Friday, September 22, 2006
Friday 15 September 2006
I've just realised that it's a year today since I left the office! Anyway, on to more interesting things – I was very relieved when Caroline arrived safely from Evreux last Sunday evening; I met her at the bus stop by the church when the whole village was silent but very warm, surprisingly as in the previous few days the evenings were beginning to get chilly. The weather has stayed very warm – 25/28 degrees ever since.
We had a nice day pottering around the house and village on Monday: the market, boulangerie and traiteur, a sunny lunch in the garden, looking round the house and outbuildings to see what had changed since her last visit, and - by special request – a game of French Monopoly on the verandah table. (This is a set I have had for a very long time, but not played for years; C was far better practised.) C cooked dinner, chicken breasts stuffed with an interesting mixture of things, and we began by digging up carrots and picking beans in the vegetable garden, and fetching potatoes and onions from the outhouse. At about nine in the evening she remembered I had mentioned the suitcase of old photos in the cupboard, so we started on them then, and finished looking at them all at about eleven.
I was up early on Tuesday morning, ready to do all the "leaving the house" jobs that we normally do after lunch; packing a bag, turning off hot water, emptying kitchen bin and compost bin, closing shutters, unplugging TV and computer. We set off well in time for the 10.19 bus to L'Aigle, collecting my latest photos from the paper shop on the way. I was pleased after all these months finally to be taking someone with me on this route! It also meant that C had done the entire bus route Evreux – L'Aigle, and had thus seen a very large number of Normandy villages.
After buying our train tickets we had a drink in the bar at the not very aptly named Hotel du Paradis over the road, and got the train to Paris Montparnasse Vaugirard. It was a very smart modern train but crowded, and took a little longer than from Evreux to St Lazare, and was a bit more expensive. It got in at 12.50, and we left the station to look for somewhere to eat, and found a Breton restaurant nearby, a little shabby but authentic, and had turkey with mushroom sauce and far too many chips. Once back in the station it took ages to reach the metro, which made me think perhaps this route was definitely not as good as Evreux to St Lazare, as the metro journey itself was longer too, almost half an hour to Saint-Denis, although direct.
This meant that by the time we reached the apartment we were very tired and very hot, and collapsed on the sofa with a drink and watched a very interesting TV programme about the building of the channel tunnel, before setting off to Carrefour to get in supplies for dinner and so that C could have a look and buy things to take home.
Wednesday was our "day in Paris", once again very hot. On the way to the bus stop we called in at the Conservatoire de Musique in the next street to find out when the Chorale would be starting up again after the rentrée; we had been told mid-September and I hoped I would be able to go on the two Thursdays I was to be in Saint-Denis; the next day, the 14th and also the 21st. Was very disappointed to hear it was not starting until the 28th! Anyway, C and I began our day out by getting a bus from Saint-Denis station all the way to La Défense; it took a lot longer then I remembered, via Gennevilliers, Asnières and Bois Colombes. La Défense is usually very bleak and open, so it was a good place to be on a warm day; we had a look round and took photos and then got another bus down the Champs Elysées and round the Arc de Triomphe and Place de la Concorde, getting off near the Boulevard Saint Germain, as C wanted to go to the Grande Epicerie and Bon Marché again. It took some time to choose and pay for items for a picnic lunch, but was well worth it; we ate outside in the garden where I had eaten a sandwich in January, but unlike then now full of people taking a lunch break outside. It was almost too hot but not quite, and very enjoyable.
Afterwards we spent a long time in the Grande Epicerie, choosing and buying things and eating some of them, and then another long time in Bon Marché where C managed to discover a good toy and greeting-card department in the basement, which we hadn't seen before. We then took the metro to Opéra, so that she could visit the big Monoprix, as there were still some items she wanted to take home. We discovered a good food department there too, which I hadn't seen when visiting it after Tuesday lunchtime concerts at the Eglise Saint Roch. Although that was really all that was planned we walked as far as Galeries Lafayette, C by this time looking for a watch for herself, which she didn't find, but ending up at the toy department on the top floor of Galeries Lafayette, where I sat down in a café with a cup of wonderful tea while she looked round, mainly at a do-it-yourself-teddy bear shop; chose your bear, stuff him, name him and take him home. By the time we got home, without bears but with some bear clothes, it was gone 8 o'clock.
Saturday 16 September 2006
After a leisurely Thursday morning at home I saw C off at the Gare du Nord in time for her 1 o'clock train, and then set off towards Palais Royale to do some research on the Journées du Patrimoine. These always take place on the third Saturday and Sunday in September (I just missed them last year) and many historic sites and buildings normally closed to the public open their doors and give guided tours. There are also various other special events too. I had already looked at their website before leaving La Neuve-Lyre, and discovered that the whole programme was available at the Ministry of Culture in the rue St Honoré, and this was where I went.
It was full of people picking up brochures and leaflets and everybody seemed to have a copy of a special blue edition of Le Parisien detailing all the events in the Ile de France. I picked up information about Les Passages Couverts, various historical buildings and the metro, having decided that the parliament buildings and state apartments would be just too busy. I sat down and had a pancake for lunch at a nearly café while studying all the literature. I was particularly interested in Les Passages Couverts – nineteenth century galleries full of little shops which link larger streets – as I had wanted to take Caroline there, having visited several of them some years ago with N, but couldn't remember exactly where to start, and in the end there wasn't time. Also, as they are by definition under cover, they are good places to visit when it's cold and wet, not in the wonderful warm weather we were having. I also liked the look of several things organised by the RATP (Paris transport) including Mozart in a railway shed, a historic tour on an ancient bus and the RATP orchestra itself (with which N used to play) playing in a bus depot at Nanterre, although that was rather far out of the city. In the end I decided to leave studying everything again till I got home and went back towards the big Monoprix as it was nearby, stopping for some time at the large bookshop near Palais Royale where I found not only the first volume of Georges Sand's life, but also a new and interesting little book called "Proust Fantôme." (I have since finished La Nauseé and started the Proust book, mainly an account of visits and researches to various places connected with Proust and his contemporaries, not a lot of text but very sparse and rich French, the effort of which is doing me good.)
After Monoprix I took a new and interesting bus route from Opéra to Châtelet and discovered I could go and see the new Gérard Depardieu film at 6 o'clock, which I did, after a cup of lapsang souchong and a slice of lemon tart at Tarte Julie, a lovely café at the Forum des Halles. I enjoyed the film: "Quand j'étais Chanteur" very much, in fact the whole day; it's a long time since I've had a day completely on my own in Paris.
On Friday I thought I'd better have a day at home catching up and having a break, having been out in Paris most of all of the three previous days. I caught up on washing and ironing, and local shopping – managed to have my eyebrows done! -watched TV, read my new book and went to bed early. I also decided to start Saturday morning with one of the guided tours round Les Passages Couverts – there was a choice of three – and then think what else to do after that.
The tour started at 10 am from the courtyard behind Palais Royale; when I arrived lots of people were already waiting there with their blue newspapers and their brochures, it reminded me of Cambridge during Alumni weekend, everybody deciding which activity to do next, in fact it's very much the same time of year, must be good weather for visiting. I enjoyed the tour very much, even before we got to any Passages; it's good to be made to look up at historic features on buildings and know their history. The Passages were built in the early 1800s to act as short cuts between various areas of Paris at a time when the surrounding streets were crowded and dangerous, and became the first opportunities for window-shopping as before that there weren’t even any pavements. We visited La Rue des Colonnes, full of Egyptian-looking columns and built as a result of Napoleon's Egyptian campaign and an early blueprint for the Rue de Rivoli. I though perhaps I would come back again in the afternoon and do another different tour, although as time went on (the tour lasted a good two hours) I realised that would not be very good on the feet. And as the brochure had details of all the tours it would be quite possible to do the itineraries on one's own another day; without the commentary of course, but it's not something normally closed to the public. Towards the end we visited the galleries I remembered from before, the Passage Jouffroy and the Passage des Panoramas, near the Musée Grevin and the Hôtel Chopin, so as soon as the tour finished the first thing I wanted to do (apart from sitting down and having lunch) was to go back and visit all the little shops I had just seen; the toy shops and postcard shops I had wanted to show Caroline. At least now I know exactly where they are and how to get to them.
After lunch (more pancakes, but really authentic Breton ones with cider) and the Galeries I decided that the buses and music at Nanterre were too far away, (and the Mozart not starting till 8 o'clock) but that the Gare de Lyon – where the historic tour on the ancient bus was starting from outside the RATP building – was nearby, so set off on the metro, figuring also that having spent the morning on my feet it would make sense to spend the afternoon sitting down.
As soon as I came out of the Gare de Lyon I saw the bus, a very old green and cream one with a completely open platform at the back; I never did find out how old it was, but it looked older than the buses I remembered from my first visit to Paris in 1963. I got on board straight away, having ascertained from the guide that there was room, as it looked as though it might start any minute; in fact we sat there some 5 or 10 minutes more, and I noticed other people seemed to have bought tickets, but no-one checked. It was so old it didn't have a number, just the route AB, from Passy to the Champs Elysées. It was very uncomfortable, with a wooden slatted floor and seats which were at right angles to their backs, and very little suspension; I immediately felt sorry for the passengers who'd had to travel on it every day. Once we set off the brakes screeched regularly, and I felt the vibrations right though my body; the lady next to me said she kept feeling it would break down completely and that she'd have to get off and get the metro home. The driver was in a completely separate little compartment at the front – with little red indicators which swung up and down when he turned corners - and the only way on and off for the passengers was via the back platform.
It soon became apparent that we weren't following the planned historic itinerary – later we found out this was because of a political demonstration in the centre of the city, a familiar Parisian problem – and passengers resorted to tapping on the driver's window to find out where the next stop would be. A lady opposite asked if we'd mind having the window open, not at all as it was so hot, so we managed to pull it down and later saw that it had shut itself again with the vibrations. The best thing of all however were the expressions on the faces of the people we drove past, from a little girl whose mouth fell open in amazement, to older people looking, pointing and smiling in recognition. The first thing I did once I got off was to take photos of the front and back.
It lasted about an hour and quarter in all, back to the Gare de Lyon by about 4.30 and I decided what I wanted to do next was to get on a modern bus; the number 24 as far as the Gare St Lazare and from there go the rest of the way home by metro. The buses on this route were also affected by the demonstration, and after going in and out of the Gare de Lyon and hanging about for a while I eventually got one – wonderfully spacious and comfortable! – and ended up doing much of the same route as earlier in the afternoon, along the Left Bank again, past all the bouquinistes. In fact my knowledge of Paris had improved dramatically over the past few days; rather like a jigsaw puzzle I discovered little patches I knew well were linked or in some cases adjacent to each other, making far larger familiar areas.
Once I got home and was enjoying supper while watching television, the screen suddenly went black and resisted all attempts to get any picture or sound back again!
Tuesday 19 September 2006
Although there was more Patrimoine to be seen on Sunday, I thought I had better stay in Saint-Denis and stock up with shopping and get dinner ready for N's return from Switzerland in the afternoon. It was only while out that I remembered that the supermarket was closed on Sundays, but managed to get most of what was needed from the market. There was our also own local bit of Patrimoine to be seen here in the Convent; guided tours and a little concert of renaissance music in the courtyard starting at 6 p.m. N arrived in good time at about 2.40 in the afternoon, with lots of interesting musical anecdotes; pictures, maps and leaflets and food and drink shopping, surprised that I was not out sight-seeing.
We went down for the concert, a group of four singers including the daughter of the organiser of "Les Amis du Couvent", he who had put us in touch with Nigel Palmer. Once it was over we found N Palmer sitting behind us, with wife and son further back. I also exchanged a few words with a lady I recognised from the local chorale, and told her when it was due to restart. N asked the Palmers to come up for a drink, but then rather slowly tables, drinks and nibbles were produced in the courtyard, and we talked to the singers, the Palmers and to other neighbours. NP asked about our musical house party and then he did come up for a drink – Apfel liqueur N had just brought back from Switzerland - to see the photos. We asked them to come to LNL for a weekend in October.
It was a surprisingly nice event; surprising as we hadn't expected so many people to chat to, and I began to feel - after a year - that I was slowly making some acquaintances. The weather was still warm and pleasant, all the more so as by Monday morning it was raining hard, and all of a sudden, after the past ten days or so, it felt exactly like when I was first here at Saint-Denis last autumn, and the house at LNL and all we had done to it almost a distant memory.
The first task on Monday morning was to phone a TV repair company – after enquiries and advice from NP the evening before – and in the afternoon a man came to take the set away. The TV news is such a large part of our – and particularly N's -life that it was quite strange without it. I wondered if we should buy a newspaper, but N pointed out he had just brought back several from his journey, in both German and French.
Life has settled into its familiar routine here, and the summer seems a little distant. N has taken the car to the garage for a check-up, and is dealing again with the problem of no garage over the road; he has received official notice that the garages are to be demolished, but there may be a chance of a place in the future. Meanwhile it will be back to the Parking Municipal. I have been shopping at Carrefour, and to get an application form for membership of the cinema, very favourable rates compared with the Arts in Cambridge! Last night we watched a DVD on the computer, and did a lot more reading than usual and this morning we have been to Auchan and to Castorama, to the latter to see about new carpet for Saint-Denis and blinds for LNL. It is good to see a DIY store full of things we no longer need buy! This afternoon we had a call from the TV repair man to say he will bring back the TV tomorrow morning (originally it was to have been Friday). This means delaying going out until he has been; tomorrow is N's birthday and the plan is to go into Paris for lunch, shopping and an antiques exhibition at the Grand Palais.
Thursday 21 September 2006
In the evening we watched another DVD on the computer, the film of "In the Name of The Rose", which I had not seen but had always meant to read. Very thought provoking.
Yesterday was a good day; the sunshine came back and we had a lovely day out in Paris. The TV didn't arrive until about 11.50, and then we went out on the train to Châtelet, straight to a restaurant called Au Pied de Cochon, where I had only been once before, the first time I had ever been in Paris with N. We had Kir as an apéritif and a whole bottle of Beaujolais; N had duck and I had tartare of salmon, just as at Alençon, then we finished with rhum baba and red summer fruits respectively, and went out into the sunshine, deciding Birthdays were a Very Good Thing.
We had a long walk to settle the lunch, along the rue St Honoré, past the Elysée Palace and other very important buildings and then crossed the Champs Elysées to the Grand Palais, to the antiques exhibition. This was the first time I had been to the Grand Palais, in fact it had been closed for some while to be renovated, and I was very impressed by the design circa 1900, and the cleanliness. It was divided for the purposes of the exhibition into little stands for the different dealers; as N said no actual prices on anything, but obviously a great deal of money in the air, and lots of very well-heeled people to watch and listen to. I was interested in watching the well-dressed women, thinking about a little book I'd bought last week: "How to Become a Real Parisienne" (a book I read at home rather than on the metro.) Apart from a few real originalities the majority were wearing plain black, brown, beige or cream linen, so I was pleased to think I might be starting to blend in. N was interested in the manuscripts; I liked the paintings, books and china, and was given a free catalogue of Belgian paintings about which I knew nothing but liked very much. We had tea at a very stylish makeshift café; it made me think of a cross between the Opéra and the East of England Show and then walked back to the nearest metro and home. We had both eaten and drunk so much so late that the planned birthday dinner had to be postponed, and we just had prawn cocktail in front of the TV, itself a bit of novelty after the few days' absence.
Today has been even warmer, 28 degrees in Paris, this surely must be the last day of summer, and rain is forecast for tomorrow. We went to Truffaut, our local garden centre, this morning, where N bought a new grass trimmer for his little garden here, plus other odds and ends and bulbs to take back to LNL. On the way back we called in at Leroy Merlin for the first time in ages where I got two blinds, one to go over the kitchen sink at LNL and the other for the door to the verandah. This means that when it gets dark early – as it will do soon! – I can shut out the dark from the garden completely. This afternoon N duly cut the grass and did other garden tidying while I went into Paris, mainly to FNAC at Châtelet to get (very expensive) ink cartridges for the computer at LNL and sticky labels for N's library labelling here. I then went as far as Bastille in search of large pieces of foam cut to measure – something we have been trying to track down for some time, for the saggy Cambridge sofa at LNL. The proprietor gave me a quotation and said I should bring the covers themselves for them to fit, which will probably result in a more professional job, and at least saved me having to get them home on the metro.
We have decided this evening to go back to Normandy tomorrow instead of Saturday, and have taken a small stepladder, the last thing of any value, out of the lock-up garage over the road, as tomorrow we will take the car out of it for the last time. There is a lot to pack – in particular left-over food! – although we have now eaten most of the birthday dinner.
I've just realised that it's a year today since I left the office! Anyway, on to more interesting things – I was very relieved when Caroline arrived safely from Evreux last Sunday evening; I met her at the bus stop by the church when the whole village was silent but very warm, surprisingly as in the previous few days the evenings were beginning to get chilly. The weather has stayed very warm – 25/28 degrees ever since.
We had a nice day pottering around the house and village on Monday: the market, boulangerie and traiteur, a sunny lunch in the garden, looking round the house and outbuildings to see what had changed since her last visit, and - by special request – a game of French Monopoly on the verandah table. (This is a set I have had for a very long time, but not played for years; C was far better practised.) C cooked dinner, chicken breasts stuffed with an interesting mixture of things, and we began by digging up carrots and picking beans in the vegetable garden, and fetching potatoes and onions from the outhouse. At about nine in the evening she remembered I had mentioned the suitcase of old photos in the cupboard, so we started on them then, and finished looking at them all at about eleven.
I was up early on Tuesday morning, ready to do all the "leaving the house" jobs that we normally do after lunch; packing a bag, turning off hot water, emptying kitchen bin and compost bin, closing shutters, unplugging TV and computer. We set off well in time for the 10.19 bus to L'Aigle, collecting my latest photos from the paper shop on the way. I was pleased after all these months finally to be taking someone with me on this route! It also meant that C had done the entire bus route Evreux – L'Aigle, and had thus seen a very large number of Normandy villages.
After buying our train tickets we had a drink in the bar at the not very aptly named Hotel du Paradis over the road, and got the train to Paris Montparnasse Vaugirard. It was a very smart modern train but crowded, and took a little longer than from Evreux to St Lazare, and was a bit more expensive. It got in at 12.50, and we left the station to look for somewhere to eat, and found a Breton restaurant nearby, a little shabby but authentic, and had turkey with mushroom sauce and far too many chips. Once back in the station it took ages to reach the metro, which made me think perhaps this route was definitely not as good as Evreux to St Lazare, as the metro journey itself was longer too, almost half an hour to Saint-Denis, although direct.
This meant that by the time we reached the apartment we were very tired and very hot, and collapsed on the sofa with a drink and watched a very interesting TV programme about the building of the channel tunnel, before setting off to Carrefour to get in supplies for dinner and so that C could have a look and buy things to take home.
Wednesday was our "day in Paris", once again very hot. On the way to the bus stop we called in at the Conservatoire de Musique in the next street to find out when the Chorale would be starting up again after the rentrée; we had been told mid-September and I hoped I would be able to go on the two Thursdays I was to be in Saint-Denis; the next day, the 14th and also the 21st. Was very disappointed to hear it was not starting until the 28th! Anyway, C and I began our day out by getting a bus from Saint-Denis station all the way to La Défense; it took a lot longer then I remembered, via Gennevilliers, Asnières and Bois Colombes. La Défense is usually very bleak and open, so it was a good place to be on a warm day; we had a look round and took photos and then got another bus down the Champs Elysées and round the Arc de Triomphe and Place de la Concorde, getting off near the Boulevard Saint Germain, as C wanted to go to the Grande Epicerie and Bon Marché again. It took some time to choose and pay for items for a picnic lunch, but was well worth it; we ate outside in the garden where I had eaten a sandwich in January, but unlike then now full of people taking a lunch break outside. It was almost too hot but not quite, and very enjoyable.
Afterwards we spent a long time in the Grande Epicerie, choosing and buying things and eating some of them, and then another long time in Bon Marché where C managed to discover a good toy and greeting-card department in the basement, which we hadn't seen before. We then took the metro to Opéra, so that she could visit the big Monoprix, as there were still some items she wanted to take home. We discovered a good food department there too, which I hadn't seen when visiting it after Tuesday lunchtime concerts at the Eglise Saint Roch. Although that was really all that was planned we walked as far as Galeries Lafayette, C by this time looking for a watch for herself, which she didn't find, but ending up at the toy department on the top floor of Galeries Lafayette, where I sat down in a café with a cup of wonderful tea while she looked round, mainly at a do-it-yourself-teddy bear shop; chose your bear, stuff him, name him and take him home. By the time we got home, without bears but with some bear clothes, it was gone 8 o'clock.
Saturday 16 September 2006
After a leisurely Thursday morning at home I saw C off at the Gare du Nord in time for her 1 o'clock train, and then set off towards Palais Royale to do some research on the Journées du Patrimoine. These always take place on the third Saturday and Sunday in September (I just missed them last year) and many historic sites and buildings normally closed to the public open their doors and give guided tours. There are also various other special events too. I had already looked at their website before leaving La Neuve-Lyre, and discovered that the whole programme was available at the Ministry of Culture in the rue St Honoré, and this was where I went.
It was full of people picking up brochures and leaflets and everybody seemed to have a copy of a special blue edition of Le Parisien detailing all the events in the Ile de France. I picked up information about Les Passages Couverts, various historical buildings and the metro, having decided that the parliament buildings and state apartments would be just too busy. I sat down and had a pancake for lunch at a nearly café while studying all the literature. I was particularly interested in Les Passages Couverts – nineteenth century galleries full of little shops which link larger streets – as I had wanted to take Caroline there, having visited several of them some years ago with N, but couldn't remember exactly where to start, and in the end there wasn't time. Also, as they are by definition under cover, they are good places to visit when it's cold and wet, not in the wonderful warm weather we were having. I also liked the look of several things organised by the RATP (Paris transport) including Mozart in a railway shed, a historic tour on an ancient bus and the RATP orchestra itself (with which N used to play) playing in a bus depot at Nanterre, although that was rather far out of the city. In the end I decided to leave studying everything again till I got home and went back towards the big Monoprix as it was nearby, stopping for some time at the large bookshop near Palais Royale where I found not only the first volume of Georges Sand's life, but also a new and interesting little book called "Proust Fantôme." (I have since finished La Nauseé and started the Proust book, mainly an account of visits and researches to various places connected with Proust and his contemporaries, not a lot of text but very sparse and rich French, the effort of which is doing me good.)
After Monoprix I took a new and interesting bus route from Opéra to Châtelet and discovered I could go and see the new Gérard Depardieu film at 6 o'clock, which I did, after a cup of lapsang souchong and a slice of lemon tart at Tarte Julie, a lovely café at the Forum des Halles. I enjoyed the film: "Quand j'étais Chanteur" very much, in fact the whole day; it's a long time since I've had a day completely on my own in Paris.
On Friday I thought I'd better have a day at home catching up and having a break, having been out in Paris most of all of the three previous days. I caught up on washing and ironing, and local shopping – managed to have my eyebrows done! -watched TV, read my new book and went to bed early. I also decided to start Saturday morning with one of the guided tours round Les Passages Couverts – there was a choice of three – and then think what else to do after that.
The tour started at 10 am from the courtyard behind Palais Royale; when I arrived lots of people were already waiting there with their blue newspapers and their brochures, it reminded me of Cambridge during Alumni weekend, everybody deciding which activity to do next, in fact it's very much the same time of year, must be good weather for visiting. I enjoyed the tour very much, even before we got to any Passages; it's good to be made to look up at historic features on buildings and know their history. The Passages were built in the early 1800s to act as short cuts between various areas of Paris at a time when the surrounding streets were crowded and dangerous, and became the first opportunities for window-shopping as before that there weren’t even any pavements. We visited La Rue des Colonnes, full of Egyptian-looking columns and built as a result of Napoleon's Egyptian campaign and an early blueprint for the Rue de Rivoli. I though perhaps I would come back again in the afternoon and do another different tour, although as time went on (the tour lasted a good two hours) I realised that would not be very good on the feet. And as the brochure had details of all the tours it would be quite possible to do the itineraries on one's own another day; without the commentary of course, but it's not something normally closed to the public. Towards the end we visited the galleries I remembered from before, the Passage Jouffroy and the Passage des Panoramas, near the Musée Grevin and the Hôtel Chopin, so as soon as the tour finished the first thing I wanted to do (apart from sitting down and having lunch) was to go back and visit all the little shops I had just seen; the toy shops and postcard shops I had wanted to show Caroline. At least now I know exactly where they are and how to get to them.
After lunch (more pancakes, but really authentic Breton ones with cider) and the Galeries I decided that the buses and music at Nanterre were too far away, (and the Mozart not starting till 8 o'clock) but that the Gare de Lyon – where the historic tour on the ancient bus was starting from outside the RATP building – was nearby, so set off on the metro, figuring also that having spent the morning on my feet it would make sense to spend the afternoon sitting down.
As soon as I came out of the Gare de Lyon I saw the bus, a very old green and cream one with a completely open platform at the back; I never did find out how old it was, but it looked older than the buses I remembered from my first visit to Paris in 1963. I got on board straight away, having ascertained from the guide that there was room, as it looked as though it might start any minute; in fact we sat there some 5 or 10 minutes more, and I noticed other people seemed to have bought tickets, but no-one checked. It was so old it didn't have a number, just the route AB, from Passy to the Champs Elysées. It was very uncomfortable, with a wooden slatted floor and seats which were at right angles to their backs, and very little suspension; I immediately felt sorry for the passengers who'd had to travel on it every day. Once we set off the brakes screeched regularly, and I felt the vibrations right though my body; the lady next to me said she kept feeling it would break down completely and that she'd have to get off and get the metro home. The driver was in a completely separate little compartment at the front – with little red indicators which swung up and down when he turned corners - and the only way on and off for the passengers was via the back platform.
It soon became apparent that we weren't following the planned historic itinerary – later we found out this was because of a political demonstration in the centre of the city, a familiar Parisian problem – and passengers resorted to tapping on the driver's window to find out where the next stop would be. A lady opposite asked if we'd mind having the window open, not at all as it was so hot, so we managed to pull it down and later saw that it had shut itself again with the vibrations. The best thing of all however were the expressions on the faces of the people we drove past, from a little girl whose mouth fell open in amazement, to older people looking, pointing and smiling in recognition. The first thing I did once I got off was to take photos of the front and back.
It lasted about an hour and quarter in all, back to the Gare de Lyon by about 4.30 and I decided what I wanted to do next was to get on a modern bus; the number 24 as far as the Gare St Lazare and from there go the rest of the way home by metro. The buses on this route were also affected by the demonstration, and after going in and out of the Gare de Lyon and hanging about for a while I eventually got one – wonderfully spacious and comfortable! – and ended up doing much of the same route as earlier in the afternoon, along the Left Bank again, past all the bouquinistes. In fact my knowledge of Paris had improved dramatically over the past few days; rather like a jigsaw puzzle I discovered little patches I knew well were linked or in some cases adjacent to each other, making far larger familiar areas.
Once I got home and was enjoying supper while watching television, the screen suddenly went black and resisted all attempts to get any picture or sound back again!
Tuesday 19 September 2006
Although there was more Patrimoine to be seen on Sunday, I thought I had better stay in Saint-Denis and stock up with shopping and get dinner ready for N's return from Switzerland in the afternoon. It was only while out that I remembered that the supermarket was closed on Sundays, but managed to get most of what was needed from the market. There was our also own local bit of Patrimoine to be seen here in the Convent; guided tours and a little concert of renaissance music in the courtyard starting at 6 p.m. N arrived in good time at about 2.40 in the afternoon, with lots of interesting musical anecdotes; pictures, maps and leaflets and food and drink shopping, surprised that I was not out sight-seeing.
We went down for the concert, a group of four singers including the daughter of the organiser of "Les Amis du Couvent", he who had put us in touch with Nigel Palmer. Once it was over we found N Palmer sitting behind us, with wife and son further back. I also exchanged a few words with a lady I recognised from the local chorale, and told her when it was due to restart. N asked the Palmers to come up for a drink, but then rather slowly tables, drinks and nibbles were produced in the courtyard, and we talked to the singers, the Palmers and to other neighbours. NP asked about our musical house party and then he did come up for a drink – Apfel liqueur N had just brought back from Switzerland - to see the photos. We asked them to come to LNL for a weekend in October.
It was a surprisingly nice event; surprising as we hadn't expected so many people to chat to, and I began to feel - after a year - that I was slowly making some acquaintances. The weather was still warm and pleasant, all the more so as by Monday morning it was raining hard, and all of a sudden, after the past ten days or so, it felt exactly like when I was first here at Saint-Denis last autumn, and the house at LNL and all we had done to it almost a distant memory.
The first task on Monday morning was to phone a TV repair company – after enquiries and advice from NP the evening before – and in the afternoon a man came to take the set away. The TV news is such a large part of our – and particularly N's -life that it was quite strange without it. I wondered if we should buy a newspaper, but N pointed out he had just brought back several from his journey, in both German and French.
Life has settled into its familiar routine here, and the summer seems a little distant. N has taken the car to the garage for a check-up, and is dealing again with the problem of no garage over the road; he has received official notice that the garages are to be demolished, but there may be a chance of a place in the future. Meanwhile it will be back to the Parking Municipal. I have been shopping at Carrefour, and to get an application form for membership of the cinema, very favourable rates compared with the Arts in Cambridge! Last night we watched a DVD on the computer, and did a lot more reading than usual and this morning we have been to Auchan and to Castorama, to the latter to see about new carpet for Saint-Denis and blinds for LNL. It is good to see a DIY store full of things we no longer need buy! This afternoon we had a call from the TV repair man to say he will bring back the TV tomorrow morning (originally it was to have been Friday). This means delaying going out until he has been; tomorrow is N's birthday and the plan is to go into Paris for lunch, shopping and an antiques exhibition at the Grand Palais.
Thursday 21 September 2006
In the evening we watched another DVD on the computer, the film of "In the Name of The Rose", which I had not seen but had always meant to read. Very thought provoking.
Yesterday was a good day; the sunshine came back and we had a lovely day out in Paris. The TV didn't arrive until about 11.50, and then we went out on the train to Châtelet, straight to a restaurant called Au Pied de Cochon, where I had only been once before, the first time I had ever been in Paris with N. We had Kir as an apéritif and a whole bottle of Beaujolais; N had duck and I had tartare of salmon, just as at Alençon, then we finished with rhum baba and red summer fruits respectively, and went out into the sunshine, deciding Birthdays were a Very Good Thing.
We had a long walk to settle the lunch, along the rue St Honoré, past the Elysée Palace and other very important buildings and then crossed the Champs Elysées to the Grand Palais, to the antiques exhibition. This was the first time I had been to the Grand Palais, in fact it had been closed for some while to be renovated, and I was very impressed by the design circa 1900, and the cleanliness. It was divided for the purposes of the exhibition into little stands for the different dealers; as N said no actual prices on anything, but obviously a great deal of money in the air, and lots of very well-heeled people to watch and listen to. I was interested in watching the well-dressed women, thinking about a little book I'd bought last week: "How to Become a Real Parisienne" (a book I read at home rather than on the metro.) Apart from a few real originalities the majority were wearing plain black, brown, beige or cream linen, so I was pleased to think I might be starting to blend in. N was interested in the manuscripts; I liked the paintings, books and china, and was given a free catalogue of Belgian paintings about which I knew nothing but liked very much. We had tea at a very stylish makeshift café; it made me think of a cross between the Opéra and the East of England Show and then walked back to the nearest metro and home. We had both eaten and drunk so much so late that the planned birthday dinner had to be postponed, and we just had prawn cocktail in front of the TV, itself a bit of novelty after the few days' absence.
Today has been even warmer, 28 degrees in Paris, this surely must be the last day of summer, and rain is forecast for tomorrow. We went to Truffaut, our local garden centre, this morning, where N bought a new grass trimmer for his little garden here, plus other odds and ends and bulbs to take back to LNL. On the way back we called in at Leroy Merlin for the first time in ages where I got two blinds, one to go over the kitchen sink at LNL and the other for the door to the verandah. This means that when it gets dark early – as it will do soon! – I can shut out the dark from the garden completely. This afternoon N duly cut the grass and did other garden tidying while I went into Paris, mainly to FNAC at Châtelet to get (very expensive) ink cartridges for the computer at LNL and sticky labels for N's library labelling here. I then went as far as Bastille in search of large pieces of foam cut to measure – something we have been trying to track down for some time, for the saggy Cambridge sofa at LNL. The proprietor gave me a quotation and said I should bring the covers themselves for them to fit, which will probably result in a more professional job, and at least saved me having to get them home on the metro.
We have decided this evening to go back to Normandy tomorrow instead of Saturday, and have taken a small stepladder, the last thing of any value, out of the lock-up garage over the road, as tomorrow we will take the car out of it for the last time. There is a lot to pack – in particular left-over food! – although we have now eaten most of the birthday dinner.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Thursday 7 September 2006
At this time of year I always find myself thinking « this is where I came in », even more so now as it will soon be a year since I came to live in France. On both occasions when I lived here before I arrived end September/beginning October at the start of the academic year, and in the years in between have often found myself starting something new in September, sometimes living in a new place too. I have always loved the French concept of the « Rentrée », so much more than « Back to School » in English, as so many people here go away to the country or the sea for the whole of the summer, so many activities and businesses stop for the whole of August, that with the rentrée you feel everything is starting up again.
It’s just as well, as after our house party for which we had been making plans for months, for as long as we have had this house and even before, we need something new to turn our ideas to! The garden produce continues to keep us busy; all the potatoes have be lifted and are in either the first outhouse or the wine cellar, the onions are all hanging to dry, we have had some of the first parsnips and are still enjoying lettuces, turnips, carrots and beans. N has even bought new plants for next spring, salads and cauliflowers. The most obvious crop at the moment is the apples, smallish and red, we don’t know what kind they are, or even what they are intended for (a useful picture chart at the garden centre divides apples into four categories: eating, cooking, cider and juice; we think we’ll have to take one of ours along to compare, or perhaps ask somebody there.) There are lots of windfalls, some too small to do anything with, but we have made mint jelly in the new copper jam pan, and enjoyed it with lamb chops from the local boucherie. (It took a long time to find a place to hang the jelly bag, bought on our trip to Worcester, but I eventually saw where we could hang a pole over the bench in the potting shed.) I have also made apple sauce for the freezer and apple purée for dessert.
We finally had word from Odile, our expected guest in early August. She maintained that as she had had no news from us, and no phone number (neither of which was the case!) she didn’t call in. It is now getting very near her second planned visit, complete with friend. Watch this space.
At the end of last week we decided it was time for another outing. I seemed to be spending all my time washing and ironing after the guests had left, and N painting shutters in the outhouse, and we felt like a day off. The forecast was very good for Friday so we decided to go to Alençon for the day, partly as we live in the rue d’Alençon (although the road doesn’t go there; we don’t know what the connection is.)
I looked at the website for the town of Alençon the day before, found many interesting things and also a link with details of a new motorway going down the west of France from Bordeaux to Rouen and up to the coast, which N wanted to investigate. We had heard about this from the English couple we met at the Bovary lunch, who claimed after 15 years of taking 3 or 4 hours to get to Calais, they now did it in just over two, joining this new motorway just north of Bernay. N also thought this might be why Dan got lost and ended up at Broglie on the way here, if the AA had sent him details of the brand new route.
It was fascinating travelling along a new road - not much traffic! - and even more interesting seeing a brand newly built service station, where we stopped to have a look and do some shopping, which got very hot in the car during the rest of the day. It was lunchtime when we arrived and the tourist office was closed, so no map; we found our own way round. Alençon is a very pretty historic town with an interesting variety of old buildings and car-free centre. We found a restaurant to have lunch, part of a chain but very good; I had excellent salmon, and N duck. I had seen from the website that there was a lace-making tradition, and an exhibition - called Froufrous - of lace dresses dating from between 1865 and 1905; and we came upon the museum by accident, there was also an exhibit of medieval bestiaries next door. I went to the dresses and N to the bestiaries, and we agreed to meet an hour later. As soon as I had got my ticket I was told that the « dentellière » (lace-maker) was about to give her demonstration, so hurried along and joined four or five other ladies round a table. (It felt very like being at the WI) We were told that Alençon lace is the only lace made entirely with needle and thread; over several layers of paper and fabric, which are cut away at the end, a small piece of lace taking thousands of hours. The traditional lace-makers only worked in the morning when their eyes were rested, and were often blind by the age of forty. The commentary included a lot of embroidery vocabulary, which I thought I did very well to keep up with - a lot of the terms I hadn’t even thought of in English for years, although had recently read a few in a French magazine. The dresses were beautiful and I thought alternately of them being worn by the ladies known to Proust, and by some of the earlier inhabitants of this house.
We sat and had a drink in a café opposite the Mairie in a sunny square full of flowers, and decided we would come to Alençon again. On the way home we stopped at a Champion supermarket on the outskirts of the town and stocked up; the first big shopping since our visitors had left.
Friday 8 September 2006
On Monday I decided it was finally time I went to introduce myself to the local doctor, having noted that on Monday mornings between 9 and 12 no appointments were needed. It was much like any other surgery waiting room, and I was sorry I hadn’t brought my book with me (still Sartre’s La Nausée; would have been rather suitable in the circumstances) as I waited the best part of an hour, reading lots of rubbishy magazines about « les people » (celebrities), and listening to patients with terrible coughs.
When eventually it was my turn I explained to the doctor - quiet and mild with glasses, about 40 - that I had just come to live in La Neuve-Lyre and would like him to be my « médecin traitant » (regular GP). He took my very valuable Carte Vitale and put it in his computer, immediately getting all my details, and was interested to know where I lived and where I had come from. (He said there was a very good university at Cambridge. I agreed.) He took my blood pressure, asked if I smoked, listened to my chest and prodded my tummy. I showed him the paper I had received about screening for breast cancer, and he said I just needed to make an appointment at either Verneuil or Evreux; the service was free. He asked how long it was since I’d had a blood sample taken; I said I couldn’t remember, but I didn’t like it, and he laughed. I knew that the fee for a consultation was 22 euros (a proportion of which will be refunded) so wasn’t surprised when he asked for it; unfortunately neither he nor I had much change, so he waved his hand and said « You’ll just have to owe me 2 euros. » He also said that I should have brought the correct form asking him to become « médecin traitant » ; I said I would get it from Bernay and bring it back. He handed me a folded piece of paper I assumed was a receipt or record; on looking at it at home it seemed to be list of things to get done before the next visit, including the dreaded blood sample and lots of other obscure processes. N seemed to think these all needed doing, and that French doctors often take blood samples, but I maintained he had not said anything about how to do these, only the breast screening.
When I left the surgery I went up to the end of the road and round to the further village square as I needed to go to the Post Office to collect a registered letter for N, who had given me « une pièce d’identité » as requested. As soon as I set foot over the threshold the postmistress handed me N’s letter, without waiting to see the slip or the pièce d’identité. It’s very good to be so well known; I am expecting several things in the post, so am reassured that they will be well looked after if we are out or away.
On Monday afternoon we had planned to go to Bernay anyway, so N dropped me at the Assurance Maladie office and I used my Carte Vitale to get the numbered ticket, waited till it was my turn, asked for the form and was handed one straight away, just as if I had been using this system for years! I then wondered if I needed to go back to the doctor again to give him the form and pay another 22 euros, but N said just to keep it till next time I go.
N needed to go to Monsieur Bricolage to get a piece of wood to mend the sill of the window in the salon; Monsieur P had fixed the centre piece so that it opens and closes now, but as a result of not closing properly for years the wooden bar at the bottom had rotted away. The other reason for going to Bernay was to return all the bowls and trays from our buffet to Intermarché; these had been taking up room in the dining room ever since and were mostly plastic or pseudo silver, but there was one I particularly liked; a large white china terrine with the heads of two geese curled round the top. I was thinking I would ask if I could buy it, but before I could say anything the woman behind the counter said « Don’t worry about that one; you can keep it », and stuck a sticker on it for us to take through the checkout!
We also went to the garden centre for the first time in a while, as N had to get something to get rid of the caterpillars eating his cabbages. It was obviously an important change of season; all the garden furniture was gone and there was a display of grates and fireplace accessories and a big space with boxes marked Christmas trees! All the staff seemed too busy sorting out new stock to answer any questions. We asked after the cat however and her mistress replied that she had gone to have a little rest as it was very tiring being a cat. I stocked up again on candles and paper napkins (one of the best selections of the latter that I have seen anywhere) after the visit of all our guests.
Saturday 9 September 2006
N left here for Paris on Wednesday, and is now on his way to Switzerland to spend a week playing string quartets, as he has done for the past two years. On Tuesday, by way of preparation, he went to have his hair cut - only the second time there - and came back full of long conversations he had had with his stylist (a different one from mine) and other clients about growing vegetables and making soup. He has also managed to have a conversation with our next door neighbour, while lurking in the back road trying to see into their very untidy garden. After having said he hoped we could talk about any problems face to face, he told her we were sometimes worried about the noise the dogs make; she said they made a noise every time they saw the cats, who must live somewhere the other side. This is a bit of a relief; sometimes they whined very miserably indeed.
Since Wednesday I have done a lot of cleaning, hoovering, ironing and tidying, whether post-guests or post-N or pre- the next visit I am not sure. The next visitor is daughter Caroline, due to arrive on Sunday via carefully researched train from St Lazare and bus from Evreux. On Tuesday we plan to go back to Paris taking the train from L’Aigle for the first time, and after she has gone home on Thursday I will stay at Saint-Denis until N comes back on Sunday, and we will both return here the weekend after. I think that by the time we get back here the summer will be over; temperatures change quickly at this time of year. We are already conscious of much darker evenings and mornings, and leaves are falling from the cherry tree, but think we can wait until we are both here again before trying to remember how to get to grips with our new and very expensive heating system.
On Thursday afternoon Guillaume came and fixed our new (also very expensive) shower tap. I haven’t had a chance to test the new temperatures yet, but hope to do so tomorrow before Caroline arrives. He checked the downstairs loo, which seems finally to be free from leaks, and we talked about the melons ripening on the verandah table. (He said melon jam was very good, which was encouraging; I have since made some over two days, from a recipe in the little book N got from the fair at Bernay; melon and lemon. It seems rather hard and green.) As I let Guillaume out of the garage I mentioned the nibblings in the rubbish sack which seem to have started again; he grinned and said perhaps it was « un rat » (I liked that better than « des rats ») and that in theory you could get poison from the Mairie. When I mentioned this on the phone to N he said I should go and ask for some, but later I realised I would sound just like Emma Bovary when she went to get poison from the pharmacie to commit suicide. Think I will wait till N is here.
(The reason the nibbling stopped temporarily; I am sure, is because we had the largest and smelliest collection of rubbish ever. As I think I said before, rubbish is collected erratically twice a month, with sometimes as much as five weeks in between collections, and it has to sit in plastic sacks in the garage all this time. Because of the house party our latest collection contained extremely old meat and cheese, plus all Charlotte’s disposable nappies! When I finally put it all out last Tuesday one bag was a mass of maggots, which made me feel quite ill all the rest of the afternoon. The nibbling rats too, probably.)
Yesterday - Friday - I went to L’Aigle on the bus, the first time since I had been abandoned there and N had come to fetch me. I am please to report that all is well now with the bus route, and that all the road works have finished and everything is back to normal. One of the reasons for going was to enquire whether there were left luggage facilities at L’Aigle station so that C and I could leave our bags there and visit the market next Tuesday, but there aren’t so I think it will be simpler to go straight on to Paris. It was strange being in L’Aigle on a non-market day, very quiet. The other reason was the collection of my sampler from the very nice people at the embroidery and sewing shop; I feel now that all the curtains are done (and being prompted by my lace making experiences) I must start some embroidery again. I had a drink at the usual café, also very quiet; asked in a book shop for the life of Georges Sand but they didn’t have it, so I bought a house magazine instead.
This morning I went to the hairdresser; they are still talking about N’s soup recipes and vegetable garden. I suggested to him on the phone that I take the garden photo album to show the hairdressers; he thought this was a good idea as he wasn’t sure if it was the done thing for him to invite unchaperoned ladies to his garden.
Sunday 10 September
Yesterday and today I have caught up with washing, correspondence, melon jam, flowers from the garden - pink roses and beautiful golden dahlias - in between watering plants and having lunch in the garden - very windy yesterday but very hot today. Hope this lasts for Caroline’s visit! Yesterday I received Monsieur A’s very large bill; for the end of the electrical work by Emanuel in July, his mending the bathroom light, and all the work done by Guillaume on the upstairs shower and downstairs loo. This surely must be the last bill; although I have a feeling I’ve said that before.
At this time of year I always find myself thinking « this is where I came in », even more so now as it will soon be a year since I came to live in France. On both occasions when I lived here before I arrived end September/beginning October at the start of the academic year, and in the years in between have often found myself starting something new in September, sometimes living in a new place too. I have always loved the French concept of the « Rentrée », so much more than « Back to School » in English, as so many people here go away to the country or the sea for the whole of the summer, so many activities and businesses stop for the whole of August, that with the rentrée you feel everything is starting up again.
It’s just as well, as after our house party for which we had been making plans for months, for as long as we have had this house and even before, we need something new to turn our ideas to! The garden produce continues to keep us busy; all the potatoes have be lifted and are in either the first outhouse or the wine cellar, the onions are all hanging to dry, we have had some of the first parsnips and are still enjoying lettuces, turnips, carrots and beans. N has even bought new plants for next spring, salads and cauliflowers. The most obvious crop at the moment is the apples, smallish and red, we don’t know what kind they are, or even what they are intended for (a useful picture chart at the garden centre divides apples into four categories: eating, cooking, cider and juice; we think we’ll have to take one of ours along to compare, or perhaps ask somebody there.) There are lots of windfalls, some too small to do anything with, but we have made mint jelly in the new copper jam pan, and enjoyed it with lamb chops from the local boucherie. (It took a long time to find a place to hang the jelly bag, bought on our trip to Worcester, but I eventually saw where we could hang a pole over the bench in the potting shed.) I have also made apple sauce for the freezer and apple purée for dessert.
We finally had word from Odile, our expected guest in early August. She maintained that as she had had no news from us, and no phone number (neither of which was the case!) she didn’t call in. It is now getting very near her second planned visit, complete with friend. Watch this space.
At the end of last week we decided it was time for another outing. I seemed to be spending all my time washing and ironing after the guests had left, and N painting shutters in the outhouse, and we felt like a day off. The forecast was very good for Friday so we decided to go to Alençon for the day, partly as we live in the rue d’Alençon (although the road doesn’t go there; we don’t know what the connection is.)
I looked at the website for the town of Alençon the day before, found many interesting things and also a link with details of a new motorway going down the west of France from Bordeaux to Rouen and up to the coast, which N wanted to investigate. We had heard about this from the English couple we met at the Bovary lunch, who claimed after 15 years of taking 3 or 4 hours to get to Calais, they now did it in just over two, joining this new motorway just north of Bernay. N also thought this might be why Dan got lost and ended up at Broglie on the way here, if the AA had sent him details of the brand new route.
It was fascinating travelling along a new road - not much traffic! - and even more interesting seeing a brand newly built service station, where we stopped to have a look and do some shopping, which got very hot in the car during the rest of the day. It was lunchtime when we arrived and the tourist office was closed, so no map; we found our own way round. Alençon is a very pretty historic town with an interesting variety of old buildings and car-free centre. We found a restaurant to have lunch, part of a chain but very good; I had excellent salmon, and N duck. I had seen from the website that there was a lace-making tradition, and an exhibition - called Froufrous - of lace dresses dating from between 1865 and 1905; and we came upon the museum by accident, there was also an exhibit of medieval bestiaries next door. I went to the dresses and N to the bestiaries, and we agreed to meet an hour later. As soon as I had got my ticket I was told that the « dentellière » (lace-maker) was about to give her demonstration, so hurried along and joined four or five other ladies round a table. (It felt very like being at the WI) We were told that Alençon lace is the only lace made entirely with needle and thread; over several layers of paper and fabric, which are cut away at the end, a small piece of lace taking thousands of hours. The traditional lace-makers only worked in the morning when their eyes were rested, and were often blind by the age of forty. The commentary included a lot of embroidery vocabulary, which I thought I did very well to keep up with - a lot of the terms I hadn’t even thought of in English for years, although had recently read a few in a French magazine. The dresses were beautiful and I thought alternately of them being worn by the ladies known to Proust, and by some of the earlier inhabitants of this house.
We sat and had a drink in a café opposite the Mairie in a sunny square full of flowers, and decided we would come to Alençon again. On the way home we stopped at a Champion supermarket on the outskirts of the town and stocked up; the first big shopping since our visitors had left.
Friday 8 September 2006
On Monday I decided it was finally time I went to introduce myself to the local doctor, having noted that on Monday mornings between 9 and 12 no appointments were needed. It was much like any other surgery waiting room, and I was sorry I hadn’t brought my book with me (still Sartre’s La Nausée; would have been rather suitable in the circumstances) as I waited the best part of an hour, reading lots of rubbishy magazines about « les people » (celebrities), and listening to patients with terrible coughs.
When eventually it was my turn I explained to the doctor - quiet and mild with glasses, about 40 - that I had just come to live in La Neuve-Lyre and would like him to be my « médecin traitant » (regular GP). He took my very valuable Carte Vitale and put it in his computer, immediately getting all my details, and was interested to know where I lived and where I had come from. (He said there was a very good university at Cambridge. I agreed.) He took my blood pressure, asked if I smoked, listened to my chest and prodded my tummy. I showed him the paper I had received about screening for breast cancer, and he said I just needed to make an appointment at either Verneuil or Evreux; the service was free. He asked how long it was since I’d had a blood sample taken; I said I couldn’t remember, but I didn’t like it, and he laughed. I knew that the fee for a consultation was 22 euros (a proportion of which will be refunded) so wasn’t surprised when he asked for it; unfortunately neither he nor I had much change, so he waved his hand and said « You’ll just have to owe me 2 euros. » He also said that I should have brought the correct form asking him to become « médecin traitant » ; I said I would get it from Bernay and bring it back. He handed me a folded piece of paper I assumed was a receipt or record; on looking at it at home it seemed to be list of things to get done before the next visit, including the dreaded blood sample and lots of other obscure processes. N seemed to think these all needed doing, and that French doctors often take blood samples, but I maintained he had not said anything about how to do these, only the breast screening.
When I left the surgery I went up to the end of the road and round to the further village square as I needed to go to the Post Office to collect a registered letter for N, who had given me « une pièce d’identité » as requested. As soon as I set foot over the threshold the postmistress handed me N’s letter, without waiting to see the slip or the pièce d’identité. It’s very good to be so well known; I am expecting several things in the post, so am reassured that they will be well looked after if we are out or away.
On Monday afternoon we had planned to go to Bernay anyway, so N dropped me at the Assurance Maladie office and I used my Carte Vitale to get the numbered ticket, waited till it was my turn, asked for the form and was handed one straight away, just as if I had been using this system for years! I then wondered if I needed to go back to the doctor again to give him the form and pay another 22 euros, but N said just to keep it till next time I go.
N needed to go to Monsieur Bricolage to get a piece of wood to mend the sill of the window in the salon; Monsieur P had fixed the centre piece so that it opens and closes now, but as a result of not closing properly for years the wooden bar at the bottom had rotted away. The other reason for going to Bernay was to return all the bowls and trays from our buffet to Intermarché; these had been taking up room in the dining room ever since and were mostly plastic or pseudo silver, but there was one I particularly liked; a large white china terrine with the heads of two geese curled round the top. I was thinking I would ask if I could buy it, but before I could say anything the woman behind the counter said « Don’t worry about that one; you can keep it », and stuck a sticker on it for us to take through the checkout!
We also went to the garden centre for the first time in a while, as N had to get something to get rid of the caterpillars eating his cabbages. It was obviously an important change of season; all the garden furniture was gone and there was a display of grates and fireplace accessories and a big space with boxes marked Christmas trees! All the staff seemed too busy sorting out new stock to answer any questions. We asked after the cat however and her mistress replied that she had gone to have a little rest as it was very tiring being a cat. I stocked up again on candles and paper napkins (one of the best selections of the latter that I have seen anywhere) after the visit of all our guests.
Saturday 9 September 2006
N left here for Paris on Wednesday, and is now on his way to Switzerland to spend a week playing string quartets, as he has done for the past two years. On Tuesday, by way of preparation, he went to have his hair cut - only the second time there - and came back full of long conversations he had had with his stylist (a different one from mine) and other clients about growing vegetables and making soup. He has also managed to have a conversation with our next door neighbour, while lurking in the back road trying to see into their very untidy garden. After having said he hoped we could talk about any problems face to face, he told her we were sometimes worried about the noise the dogs make; she said they made a noise every time they saw the cats, who must live somewhere the other side. This is a bit of a relief; sometimes they whined very miserably indeed.
Since Wednesday I have done a lot of cleaning, hoovering, ironing and tidying, whether post-guests or post-N or pre- the next visit I am not sure. The next visitor is daughter Caroline, due to arrive on Sunday via carefully researched train from St Lazare and bus from Evreux. On Tuesday we plan to go back to Paris taking the train from L’Aigle for the first time, and after she has gone home on Thursday I will stay at Saint-Denis until N comes back on Sunday, and we will both return here the weekend after. I think that by the time we get back here the summer will be over; temperatures change quickly at this time of year. We are already conscious of much darker evenings and mornings, and leaves are falling from the cherry tree, but think we can wait until we are both here again before trying to remember how to get to grips with our new and very expensive heating system.
On Thursday afternoon Guillaume came and fixed our new (also very expensive) shower tap. I haven’t had a chance to test the new temperatures yet, but hope to do so tomorrow before Caroline arrives. He checked the downstairs loo, which seems finally to be free from leaks, and we talked about the melons ripening on the verandah table. (He said melon jam was very good, which was encouraging; I have since made some over two days, from a recipe in the little book N got from the fair at Bernay; melon and lemon. It seems rather hard and green.) As I let Guillaume out of the garage I mentioned the nibblings in the rubbish sack which seem to have started again; he grinned and said perhaps it was « un rat » (I liked that better than « des rats ») and that in theory you could get poison from the Mairie. When I mentioned this on the phone to N he said I should go and ask for some, but later I realised I would sound just like Emma Bovary when she went to get poison from the pharmacie to commit suicide. Think I will wait till N is here.
(The reason the nibbling stopped temporarily; I am sure, is because we had the largest and smelliest collection of rubbish ever. As I think I said before, rubbish is collected erratically twice a month, with sometimes as much as five weeks in between collections, and it has to sit in plastic sacks in the garage all this time. Because of the house party our latest collection contained extremely old meat and cheese, plus all Charlotte’s disposable nappies! When I finally put it all out last Tuesday one bag was a mass of maggots, which made me feel quite ill all the rest of the afternoon. The nibbling rats too, probably.)
Yesterday - Friday - I went to L’Aigle on the bus, the first time since I had been abandoned there and N had come to fetch me. I am please to report that all is well now with the bus route, and that all the road works have finished and everything is back to normal. One of the reasons for going was to enquire whether there were left luggage facilities at L’Aigle station so that C and I could leave our bags there and visit the market next Tuesday, but there aren’t so I think it will be simpler to go straight on to Paris. It was strange being in L’Aigle on a non-market day, very quiet. The other reason was the collection of my sampler from the very nice people at the embroidery and sewing shop; I feel now that all the curtains are done (and being prompted by my lace making experiences) I must start some embroidery again. I had a drink at the usual café, also very quiet; asked in a book shop for the life of Georges Sand but they didn’t have it, so I bought a house magazine instead.
This morning I went to the hairdresser; they are still talking about N’s soup recipes and vegetable garden. I suggested to him on the phone that I take the garden photo album to show the hairdressers; he thought this was a good idea as he wasn’t sure if it was the done thing for him to invite unchaperoned ladies to his garden.
Sunday 10 September
Yesterday and today I have caught up with washing, correspondence, melon jam, flowers from the garden - pink roses and beautiful golden dahlias - in between watering plants and having lunch in the garden - very windy yesterday but very hot today. Hope this lasts for Caroline’s visit! Yesterday I received Monsieur A’s very large bill; for the end of the electrical work by Emanuel in July, his mending the bathroom light, and all the work done by Guillaume on the upstairs shower and downstairs loo. This surely must be the last bill; although I have a feeling I’ve said that before.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Thursday 24 August 2006
On Tuesday - the day the guests were due to arrive - Monsieur P the carpenter came and collected shutters from three of the ground floor windows, to take away the metal joints at the bottom. It hasn’t made much difference in the study, where there are thick curtains, and rosebushes between the house and the road, but in the grande pièce, where the windows are directly onto the road and where we kept the shutters permanently shut, the difference is amazing! It’s very strange to see light coming in from that end of the house, and of course for the first time in nine months there will be someone sleeping in there at the weekend.
Also on Tuesday we had a last very large shopping expedition to Bernay; mostly at the supermarket Intermarché, but also a return trip to the Italian delicatessen, and to the excellent florist and even to Monsieur Bricolage for lamps. (N had ordered small standard lamps so that the musicians could see clearly, but they had not arrived at Bricomarché, so a couple were bought from Monsieur Bricolage to tide everybody over.) I also took a typed-out daily order for baguettes, croissants and pâtisseries to the lady at the boulangerie in La Neuve-Lyre, for Wednesday to Sunday. She was very pleased, said no-one had ever given her one like that before, and that it would be no problem. (I had seen people telling her their orders which she wrote in her book.)
By about five o’clock I had hoovered and dusted the whole house, the washing had been taken in from the garden, and all the rooms were ready, the last beds having been made the day before. Even the bedding and towels for next weekend’s guests were ready in the attic trunk and in the linen cupboard. I had made a large pot of Bean Stew; always a good dish when you’re not sure when people are going to arrive, and set the big table well in advance, which was much admired by Monsieur P. The first party (Kathryn, John and Iona) were due any time after 4.30, and N kept going and looking out in the road behind, having opened the garage doors so that they could recognise the car - and possibly even the house - when they arrived. We were having a drink in the verandah at about 6.45 when they turned up, and after unloading their luggage, and viewing the house they joined us. Knowing the others (Claire, Dan, Charlotte and friend Catherine) would arrive late, we had dinner at about 8.15. Much later in the evening we received a few phone calls saying they were lost, and eventually N and Kathryn set out to find fetch them from Broglie, all getting back at about 11.30. I think they were all a little fazed at having arrived at an unknown place in the dark so late - especially two year-old Charlotte, and Catherine who had never met us before! - but all found their bed- and bathrooms and eventually we all got to bed. Catherine, as an unmarried friend of the family, made me think of a house guest in a Jane Austen novel.
Wednesday started late with breakfast in the verandah and the dining room. The first music took place in the studio, after the great table had been put on its feet at last; I took some photos and John and I - the only two non-players - kept an eye on Charlotte in the garden. They didn’t really like playing in the studio though, it was cold and the acoustics were not good, and there was not much room. We all had lunch around the long table in the garden as planned, not in beautiful sunshine as hoped, but it was reasonable. In the afternoon we visited the Château de Beaumesnil, in better weather than with my family in May, and walked around the grounds before coming back for tea in the garden, and dinner - all eight of us this time - around the big Italian table in the grande pièce. (Lettuce soup, poached salmon + hollandaise, garden potatoes and rhubarb cake and cream.) N rearranged the salon for music playing, pushing back the sofa against the French windows and the armchairs in the corners, and setting out the chairs and lamps under the chandelier, and until the last night this was where all the music was played, with various numbers of players. I was very pleased, as I could hear it all from the kitchen, and see it too through the glass doors in the back hall, or from the open door in the front hall. It looked and sounded just right, and I’m not sure why we hadn’t thought of it before. On Friday we heard from Bricomarché that the ordered lamps had arrived, making six in all, two black and four silver; they were ideal for musicians, very slim and unobtrusive, and bent nicely over the music stands.
Thursday 31 August 2006
Our original plan had included a day out at the seaside on Friday, but once we knew that the buffet would need collecting from Bernay at four that day it was changed to Thursday. After discussion at breakfast on Thursday it was abandoned altogether; the weather was just not warm enough to make it worth while. Instead our guests all took themselves off to Monet’s garden at Giverny for the day; and we had lunch on our own. They arrived back for tea in the garden, dinner (lemon & honey chicken, chips, garden salad and home-made vanilla ice cream & chocolate sauce) and music in the salon as before. N, Claire, Catherine and Dan played various pieces arranged for string quartets including « Anything Goes » which was wonderful. John and Kathryn helped me with all the washing up which wouldn’t fit into the dishwasher; wine glasses and large pans, and afterwards we went into the salon and listened to the music.
Friday was beautifully warm and sunny day, right from the word go. We hadn’t seen any weather forecast, so didn’t know if this was expected or not. Various people helped prepare garden vegetables for the evening, marrow, potatoes and green beans; John and Kathryn fetched the daily bread order from the boulangerie - including mini pizzas - and after visiting the fruit and vegetable stall I prepared a picnic, while N collected the lamps from Bricomarché and others played and sat in the garden, exactly as we had hoped they would! Claire and Dan bought cakes from boulangerie, and helped count paper cups, plates and napkins. Kathryn packed games, rugs and extra picnic cutlery and we set off in two cars.
The destination was Beaumont-le-Roger, in front of the ruined priory N and I had visited some months ago. John had an electronic navigation gadget in his car, which amused us as we followed it, even though it was well sign-posted and N was telling him the way. We parked in the centre of Beaumont-le-Roger and carried all our things along the main street and up the hill; it seemed strange to be slinking along in the shade again, just as if the heat wave had never ended.
All agreed it was a wonderful picnic. We put rugs out on the grass in the sun around my big yellow checked tablecloth, and set out the mini pizzas, ham, salami, three kinds of pâté, cheeses, bread, juice, water, plums, strawberries and the cakes. Afterwards some took photos, some had a snooze, others went for a walk and played hide and seek, some played giant snakes and ladders and the rest of us played « Articulate » also brought by Kathryn, which felt strange as I had only ever played it at Christmas before, indoors after dark. Eventually we packed everything up again, commenting that the bags were lighter on the way down, and spent a few minutes in a playground for the benefit of Charlotte and Iona, and then set off for the supermarket at Bernay to fetch our buffet for the next day.
The guests bought wine and cider to take home, I got a few forgotten extra items, and we collected the party food, consisting of two trays of cheese, sliced beef, pieces of chicken, salami and other cold meats, and a large bowl each of tabbouleh salad and piedmontaise salad. After a rather precarious journey - car already loaded with picnic items, and sun shining in very hard - we arrived home and put it all in the wine cellar to keep cool until the next day. Dinner was Marrow Pie, which some said should be renamed Gardener’s Pie - as it was rather like Shepherd’s Pie with marrow, onion, tomato, garlic and herbs instead of meat - and a compote of red plums with cream. John said a few days later that the Marrow Pie was what he had liked most, as it was quite unlike anything he had eaten before. Over dinner we reminded Catherine and Iona that they would need to have packed up their beds in the attic ready for Simone and Brigitte’s arrival at about 11 the next morning; N and I had spent much time trying to work out where Catherine would sleep on Saturday and Sunday nights, but the problem was solved by John and Kathryn saying Iona could sleep on their floor, leaving the small mattress in the ironing/sewing room for Catherine.
Saturday was the day we had been planning for so long in such minute detail; guests, music, different meals and snacks in different places; perhaps we shouldn’t have been surprised when it didn’t go exactly to plan! First thing in the morning Kathryn helped me make up the attic beds for Simone and Brigitte. N was due to go to the station at Conches to collect Jean (one of his regular string quartet partners from Paris) with his cello, and also Matt and Elke, an English violinist friend of Claire and Dan and his German girlfriend, also coming from Paris where they live. Dan had suggested he go too in his car, as it wasn’t clear whether there would be enough room for all three plus instruments and luggage. This was fortunate, as Dan arrived back with Matt and Elke saying that Jean had managed to leave his bags on the train while unloading the cello, and that he and N were trying to phone the station or catch up with the train to get them. I had meanwhile been making a very large fruit salad, helped by John, which was quite successful, but was worried about the weather - not at all like the day before and very unsuitable for a garden buffet. I was also keeping an eye open for Simone and Brigitte coming up the garden from the garage; in the event they came by the front door, I showed them their attic room and asked if they would like coffee. Fortunately they then saw Claire, whom Simone had met before and she took over the coffee and the conversation; (and introducing Charlotte) fortunate as I wanted to progress with lunch and have a look at the buffet, but could not find the key to the wine cellar anywhere.
I realised that it must be in N’s pocket from the afternoon before, still driving round looking for Jean’s bags. John managed to remove the lock on the cellar door and we brought the buffet into the house - helped by Elke, the other non-musician, having decided we couldn’t possibly eat in the garden. One or two of the dishes were very oddly arranged, (cornets of salami with olives inside, garnish consisting of tiny triangles of butter, cherry tomatoes stuck on the ends of chicken legs) so I rearranged some of them on my own plates.
We were just wondering where on earth N and Jean could have got to, as it was several hours since the train had arrived, when Claire came into the kitchen to get a glass of water for Dan who had been sick. Then N and Jean arrived, I showed Jean his « room » which was really my study, already full of Matt & Elke’s luggage and bedding, as they were due to sleep on the sofa in the grande pièce (minus its shutters) where lunch was currently being set out. N and John helped me take the small table from the dining room in too, as it would be needed there in the evening. The food was all very good and much appreciated, but the seating arrangements would have been better in the garden. There was discussion as to what Dan might have eaten, the consensus was just the same as the rest of us; the cheeses at the picnic came in for some blame, but we had all eaten them and in any case I maintained he would have been ill in the night, not the next day.
I sat next to Brigitte, who, N said, had an interest in common with me - Proust. We talked for some time at cross purposes until I realised she was talking about Faust (N’s hearing) so hurriedly changed the subject. When I told N about this many hours later he laughed and said could I imagine a work entitled « The Damnation of Proust. »
After lunch all the musicians went off to start their programme and Elke helped me clear the tables while John looked after Charlotte. Dan appeared looking a little better and I asked if he would like some fruit salad; he said that would be really nice and after that and some fresh air, he joined the others making music in the salon. I tried to establish when they would be breaking for tea and biscuits, still hoping that might be in the garden, but didn’t get very far. At various times they played Britten’s « Simple Symphony » and Dvorak’s « American Quartet », plus something that kept switching from a concerto by Mozart to « Scotland the Brave ». When I said I liked the Mozart goes to Scotland, they said it was something called McMozart!
About half an hour later Dan was in the garden again, looking very white indeed and Claire came into the kitchen and said that he had severe stomach pains, had never felt this ill in his life before and had said he needed to see a doctor. The musicians had just stopped briefly and N came and heard this; we were a little surprised but I fetched the phone number of the doctor in La Neuve-Lyre (whom I still hadn’t visited, but at least had the number!) Not surprisingly there was a recorded message, so I noted the number given and called it. I spoke to a nice lady (said I had a charming accent) who took details of Dan’s name, age and symptoms, and gave us the name and address of the duty doctor in Rugles. For a moment I wondered how we were going to find this address, until I remembered John’s wonderful navigation gadget! He was already halfway to the garage finding out that Rugles was 11 kilometres away and that it would take about 12 minutes to get there.
John, Dan and Claire set off for Rugles and the rest of the company was put in the picture. I got tea ready - in the grande pièce again - and was just putting out biscuits when the phone rang and I had to shut the salon door hurriedly so that I could hear over the music. (This happened several times during the afternoon.) It was John saying that the doctor at Rugles suspected appendicitis, and had told them to go straight to the hospital at L’Aigle; not to bother parking but to go straight to the emergency department. This made sense considering Dan’s symptoms, and once again all the company were told the latest news - in both English and in French - and tea was taken. (Elke had finished arranging the biscuits; Matt came through the kitchen and « Oh no, you haven’t left Elke alone with the biscuits…..«) Kathryn and Iona had stopped playing music by this time and were looking after Charlotte. N was mainly put out by the fact that his only other viola player (apart from himself) had gone missing and that all the carefully planned music had to be rearranged. He photocopied a lot of parts of other pieces on the computer, and made me think of a teacher whose lesson plan has had to be changed at the last moment.
Meanwhile my thoughts were mainly concentrated on dinner - our grand gala dinner! - and I was very grateful when Elke agreed to peel all the potatoes, especially as my main helper, John, was of course missing. (I had got into the habit of having a mental list of jobs that needed doing so that whenever anyone appeared in the kitchen saying « Is there anything I can do? » I had an answer ready. I sent Catherine to the shop to buy more cream; she spoke virtually no French but was happy to go, and took an empty pot with her to help.) I had taken the Boeuf Bourguignonne out of the freezer that morning and it was thawing nicely, as were two cartons of home-grown spinach frozen in July. The cheeses from lunchtime had been rearranged, and dessert - a Tarte Normande and a Tarte aux Pommes from the boulangerie - was ready on the sideboard. In between musical items N arranged his best wine on the sideboard too, having got it nicely to room temperature in the boiler room overnight.
I was arranging crisps and biscuits to go with the apéritifs (Kir) on the trolley as I still wasn’t sure where it would be consumed, when the phone rang again. This time John said Dan had had various tests, appendicitis had been confirmed, that he would be operated on within the hour and that a bed was being made up in his room for Claire to stay the night. Once again Elke finished putting out the biscuits while I passed on the news; John had said that he would come back to pick up bag of things for them both and Kathryn decided she would go back with him. When he arrived he tried to explain the situation to Charlotte who kept repeating « Mummy has gone to the hospital to look after Daddy » without much conviction, and then became very subdued. Catherine decided to give her a bath in the hopes of keeping some kind of a routine going; in the event she was bathed by three « attendants », Catherine, Iona and Elke.
For about an hour and a half both Charlotte and Iona were temporarily « orphaned » but did very well at looking after each other. In a spare 20 minutes (I can’t think how) I went to the computer and printed place names for the table, N having made a plan carefully mixing up French and English guests, which all went rather awry in the circumstances. When we eventually sat down to this great meal several guests were missing; but Kathryn and John turned up after a while.
N’s beef was much appreciated, as were the potatoes and spinach from the garden. Jean knocked over and broke his glass while passing me a large plate of cheese; but was so determined not to waste any of the excellent wine that he drank it carefully out of the broken glass, which amused John very much. Simone and Brigitte were interested in the tartes from our excellent local boulangerie; each tarte had a little plaque in chocolate with the name and phone number of the shop. Everybody enjoyed the local farm cream. N said later he thought the French guests were particularly impressed by the local produce.
After the evening’s music Kathryn decided to sleep up in Claire and Dan’s attic room so that Charlotte was not on her own, but not before helping me make up the bed-settee in the grande pièce for Matt and Elke, and John had helped get the small table out into the dining room again ready for breakfast. Matt and Elke used our newly refurbished screen to put in front of the glass panelled door to the hall.
On Sunday Claire was fetched by John at about 9.30 so that she could come back to see Charlotte and take her back to visit in the afternoon. Everybody was keen to ask how Dan was, what the hospital was like, how she had been treated, whether or not they had to pay anything and how long he would be there. He was apparently recovering well, and almost all of the cost would be covered by their holiday insurance, the subject of many phone calls over the next few days between the insurance company, the hospital and Claire, sometimes helped by N and me. It was only when Charlotte began to be quite noisy that we realised how subdued she had been before. The weather had improved by Sunday morning, and Claire and Charlotte sat outside together and played. I decide to risk lunch in the garden, and put the small square garden table at the end of the long table and set lunch for 12, rather than a buffet, helped by Elke and John. Lunch consisted - as I had thought, though N had not been sure - of all the things left over from the day before, as there was so much meat and cheese; plus two large green salads from the garden, the rest of the fruit salad and the compôte de prunes, and several slices of the tartes. We had cider to drink, as we had at Saturday lunch, and lots of photos were taken. Over lunch it transpired that Matt and Elke would have to leave that afternoon - we had thought they were getting the same train as Jean on Monday morning - and that they would leave from L’Aigle station, and be taken there by Claire, Charlotte and Catherine, visiting Dan.
This meant that numbers for the Special English Tea were now very small - goodness only knows what it had done to the music groupings - so I got just a few of the Fairy Cakes out of the freezer; I made and put on the pink and yellow icing and Iona helped decorate them. I buttered the fruit loaf and got out the Gingerbread Men and Women, and set tea just outside the verandah, where it was by then pleasantly sunny. There must have been only eight of us, as the blue tea-set was just enough. Simone and Brigitte were very interested in the cakes, after having confirmed that they had not been made by the boulangerie too.
By this time there were only N, Simone, Brigitte and Jean still playing, they formed an excellent quartet, but were beginning to get a little tired. I prepared dinner (cauliflower and broccoli from the freezer, au gratin; I had never made cheese sauce for 10 people before) plus lemon ice cream, and also from the freezer beetroot soup made earlier by N, with swirls of thin cream, about which he was most particular. Apéritifs were taken out on the terrace in the sunshine too; Claire, John and Kathryn had come back by this time, and N opened two bottles of champagne (brought by Jean and Simone) and was given early birthday presents by Kathryn and Claire. He had maintained all along that this party wasn’t for his birthday but for the fiftieth birthday of his viola, which he had had at the age of 20; I don’t think his family agreed!
The beetroot soup was very much appreciated, especially by the French guests and several commented on how good it looked in the blue and white Italian soup plates. Surprisingly, no-one managed to spill any, either on the tablecloths or on their clothes. After 12 for lunch, dinner for 10 didn’t seem very many at all, but there was an amazing amount of washing up, and after it was all finally sorted (much help from John and Kathryn again) I gave up and went to bed. N must have described my tiredness as much worse than it really was, as the next day people kept asking solicitously how I was. At least on Sunday I had a little sit-down in garden in the afternoon; on Saturday I couldn’t sleep for some while as my feet hurt so much, and when I closed my eyes I kept seeing a procession of wine glasses, cutlery and plates.
We had to get up early on Monday as Simone and Brigitte needed to leave at 8.30, and we were surprised to find how dark it was at 7.30. Later in the morning N took Jean back to the station, trying to get him to count his bags, un, deux, trois all the while, so as not to leave any behind. (Apparently Jean knew the address of the Paris transport lost property office by heart.) John, Kathryn and Iona left on Monday morning too, going south for a week’s holiday on the Loire. I was glad they were having a rest in a fine hotel, and not just going back to work after all that they had done here!
Monday was also Catherine’s birthday; Claire had originally planned to take her to Rouen for the day while Dan looked after Charlotte, but due to the change in circumstances they took Charlotte with them and went to Evreux for lunch, calling in at the hospital at L’Aigle on the way back. This left just N and me for lunch, which felt very strange, although there was a lot to eat up. We weren’t on our own for long however, as at 2.30 Monsieur P arrived with his team and all our new downstairs shutters. He had originally wanted to come first thing in the morning, but as I had thought there would be 14 of us getting up then had suggested the afternoon. The shutters had all been made to size, but needed hanging and finishing off so that they fitted exactly; I thought it was rather like fitting a tailor-made garment on a person and said so; Monsieur P said his mother had been a dressmaker and it was a good comparison. The weather was very wet however and they kept stopping every time there was a shower, and the dust and the rain together made a mess of the windows and the paths. Even in their unpainted state the shutters looked very good, especially those either side of the front door; they gave a finished effect and made the house look like real French house. (They are now in The Box Office being painted by N; a long job, an undercoat and two top coats on each. When ready they will be definitively hung in position by Monsieur P.)
There were five of us at dinner, N and I plus Claire, Charlotte and Catherine. They had said I shouldn’t bother to cook them anything, but I said we would have the Bean Stew that they had missed their first night, and which was waiting in the freezer. (Hurrah for freezers!) Charlotte was very keen on the bread croutes that went with it and kept asking for « more crispy bread. » In spite of everything Claire had managed to buy a cake for Catherine as intended at the boulangerie - layers of sponge with lots of fruit on top, and we all sang « Happy Birthday » including Charlotte, who sang very loudly. After dinner Claire, Catherine and N played Beethoven trios in the grande pièce, a new and very suitable venue, especially with the new lamps, and a relaxing end to their stay.
We had thought Claire and Charlotte might have to go back on Tuesday as arranged without Dan, and were ready to look after him as long as was necessary, but he was allowed out of hospital on Tuesday afternoon, and to be driven home. They rearranged their booking over the internet and found an overnight crossing with a cabin from Caen, giving less driving in France and more rest for all three. Catherine left at 7 am on Tuesday morning as planned (another early morning; it reminded me of saying goodbye to foreign visitors in Cambridge) Monsieur P arrived again, and after lunch Claire and Charlotte packed up and left for the hospital, with N driving behind, to say goodbye to Dan and to be on hand in case of any financial or linguistic problems. I very much wanted to go too - apart from anything else I wanted to see the hospital in case we ever had to go there again - but had to stay behind as not only was Monsieur P coming back but we were also expecting Emanuel and Guillaume!
At some time over the weekend we had discovered a leak all down the wall of the boiler room from the shower above, the water from that shower was still too hot, even though I thought I kept fixing it, and we also wanted Guillaume to look at the leak in the downstairs loo, as our Artisan had not been back again as asked. And on Tuesday morning the lights in our bathroom suddenly weren’t working.
The latter was fixed quickly, Emanuel said a wire had suddenly broken on its own, they did that sometimes, electricity was alive. He said at least he hadn’t had to knock down any walls. Guillaume came with a young apprentice; they took the whole cistern off the downstairs loo and replaced it more tightly, and that seems to be OK now, fingers crossed. The leak in the shower had been caused by old loose tiles, which they restuck, but the mixer tap needs replacing as it was no longer mixing properly. We chose one from a catalogue he showed us, and he will let us know when it’s ready to be fixed.
While all this was going on I made an attempt at getting some of the huge backlog of washing done, rather unsuccessfully as the rain kept stopping and starting. Once they had all gone we were finally on our own, a little difficult to believe, N saying were we really sure that there wasn’t someone left in a back room??
It has taken several days to finish the washing (sheets, towels, tablecloths, napkins, tea towels) and get all the items of bedding, crockery, cutlery and furniture back into their proper places. Claire has phoned to report a safe journey home and Kathryn phoned from Chenonceaux and both Simone and Jean called to ask for news of Dan. All have said how much they enjoyed and appreciated the good food and good music.
On Tuesday - the day the guests were due to arrive - Monsieur P the carpenter came and collected shutters from three of the ground floor windows, to take away the metal joints at the bottom. It hasn’t made much difference in the study, where there are thick curtains, and rosebushes between the house and the road, but in the grande pièce, where the windows are directly onto the road and where we kept the shutters permanently shut, the difference is amazing! It’s very strange to see light coming in from that end of the house, and of course for the first time in nine months there will be someone sleeping in there at the weekend.
Also on Tuesday we had a last very large shopping expedition to Bernay; mostly at the supermarket Intermarché, but also a return trip to the Italian delicatessen, and to the excellent florist and even to Monsieur Bricolage for lamps. (N had ordered small standard lamps so that the musicians could see clearly, but they had not arrived at Bricomarché, so a couple were bought from Monsieur Bricolage to tide everybody over.) I also took a typed-out daily order for baguettes, croissants and pâtisseries to the lady at the boulangerie in La Neuve-Lyre, for Wednesday to Sunday. She was very pleased, said no-one had ever given her one like that before, and that it would be no problem. (I had seen people telling her their orders which she wrote in her book.)
By about five o’clock I had hoovered and dusted the whole house, the washing had been taken in from the garden, and all the rooms were ready, the last beds having been made the day before. Even the bedding and towels for next weekend’s guests were ready in the attic trunk and in the linen cupboard. I had made a large pot of Bean Stew; always a good dish when you’re not sure when people are going to arrive, and set the big table well in advance, which was much admired by Monsieur P. The first party (Kathryn, John and Iona) were due any time after 4.30, and N kept going and looking out in the road behind, having opened the garage doors so that they could recognise the car - and possibly even the house - when they arrived. We were having a drink in the verandah at about 6.45 when they turned up, and after unloading their luggage, and viewing the house they joined us. Knowing the others (Claire, Dan, Charlotte and friend Catherine) would arrive late, we had dinner at about 8.15. Much later in the evening we received a few phone calls saying they were lost, and eventually N and Kathryn set out to find fetch them from Broglie, all getting back at about 11.30. I think they were all a little fazed at having arrived at an unknown place in the dark so late - especially two year-old Charlotte, and Catherine who had never met us before! - but all found their bed- and bathrooms and eventually we all got to bed. Catherine, as an unmarried friend of the family, made me think of a house guest in a Jane Austen novel.
Wednesday started late with breakfast in the verandah and the dining room. The first music took place in the studio, after the great table had been put on its feet at last; I took some photos and John and I - the only two non-players - kept an eye on Charlotte in the garden. They didn’t really like playing in the studio though, it was cold and the acoustics were not good, and there was not much room. We all had lunch around the long table in the garden as planned, not in beautiful sunshine as hoped, but it was reasonable. In the afternoon we visited the Château de Beaumesnil, in better weather than with my family in May, and walked around the grounds before coming back for tea in the garden, and dinner - all eight of us this time - around the big Italian table in the grande pièce. (Lettuce soup, poached salmon + hollandaise, garden potatoes and rhubarb cake and cream.) N rearranged the salon for music playing, pushing back the sofa against the French windows and the armchairs in the corners, and setting out the chairs and lamps under the chandelier, and until the last night this was where all the music was played, with various numbers of players. I was very pleased, as I could hear it all from the kitchen, and see it too through the glass doors in the back hall, or from the open door in the front hall. It looked and sounded just right, and I’m not sure why we hadn’t thought of it before. On Friday we heard from Bricomarché that the ordered lamps had arrived, making six in all, two black and four silver; they were ideal for musicians, very slim and unobtrusive, and bent nicely over the music stands.
Thursday 31 August 2006
Our original plan had included a day out at the seaside on Friday, but once we knew that the buffet would need collecting from Bernay at four that day it was changed to Thursday. After discussion at breakfast on Thursday it was abandoned altogether; the weather was just not warm enough to make it worth while. Instead our guests all took themselves off to Monet’s garden at Giverny for the day; and we had lunch on our own. They arrived back for tea in the garden, dinner (lemon & honey chicken, chips, garden salad and home-made vanilla ice cream & chocolate sauce) and music in the salon as before. N, Claire, Catherine and Dan played various pieces arranged for string quartets including « Anything Goes » which was wonderful. John and Kathryn helped me with all the washing up which wouldn’t fit into the dishwasher; wine glasses and large pans, and afterwards we went into the salon and listened to the music.
Friday was beautifully warm and sunny day, right from the word go. We hadn’t seen any weather forecast, so didn’t know if this was expected or not. Various people helped prepare garden vegetables for the evening, marrow, potatoes and green beans; John and Kathryn fetched the daily bread order from the boulangerie - including mini pizzas - and after visiting the fruit and vegetable stall I prepared a picnic, while N collected the lamps from Bricomarché and others played and sat in the garden, exactly as we had hoped they would! Claire and Dan bought cakes from boulangerie, and helped count paper cups, plates and napkins. Kathryn packed games, rugs and extra picnic cutlery and we set off in two cars.
The destination was Beaumont-le-Roger, in front of the ruined priory N and I had visited some months ago. John had an electronic navigation gadget in his car, which amused us as we followed it, even though it was well sign-posted and N was telling him the way. We parked in the centre of Beaumont-le-Roger and carried all our things along the main street and up the hill; it seemed strange to be slinking along in the shade again, just as if the heat wave had never ended.
All agreed it was a wonderful picnic. We put rugs out on the grass in the sun around my big yellow checked tablecloth, and set out the mini pizzas, ham, salami, three kinds of pâté, cheeses, bread, juice, water, plums, strawberries and the cakes. Afterwards some took photos, some had a snooze, others went for a walk and played hide and seek, some played giant snakes and ladders and the rest of us played « Articulate » also brought by Kathryn, which felt strange as I had only ever played it at Christmas before, indoors after dark. Eventually we packed everything up again, commenting that the bags were lighter on the way down, and spent a few minutes in a playground for the benefit of Charlotte and Iona, and then set off for the supermarket at Bernay to fetch our buffet for the next day.
The guests bought wine and cider to take home, I got a few forgotten extra items, and we collected the party food, consisting of two trays of cheese, sliced beef, pieces of chicken, salami and other cold meats, and a large bowl each of tabbouleh salad and piedmontaise salad. After a rather precarious journey - car already loaded with picnic items, and sun shining in very hard - we arrived home and put it all in the wine cellar to keep cool until the next day. Dinner was Marrow Pie, which some said should be renamed Gardener’s Pie - as it was rather like Shepherd’s Pie with marrow, onion, tomato, garlic and herbs instead of meat - and a compote of red plums with cream. John said a few days later that the Marrow Pie was what he had liked most, as it was quite unlike anything he had eaten before. Over dinner we reminded Catherine and Iona that they would need to have packed up their beds in the attic ready for Simone and Brigitte’s arrival at about 11 the next morning; N and I had spent much time trying to work out where Catherine would sleep on Saturday and Sunday nights, but the problem was solved by John and Kathryn saying Iona could sleep on their floor, leaving the small mattress in the ironing/sewing room for Catherine.
Saturday was the day we had been planning for so long in such minute detail; guests, music, different meals and snacks in different places; perhaps we shouldn’t have been surprised when it didn’t go exactly to plan! First thing in the morning Kathryn helped me make up the attic beds for Simone and Brigitte. N was due to go to the station at Conches to collect Jean (one of his regular string quartet partners from Paris) with his cello, and also Matt and Elke, an English violinist friend of Claire and Dan and his German girlfriend, also coming from Paris where they live. Dan had suggested he go too in his car, as it wasn’t clear whether there would be enough room for all three plus instruments and luggage. This was fortunate, as Dan arrived back with Matt and Elke saying that Jean had managed to leave his bags on the train while unloading the cello, and that he and N were trying to phone the station or catch up with the train to get them. I had meanwhile been making a very large fruit salad, helped by John, which was quite successful, but was worried about the weather - not at all like the day before and very unsuitable for a garden buffet. I was also keeping an eye open for Simone and Brigitte coming up the garden from the garage; in the event they came by the front door, I showed them their attic room and asked if they would like coffee. Fortunately they then saw Claire, whom Simone had met before and she took over the coffee and the conversation; (and introducing Charlotte) fortunate as I wanted to progress with lunch and have a look at the buffet, but could not find the key to the wine cellar anywhere.
I realised that it must be in N’s pocket from the afternoon before, still driving round looking for Jean’s bags. John managed to remove the lock on the cellar door and we brought the buffet into the house - helped by Elke, the other non-musician, having decided we couldn’t possibly eat in the garden. One or two of the dishes were very oddly arranged, (cornets of salami with olives inside, garnish consisting of tiny triangles of butter, cherry tomatoes stuck on the ends of chicken legs) so I rearranged some of them on my own plates.
We were just wondering where on earth N and Jean could have got to, as it was several hours since the train had arrived, when Claire came into the kitchen to get a glass of water for Dan who had been sick. Then N and Jean arrived, I showed Jean his « room » which was really my study, already full of Matt & Elke’s luggage and bedding, as they were due to sleep on the sofa in the grande pièce (minus its shutters) where lunch was currently being set out. N and John helped me take the small table from the dining room in too, as it would be needed there in the evening. The food was all very good and much appreciated, but the seating arrangements would have been better in the garden. There was discussion as to what Dan might have eaten, the consensus was just the same as the rest of us; the cheeses at the picnic came in for some blame, but we had all eaten them and in any case I maintained he would have been ill in the night, not the next day.
I sat next to Brigitte, who, N said, had an interest in common with me - Proust. We talked for some time at cross purposes until I realised she was talking about Faust (N’s hearing) so hurriedly changed the subject. When I told N about this many hours later he laughed and said could I imagine a work entitled « The Damnation of Proust. »
After lunch all the musicians went off to start their programme and Elke helped me clear the tables while John looked after Charlotte. Dan appeared looking a little better and I asked if he would like some fruit salad; he said that would be really nice and after that and some fresh air, he joined the others making music in the salon. I tried to establish when they would be breaking for tea and biscuits, still hoping that might be in the garden, but didn’t get very far. At various times they played Britten’s « Simple Symphony » and Dvorak’s « American Quartet », plus something that kept switching from a concerto by Mozart to « Scotland the Brave ». When I said I liked the Mozart goes to Scotland, they said it was something called McMozart!
About half an hour later Dan was in the garden again, looking very white indeed and Claire came into the kitchen and said that he had severe stomach pains, had never felt this ill in his life before and had said he needed to see a doctor. The musicians had just stopped briefly and N came and heard this; we were a little surprised but I fetched the phone number of the doctor in La Neuve-Lyre (whom I still hadn’t visited, but at least had the number!) Not surprisingly there was a recorded message, so I noted the number given and called it. I spoke to a nice lady (said I had a charming accent) who took details of Dan’s name, age and symptoms, and gave us the name and address of the duty doctor in Rugles. For a moment I wondered how we were going to find this address, until I remembered John’s wonderful navigation gadget! He was already halfway to the garage finding out that Rugles was 11 kilometres away and that it would take about 12 minutes to get there.
John, Dan and Claire set off for Rugles and the rest of the company was put in the picture. I got tea ready - in the grande pièce again - and was just putting out biscuits when the phone rang and I had to shut the salon door hurriedly so that I could hear over the music. (This happened several times during the afternoon.) It was John saying that the doctor at Rugles suspected appendicitis, and had told them to go straight to the hospital at L’Aigle; not to bother parking but to go straight to the emergency department. This made sense considering Dan’s symptoms, and once again all the company were told the latest news - in both English and in French - and tea was taken. (Elke had finished arranging the biscuits; Matt came through the kitchen and « Oh no, you haven’t left Elke alone with the biscuits…..«) Kathryn and Iona had stopped playing music by this time and were looking after Charlotte. N was mainly put out by the fact that his only other viola player (apart from himself) had gone missing and that all the carefully planned music had to be rearranged. He photocopied a lot of parts of other pieces on the computer, and made me think of a teacher whose lesson plan has had to be changed at the last moment.
Meanwhile my thoughts were mainly concentrated on dinner - our grand gala dinner! - and I was very grateful when Elke agreed to peel all the potatoes, especially as my main helper, John, was of course missing. (I had got into the habit of having a mental list of jobs that needed doing so that whenever anyone appeared in the kitchen saying « Is there anything I can do? » I had an answer ready. I sent Catherine to the shop to buy more cream; she spoke virtually no French but was happy to go, and took an empty pot with her to help.) I had taken the Boeuf Bourguignonne out of the freezer that morning and it was thawing nicely, as were two cartons of home-grown spinach frozen in July. The cheeses from lunchtime had been rearranged, and dessert - a Tarte Normande and a Tarte aux Pommes from the boulangerie - was ready on the sideboard. In between musical items N arranged his best wine on the sideboard too, having got it nicely to room temperature in the boiler room overnight.
I was arranging crisps and biscuits to go with the apéritifs (Kir) on the trolley as I still wasn’t sure where it would be consumed, when the phone rang again. This time John said Dan had had various tests, appendicitis had been confirmed, that he would be operated on within the hour and that a bed was being made up in his room for Claire to stay the night. Once again Elke finished putting out the biscuits while I passed on the news; John had said that he would come back to pick up bag of things for them both and Kathryn decided she would go back with him. When he arrived he tried to explain the situation to Charlotte who kept repeating « Mummy has gone to the hospital to look after Daddy » without much conviction, and then became very subdued. Catherine decided to give her a bath in the hopes of keeping some kind of a routine going; in the event she was bathed by three « attendants », Catherine, Iona and Elke.
For about an hour and a half both Charlotte and Iona were temporarily « orphaned » but did very well at looking after each other. In a spare 20 minutes (I can’t think how) I went to the computer and printed place names for the table, N having made a plan carefully mixing up French and English guests, which all went rather awry in the circumstances. When we eventually sat down to this great meal several guests were missing; but Kathryn and John turned up after a while.
N’s beef was much appreciated, as were the potatoes and spinach from the garden. Jean knocked over and broke his glass while passing me a large plate of cheese; but was so determined not to waste any of the excellent wine that he drank it carefully out of the broken glass, which amused John very much. Simone and Brigitte were interested in the tartes from our excellent local boulangerie; each tarte had a little plaque in chocolate with the name and phone number of the shop. Everybody enjoyed the local farm cream. N said later he thought the French guests were particularly impressed by the local produce.
After the evening’s music Kathryn decided to sleep up in Claire and Dan’s attic room so that Charlotte was not on her own, but not before helping me make up the bed-settee in the grande pièce for Matt and Elke, and John had helped get the small table out into the dining room again ready for breakfast. Matt and Elke used our newly refurbished screen to put in front of the glass panelled door to the hall.
On Sunday Claire was fetched by John at about 9.30 so that she could come back to see Charlotte and take her back to visit in the afternoon. Everybody was keen to ask how Dan was, what the hospital was like, how she had been treated, whether or not they had to pay anything and how long he would be there. He was apparently recovering well, and almost all of the cost would be covered by their holiday insurance, the subject of many phone calls over the next few days between the insurance company, the hospital and Claire, sometimes helped by N and me. It was only when Charlotte began to be quite noisy that we realised how subdued she had been before. The weather had improved by Sunday morning, and Claire and Charlotte sat outside together and played. I decide to risk lunch in the garden, and put the small square garden table at the end of the long table and set lunch for 12, rather than a buffet, helped by Elke and John. Lunch consisted - as I had thought, though N had not been sure - of all the things left over from the day before, as there was so much meat and cheese; plus two large green salads from the garden, the rest of the fruit salad and the compôte de prunes, and several slices of the tartes. We had cider to drink, as we had at Saturday lunch, and lots of photos were taken. Over lunch it transpired that Matt and Elke would have to leave that afternoon - we had thought they were getting the same train as Jean on Monday morning - and that they would leave from L’Aigle station, and be taken there by Claire, Charlotte and Catherine, visiting Dan.
This meant that numbers for the Special English Tea were now very small - goodness only knows what it had done to the music groupings - so I got just a few of the Fairy Cakes out of the freezer; I made and put on the pink and yellow icing and Iona helped decorate them. I buttered the fruit loaf and got out the Gingerbread Men and Women, and set tea just outside the verandah, where it was by then pleasantly sunny. There must have been only eight of us, as the blue tea-set was just enough. Simone and Brigitte were very interested in the cakes, after having confirmed that they had not been made by the boulangerie too.
By this time there were only N, Simone, Brigitte and Jean still playing, they formed an excellent quartet, but were beginning to get a little tired. I prepared dinner (cauliflower and broccoli from the freezer, au gratin; I had never made cheese sauce for 10 people before) plus lemon ice cream, and also from the freezer beetroot soup made earlier by N, with swirls of thin cream, about which he was most particular. Apéritifs were taken out on the terrace in the sunshine too; Claire, John and Kathryn had come back by this time, and N opened two bottles of champagne (brought by Jean and Simone) and was given early birthday presents by Kathryn and Claire. He had maintained all along that this party wasn’t for his birthday but for the fiftieth birthday of his viola, which he had had at the age of 20; I don’t think his family agreed!
The beetroot soup was very much appreciated, especially by the French guests and several commented on how good it looked in the blue and white Italian soup plates. Surprisingly, no-one managed to spill any, either on the tablecloths or on their clothes. After 12 for lunch, dinner for 10 didn’t seem very many at all, but there was an amazing amount of washing up, and after it was all finally sorted (much help from John and Kathryn again) I gave up and went to bed. N must have described my tiredness as much worse than it really was, as the next day people kept asking solicitously how I was. At least on Sunday I had a little sit-down in garden in the afternoon; on Saturday I couldn’t sleep for some while as my feet hurt so much, and when I closed my eyes I kept seeing a procession of wine glasses, cutlery and plates.
We had to get up early on Monday as Simone and Brigitte needed to leave at 8.30, and we were surprised to find how dark it was at 7.30. Later in the morning N took Jean back to the station, trying to get him to count his bags, un, deux, trois all the while, so as not to leave any behind. (Apparently Jean knew the address of the Paris transport lost property office by heart.) John, Kathryn and Iona left on Monday morning too, going south for a week’s holiday on the Loire. I was glad they were having a rest in a fine hotel, and not just going back to work after all that they had done here!
Monday was also Catherine’s birthday; Claire had originally planned to take her to Rouen for the day while Dan looked after Charlotte, but due to the change in circumstances they took Charlotte with them and went to Evreux for lunch, calling in at the hospital at L’Aigle on the way back. This left just N and me for lunch, which felt very strange, although there was a lot to eat up. We weren’t on our own for long however, as at 2.30 Monsieur P arrived with his team and all our new downstairs shutters. He had originally wanted to come first thing in the morning, but as I had thought there would be 14 of us getting up then had suggested the afternoon. The shutters had all been made to size, but needed hanging and finishing off so that they fitted exactly; I thought it was rather like fitting a tailor-made garment on a person and said so; Monsieur P said his mother had been a dressmaker and it was a good comparison. The weather was very wet however and they kept stopping every time there was a shower, and the dust and the rain together made a mess of the windows and the paths. Even in their unpainted state the shutters looked very good, especially those either side of the front door; they gave a finished effect and made the house look like real French house. (They are now in The Box Office being painted by N; a long job, an undercoat and two top coats on each. When ready they will be definitively hung in position by Monsieur P.)
There were five of us at dinner, N and I plus Claire, Charlotte and Catherine. They had said I shouldn’t bother to cook them anything, but I said we would have the Bean Stew that they had missed their first night, and which was waiting in the freezer. (Hurrah for freezers!) Charlotte was very keen on the bread croutes that went with it and kept asking for « more crispy bread. » In spite of everything Claire had managed to buy a cake for Catherine as intended at the boulangerie - layers of sponge with lots of fruit on top, and we all sang « Happy Birthday » including Charlotte, who sang very loudly. After dinner Claire, Catherine and N played Beethoven trios in the grande pièce, a new and very suitable venue, especially with the new lamps, and a relaxing end to their stay.
We had thought Claire and Charlotte might have to go back on Tuesday as arranged without Dan, and were ready to look after him as long as was necessary, but he was allowed out of hospital on Tuesday afternoon, and to be driven home. They rearranged their booking over the internet and found an overnight crossing with a cabin from Caen, giving less driving in France and more rest for all three. Catherine left at 7 am on Tuesday morning as planned (another early morning; it reminded me of saying goodbye to foreign visitors in Cambridge) Monsieur P arrived again, and after lunch Claire and Charlotte packed up and left for the hospital, with N driving behind, to say goodbye to Dan and to be on hand in case of any financial or linguistic problems. I very much wanted to go too - apart from anything else I wanted to see the hospital in case we ever had to go there again - but had to stay behind as not only was Monsieur P coming back but we were also expecting Emanuel and Guillaume!
At some time over the weekend we had discovered a leak all down the wall of the boiler room from the shower above, the water from that shower was still too hot, even though I thought I kept fixing it, and we also wanted Guillaume to look at the leak in the downstairs loo, as our Artisan had not been back again as asked. And on Tuesday morning the lights in our bathroom suddenly weren’t working.
The latter was fixed quickly, Emanuel said a wire had suddenly broken on its own, they did that sometimes, electricity was alive. He said at least he hadn’t had to knock down any walls. Guillaume came with a young apprentice; they took the whole cistern off the downstairs loo and replaced it more tightly, and that seems to be OK now, fingers crossed. The leak in the shower had been caused by old loose tiles, which they restuck, but the mixer tap needs replacing as it was no longer mixing properly. We chose one from a catalogue he showed us, and he will let us know when it’s ready to be fixed.
While all this was going on I made an attempt at getting some of the huge backlog of washing done, rather unsuccessfully as the rain kept stopping and starting. Once they had all gone we were finally on our own, a little difficult to believe, N saying were we really sure that there wasn’t someone left in a back room??
It has taken several days to finish the washing (sheets, towels, tablecloths, napkins, tea towels) and get all the items of bedding, crockery, cutlery and furniture back into their proper places. Claire has phoned to report a safe journey home and Kathryn phoned from Chenonceaux and both Simone and Jean called to ask for news of Dan. All have said how much they enjoyed and appreciated the good food and good music.
