Relocating to France

A Frenchman nearly falls for me!

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 15:15:35 GMT

We are all going through various stages of the clear up processes after the storms and floods. In my case that included a rather handsome Frenchman in his short shorts arriving today with his ladder in order to repair my roof. As he trotted up the ladder (it is a very high roof) he removed a couple of tiles so he had somewhere level to put his foot . He then investigated the flashing round the chimney, a common source of problems, however this time he had a problem he didn't anticipate. As he put his foot down a swarm of wasps came out! So there he was hopping and swatting around and being stung with no means of escape other than to swing round onto the ladder again. My heart was in my mouth as I watched him teetering around on the roof''s edge. Fortunately all was well and a visit to the local shop for a 'bombe' put paid to the flying menaces. Four and a half hours and a very reasonable bill later all was done. It only took that long because the tiles from the new roof over my part of the building and the older roof over my tenant's part had been cemented together. French workers locally get a lot of flack but I couldn't fault this one.

Lady Jane's summer palace

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 10:53:05 GMT

Having had some conversations with Tattercoats and having beyne most porely and confyned to bed I decided to embark on a journey of discoverye to ye former abode of the much lamented Lady Jane.

Dobbin, who is with me still but will soon have to be enlisted as a French resident, got me safely there in under two hours.
Upon arrivynge I was most kyndly met by ye religieuses at L'ancien monastère grandmontain de Rauzet which lyes facing ye ancient abode of Ladye Jane. All was well and I was gretely comforted to receive ye hospitality of the monastery.
There was much lively discours and concideracioun of a myghty feast if goodly King Guy and his entourage deign to visite these distant shores with provisioun of bread, goodly robes and entertainment for all.
**************
The Order of Grandmont were a group of hermit monks who embraced poverty. They lived communally sharing their rituals and devotions in extreme austerity. They shunned the 'requirements' of the Cistercians whose monks required a house each and only met together for their prayers. The Grandmontains were well respected and slept in a dormitory with the only privacy being small partitions between beds to encourage devotional practice. They were vegetarians. The monastery, which is still standing and is being restored ,is simple and shows a sophisticated use of light and acoustics as well as a remarkably long barrel vault.

Village life later developed around forged iron as there was plenty of wood and lots of iron in the soil. Local villages provided shot and cannon which would be taken down river to Angoulême from where they would be taken to sea to stock the world's navies.

The flip side of Paradise: floods, flu, friends and fun

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 08:06:17 GMT

Last Sunday it rained. In fact some said there was a mini tornado. The lightning flashed and thunder crashed overhead so dramatically that the house shook.

Lightning struck the church tower for the third time recently, messing up the electronic mechanism which operates the bells - again. The river, already dangerously high - and exceptionally so for summer, rose further. Rain water was driven in under my front door by the wind. It also came flooding through my garage and under my stairs soaking all the items my tenant had left and failed to remove when Madame moved out. Ho hum. Rain was also driven in round one of the window frames into the buandanerie. Fortunately all these rooms have concrete floors and dry out quickly.
The next day the sun shone. Everything was fine and life carried on as usual. On Wednesday night I didn't even bother to close the shutters but woke at 2.30 a.m. on hearing another storm. I quickly got up, shut the shutters, pulled out all plugs, put the cloths down and went back to sleep, only to be woken at 6.45 a.m. by my neighbour M. My garden was awash! This time there had been no wind so the water hadn't been driven into the house but the river was rising while I watched. (In total it rose 3.1m!) In an hour it rose 30cm! This was my first experience of being in a potentially very dangerous flood. I was lucky that there are two solid walls at the end of the garden as, although the water came through, the currents and the debris didn't. I have six steps up to the main part of my house and the water came up to the last two before it started to subside but I didn't know that and had my bag packed, cat boxes at the ready and was wondering how I'd manage Teva, my tenant's dog, in the car with them. Meanwhile I was lugging everything I could upstairs but also realising that if everything went, well, what was really important was people not things. There comes a point when you just have to accept that what is happening is happening and that you can't actually do anything.
When the water started to go down I went out the front, which was relatively clear, and took photos for neighbours for their insurance companies. Over here the insurance companies will only pay up if the area is declared a disaster area (very likely as we hit the national headlines with 20cm of water in an hour.) St Germain de Près, the next village along, was the worst hit with two bridges washed away and water in people's houses up to ceiling height. I was lucky. My only damage was a tile off in my tenant's flat and my cave, which houses my garden tools was flooded with my lawn mower being completely covered.
As I walked along the road the donkey's field was just a raging torrent and three very bewildered donkeys were tied up in someone's garden. My neighbour M's garden was covered and her daughter and son in law who live at the rear of the house wer flooded. My other neighbour G had all his garden items bobbing around. The stream had broken its bank and was flooding into the house of the woman the other side of the main road. The road to Vaudraude was impassable and there was a dead mole, poor thing. The Auberge had had water flooding in from all directions and I hadn't realised just how many elderly widows there were in the village. Of course it was heart-breaking for them.
The gendarmerie and the Sapeurs Pompiers (the emergency services) arrived and were under the supervision of the maire. Some men struggled to put a temporary cover over a roof of a building in imminent danger of collapse as it had also been flooded from the river. A farmer struggled over the bridge with his tractor towing a trailer containing two great cart horses whose field was awash.
As always disasters bring people together and I have been very touched by the kindness of friends and neighbours. H cycled through the flood water to see if I was alright although his own place was flooded. and various people popped round. I tried to do my bit for others but I was hampered by a nasty feverish bug which hit me when I was already feeling exhausted after the wedding.
Arguments raged as to whether floods were to be expected in Corgnac (the maire's laissez-faire stance which makes him so unpopular) or whether this was exceptionelle. My elderly neighbours hadn't seen anything like it and they've been here for years, however one elderly lady near the Auberge remembered it being like this in 1955 and newspaper reports said it was the worst since 1943.
Is the danger over? Not while the river is so high and the land waterlogged. Am I sorry I'm here? No, not at all. I am surrounded by lovely people and beautfiul countryside and a lifestyle which is very in touch with the seasons and the elements. The other day I sax a hoopoe for the first time in my life. And the other evening I came home and wondered what the light was in my front garden. It was a glowworm - in my own front garden! Why would I ever want to leave?

Fame at last!

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 22:37:02 GMT

Just thought I'd share a few pictures of our being extras in a medieval documentary about the killing of the protestants around the time of the St Bartholomew's Day massacre.

Presidential Elections

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 22:28:58 GMT

No this isn't about Sego and Sarko

or even Beyrou and Le Pen. I gather things get pretty wild here around election time. Yesterday when I went to my medieval group there was a neat row of identical sized colour posters, about twelve of them, representing all the different national party leaders. French presidents last for about seven years so there is great interest and debate around the election. People take it far more seriously here than in Britain.
Moving onto politics with a minor p my local medieval group les Baladins de Bruzac has split from its parent group. This has been in the pipeline for some time and is seen as a positive move as it has been an ill-fitting relationship, but it did mean we needed to form ourselves into an association which meant having a president, secretary and treasurer. Although I'm perfectly capable of being a treasurer it's a role I hate and P is the secretary - and very good too, so really, with my experience of being in medieval groups on both sides of the channel it made sense for me to be the president! It's all come a bit suddenly but it feels right. Added to which I have managed to find a 'princess' for the medieval 'wedding' feast on May 13th. She has flame red hair down to her butt and a cherubic 'medieval' face, although as her real life husband says 'Red hair and cherubic doesn't really go together'! She's an ex policewoman! Originally I had hoped Storm would be able to play the part but it's not possible for her to get over this year.
I still have great difficulties with my words in the little 'sottises'. I learn the French medieval words fairly quickly but then forget them just as quickly so have to make do with improvising and generally hamming it up.
Today was my poetry group meeting. The subject this time was to bring a poem by a poet who you hadn't previously come into contact with. A poem by Kipling 'Minesweepers' sparked some quite keen debate on the televison appearance of the gunboat captives after their release. M introduced us to a poem written and published by her great aunt who had waited until after the first wotld war to marry her sweetheart, only to find that they only had seven years together before his death from the effects of mustard gas. We think of the folly of some of the generals in the first world war in destroying so many lives needlessly yet in France you can see from village memorials that the whole male population of entire villages was wiped out and the population has never fully recovered. The folly of generals who refused to let their men have machine guns 'because it wasn't a gentlemanly way to fight a war' or refused to let them wear helmets instead of fancy miliatary hats more suited to mounted cavalry than trench warfare defies belief.
My Grandfather was at Ypres in the Royal Flying Corps as it was then (later it was the RAF). I still have the embroidered cards that he sent my grandmother, mostly blank. There is one postcard written in pencil by a fellow soldier to tell my grandmother that my grandfather was ok even if he never wrote and how lucky he was having someone like her waiting at home for him. (Interestingly enough my grandmother was five years older than my grandfather.)
All of us in the poetry group had had immediate relatives that we remembered who had been on active serivce in the first World War. I think we sometimes underestimate the influences, some obvious but some more subtle, that wars have on future generations. will the present political warmongers bear that in mind? I wonder.

Love is blind and there's a long tail attached.

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 21:19:47 GMT

If you thought I was about to go into disclosures about my love life such as it is or isn't then you're in for a disappointment, however I do confess to a temporary infatuation where I lost my heart and my senses completely.

I've had a 'horsey' weekend, going to see C's horse on Saturday which was in worryingly bad shape and then going to the horse fair with her at St Yriex. I confess I lost my heart completely. Her name was Gina and she was the most colossal horse I have ever seen, a light tan, well-schooled and the sweetest of natures. She was six years old and in every way a wonderful horse (I love the big horses). Sadly she had split two hooves, a condition that would cause her much pain. I was told by the woman whose land she had been on, not the owner, what a lovely natured horse she was but that she was going to be put down if no-one bought her. It's probably just as well I had neither the money nor the land otherwise I might have done something magnificently stupid. They say love is blind - and I don't know the first thing about keeping horses other than that they're hard work.

I've been busy in the garden today, planting hollyhocks, lupins and foxgloves as well as finally planting up my mother's rose. This has somehow survived being planted in their garden when she died, transferred to Bristol and being planted in a spot where it clearly wasn't happy and nearly died, followed by being one of the few plants to survive my journey here (A minus 10o frost killed off virtually everything.) Now it is in a well mulched bed and roses do very well here so I'm hopefully it will recover its joie de vivre.

Medieval insults, Baudelaire, serious silliness - and a job?

Wed, 07 Mar 2007 23:33:49 GMT

Our medieval group continues to practise our little scenes for the big tourist events in the summer. These scenes have the somewhat bawdy humour of

some English equivalents but also rely on some improvisation so I have been learning to trade medieval French insults with the others. Needless to say we have been rolling about with laughter at our efforts. I'm now part of a lift share from Thiviers to St Jean de Cole where we meet. We also have lift shares to the randonnees. It is a lovely way to get to know people and so thoughtful. By the way did I tell you I'd been invited to a tupperware party??

My poetry group is taking off. So far there are nine people interested including a delightful retired French teacher of English who chose a poem by Baudelaire to share with us. Fortunately she translated it really well. Other poems people chose were by Shelley, Keats, T S Eliot and I chose Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas, which I grew to love from seeing a wonderful poster of it on the back of a friend's loo door. Needless to say it had plenty of contemplation there! I hope once people gain their confidence that we can get a creative writing group started as well.

Tomorrow I fly off to the UK for a few days to go to a Bardic revel in Leicestershire. I think I have been taking myself a bit too seriously and could do with some of the serious silliness which medieval Far Isles events provide. Even flying from here is a delight. I can drive to Limoges airport, leave my car there with no parking fee and my destination is only twenty minutes' drive from the airport and M, bless her, has offered to give me a lift. Thanks M. Can't wait. C, H & H's daughter has agreed to come in and sort out the cats every day for me. M's instructions are that I should bring some French cheeses over with me, which is funny because H & H's instructions are that I should bring some English cheeses back with me. Ho hum. Can't promise to being them some 'Stinking Bishop' which I brought back from Somerset last time and which went down a treat, but maybe some red Leicester. H tells me she had a bit of difficulty trying to tanslate 'Stinking bishop'. Any suggestions anyone?

Had to go to the doctors today to get my medicine. Everyone speaks very highly of him. Apparently once I get my paperwork sorte out as a diabeticv when I need my eyes tested I can have a taxi free(!) to Perigord on the health system as that is the nearest testing place!! This is the sort of standard of health care the French expect and get!

I have also just had a successful job interview for a paid part-time job which I would love to do. Details after my return.

Spring and a spring in our step, peyronerie and pigeonnerie

Wed, 07 Mar 2007 23:06:31 GMT

In case you think it is always raining here we had a couple of glorious days this week with clear skies, warm sun and a balmy warm wind like the best of July days back in Bristol. Of course here July is likely to be sweltering and stormy. but yippee....

Spring is here and the first of the daffodils I planted is in flower. The trees lining the school opposite are full of pink blossom and I managed to get the next tranche of garden sowing done.

Sunday was delightful and I went for another 10km hike on Sunday. This one started down in Tourteyrac which is on the borders of the Perigord Noir et Blanc. (I am in Perigord Vert.) Tourteyrac really is a chocolate box town yet surprisingly off the main toursidt track as so many places are here. There is a different geological basis to this area. Traditional livings were from sheep and cattle herded in woodland and truffle hunting was significant. Because of the woodland such activities were much smaller and more localised. This is the area of the traditional peyronerie. These were stone built igloos built to shelter shepherds during their work in spring, summer and autumn. The buildings have no mortar at all and are based on each stone overlapping the next slightly with a key stone in the middle. I have seen similar constructions in photos of the buildings at Skara Brae and also the 17th century ice house at Moseley, Birmingham is built on the same principle. Here the stone huts only house one person but in Perigord Vert where conditions were more luxurious and herds larger the peyronerie housed two or three people. Shepherding was a metier. The shepherds worked for the owner of the sheep and their main task was to keep wolves away.
As well as drystone peyronerie and walls we were treated to the sight of more violerts for which the region is famed. So far I have seen red, violet and white violets. People pick little bunches to give to friends.
By the way I finally found out why the French revolutionaries chose to target the pigeonneries rather than the chateaux around here. Apparently unscrupulous and greedy rich landowners would site their pigeon-houses on the borders of their property so that the pigeons would settle and eat the peasants' hard-won corn rather than that of the landowner, hence these pigeon houses became much hated symbols of oppression.
I do struggle a little bit owalking up the hills as the French set off at a cracking pace. There is little sympathy but lots of advice such as walk an hour a day, and, of course, they are right and they have my best interests at heart. So I must keep on with the dancing on Thursday nights, the fortnightly randonnees and do lots inbetween. They are, after all, only asking of me what they do themselves. I found one of them was going to Nepal fo a month - hiking!
Out of politeness I asked whether they minded me using photos of them on this blog site as I said my English friends liked to know what was happening here. The request was met with complete bemusement. 'But we are not children? Permission only has to be sought when children's photos are used.' So here you have some photos of this delightful and very fit crowd. I am so grateful to them for the opportunity to visit some wonderful parts of this beautiful area that I would never find otherwise and for their delightful company. .

Catching up ragbag

Mon, 19 Feb 2007 21:14:08 GMT

This is just so you don't think I've suddenly disappeared off the edge of the known world, however, communications have been an issue - Mercury retrograde anyone? Having successfully used my mobile phone on the boat on my trip to England it decided it wasn't going to play once I got there, just when I needed to contact everyone. A temporary mobile phone card cost a leg and an arm and ran out within 24 hours as its rate was so extortionate; taxing and Moting my car ready for sale was, er, .... taxing and, having done an excellent job on restoring a stained glass window, one of the pieces looked dreadful in artificial light so the customer wants it redone. ( I couldn't get an exact rematch as the particular piece of glass is not made any more - green and pink mixed - and I refused to agree to the customer's suggestion to put in a piece of purple as it's a picture not a pattern. It looked fine in daylight as she agreed.) Ho hum.
It felt quite schizophrenic going back to Bristol because nothing much had changed and it was lovely to catch up with a few of my friends, although not as many as I'd like. (Sorry J.)In comparison so much has happened to me in the last three months. I found it hard to leave here and was really pleased to get back, even if it does mean computer frustration. Do your computers have bad-hair days? That's the only way I can describe it. Added to which the electricians having been working hard to make up for the fact that they burnt out my practically brand new washing machine - they are replacing it under guarantee - but the work they are doing at present involves the power supply going off completely which includes the telephone and the computer, which then sulks because its systems have been interupted even if it was off at the time. Again ho hum.
I was really glad to catch up with some of you at the Filkcon, creative and lively as ever and to see you before I left Tattercoats. Thank you. Did M leave a copy of his talk with anyone? I'd love to read through it as there was a lot to absorb in one sitting. It reminded me of an ezxcellent talk I heard at the 'Religion,Art and the Brain' weekend at Winchester in 2005 which was on Bach and Gematria.
I went for another hike or randonnee here at Glandon, not so spectacular as the last one, although there were a couple of lovely, but not particularly photogenic, lakes. There was also a field smothered in wild violets. The hike was 13 km which appears to be about my limit at present. Ten days travelling 3000km in the car and sitting around drinking cups of coffee is not conducive to fitness. As the weather is now really spring-like I have no excuse not to get out on the bike again. However tomorrow will probably be taken up with digging the back garden. The river came perilously close to breaking its banks as there had been a lot of rain and it did flood a little elsewhere, however, with a couple of days' spring sunshine it dropped a meter in a day.
Tried to get my watch mended and my chain off my chain saw sharpened today, totally forgetting that the shops are closed on Mondays. (The little shops open Sunday mornings. I still have a job getting my head around the long lunch breaks here when everything closes.)
Lots going on here but nothing else worthy or suitable to report in a blog. Much love to you all.<lj-cut

The 40,001st Burns Night Supper worldwide.

Mon, 29 Jan 2007 16:22:53 GMT

D's plane landed at Limoges in a flurry of snow - very spectacular and no problem about keeping the haggis frozen until we got back to the Auberge. A last minute call confirmed that we had found a bagpipe player. I danced a jig round the hall when I heard. I was quite ridiculously pleased

to know that here in the absolute middle of French nowhere we were going to have a Burns night supper with a piper and at least one person wearing a kilt.

It was very international. We had people from France, England, Scotland and Holland and what we lacked in skill we made up for in enthusiasm. Our Selkirk Grace was read by a native of Selkirk. A kilt-swirling Glaswegian addressed the haggis and stuck in his sgein dhu with great relish. A Dutchman read the toast to the lasses and an Englishwoman responded. Everything from tartan car rugs onwards decorated the place and the Haggis was ceremonially brought in to the strains of a French bagpipe player playing 'Scotland the Brave' whilst the haggis itself was borne aloft by the Dutch chef! And very tasty haggis it turned out to be too. Thanks D for bringing it from London.
We didn't manage Tam O' Shanter or the Tay Bridge disaster and we resisted our temptation to recite 'Sir Patrick spens' -Jane you have a rival! but we did manage a suitably mournful poem and 'Westering Home'.
Our bagpipe player turned out to be a very interesting man and proudly told us he was President of the local trufficulture association. He has invited me to join him on a truffle hunt ,an offer I shall be delighted to accept even if I can't quite appreciate the taste. He was also very informative about the history and different types of bagpipes. I so wished I had a tape recorder so I could have passed on what he was saying but although I understood it it was too quick for me to translate fully and remember. (Let's face it vocabulary connected with ancient forms of the bagpipe and its parts was not exactly standard fare in learning French in a girls' grammar school)
So thank you to my electrician B who gave me the contact which led to the piper. Thanks to N for his support without which we would not have found our haggis stabber. Thanks D for carrying 2.5 kilos of haggis with you from London and thanks H and H for being such superb hosts and entering wholeheartedly into the spirit of things. Finally thanks everyone for participating so wholeheartedly. Plans are already afoot for a bigger and better occasion next year!

Snow in Corgnac pics

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 19:28:12 GMT

Hoots mon! Snow comes to Corgnac

Wed, 24 Jan 2007 13:09:10 GMT

Back Garden
First snow Jan 24

Have been having a bit of trouble with this entry technically.
D has now rounded up all the wild haggises in her particular part of London (and they were wild at being rounded up. Boom boom!) Some of them were a bit slippery and tried to escape but she now has them locked in her freezer until her flight here tomorrow. Hopefully she will be able to smuggle them through customs without anyone asking to see their pet passports.
After a day of slushy drizzle we finally had our first inch of snow last night although it caused problems not far from here. Thirty departements were on Amber alert until 10 a.m. this morning when miraculously they didn't need to be any more, although the main N21 route had to be closed yesterday. I took T the dog for a walk up on the hills hoping to get some decent snow scene photos and it was a lovely walk but there was no snow to be seen.
Have lots to do now what with D arriving and the Burns Supper at the weekend. We have le venue, le whisky, le haggis and le cock-a leekie. H, a dutchwoman, has been initiated into the arcane secrets of producing genuine custard for the tipsy Trifle. We also have the ballads, the poems, le tartan and even a native of Selkirk to give the Selkirk grace (.....but we hae meat and we can eat and so the Lord be thankit.) But we still don't have any kilts or a piper at present in spite of strenuous efforts. Ho hum. We'll just have to make up with enthusiasm for what we lack in anything else.

Medieval music

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 23:16:12 GMT

I was invited to come along to a choir this evening and, having ascertained that it was not a church choir I went along.

It has been a very wet night with the temperature dropping. It is just possible there could be lots of snow by tomorrow but if it stays as rain we'll be ok.
Those of you who are my 'medieval' friends may be interested to know the songs we sang:-

Margot labourez les vignes by Jacques Arcadelt (1504? -1568)
(File may be freely copied and distributed www.cipou.net)

En l'ombre d'un buissonnet by Josquin Desprez (1440? -1521?)
Ed. Pascal Bondon - may be freely distributed

Faisons le dire mensonger (1549) by Clement Janequin (1485-1558)
All rights reserved

En l'ombre d'un aubepin by Ninot le Petit

They obviously enjoyed getting up to shady things in the shadows (ombres!)

Smokers' lungs, truffle virgins and mimosa

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 20:29:47 GMT

So off I went to find the market at Sorges where Les Croquants d'Escarnabiou were playing, in my search for a bagpipe player.

It was a beautiful misty journey through the countryside. When I got there the sun burst through and I was greeted with an amazingly colourful scene. I could have kicked myself - I had forgotten my camera!

This was my first occasion seeing people in traditional costumes, the women with lace caps, one or two of which looked as if they were made with original lace rather than machine made stuff, the men in black broad-brimmed caps with a pair of long black ribbons down the back (rather like those of old time sailors).

There were several period groups there. One group was called the Fraises de Perigueux, the strawberries of Perigueux and appropriately enough wore bright red and green. There was another group who wore green and buff suede gowns and carried burntwork staves.

I soon found the Croquants (my dictionary tells me Croquants means yokels) and spoke to one of the pipe players. 'But I don't play the bagpipes. I play the chabatte,' he said. I'm not very up on pipes but this looked more like the Northumbrian pipes to me with an underarm squeeze bag and a chanter but no pipes over the shoulder. I was then introduced to the person in charge, who I was assured was a very important man. He understood more what I was after and told me another pipe player in the band had just bought some bagpipes a fortnight ago so the VIM said he would have a word and get back to me.

I then trotted happily around the market stalls selling the usual range of local cheeses, wines and vinegars, Perigord honey, oysters, walnuts and pate de foix gras. I cannot bring myself to terms with what is done to these poor geese to make the pate. (If you don't know don't ask.)

There was a lot of interest in one stall and it turned out to be selling truffles for what seems to be the local price 500 euros per kilo. These were quite large and sliced open. This was the first time I had seen inside one and here I have to apologise wholeheartedly to the French who are so passionate about them. I cannot share their delight in them. To me it looked like nothing so much as those illustrations from early anti-smoking films which showed the state of smokers' lungs after they had died.

At a stall further on there were minute biscotte with very thin slivers on them so I did decide that this was my opportunity to taste some. The smell which is very delicate is clearly important but for me it is a bit like the Emperor's New clothes, so refined as to be invisible. (I did have a car crash some years ago which destroyed most of my sense of smell.) I took my time with the tasting as I was a truffle virgin and the stall holder very kindly put on a few extra crumbs for me as it was my first time. Well, I tasted the salt and the butter and finally just hint of a nutty flavour which was very pleasant but hardly there.

I decided to pass on the escargots which were in plentiful supply but was pleased to see gallettes and crepes being made and chose a local speciality for lunch. This was a savoury pancake made with a coarse black grain. It was very tasty and contained jambon and fromage (which most things seem to do here - sandwiches, croque monsieur, pies, pancackes -it's difficult to get away from it. You can of course have ham on its own,cheese on its own or ham and cheese:-)
)
Finally there was the stall with the Mimosa from the Ile d'Oleron. The smell of mimosa has romantic connotations here and it did look pretty so I bought some. I'm not sure where the Ile of Oleron is though.

I then had a bit of luck when I met up with I and her husband who go to the same dancing classes. She gave me a contact for helping out with the Burns night celebrations who, apart from anything else, might have a kilt and be prepared to take the role of chairman. Our project grows....

Retrospective update 22 December Why France?

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 19:32:14 GMT

So why did I choose to come to France and have I done the right thing?

I saw house prices rising more in retirement areas than my property and realised places like Wales and Devon were out of my reach. I'm not imagining the French as perfect and I sometimes wonder what I'm doing here, then I look out and see the stars instead of an orange glow, I hear the sound of the owl, the church bells and the river instead of the constant screaming of ambulance and police sirens. I realise I can relax and the roads aren't congested with traffic cones and speed cameras. I have paid off my mortgage and still got a little bit in hand. I am not living in fear and I'm making new friends and maybe even going to get some interesting work to keep me out of mischief.

Have I done the right thing? Dunno. There don't seem to be any clear right things in life any more but to give you a taster. On Tuesday I went to an acting class for a medieval group (an absolute hoot), was then invited to a weekly dancing class, again lots of smiles and laughter and I'm so glad to be dancing again. That led to an invitation tonight to accompany Father Christmas round the town carrying flaming torches followed by Thivier's answer to a civic reception with loads of pate de foie gras, caviar and what I took to be a rather delightful fizzy lemon drink until I'd knocked back three glasses and realized that it had bubbly in it. Oh dear. So I'm smiling and laughing a lot which can't be bad.

Yes the dog's still very much in evidence. Still left outside in the cold poor thing. I took her for a long walk today. She is such a lovely little thing but she does pull so she's hard work and she does love chasing cats but I'm gradually establishing who's boss, hard for an old dog who's never been trained but she tries and let's face it at present I'm the only one giving her any attention. I have to also to accept that there are cultural differences here. This is a much loved dog although ashe is left outside for hours on end with a shelter and a place to run but no bedding. She is never taken for a walk but this sort of approach is very typical of a rural community.

Have finally managed to get hold of some French plugs, ugly things, so I can change all my equipment over, not to mention have TV in the room I want. Have managed to get some ceiling bosses made for the light fittings, painting them with two coats of woodworm treatment and stained them, am sorting out putting up a worktop in the kitchen and have bought some paint for the bathroom. Even though I plan to put in a new suite in due course I don't think I can stand peeling pink paint any longer than necessary first thing in the morning. Have finally got some big enough pruners to prune the massively overgrown roses in the front garden and some sheets of plastic to 'double glaze' the windows, all this in addition to doing as much of the roof insulation as I can manage. Hopefully by the time I've finished that lot spring and the warmer weather will be well on their way so I can do more painting and decorating.

Early days, a retrospective!

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 18:45:11 GMT

These are some of my earlier emails over here, repeated now I'm blogging. This was Dec 8th 2006

The sun is actually shining here today for the first time in days although at least we haven't had tornados. I gather the winds were high off Bordeaux. It's just been depressingly wet here and A, a delightful elderly neighbour, keeps demoralising me with tales of high water levels. It seems the front is more of a problem than the river as the water tends to collect. Ho hum. At present it's ok and if I have problems I shall be down to the mairie.
At present my life is full of really interesting things like scrubbing and mending windows and learning the vocabulary for the ordinateur (computer) and the French for 'The switch trips and then I don't have any hot water. Please help.' I'm quite proud that I've got myself up and running on the computer.
I'm having to live with making gaffes, some of which are expensive but all just part of the steep learning curve.
The countryside is stunning and really lifts my soul. When it's not raining I'll try and get some decent photos.
Yesterday I went to the truffle market at Excideuil and saw and held a truffle for the first time. It was quite reasonably priced at a mere 550 euros the kilo. The going rate is between 650 and 750 euros - about £500 per kilo. I made do with a photo and a sniff of its very delicate odour. I'd never actually seen one before but I don't think I'll be buying one in spite of its aphrodisiacal properties.
Yes I am lonely although I can't get out of my gate without a half hour conversation with the neighbours so it's only a matter of time. I also seem to have a dog by default, a sweet little thing but she's on heat and I really don't want a dog but maybe that's part of village life, just accepting how things are.
The cats are settling in and think it's a wonderful playground complete with mice in next door's grenier

Chez le coiffeuse, les electriciens and a big shock

Fri, 19 Jan 2007 12:21:39 GMT

I have a confession to make - I am vain. (Blogs were made for people like me.) My vanity centres around my appearance, which is difficult when I'm spending most of my time in work clothes with split blackened nails etc. Before I came to France in November I had my hair beautifully cut and coloured but

in any new place, French or English, it is a wrench to leave a stylist who gets it right. Bear in mind I have been spoilt by this hairdresser: cups of green tea, hand massages, Indian head massages etc., not to mention an excellent haircut.

There are three hairstylists in Thiviers, quite a number for such a small market town. I went to the one that had been recommended and told them that I had had a good haircut. (Had to remember to say 'Bien coupe', not 'bien cuit' which means well-cooked) I asked them if they could cut it to the same style to which they fervently agreed.

While I was there someone had the most hacking cough. Poor woman obviously had bronchitis. Not long afterwards one of the hairdressers started coughing. I casually joked that everyone seemed to have a cough. (It really wasn't very nice to hear.) Far from being taken as a joke they were mortified. Sometimes the French think my jokes are great. Sometimes I get this pained look response. Oh dear.

I suppose I should have seen the warning signs of trouble to come in that they didn't study my hair cut before washing my hair,er, single wash only. I admit I did say I didn't want to look like a granny, and the hair has been 'well cut'. I have come out with a beautifully done female equivalent of a short back and sides. It's nearly as short as when I had a number 12 for charity and I look like a man and I hate it. I can't wait for it to grow. If that was the recommended hairdresser what does it say about the others?

You thought I was going to say that the electricians had had a disastrous time? No it was the haircut that came as a shock.

The electricians have been here all this week and have been doing a complete rewire. They are two very handsome, charming, hard-working Frenchmen and a pleasure to have around. I must say I like the French system where the work is quoted by the job rather than by the hour. It makes it possible to be much more civilised. They want to know the English for various electrical items and tools so they can work with more English clients and I want to know the French names so I can do as much as possible myself. I'm very proud that I've been managing to change all my plugs from English ones to French ones. I do get rather alarmed, though, that people here will happily put up to eight items on one socket rather than have more sockets.

I find it very stressful having all my things moved around and workmen in my place so I am very grateful to have these two electricians with their lovely energy and their ability to be flexible. B, who was working on his own yesterday,lent me his big percussion drill so I was able to make all the holes for my pictures and mirrors to go up. It went through the walls like butter whereas my drill just couldn't cope. French bricks are made of a tough thin substance (rather like Samian ware for those who are into prehistory). There is a cellular structure which may or may not be filled with cement. The bricks are quite thin. This means they're not very good for rawlplugs or the like unless you use some form of glue or the butterfly type plugs. I have to confess there are now some holes on the other side of the wall - which I've covered with more pictures!

French electricity is three phase or single phase. Three phase is industrial level but may also be needed if you have an electrical pump for your well. (My pump has been removed but the well is still there and I do have mains tap water.) The French electricity company will remove the three phase system free but obviously you can't keep chopping and changing. What it means is that you pay more per unit so mine is going very soon. It still means I shall be able to run a kiln for my glasswork if I decide to go down that route. There is then a sliding scale of power supply which allows you to a) run hardly more than a light and a kettle at any one time up to c) when you can run washing machine, TV, tumble dryer etc all in one go. Bizarre.

Next week we have a local public meeting on the assainissement. Mains drainage comes to Corgnac. Hurrah! Unfortunately it is not coming to my road. It will cost about 5000 euros per household to install but I'd rather spend that than nearly as much updating my fosse septique. The estate agents when I bought the house assured me that everything would be ok. It was - for them. Much as I like rural living septic tanks do not list as one of the rural charms for me. I know there is a European directive saying everyone must have mains drainage by 2010 but knowing how remote much of France is I can't see it happening and we all know what happens when the French say non, don't we.

Ssorry there's no lj cuts in my items. I don't seem to be able to get the system sorted although I'm followibng instructions faithfully.

Wee Rabbie and the cornemuse

Fri, 19 Jan 2007 10:21:20 GMT

Not quite sure what got me started on this one. Maybe it was frustration at being invited to do a return performance of Rabbie Burns' 'Tam o' Shanter' in Bristol and not being able to get there. Anyway I started talking, the way one does, and the upshot is

that we're holding a Burns Night Supper on Jan 27th at the local Auberge (Inn). The Dutch owners H and H have had a bit of difficulty getting their heads round the fact that the English enjoy celebrating this as well as the Scots and also quite why Rabbie Burns should be so popular -not quite sure about that one myself.
I've managed to find an enthusiastic Scot to sing some ballads however no Burns Night could be without the skirl of the bagpipes to bring in the haggis. (We had some difficulty catching the haggis. They're very crafty but we managed to round up a couple. We hope they won't have grown too tough with age and have a veggie version for the squeamish.) We also hope to have oatcakes. Did you know that when the Scottish drovers took the cattle to market, travelling over many miles, they would let the cow's' blood and absorb it onto the oatcakes as their means of nourishment, or perhaps survial would be a better word. Oats were easier to grow in the harsh climate of Scotland. Barley was also easier and more reliable than wheat.
I digress, back to the bagpipes. I know two bagpipers but they both happen to be in England so where to find a bagpipe player in France? Well apparently there are quite a number. I asked the electrician who happens to be working here whether he knew one fully expecting a negative answer and he immediately replied yes and gave me a contact for a whole band! Let us be clear, however, we are not talking a Scottish band but the traditonal 'folklorique' group playing a variety of old instruments including the Limousin vieille, a pretty instrument not unlike a zither. The French for bagpipes is cornemuse but until the first World War the language of the region was the Langue d'Oc or Occitan when the local equivalent was a 'chabreta' or, turned into modern French, a 'chabrette'. Will I find my bagpipe player? Watch this space.
Meanwhile I am trying to drum up enthusaism amongst the French as well as the ex-pats. The French love tartan and le kilt but I think it will just have to be a 'Soiree Ecossaise'. I just can't imagine trying to explain Rabbie to them until they've been there and seen it for themselves.
My daughter is flying over that weekend and is joining into the spirit of things so whatever happens we'll have a good evening.

Randonnee

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 23:51:21 GMT

Hopefully this blog will get more interesting as I get used to the system and add photos etc. Thank you to all my friends who've made me welcome.
Today was another lovely sunny day and I went on my first French randonnee,

a hike of about 8km based on St Sulspice near Excideuil. We started off outside the tourist office in Thiviers with the customary cheek to cheek kisses. I read somewhere that when relatives and friends kiss new babies they are giving a cross section of beneficial bugs to help the babies' immunity. I wonder if rural communities who would only meet up at market day traditionally were building up their immunity by this habit - or whether they just enjoy it like me?
Everyone bar me was French and well used to hiking. We went at a cracking pace, too fast for me to really take in all the scenery, but I was pleased I was able to keep up - need to keep fit to keep well. My friend P from the medieval Baladins group which I have joined kindly pointed out many features.

Apparently this area has more chateaux than the Loire valley. Although the French Revolution led to some destruction it wasn't as bad perhaps as the destruction caused in England by the dissolution of the monasteries or the wilful strategic destruction of castles. Apparently pigeoniers were the main targets of destruction here. That's right, pigeon houses, as they were seen as symbols of the oppression of the peasants.

We also passed what had once been a medieval shop and various buildings where they had incorporated pieces from earlier buildings.

P pointed out the floor of the St Sulspice Church. The Church was built in the 14th century style but the floor belonged to an earlier building. All the building round here is in a lovely golden stone, either dressed or raw. Many of the smaller chateaux have been bought up, often by English people, and lovingly restored. They look gorgeous but although property is still cheap here the going for a song days are over and you need to think of spending at least double the asking price if you take on anything like that now.
We didn't see any wildlife apart from a 'salamander' which looked like a great crested newt to me, but then again it could have been a salamander. I'm not sufficiently familiar with the wild life here to know and keep coming across odd creatures.
It's been so mild however that the earliest flowers are out, some wild hyacinths and, in my garden, lovely violets.
We passed an apple tree which still had some well-preserved windfalls. My friend N has a similar variety. I learned they are 'lettru', an old flavourful type. This is an area with so many apple trees that farmers are virtually giving them away in Autumn or leaving them to rot. Sadly they are now only planting some of the more spectacular colourful varieties, Jonogold etc and neglecting the original ones.
It was pretty wet and sploggy on the walk but we managed. I found myself walking next to a woman whose grandparents had owned the end house in the road where I lived. It was only a small place. (I looked at it when I was looking for property here.) Apparently they owned the local papermill, much lamented by the local populace as it was source of employment. She moved away with her parents to Paris but had now come back to Thiviers for her retirement.
On the way back in the car we nearly ran over several errant chickens and by the time we arrived back at Thiviers I could have really enjoyed one of those gorgeous butter, chocolate and not a lot else patisserie. Sadly the shops only open Sunday morning so they were well closed by now so back to the pot au feu and tearing off a chunk of pain de campagne.
Recently I rewatched the videos of Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources, famous work by Marcel Pagnol with Gerard Depardieu and Yves Montand starring. The films centre on the life and death importance of water in a rural community and to a certain extent that is still true. The local maire would rather see the river flood than everything dry up later in the season. (He lives up the hill - I live by the river!)Fortunately there are many summer storms here, which, while they play havoc with electrical equipment and old roofs if there are golfball-sized hail stones, help to keep the area looking green.
I've arranged to go to the cinema with C and a friend of hers later on in the week to see the film 'Jacquou le croquant' which is based on life in this region in 1815

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