Saturday, January 06, 2007
Sunday 24 December 2006
N has received an e-mail message from Laurent, the young local historian, saying that there is a meeting of the twinning committee scheduled, and that the Mayor has said we would be very welcome. The trouble is that it is due to take place between Christmas and New Year, when I shall be visiting family in Britain and N will be in Paris. N responded thanking him effusively, and saying that he hoped he would ask again, and remember us if there was any interpreting or translating which needed doing.
We had a good but slow journey back to Normandy on Friday afternoon; beautiful clear weather (the last of it; nothing but « grisaille » now) on what was a busy day for holiday traffic, fortunately we were on the road earlier then most. We stopped as planned at the supermarket at Conches to do some Christmas food shopping to save going out again, and got a capon for Christmas lunch, smoked salmon and foie gras, and a few other delicacies. We checked our post box outside the house before going in, and found it jammed full, so took everything out including the note saying there were more parcels for us and drove straight to the Post Office. N went in and found our original Post Mistress back again, (his theory is that she has been away on a course to learn how to cope with the new automated Post Office) and came out with several parcels ands more cards. Once home, we put them all on the dining room table and opened them all over tea. Apart from presents from family, N had more books on local history, bought on the internet from all over the place, and I had three or four chatty letters from friends. It was very pleasant - as I had planned! - to come back to a house already decorated for Christmas; the tree was bearing up well but the wreath on the front door looked a little dry and it had lost its orange berries. (I replaced these the next day.) Perhaps another year I need to do it a bit later. But hopefully another year we won’t be away for a week just before Christmas.
On Saturday afternoon I had an appointment with the hairdresser; I was just about to leave when I had a phone call saying could I come about 20 minutes later as they were so busy? So I duly did so; they were very busy, ladies in every chair imaginable, all getting « done » for Christmas. There was even a dog belonging to one of them; he took a long time sniffing all the decorations then fell asleep on his mistress’ lap while she was being brushed out, only to wake up with a start when the hairspray was administered.
N is still thinking about the trip to Germany, but has just finished planning another journey to Britain too, to a family funeral. This will be just after New Year, three or four days after I get back from visiting the family, so I will probably come back here to Normandy by train when he leaves. I will also probably go back for another short trip later in January to help clear and sort my mother’s house, but at the moment, I can’t see that far ahead, and the trip to Germany is just something pleasant on the horizon! Only a few weeks ago, we had nothing at all planned for January.
This morning - Christmas Eve - I spent over half an hour queuing outside the boulangerie, this being the main celebration evening in most French households; lots of people buying five or six loaves, and collecting orders. While I stood in the queue the church clock struck 11.00, 11.15 and 11.30. Although it was cold, I reflected that if in Cambridge I would probably be trying to get round a very crowded Sainsbury’s or Marks & Spencer’s, and decided this was preferable. The main event at lunch time was the breaking of a very Good Bottle of Wine N had unwisely put on the radiator in the dining room, to warm it up a little - his elbow caught it and there was red wine and broken glass all over the tiled floor. I have suggested he puts chilly bottles of wine on the hearth in front of the fire in future.
I spent much of Christmas Eve afternoon cooking: mince pies, cranberry sauce, chestnut stuffing, while listening to the service from Kings on the radio; a little more crackly than at Saint-Denis, but beautiful all the same. In the evening we ate dinner in la Grande Pièce with the best cutlery.
Monday 25 December 2006
Last night as were going to bed the bedroom felt distinctly cold; we wondered if this was simply because the salon was so hot with the wood fire, but on checking N discovered that our fuel oil had run out! We had been told (by the delivery driver) that once it got down as far as 50 we should order more and not leave it till the last moment, and we were intending to do this after New Year, as it was almost at 50. (Even so this should have given us a little leeway.) When N checked it last night, the tank in the garage was completely empty, so the gauge had been very wrongly regulated - by the driver. Our plan is to phone the supplier tomorrow and have a delivery as soon as we can.
So it has been a rather cold Christmas; N managed to keep the wood fire going all night, and we had breakfast on our knees in the salon in front of the fire. We put the blow heater (brought from Cambridge) in the bedroom, and the oil radiator (from Italy) in the Grande Pièce to have lunch in the reasonable warm, and we keep going quickly from room to room. N keeps going out to the wood shed to bring in more logs in the wheelbarrow. It is exactly a year since we had them delivered and stacked them frozen in the shed; they are now beautifully dry and burn well. Christmas lunch was very good if a little chilly; roast capon and five home-grown veg: creamed celeriac, Brussels sprouts; roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips, plus the afore-mentioned cranberry sauce and chestnut stuffing. The pudding was good too, and we managed to flame it with hot cognac very well. During the morning we phoned family, opened presents from each other and from N’s family, and after lunch listened to my present to N - a newly recorded CD of songs by Monteverdi, sung by a wonderful South American tenor whom we had seen on TV. In the evening - not really needing any supper for ages! - we watched our new DVD of « Tales of the Unexpected » opened in the morning.
Sunday 31 December 2006
On the morning of the 26th - fortunately not a holiday here - I phoned the oil company who promised to come the same day. Before this N had said he wouldn’t mind staying a day or so to wait for the delivery if necessary, while I went back to Paris on the train in time to catch the Eurostar on the 27th. The delivery arrived about midday - driver now saying perhaps we should re-order in future when the dial was at about 60 or 70 - but N by then was so keen on the idea of staying here with the fire, the remains of the capon, mince pies, pudding, foie gras, his new Christmas books and CDs et al, that even though in theory we could now have left by car together, as originally planned, he drove me to Conches station to get the 13.16 as we had decided.
The dial in the car showed minus 2 degrees for the first time, and after we had stood waiting 15 minutes on the platform at Conches we were both very cold. The train was not much warmer and by the time I had travelled by metro to Saint-Denis and arrived at the cold apartment, it was very difficult indeed to warm up. Indeed I seemed to spend the entire evening and night trying to get me and the place warm!
I left the next morning at about 7.50 in the pitch dark; the part I thought would be most difficult - getting my bag down the stairs to the ground floor - proving easier then I thought, and I got to Saint-Denis station in plenty of time. I decided to get a surface train rather than an RER; as I had hoped, this meant that from the moment I got out of the train until I arrived at the Eurostar escalator I was entirely on the flat, with no steps to go up or down. (A bag on wheels is fine until there are steps….)
I enjoyed the journey as always - having a croissant and tea as late breakfast and reading a book N gave me for Christmas called « Mozart, c’est Moi’ », a very up-to-date novel set amongst university researchers during the 250th anniversary year. Daughter Madeleine met me at Waterloo, and as promised took me home to Wimbledon for lunch, where I was pleased to unload from my bag heavy presents and a celebratory bottle for her and Richard. In the afternoon we went sales shopping; strange at first as I kept being surprised hearing English spoken around me and seeing brand names I had completely forgotten about. The evening was spent having a lovely dinner with lots to drink and watching various British TV channels and end of year programmes, a real novelty.
The next day - Thursday - the three of us caught a train from Liverpool Street to Ipswich, where I stayed until Saturday, taking part variously in a day with extended family - including the giving and receiving of Christmas presents - more sales shopping, a pub lunch, visiting my mother now settled in her comfortable and friendly new home at Norwood, and last but not least enjoying the company of my sister’s new little black cat, the first time I have slept with a cat since I said goodbye to Albertine fifteen months ago!
On Saturday afternoon I left Ipswich and travelled directly to Saint-Denis, about six hours in all, and arrived somewhat tired and rather train-weary (Ipswich to Liverpool Street, tube to Waterloo, Eurostar and then surface train to Saint-Denis - fortunately avoiding any steps once again) at about 9.30 in the evening. However after a good night’s sleep and a bath and hair-wash I was in form again; fetched bread and other shopping in Saint-Denis and was ready to look forward to New Year’s Eve.
When I had spoken to N on the phone from Ipswich he had said he had managed to book us into a restaurant for dinner on New Year’s Eve for the « réveillon »; this and the equivalent meal on 24 December are the two really important parts of the « Fêtes de Fin de l’Année » as they are called here. I was especially excited as it is years since I have done anything special on New Year’s Eve; last year we were taking things very easy in between two stints of hard work at La Neuve-Lyre. The restaurant was « Le Coupe Chou » (literally The Cabbage Cutter, but they do serve other things….) I had been there once with N a few summers ago; it is in between the Sorbonne and the Collège de France, a very old building consisting of several floors and cellars, with many dark wooden windows and doors. We were booked into the 8.30 sitting, which was quite late enough, and I was pleased and intrigued to find that the metro (and buses and RER) were completely free all evening. I assumed that this was to cope with the vast numbers of people travelling through the capital; we heard later on the news that thousands of revellers were on the Champs Elysées by midnight and indeed saw several hundreds of them getting out at Champs Elysées Clemenceau station both our our way there and way home. I also heard English spoken more than once on the metro, and in the restaurant we were surrounded by Italians and Americans.
They were only serving the set New Year’s Eve dinner; N had been able to see what the menu was while compulsorily booking on the Internet (and paying the compulsory deposit) We walked through about three or four « rooms » before finding our little table in a corner, all the rooms beautifully and very simply decorated with nothing but greenery, red candles, red ribbons and red baubles, all contrasting wonderfully with the plain white tablecloths. (Must remember this another year.)
I ended up eating three different fish courses, with which I was quite happy - smoked salmon, lobster and a mixture of various little white fish and vegetables. N ate pigeon, which as the waiter said, was quite hard work. N asked him whether he thought we should be able to manage it all; the waiter replied that we should think of it as eating now for the whole year, which was certainly one way of looking at it. We decided we didn’t have enough room for any cheese (wisely, I think) and I finished with a delicious white chocolate mousse; must try making this.
I think we were the first to finish and leave; by this time every single table was occupied, and it took some time to thread our way through the restaurant and look for our coats, hats and umbrellas on a very crowded rail, and then find the way out into the street. We got home at about ten to twelve, just in time to raise a glass in front of the TV, and to agree once again that 2006 had been a very successful and eventful year for us.
N has received an e-mail message from Laurent, the young local historian, saying that there is a meeting of the twinning committee scheduled, and that the Mayor has said we would be very welcome. The trouble is that it is due to take place between Christmas and New Year, when I shall be visiting family in Britain and N will be in Paris. N responded thanking him effusively, and saying that he hoped he would ask again, and remember us if there was any interpreting or translating which needed doing.
We had a good but slow journey back to Normandy on Friday afternoon; beautiful clear weather (the last of it; nothing but « grisaille » now) on what was a busy day for holiday traffic, fortunately we were on the road earlier then most. We stopped as planned at the supermarket at Conches to do some Christmas food shopping to save going out again, and got a capon for Christmas lunch, smoked salmon and foie gras, and a few other delicacies. We checked our post box outside the house before going in, and found it jammed full, so took everything out including the note saying there were more parcels for us and drove straight to the Post Office. N went in and found our original Post Mistress back again, (his theory is that she has been away on a course to learn how to cope with the new automated Post Office) and came out with several parcels ands more cards. Once home, we put them all on the dining room table and opened them all over tea. Apart from presents from family, N had more books on local history, bought on the internet from all over the place, and I had three or four chatty letters from friends. It was very pleasant - as I had planned! - to come back to a house already decorated for Christmas; the tree was bearing up well but the wreath on the front door looked a little dry and it had lost its orange berries. (I replaced these the next day.) Perhaps another year I need to do it a bit later. But hopefully another year we won’t be away for a week just before Christmas.
On Saturday afternoon I had an appointment with the hairdresser; I was just about to leave when I had a phone call saying could I come about 20 minutes later as they were so busy? So I duly did so; they were very busy, ladies in every chair imaginable, all getting « done » for Christmas. There was even a dog belonging to one of them; he took a long time sniffing all the decorations then fell asleep on his mistress’ lap while she was being brushed out, only to wake up with a start when the hairspray was administered.
N is still thinking about the trip to Germany, but has just finished planning another journey to Britain too, to a family funeral. This will be just after New Year, three or four days after I get back from visiting the family, so I will probably come back here to Normandy by train when he leaves. I will also probably go back for another short trip later in January to help clear and sort my mother’s house, but at the moment, I can’t see that far ahead, and the trip to Germany is just something pleasant on the horizon! Only a few weeks ago, we had nothing at all planned for January.
This morning - Christmas Eve - I spent over half an hour queuing outside the boulangerie, this being the main celebration evening in most French households; lots of people buying five or six loaves, and collecting orders. While I stood in the queue the church clock struck 11.00, 11.15 and 11.30. Although it was cold, I reflected that if in Cambridge I would probably be trying to get round a very crowded Sainsbury’s or Marks & Spencer’s, and decided this was preferable. The main event at lunch time was the breaking of a very Good Bottle of Wine N had unwisely put on the radiator in the dining room, to warm it up a little - his elbow caught it and there was red wine and broken glass all over the tiled floor. I have suggested he puts chilly bottles of wine on the hearth in front of the fire in future.
I spent much of Christmas Eve afternoon cooking: mince pies, cranberry sauce, chestnut stuffing, while listening to the service from Kings on the radio; a little more crackly than at Saint-Denis, but beautiful all the same. In the evening we ate dinner in la Grande Pièce with the best cutlery.
Monday 25 December 2006
Last night as were going to bed the bedroom felt distinctly cold; we wondered if this was simply because the salon was so hot with the wood fire, but on checking N discovered that our fuel oil had run out! We had been told (by the delivery driver) that once it got down as far as 50 we should order more and not leave it till the last moment, and we were intending to do this after New Year, as it was almost at 50. (Even so this should have given us a little leeway.) When N checked it last night, the tank in the garage was completely empty, so the gauge had been very wrongly regulated - by the driver. Our plan is to phone the supplier tomorrow and have a delivery as soon as we can.
So it has been a rather cold Christmas; N managed to keep the wood fire going all night, and we had breakfast on our knees in the salon in front of the fire. We put the blow heater (brought from Cambridge) in the bedroom, and the oil radiator (from Italy) in the Grande Pièce to have lunch in the reasonable warm, and we keep going quickly from room to room. N keeps going out to the wood shed to bring in more logs in the wheelbarrow. It is exactly a year since we had them delivered and stacked them frozen in the shed; they are now beautifully dry and burn well. Christmas lunch was very good if a little chilly; roast capon and five home-grown veg: creamed celeriac, Brussels sprouts; roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips, plus the afore-mentioned cranberry sauce and chestnut stuffing. The pudding was good too, and we managed to flame it with hot cognac very well. During the morning we phoned family, opened presents from each other and from N’s family, and after lunch listened to my present to N - a newly recorded CD of songs by Monteverdi, sung by a wonderful South American tenor whom we had seen on TV. In the evening - not really needing any supper for ages! - we watched our new DVD of « Tales of the Unexpected » opened in the morning.
Sunday 31 December 2006
On the morning of the 26th - fortunately not a holiday here - I phoned the oil company who promised to come the same day. Before this N had said he wouldn’t mind staying a day or so to wait for the delivery if necessary, while I went back to Paris on the train in time to catch the Eurostar on the 27th. The delivery arrived about midday - driver now saying perhaps we should re-order in future when the dial was at about 60 or 70 - but N by then was so keen on the idea of staying here with the fire, the remains of the capon, mince pies, pudding, foie gras, his new Christmas books and CDs et al, that even though in theory we could now have left by car together, as originally planned, he drove me to Conches station to get the 13.16 as we had decided.
The dial in the car showed minus 2 degrees for the first time, and after we had stood waiting 15 minutes on the platform at Conches we were both very cold. The train was not much warmer and by the time I had travelled by metro to Saint-Denis and arrived at the cold apartment, it was very difficult indeed to warm up. Indeed I seemed to spend the entire evening and night trying to get me and the place warm!
I left the next morning at about 7.50 in the pitch dark; the part I thought would be most difficult - getting my bag down the stairs to the ground floor - proving easier then I thought, and I got to Saint-Denis station in plenty of time. I decided to get a surface train rather than an RER; as I had hoped, this meant that from the moment I got out of the train until I arrived at the Eurostar escalator I was entirely on the flat, with no steps to go up or down. (A bag on wheels is fine until there are steps….)
I enjoyed the journey as always - having a croissant and tea as late breakfast and reading a book N gave me for Christmas called « Mozart, c’est Moi’ », a very up-to-date novel set amongst university researchers during the 250th anniversary year. Daughter Madeleine met me at Waterloo, and as promised took me home to Wimbledon for lunch, where I was pleased to unload from my bag heavy presents and a celebratory bottle for her and Richard. In the afternoon we went sales shopping; strange at first as I kept being surprised hearing English spoken around me and seeing brand names I had completely forgotten about. The evening was spent having a lovely dinner with lots to drink and watching various British TV channels and end of year programmes, a real novelty.
The next day - Thursday - the three of us caught a train from Liverpool Street to Ipswich, where I stayed until Saturday, taking part variously in a day with extended family - including the giving and receiving of Christmas presents - more sales shopping, a pub lunch, visiting my mother now settled in her comfortable and friendly new home at Norwood, and last but not least enjoying the company of my sister’s new little black cat, the first time I have slept with a cat since I said goodbye to Albertine fifteen months ago!
On Saturday afternoon I left Ipswich and travelled directly to Saint-Denis, about six hours in all, and arrived somewhat tired and rather train-weary (Ipswich to Liverpool Street, tube to Waterloo, Eurostar and then surface train to Saint-Denis - fortunately avoiding any steps once again) at about 9.30 in the evening. However after a good night’s sleep and a bath and hair-wash I was in form again; fetched bread and other shopping in Saint-Denis and was ready to look forward to New Year’s Eve.
When I had spoken to N on the phone from Ipswich he had said he had managed to book us into a restaurant for dinner on New Year’s Eve for the « réveillon »; this and the equivalent meal on 24 December are the two really important parts of the « Fêtes de Fin de l’Année » as they are called here. I was especially excited as it is years since I have done anything special on New Year’s Eve; last year we were taking things very easy in between two stints of hard work at La Neuve-Lyre. The restaurant was « Le Coupe Chou » (literally The Cabbage Cutter, but they do serve other things….) I had been there once with N a few summers ago; it is in between the Sorbonne and the Collège de France, a very old building consisting of several floors and cellars, with many dark wooden windows and doors. We were booked into the 8.30 sitting, which was quite late enough, and I was pleased and intrigued to find that the metro (and buses and RER) were completely free all evening. I assumed that this was to cope with the vast numbers of people travelling through the capital; we heard later on the news that thousands of revellers were on the Champs Elysées by midnight and indeed saw several hundreds of them getting out at Champs Elysées Clemenceau station both our our way there and way home. I also heard English spoken more than once on the metro, and in the restaurant we were surrounded by Italians and Americans.
They were only serving the set New Year’s Eve dinner; N had been able to see what the menu was while compulsorily booking on the Internet (and paying the compulsory deposit) We walked through about three or four « rooms » before finding our little table in a corner, all the rooms beautifully and very simply decorated with nothing but greenery, red candles, red ribbons and red baubles, all contrasting wonderfully with the plain white tablecloths. (Must remember this another year.)
I ended up eating three different fish courses, with which I was quite happy - smoked salmon, lobster and a mixture of various little white fish and vegetables. N ate pigeon, which as the waiter said, was quite hard work. N asked him whether he thought we should be able to manage it all; the waiter replied that we should think of it as eating now for the whole year, which was certainly one way of looking at it. We decided we didn’t have enough room for any cheese (wisely, I think) and I finished with a delicious white chocolate mousse; must try making this.
I think we were the first to finish and leave; by this time every single table was occupied, and it took some time to thread our way through the restaurant and look for our coats, hats and umbrellas on a very crowded rail, and then find the way out into the street. We got home at about ten to twelve, just in time to raise a glass in front of the TV, and to agree once again that 2006 had been a very successful and eventful year for us.
