice french grille with intermittent pillars. Previously enshrouded in ivy, brambles, and wild honeysuckle. But no more. The snip, snip of our seccateurs and lopers have ensured the demise of the aforementioned shroud. And Sonia armed with her roller and paintbrushes have turned this in to a wonder to behold. Certainly our voisins appreciate what we are up to, and frequently pop over to cheer us on with such rousing phrases as : 'Bon courage' and Beaucoup travaille'. However we get the feeling it is a good thing as we are also informed the house can now breathe and it looks fantastique.
Sunday night was memorable. As a special treat we decided to have a nice relaxing fire ( this time indoors) and have toasted marsmallows ( personally I can't stand them, but I am too old). Felix and I set the fire, and soon a real blaze ensued.. Unfortunately the blaze went up the stack and soon we had embers flying out the top of the chimney and falling back down and spilling on to our wooden floorboards.A stack fire : not good. First throw loads of water on your fire to put it out. Second get sodden blanket and seal off fire place ( cuts off oxygen supply and puts out fire).Three remain anxious, stay up late regularily checking that the temperature of your stack in the attic is coming down and that the fire has not reignited. We are now going to get it swept before we have toasted marshmallows again.
But frrom adversity often comes a bonus ball. Having spent a fair amount of time in the attic groping my stack. I happened to stumble across a rather fetching 60's retro three globbed light,which, with a bit of TLC looks F**cking fab. At the same time a collection of old lead fish hooks. life is so rich in the attic of adversity.
Sonia's quest for beautiful shutters is continuing at pace and now the gite has two sets in a beautiful bluey/grey. The shutters have proved a source for disharmony. The sleeping one wanted to replace the lot, the tight arsed one wanted to repair them as best as possible. However ACAS was in the area and the shutters are bodged and we will will get new windows.
Ellie is missing her friends but despite this seems happy. Rosie her rabbit regularly empties her bladder on both Ellie and Felix which is a source of much amusement and laundry. Today Ellie is going to her Folkloric dancing class. Today it is tres exciting coz she is being measured up for her costume. Both Felix and Ellie are slowly picking the lingo up and have friends at school.
Last weekend they had a sleepover. An english boy called Franklin came over and they played camps up by the wood. Never have I heard such peace in the back garden, or was it just that they were too far away?
Question: What do you do with your left over bagettes the morning after?
Answer: Make your French version of fried bread this time in freshly made duck fat.
You can buy kilos of duck fatty off cuts then heat them over a low heat for 2-3 hours and siphon off the melted fat and voila.
Anyway here ends today's written version of la verbal diarrhea
A Bientot
Well that is not quite strictly true. If you happened to be a tired old sweetchestnut tree you wouldn't be feeling so smug this morning.As you lie in a crumpled mass of rotting stump in the detritus of your fallen leaves.It was dead already, a health hazard and it was asking for it.
Yesterday my new petrol driven chainsaw went hunting. No longer the apron strings of electricity to tie me to plugs of the maison. This thing has teeth and it was hungry. The branches and stumps which previously mocked me with their immunity to the chainsaw soon fell to the awesome power that is my Stihl M250 BC-S. I need to get out more!! ....And so I did.
Back to our front of house. For those of you ignorant of what I am a wittering, at the front we have a stone wall topped with a nice french grille with intermittent pillars. Previously enshrouded in ivy, brambles, and wild honeysuckle. But no more. The snip, snip of our seccateurs and lopers have ensured the demise of the aforementioned shroud. And Sonia armed with her roller and paintbrushes have turned this in to a wonder to behold. Certainly our voisins appreciate what we are up to, and frequently pop over to cheer us on with such rousing phrases as : 'Bon courage' and Beaucoup travaille'. However we get the feeling it is a good thing as we are also informed the house can now breathe and it looks fantastique.
Sunday night was memorable. As a special treat we decided to have a nice relaxing fire ( this time indoors) and have toasted marsmallows ( personally I can't stand them, but I am too old). Felix and I set the fire, and soon a real blaze ensued.. Unfortunately the blaze went up the stack and soon we had embers flying out the top of the chimney and falling back down and spilling on to our wooden floorboards.A stack fire : not good. First throw loads of water on your fire to put it out. Second get sodden blanket and seal off fire place ( cuts off oxygen supply and puts out fire).Three remain anxious, stay up late regularily checking that the temperature of your stack in the attic is coming down and that the fire has not reignited. We are now going to get it swept before we have toasted marshmallows again.
But frrom adversity often comes a bonus ball. Having spent a fair amount of time in the attic groping my stack. I happened to stumble across a rather fetching 60's retro three globbed light,which, with a bit of TLC looks F**cking fab. At the same time a collection of old lead fish hooks. life is so rich in the attic of adversity.
Sonia's quest for beautiful shutters is continuing at pace and now the gite has two sets in a beautiful bluey/grey. The shutters have proved a source for disharmony. The sleeping one wanted to replace the lot, the tight arsed one wanted to repair them as best as possible. However ACAS was in the area and the shutters are bodged and we will will get new windows.
Ellie is missing her friends but despite this seems happy. Rosie her rabbit regularly empties her bladder on both Ellie and Felix which is a source of much amusement and laundry. Today Ellie is going to her Folkloric dancing class. Today it is tres exciting coz she is being measured up for her costume. Both Felix and Ellie are slowly picking the lingo up and have friends at school.
Last weekend they had a sleepover. An english boy called Franklin came over and they played camps up by the wood. Never have I heard such peace in the back garden, or was it just that they were too far away?
Question: What do you do with your left over bagettes the morning after?
Answer: Make your French version of fried bread this time in freshly made duck fat.
You can buy kilos of duck fatty off cuts then heat them over a low heat for 2-3 hours and siphon off the melted fat and voila.
Anyway here ends today's written version of la verbal diarrhea
A Bientot
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Chapter 1 (And so it begins!)
Morning to you all,
Today is Sunday. The sun is shining, Felix is hanging off my arm as I try to type you this note.
Today in store we have a Vide Grenier (boot fair to you) in our village. Bargains maybe. Last week we went to one and bought a cast iron bed in need of attention for £55.As if we don't have enough to do at present.
But not only is there a bootfair we have games for the kids in the school playground. A ballon competion and organised mayhem.And Petanque. What more could you possibly want want on a Sunday? Oh yes and fireworks.Which have the same safety qualities as those fabricated in India.
Our friends the Claridges left yesterday morning after a week of hard labour. They chainsawed, chopped, shredded, stripped, raked, cleared roofs and walls of pernious ivy and cooked and even entertained us?
We had the most enormous bonfire which is still going 6 days after it started.The excuse for a boat (it has more holes than my underpants) was placed in the L'Isle and duly filled with the rivers contents. It was emptied yesterday and duly refilled. Apparrently the wood needs to swell to seal the gaps. I have not gone down to examine for the latest. A job for later.
Food: Having visitors is tantamount to gastric cruelty. Foie Gras, Cassoulet, Multi Meat roast (duck, chicken, rabbit (wrapped in panceta), pigeon, saucisson,and not forgetting the roast potatoes cooked in goose fat) has resulted in a considerable increase in the utilisation of the salle de bain.Water is metered here so it could be costly.
Yesterday was round one of St Front's fete. So down to the school yard to assemble with around 30 other children all dressed as witches, pumpkins, skeletons and other suitably scary persons.Ellie won the most witchy prize and received a certificate to that effect. We did not know about the pumpkin growing competion so could not even enter. Next year. We will show them how to really grow a citrouille.
Then the treasurer of the local Amicale ( cross between round table and rotary club and madhouse) also dressed as a witch led the kids a la pied piper around the village to declare ' On veux les bon bons'.
In course terrified old ladies would emerge cluthching bags of sweets to ward off the swarm of enfants terribles.
Felix and Ellie unfortunately have now been introduced to the charms of bumper cars. But the sight of the pair of them, their eyes glazed with a certain mad glee and terror was a vision to behold.Especially as Ellie was face painted a certain post retro semi-decomposed green.Enchanting NOT.
All of this was a gentle distratction to memories that yesterday inevitably holds. Today is a new day.
So A Bientot
Today is Sunday. The sun is shining, Felix is hanging off my arm as I try to type you this note.
Today in store we have a Vide Grenier (boot fair to you) in our village. Bargains maybe. Last week we went to one and bought a cast iron bed in need of attention for £55.As if we don't have enough to do at present.
But not only is there a bootfair we have games for the kids in the school playground. A ballon competion and organised mayhem.And Petanque. What more could you possibly want want on a Sunday? Oh yes and fireworks.Which have the same safety qualities as those fabricated in India.
Our friends the Claridges left yesterday morning after a week of hard labour. They chainsawed, chopped, shredded, stripped, raked, cleared roofs and walls of pernious ivy and cooked and even entertained us?
We had the most enormous bonfire which is still going 6 days after it started.The excuse for a boat (it has more holes than my underpants) was placed in the L'Isle and duly filled with the rivers contents. It was emptied yesterday and duly refilled. Apparrently the wood needs to swell to seal the gaps. I have not gone down to examine for the latest. A job for later.
Food: Having visitors is tantamount to gastric cruelty. Foie Gras, Cassoulet, Multi Meat roast (duck, chicken, rabbit (wrapped in panceta), pigeon, saucisson,and not forgetting the roast potatoes cooked in goose fat) has resulted in a considerable increase in the utilisation of the salle de bain.Water is metered here so it could be costly.
Yesterday was round one of St Front's fete. So down to the school yard to assemble with around 30 other children all dressed as witches, pumpkins, skeletons and other suitably scary persons.Ellie won the most witchy prize and received a certificate to that effect. We did not know about the pumpkin growing competion so could not even enter. Next year. We will show them how to really grow a citrouille.
Then the treasurer of the local Amicale ( cross between round table and rotary club and madhouse) also dressed as a witch led the kids a la pied piper around the village to declare ' On veux les bon bons'.
In course terrified old ladies would emerge cluthching bags of sweets to ward off the swarm of enfants terribles.
Felix and Ellie unfortunately have now been introduced to the charms of bumper cars. But the sight of the pair of them, their eyes glazed with a certain mad glee and terror was a vision to behold.Especially as Ellie was face painted a certain post retro semi-decomposed green.Enchanting NOT.
All of this was a gentle distratction to memories that yesterday inevitably holds. Today is a new day.
So A Bientot
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