Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday 28 June 2007
A long and interesting week, and not without its stressful moments! My plan last Friday was to take the 10.19 bus to L’Aigle and from there the 11.29 train to Paris, arriving at Saint-Denis at about 2.00, well in time for the appointment with the notaire at 4.30. It was pouring with rain as I left the house, not a good start; and I arrived rather damply at L’Aigle station only to discover there was a train strike, and no train to Paris before 5.00 pm. Only the night before I had been watching an item on the TV news about new plans to give notice of strikes and to provide some sort of minimum service, so said boldly was this planned, was there any notice? To which the SNCF man mumbled something about there might have been a small piece about it on Channel 3. (I was watching Channel 1.)
The prospect of spending the whole day in L’Aigle in the rain (with a large bag) was no fun; anyway I phoned N who said he could perhaps see if we could alter the appointment until Monday, but otherwise had no bright ideas. I went back to the ticket office - as it got nearer 11.29 when the Paris train was due to leave, more and more passengers were receiving the news in amazement - and asked if there were any trains from Evreux. There was one due to leave at 14.13, so I worked out that I could take the bus back again all the way to Evreux, get the train and arrive in Paris at 3.30, still in time for the appointment. Phoned N again to say all this; he said good luck and if I was really late to go straight to the notaire’s office.
This left only an hour and a half to spend in L’Aigle, a better proposition, and I decided not to spend all the time in the bar of the Hotel du Paradis over the road as it had by then stopped raining, and I remembered the shoe warehouse, which might be entertaining. It was, even with a large bag, and then I set about looking for somewhere for a very early lunch, to be back at the station in time to catch the bus at 12.35 (the one I usually catch home on market days.) I ate at the hotel/bar/restaurant which I’d found on my first visit there - the one with the quaint outside toilet - and had a strange mixture of smoked salmon, toasted bread and chips, plus lots of water as the fish was very salty. I was very fortunate to have with me a very gripping book which I had just started the day before: « The Adventure of English » by Melvyn Bragg, an entertaining history of the English language.
I caught the bus and travelled the whole route all the way from L’Aigle to Evreux, an hour and a quarter in all, going through La Neuve-Lyre on the way. I was little anxious that (a) the train might not in fact exist (It did) and that (b) the bus might be late and I would miss the train; no chance of that either as the train was a good 20 minutes late in arriving. There were quite a few people waiting on the platform, and as it pulled in there seemed to be lots of passengers on their feet; I thought it was strange that so many were getting out at Evreux. I got in at a door at the end of a carriage, pushing my bag up inside first, and then it dawned on me that that was as far as I was going to get, all the other people standing there were not getting on or off, they were travelling there, as were all those standing up between the seats in the carriages!
So that was how we travelled to Paris, about an hour’s journey, 8 or 9 people and their luggage (including a guitar in a large padded case) standing up in the little space at the end of the carriage, where usually you just get on or off or stack luggage. By this time it had got quite warm and sunny; fortunately I had taken off my raincoat and put it in my bag, was glad I was wearing flat shoes and very glad indeed of the Gripping Book; I just got absorbed in it and tried to forget where I was. There was very little air, and I thought alternately of the Black Hole of Calcutta and the trains to Auschwitz, and was glad I’d had a good drink of water at lunch time. I also thought of the last time I’d travelled in similar cramped circumstances, when I was living in France in 1974 and caught a packed boat train out of Paris at the beginning of a holiday weekend; then at least there had been room to sit on the floor, with my back against the toilet door.
Eventually we arrived at Saint-Lazare, and I was one of the first off the train - some people must have taken ages - and there were announcements about a « mouvement social » in Normandy, so a very local strike. The metro seemed to be just as crowded, and by now it was after 3.45 and I was wondering whether I was going to get to the appointment on time. A long hot walk from the metro station to the apartment and I arrived at about 4.10, quite exhausted. N’s first reaction was that I should write a very Fierce Letter to the customer relations section of SNCF telling them all the details and asking for my ticket money back. This he drafted the next day, leaving me to fill in details of times and prices and attach my ticket and it was posted the same day.
After a long drink, change of shoes, wash and brush up we set off to the notaire’s office, only a few minutes away. This was not the original notaire we had seen for my house purchase, nor the young woman who had come with us to the signature in Evreux, but a new man N had seen in March. He read all through our hand-written Wills; it was rather like a Supervision at Cambridge University, and I kept expecting to be asked questions, why I had written what I did; what I meant by such and such, my thoughts and opinions. But no, although he did point out where I had left out a couple of words in my copying, so I added them. He explained how the Wills would be registered and each given a number, so that given the owner’s full name, address, date and place of birth, a Will can be traced from any notaire’s office in France. For this he relieved us of the large sum of 250 euros each. We were both very pleased it is all over and finished and as it should be, and have since both received our very fine receipts!
N then suggested we went on to the car park to get the car, and go supermarket shopping at Auchan to stock up ready for our lunch party on Sunday. I agreed as this seemed to involve a fair amount of sitting down, but by the time we had walked all round Auchan and then carried all the shopping from the car park back up to the apartment I was very tired indeed. In the few days before leaving LNL I had started to have a slight sore throat and a bit of a cold, and by Saturday it wasn’t very nice at all, so went round to the pharmacie for a course of médicaments to help. It didn’t really, and the night pill had the effect of drying mouth and throat so completely it was quite difficult to sleep. I did a few other bits of shopping; things we hadn’t been able to get from Auchan, also to C & A, where N had also discovered the delights of their well-fitting trousers! and I was able to get him another pair in a style he’d bought a few days before.
While in Paris this time we had wanted to take a trip either to the Château called Bagatelle or another house at Rueil Malmaison; in the event we did neither, partly because of the weather which was not too bad but untrustworthy, partly because N thought I wasn’t well enough (I was but I think he just wanted to stay in and sleep) and partly because we left earlier than intended, of which more later.
On Sunday we were up early and had everything prepared well in time for lunch; it was the first time I had ever been present for a meal for six round that table, and although I’d had to go out and buy six matching table napkins the day before, it was nice to be able to have and use more than enough china from the gold-rimmed dinner service from Italy, and another set of « best » cutlery. N had made gazpacho the day before - served in the imposing big gold-rimmed soup tureen - with lots of garnish and croutons made by me; we then had pork paupiettes in mustard and white wine sauce with little jacket potatoes, salad, cheeses and a bought apricot flan.
It was good to see them all again, and the Palmers brought Darren (almost 3) who behaved very nicely and spent much of the time asleep in the little bedroom; ideal for the purpose as nice and dark but just close to the dining room. It was good to see Matt and Elke again too, and to hear about their apartment and Elke’s new job. N enquired about Mailika’s job too, as PA to a well-known local communist politician, and I noted that both she and Elke were able to walk to their offices. Matt was interested to hear about NP’s work, as he is obviously very keen on cinema. The Palmers are moving in August to a larger apartment still in Saint-Denis, and hope they might come to visit us here in LNL as they plan to be nearby for couple of weeks then.
After they left we did very little for the rest of the day; I had done far too much talking and my throat was very painful, and with a lack of appetite I ceritnly didn’t want anything more to eat. I also had other strange pains in my cheeks (probably sinuses) which I thought might turn into either toothache or earache. I was looking forward to a quiet and not very busy day on Monday before we left for Simone’s on Tuesday. We still hadn’t decided whether it would be fine enough to visit a house and garden on Monday afternoon; I thought if not it would be good opportunity to go to the local cinema. On Monday morning I did a bit more local shopping, and caught up with the washing, of which there was quite a lot. I was getting it all out of the machine when N took a phone call from Simone wondering why we were late for lunch - somehow she thought we were coming Monday/Tuesday, whereas we were both quite sure it was Tuesday/Wednesday. Of course we said we would come as soon as possible after lunch, so there then followed a terrible rush; packing all that need to go back to LNL - including quite a lot of left-over food from Sunday, and some damp washing (fortunately not all of it) emptying rubbish, tidying up, turning things off, hurriedly planting a lovely cyclamen brought for us the day before, packing up white roses I had bought for the lunch table to take (only slightly used!) for Simone, locking up and N fetching the car round to the front of the apartment. After all this, and opening and closing the heavy street doors I felt quite ill, and was glad I had a good long journey in which to recover.
It was only the day before that I had remembered, and reminded N who had also forgotten, that Simone had called a while ago to explain that some friends from Paris - Bernard and Michelle - would be staying at the same time, and that as Bernard was a cellist she and N would be able to play trios after all, and not be restricted to duets. As we arrived at the house and all three were just coming back from a walk I recognised Bernard and Michelle as people we had met at the musical afternoons at Livilliers; Bernard was the little cellist in the grey pullover who had played the marvellous Shostakovich sonata, and I recognised his wife too. They sorted all this out with N while I asked Simone if we could put our leftovers in her fridge and offered her the roses and a pot of cherry jam (brought from LNL with forward thinking) then N explained to them all that I really wasn’t very well, which was good as it saved me the trouble.
The main reason Simone had invited us again was to be able to see Le Mans in the sunshine, as in March it had rained the whole while - but it rained for the whole time during this June visit too! We had missed the walk round Le Vieux Mans that afternoon, but arrived just in time for tea, very welcome, and then the first music session, during which I dozed off. There was more music after dinner and the next morning, then we went out to visit the Abbey we had seen last time - in exactly the same pouring rain! Still very beautiful and enjoyable, though.
We slept in the same room as last time; N said how nice it was to have another room that we knew, waiting for us somewhere else in France. Simone prepared wonderful meals, helped by Michelle I’m pleased to say, but I had very little appetite. She had obviously primed B & M all about us (they enquired about the house and garden in Normandy) and it was interesting listen to them talk; they live in Neuilly, former « constituency » of Nicolas Sarkozy who was by all accounts a young and extremely effective mayor. N and I tried later to work out exactly how old Bernard was; he mentioned playing a certain trio 72 years ago, had been retired 22 years, and they had three grandchildren taking the Baccalaureat exam (equivalent to A levels) this summer. But he walked everywhere, read everything and all the while talked about musical and other activities and all the rest of life with no reference at all to ill-health, or age or any kind of slowing down. I wonder how this is done?? I’m sure the cello must have something to do with it! N said that Michelle obviously had a good knowledge of music too (she was a choral singer, like me) and I said I wasn’t at all surprised if she’d been living all those years with Bernard.
After lunch on Tuesday we all had another little outing to the local museum in Le Mans where a life-size Egyptian tomb had recently been installed underground, under the museum itself. The walls and ceilings were covered with life-size photographs of the drawings and hieroglyphics from the original tomb. It was an amazing experience, and I could imagine very useful for schoolchildren and students studying Egyptology; Simone agreed and said it was usually full of classes of young children. We looked at a few other rooms of paintings but had to go back to the car as it had been parked long enough.
Bernard and Michelle were due to leave on the 7.00 pm train, driven to the station by Simone, so we decided to go at about the same time. Once again, the visit had been barely 24 hours, but very enjoyable and a lot of music played and listened to! The Le Mans/Normandy journey is shorter then the Le Mans/Paris one, so we were home by about 8 o’clock, and had scrambled eggs for supper, a special request from N.
Saturday 30 June 2007
Since then I have tried to sort out clothes and belongings, extra food, ironing and correspondence as usual, at the same time trying to go slowly and feel better. N threatened to take me to the doctor once again, but I went along to the pharmacie and described my cough and was sold some very nasty stuff (so presumably it must be doing me some good.) Deceptively, it tastes like honey when I first put it in my mouth then seems to turn into sun tan oil. Anyway, the cough (mostly at night) and a bit of nose-blowing are the only symptoms I have left, which is good.
On Wednesday there was suddenly a large crop of beetroot, so everything was on hold for the afternoon while I made Beetroot Pickle, from a useful recipe in the WI preserves book. N cooked, peeled and chopped the beetroot, while I dealt with the apples and onions - it conveniently used up one and a half pounds of last year’s apples - and there are now 8 pots of wonderful magenta-coloured pickle but we haven’t tasted it yet.
On Thursday morning N took the car to the garage at Bernay to be seen to as arranged; he had been told it would take an hour and half but rang me soon after in amazement to say he would have to wait until 4.30. It was a little like my enforced day in L’Aigle, and he eventually turned up at about 5.30 (he called in at Intermarché and Vive le Jardin! on the way home) with leaflets from the library, the museum, the tourist office and the music conservatory, having spent time in Monsieur Bricolage and also having found a nice restaurant for a long, slow lunch. The car has to go back for a return visit next Thursday, (not for so long this time, fortunately) so I can go too and be shown some of these things, especially the restaurant and the museum. While N was away all day - it was as though he had gone to work - I managed to catch up on all the things which had been put off the day before, due to the Pickle; hoovering the verandah and sweeping the terrace which had got covered in pieces of moss again. I also replaced all the plants in the verandah; I had left them out on the terrace before I left, for a little holiday. As the garage was empty all day with both doors wide open I swept that out too, which is a great improvement. We have since noticed that the nest on the front beam has a little tiny nest by the side of it; I thought they must have built an extension; N said perhaps it was a Granny flat.
N had agreed to make dinner on Thursday, and it was the first meal I have really tasted and enjoyed for some time. He cooked lamb chops with lots of fresh herbs, served with mint and redcurrant jelly, new home-grown potatoes and the first broad beans. I had previously made a very small gooseberry crumble with our entire crop of gooseberries for the year, which we ate with local cream. The day before we had eaten our entire crop of currants, over two meals, with ice cream. All these fruits and vegetables must be helping me feel better!
The weather however is getting worse instead of better, even less sunshine with colder temperatures and more wind. I have had to revert to jeans and shoes instead of cropped trousers and sandals. Yesterday the girl at the vegetable stall said she was fed up with it; I said I was too and she agreed when I said it was like October. All week the weather forecasters had been saying it would be brighter and sunny by Saturday, but started changing their minds by Thursday - I have noticed this often happens. It is very slightly warmer and brighter today. N went to the hairdressers and came back as usual with some interesting information; apparently a new traiteur/charcutier is due to open on Monday! We agreed we would have to give it lots of support, so it didn’t go bankrupt like the former one. I have picked up a leaflet in the village shop giving details of raspberries and currants for sale at very good prices somewhere between La Barre-en-Ouche and Bernay, so hope to be making some more jam soon.
The end of June means the beginning of holiday time in France; as well as scenes of departures by road and rail on the TV news, almost all of the programmes on France Musique have said goodbye until the beginning of September, while summer schedules will take over from Monday.
A long and interesting week, and not without its stressful moments! My plan last Friday was to take the 10.19 bus to L’Aigle and from there the 11.29 train to Paris, arriving at Saint-Denis at about 2.00, well in time for the appointment with the notaire at 4.30. It was pouring with rain as I left the house, not a good start; and I arrived rather damply at L’Aigle station only to discover there was a train strike, and no train to Paris before 5.00 pm. Only the night before I had been watching an item on the TV news about new plans to give notice of strikes and to provide some sort of minimum service, so said boldly was this planned, was there any notice? To which the SNCF man mumbled something about there might have been a small piece about it on Channel 3. (I was watching Channel 1.)
The prospect of spending the whole day in L’Aigle in the rain (with a large bag) was no fun; anyway I phoned N who said he could perhaps see if we could alter the appointment until Monday, but otherwise had no bright ideas. I went back to the ticket office - as it got nearer 11.29 when the Paris train was due to leave, more and more passengers were receiving the news in amazement - and asked if there were any trains from Evreux. There was one due to leave at 14.13, so I worked out that I could take the bus back again all the way to Evreux, get the train and arrive in Paris at 3.30, still in time for the appointment. Phoned N again to say all this; he said good luck and if I was really late to go straight to the notaire’s office.
This left only an hour and a half to spend in L’Aigle, a better proposition, and I decided not to spend all the time in the bar of the Hotel du Paradis over the road as it had by then stopped raining, and I remembered the shoe warehouse, which might be entertaining. It was, even with a large bag, and then I set about looking for somewhere for a very early lunch, to be back at the station in time to catch the bus at 12.35 (the one I usually catch home on market days.) I ate at the hotel/bar/restaurant which I’d found on my first visit there - the one with the quaint outside toilet - and had a strange mixture of smoked salmon, toasted bread and chips, plus lots of water as the fish was very salty. I was very fortunate to have with me a very gripping book which I had just started the day before: « The Adventure of English » by Melvyn Bragg, an entertaining history of the English language.
I caught the bus and travelled the whole route all the way from L’Aigle to Evreux, an hour and a quarter in all, going through La Neuve-Lyre on the way. I was little anxious that (a) the train might not in fact exist (It did) and that (b) the bus might be late and I would miss the train; no chance of that either as the train was a good 20 minutes late in arriving. There were quite a few people waiting on the platform, and as it pulled in there seemed to be lots of passengers on their feet; I thought it was strange that so many were getting out at Evreux. I got in at a door at the end of a carriage, pushing my bag up inside first, and then it dawned on me that that was as far as I was going to get, all the other people standing there were not getting on or off, they were travelling there, as were all those standing up between the seats in the carriages!
So that was how we travelled to Paris, about an hour’s journey, 8 or 9 people and their luggage (including a guitar in a large padded case) standing up in the little space at the end of the carriage, where usually you just get on or off or stack luggage. By this time it had got quite warm and sunny; fortunately I had taken off my raincoat and put it in my bag, was glad I was wearing flat shoes and very glad indeed of the Gripping Book; I just got absorbed in it and tried to forget where I was. There was very little air, and I thought alternately of the Black Hole of Calcutta and the trains to Auschwitz, and was glad I’d had a good drink of water at lunch time. I also thought of the last time I’d travelled in similar cramped circumstances, when I was living in France in 1974 and caught a packed boat train out of Paris at the beginning of a holiday weekend; then at least there had been room to sit on the floor, with my back against the toilet door.
Eventually we arrived at Saint-Lazare, and I was one of the first off the train - some people must have taken ages - and there were announcements about a « mouvement social » in Normandy, so a very local strike. The metro seemed to be just as crowded, and by now it was after 3.45 and I was wondering whether I was going to get to the appointment on time. A long hot walk from the metro station to the apartment and I arrived at about 4.10, quite exhausted. N’s first reaction was that I should write a very Fierce Letter to the customer relations section of SNCF telling them all the details and asking for my ticket money back. This he drafted the next day, leaving me to fill in details of times and prices and attach my ticket and it was posted the same day.
After a long drink, change of shoes, wash and brush up we set off to the notaire’s office, only a few minutes away. This was not the original notaire we had seen for my house purchase, nor the young woman who had come with us to the signature in Evreux, but a new man N had seen in March. He read all through our hand-written Wills; it was rather like a Supervision at Cambridge University, and I kept expecting to be asked questions, why I had written what I did; what I meant by such and such, my thoughts and opinions. But no, although he did point out where I had left out a couple of words in my copying, so I added them. He explained how the Wills would be registered and each given a number, so that given the owner’s full name, address, date and place of birth, a Will can be traced from any notaire’s office in France. For this he relieved us of the large sum of 250 euros each. We were both very pleased it is all over and finished and as it should be, and have since both received our very fine receipts!
N then suggested we went on to the car park to get the car, and go supermarket shopping at Auchan to stock up ready for our lunch party on Sunday. I agreed as this seemed to involve a fair amount of sitting down, but by the time we had walked all round Auchan and then carried all the shopping from the car park back up to the apartment I was very tired indeed. In the few days before leaving LNL I had started to have a slight sore throat and a bit of a cold, and by Saturday it wasn’t very nice at all, so went round to the pharmacie for a course of médicaments to help. It didn’t really, and the night pill had the effect of drying mouth and throat so completely it was quite difficult to sleep. I did a few other bits of shopping; things we hadn’t been able to get from Auchan, also to C & A, where N had also discovered the delights of their well-fitting trousers! and I was able to get him another pair in a style he’d bought a few days before.
While in Paris this time we had wanted to take a trip either to the Château called Bagatelle or another house at Rueil Malmaison; in the event we did neither, partly because of the weather which was not too bad but untrustworthy, partly because N thought I wasn’t well enough (I was but I think he just wanted to stay in and sleep) and partly because we left earlier than intended, of which more later.
On Sunday we were up early and had everything prepared well in time for lunch; it was the first time I had ever been present for a meal for six round that table, and although I’d had to go out and buy six matching table napkins the day before, it was nice to be able to have and use more than enough china from the gold-rimmed dinner service from Italy, and another set of « best » cutlery. N had made gazpacho the day before - served in the imposing big gold-rimmed soup tureen - with lots of garnish and croutons made by me; we then had pork paupiettes in mustard and white wine sauce with little jacket potatoes, salad, cheeses and a bought apricot flan.
It was good to see them all again, and the Palmers brought Darren (almost 3) who behaved very nicely and spent much of the time asleep in the little bedroom; ideal for the purpose as nice and dark but just close to the dining room. It was good to see Matt and Elke again too, and to hear about their apartment and Elke’s new job. N enquired about Mailika’s job too, as PA to a well-known local communist politician, and I noted that both she and Elke were able to walk to their offices. Matt was interested to hear about NP’s work, as he is obviously very keen on cinema. The Palmers are moving in August to a larger apartment still in Saint-Denis, and hope they might come to visit us here in LNL as they plan to be nearby for couple of weeks then.
After they left we did very little for the rest of the day; I had done far too much talking and my throat was very painful, and with a lack of appetite I ceritnly didn’t want anything more to eat. I also had other strange pains in my cheeks (probably sinuses) which I thought might turn into either toothache or earache. I was looking forward to a quiet and not very busy day on Monday before we left for Simone’s on Tuesday. We still hadn’t decided whether it would be fine enough to visit a house and garden on Monday afternoon; I thought if not it would be good opportunity to go to the local cinema. On Monday morning I did a bit more local shopping, and caught up with the washing, of which there was quite a lot. I was getting it all out of the machine when N took a phone call from Simone wondering why we were late for lunch - somehow she thought we were coming Monday/Tuesday, whereas we were both quite sure it was Tuesday/Wednesday. Of course we said we would come as soon as possible after lunch, so there then followed a terrible rush; packing all that need to go back to LNL - including quite a lot of left-over food from Sunday, and some damp washing (fortunately not all of it) emptying rubbish, tidying up, turning things off, hurriedly planting a lovely cyclamen brought for us the day before, packing up white roses I had bought for the lunch table to take (only slightly used!) for Simone, locking up and N fetching the car round to the front of the apartment. After all this, and opening and closing the heavy street doors I felt quite ill, and was glad I had a good long journey in which to recover.
It was only the day before that I had remembered, and reminded N who had also forgotten, that Simone had called a while ago to explain that some friends from Paris - Bernard and Michelle - would be staying at the same time, and that as Bernard was a cellist she and N would be able to play trios after all, and not be restricted to duets. As we arrived at the house and all three were just coming back from a walk I recognised Bernard and Michelle as people we had met at the musical afternoons at Livilliers; Bernard was the little cellist in the grey pullover who had played the marvellous Shostakovich sonata, and I recognised his wife too. They sorted all this out with N while I asked Simone if we could put our leftovers in her fridge and offered her the roses and a pot of cherry jam (brought from LNL with forward thinking) then N explained to them all that I really wasn’t very well, which was good as it saved me the trouble.
The main reason Simone had invited us again was to be able to see Le Mans in the sunshine, as in March it had rained the whole while - but it rained for the whole time during this June visit too! We had missed the walk round Le Vieux Mans that afternoon, but arrived just in time for tea, very welcome, and then the first music session, during which I dozed off. There was more music after dinner and the next morning, then we went out to visit the Abbey we had seen last time - in exactly the same pouring rain! Still very beautiful and enjoyable, though.
We slept in the same room as last time; N said how nice it was to have another room that we knew, waiting for us somewhere else in France. Simone prepared wonderful meals, helped by Michelle I’m pleased to say, but I had very little appetite. She had obviously primed B & M all about us (they enquired about the house and garden in Normandy) and it was interesting listen to them talk; they live in Neuilly, former « constituency » of Nicolas Sarkozy who was by all accounts a young and extremely effective mayor. N and I tried later to work out exactly how old Bernard was; he mentioned playing a certain trio 72 years ago, had been retired 22 years, and they had three grandchildren taking the Baccalaureat exam (equivalent to A levels) this summer. But he walked everywhere, read everything and all the while talked about musical and other activities and all the rest of life with no reference at all to ill-health, or age or any kind of slowing down. I wonder how this is done?? I’m sure the cello must have something to do with it! N said that Michelle obviously had a good knowledge of music too (she was a choral singer, like me) and I said I wasn’t at all surprised if she’d been living all those years with Bernard.
After lunch on Tuesday we all had another little outing to the local museum in Le Mans where a life-size Egyptian tomb had recently been installed underground, under the museum itself. The walls and ceilings were covered with life-size photographs of the drawings and hieroglyphics from the original tomb. It was an amazing experience, and I could imagine very useful for schoolchildren and students studying Egyptology; Simone agreed and said it was usually full of classes of young children. We looked at a few other rooms of paintings but had to go back to the car as it had been parked long enough.
Bernard and Michelle were due to leave on the 7.00 pm train, driven to the station by Simone, so we decided to go at about the same time. Once again, the visit had been barely 24 hours, but very enjoyable and a lot of music played and listened to! The Le Mans/Normandy journey is shorter then the Le Mans/Paris one, so we were home by about 8 o’clock, and had scrambled eggs for supper, a special request from N.
Saturday 30 June 2007
Since then I have tried to sort out clothes and belongings, extra food, ironing and correspondence as usual, at the same time trying to go slowly and feel better. N threatened to take me to the doctor once again, but I went along to the pharmacie and described my cough and was sold some very nasty stuff (so presumably it must be doing me some good.) Deceptively, it tastes like honey when I first put it in my mouth then seems to turn into sun tan oil. Anyway, the cough (mostly at night) and a bit of nose-blowing are the only symptoms I have left, which is good.
On Wednesday there was suddenly a large crop of beetroot, so everything was on hold for the afternoon while I made Beetroot Pickle, from a useful recipe in the WI preserves book. N cooked, peeled and chopped the beetroot, while I dealt with the apples and onions - it conveniently used up one and a half pounds of last year’s apples - and there are now 8 pots of wonderful magenta-coloured pickle but we haven’t tasted it yet.
On Thursday morning N took the car to the garage at Bernay to be seen to as arranged; he had been told it would take an hour and half but rang me soon after in amazement to say he would have to wait until 4.30. It was a little like my enforced day in L’Aigle, and he eventually turned up at about 5.30 (he called in at Intermarché and Vive le Jardin! on the way home) with leaflets from the library, the museum, the tourist office and the music conservatory, having spent time in Monsieur Bricolage and also having found a nice restaurant for a long, slow lunch. The car has to go back for a return visit next Thursday, (not for so long this time, fortunately) so I can go too and be shown some of these things, especially the restaurant and the museum. While N was away all day - it was as though he had gone to work - I managed to catch up on all the things which had been put off the day before, due to the Pickle; hoovering the verandah and sweeping the terrace which had got covered in pieces of moss again. I also replaced all the plants in the verandah; I had left them out on the terrace before I left, for a little holiday. As the garage was empty all day with both doors wide open I swept that out too, which is a great improvement. We have since noticed that the nest on the front beam has a little tiny nest by the side of it; I thought they must have built an extension; N said perhaps it was a Granny flat.
N had agreed to make dinner on Thursday, and it was the first meal I have really tasted and enjoyed for some time. He cooked lamb chops with lots of fresh herbs, served with mint and redcurrant jelly, new home-grown potatoes and the first broad beans. I had previously made a very small gooseberry crumble with our entire crop of gooseberries for the year, which we ate with local cream. The day before we had eaten our entire crop of currants, over two meals, with ice cream. All these fruits and vegetables must be helping me feel better!
The weather however is getting worse instead of better, even less sunshine with colder temperatures and more wind. I have had to revert to jeans and shoes instead of cropped trousers and sandals. Yesterday the girl at the vegetable stall said she was fed up with it; I said I was too and she agreed when I said it was like October. All week the weather forecasters had been saying it would be brighter and sunny by Saturday, but started changing their minds by Thursday - I have noticed this often happens. It is very slightly warmer and brighter today. N went to the hairdressers and came back as usual with some interesting information; apparently a new traiteur/charcutier is due to open on Monday! We agreed we would have to give it lots of support, so it didn’t go bankrupt like the former one. I have picked up a leaflet in the village shop giving details of raspberries and currants for sale at very good prices somewhere between La Barre-en-Ouche and Bernay, so hope to be making some more jam soon.
The end of June means the beginning of holiday time in France; as well as scenes of departures by road and rail on the TV news, almost all of the programmes on France Musique have said goodbye until the beginning of September, while summer schedules will take over from Monday.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Saturday 16 June 2007
I have almost finished reading the life of George Sand after several months, and have only now reached the part describing the voyage to Majorca with Chopin, the reading of which prompted me to read the whole life in the first place. I feel I would very much like to visit her house at Nohant, in the Berry region, which N says can be reached in a day from Paris - I was surprised as she mentions it taking four days by carriage; so I expect she would be surprised as well. After a little research I found a useful George Sand website, with pictures of the house, amongst other things. It is comparable with some of the Proust websites.
Last Sunday was the first round of the Législatives - government elections here in France. They are not as interesting or dramatic as the presidential elections, but we received lots of free literature in our mailbox, which included the name and address of our current député (MP) in Evreux. N drafted a letter signed by us both pointing out to him the volume, size and speed of traffic going along the narrow road in front of the house, and we also sent a copy to the local mayor. Imagine our excitement when we received a printed envelope from the Assemblée Nationale (parliament building) in Paris with a letter from our député saying he had taken note of our observations, was happy to intervene on our behalf and would keep us up to date with developments, and including a copy of his letter to our major, asking him to look into the situation. As N says, he probably thinks he will get a couple of votes out of us for this, and might he have been so prompt if it hadn’t been election time? But at least if nothing happens we can confidently enquire again.
Tuesday 19 June 2007
The weather continues very changeable, veering between storms, sunshine, wind and heat. On Sunday morning violent storms were forecast, but the morning began completely cloudless, we had breakfast in the garden and N was finally able to cut the lawns again; they had grown so quickly in the last couple of weeks.
This was just as well, as we were expecting guests in the afternoon - N’s friend Odile and her friend Thérèse after many false alarms and cancelled visits finally arrived for a couple of days; Sunday & Monday rather than the more traditional weekend, as Thérèse works in a library which is open on Saturdays. Apart from all the usual preparations, I kept remembering things which needed picking from the garden while it was still dry and fine - cherries for making clafoutis (a traditional French dessert with cherries and batter, a little like a cherry toad-in-the-hole) sage leaves, potatoes and lettuces. It felt a little like those TV pictures of areas where a tornado is expected. By five o’clock the rain was falling fast; everything was ready and we sat in the verandah with tea and cake watching the woodshed door for the arrival of our guests.
They phoned first as they had got lost, so N explained and eventually met them at the front gate. They drove round to the back and were amazed by size of the house and garden (even in the rain) as so many visitors are when they arrive via the garage or woodshed. They joined us for tea, and then were shown their rooms (Odile in the Italian room and Thérèse in the smaller attic) and the rest of the house, which Thérèse kept declaring « un petit paradis », and saying didn’t we feel as though we were living in a Jane Austen novel? I said I thought it was probably a couple of decades too late, but had thought recently that Life had become rather like a Jane Austen novel (without the proposals of marriage perhaps….) in that it mainly revolves round having people to stay and going to stay with other people.
Anyway, apart from the clafoutis and several cheeses, we ate chicken saltimbocca (fillet of chicken with Italian ham and sage leaves) and five home-grown vegetables: potatoes, peas, broccoli, cauliflower and turnips for dinner in the grande pièce. Afterwards they gave us presents - it was a little like Christmas - a bottle of champagne to drink on our own « en amoureux » Victorian books on the Medieval Mind (in English) for N, plus seeds and plant labels, and for me a candle, soap, and two books: a recipe book all about « peelings » and an amusing book of writings by the Duchess of Devonshire (translated into French).
We all watched the programmes and interviews surrounding the results of the final round of the election, the only surprise being that the expected landslide win by the Right turned out not as massive as originally predicted. Our two guests differed greatly; one blonde with leftish tendencies and the other dark with strong right-wing views. More than once N had to intervene with some totally unrelated innocuous comment or question to diffuse the tension!
The next morning we all went for a little walk to have a look at the village and the market; they were delighted by everything and kept saying it was all so much better than where they lived, which they described as suburbs but not real countryside, Thérèse bought postcards from the maison de la presse and flowers for me, and I kept desperately hoping it would stay dry enough for lunch in the garden; it did and there was even a little sunshine. The cider tasted so much better out of doors - as always - and N gave them each a bottle to take with them from the wine cellar, plus a few cherries. As we had coffee in the garden the first drops of rain fell, but they were due to set off and by the time they had left it was fine again.
All in all they were with us less than twenty-four hours, but as Odile said, a good break can often feel like lot longer. They told me I was an excellent hostess, which obviously pleased me, but they were excellent guests! And as always, we hope guests will regard it not as a unique occasion but as the first of many visits (now they have found the way!) N and I enjoyed much of the rest of the afternoon sitting in the garden; in the sunshine with the lawns mowed and the new flowerbed looking really pretty and colourful it was a real pleasure, not to mention having new books to read.
When N mentioned Bovril sandwiches in the evening I said I had been reading about them lately; he said was George Sand feeding them to Chopin? I said no, I had been reading the Duchess of Devonshire, who apparently lived on them as a child. (Two very interesting books to read concurrently; both formidable women with perhaps not much in common. N and I both agreed that if G Sand had fed Bovril sandwiches to F Chopin , he would have had a far stronger constitution, probably lived a lot longer and composed far more music. Interesting subject for an essay.)
Wednesday 20 June 2007
Yesterday morning N set off for Paris, to attend a Sorbonne ceremony in the afternoon, honouring one of his fellow Emeritus professors. I will go by train on Friday, in time for an appointment at 4.30 with the local notaire regarding our Wills, and am meanwhile enjoying peace and quiet here in the sunshine. Yesterday was the first day of real summer weather; still the same blend of sunshine, wind and heat, with a little rain at the end of the day, but real June weather, as we approach the longest day with the sun so high and the nights and mornings so light. Both yesterday and today I have spent a lot of time sitting in the garden, with the result that I have now finished reading both the Duchess of Devonshire (very small volume) and the Life of George Sand! (Two large volumes, started last autumn.) Have also got lots of washing done (ideal drying weather) and almost all the ironing, and most importantly have made a hand-written copy of my Will in French ready for Friday, as it appears that only then is it legal and able to be registered. (It also exists in computer-printed versions in French and English…)
Thursday 21 June 2007
N phoned this morning to say that he had heard from the Palmers, and that they were accepting our invitation to lunch in Saint-Denis next Sunday. Matt and Elke - who were here at LNL briefly for the music party last summer - are also coming. I feel totally devoid of ideas at the moment! And it is never as easy cooking there as it is here, but no doubt inspiration will come from somewhere. But I look forward to seeing them all again. On Tuesday we are going to Le Mans again to see Simone; I think N feels there is not much point if he isn’t playing quartets or trios, but Simone kindly said she wanted to show me more of « le vieux Mans », I think by way of a thank-you for looking after her when she last stayed here. We are only staying one night, going straight from Paris and then back to LNL in a sort of triangle, which will involve taking dressing gowns and toiletries from Saint-Denis which will end up back here, in the wrong place!
I have almost finished reading the life of George Sand after several months, and have only now reached the part describing the voyage to Majorca with Chopin, the reading of which prompted me to read the whole life in the first place. I feel I would very much like to visit her house at Nohant, in the Berry region, which N says can be reached in a day from Paris - I was surprised as she mentions it taking four days by carriage; so I expect she would be surprised as well. After a little research I found a useful George Sand website, with pictures of the house, amongst other things. It is comparable with some of the Proust websites.
Last Sunday was the first round of the Législatives - government elections here in France. They are not as interesting or dramatic as the presidential elections, but we received lots of free literature in our mailbox, which included the name and address of our current député (MP) in Evreux. N drafted a letter signed by us both pointing out to him the volume, size and speed of traffic going along the narrow road in front of the house, and we also sent a copy to the local mayor. Imagine our excitement when we received a printed envelope from the Assemblée Nationale (parliament building) in Paris with a letter from our député saying he had taken note of our observations, was happy to intervene on our behalf and would keep us up to date with developments, and including a copy of his letter to our major, asking him to look into the situation. As N says, he probably thinks he will get a couple of votes out of us for this, and might he have been so prompt if it hadn’t been election time? But at least if nothing happens we can confidently enquire again.
Tuesday 19 June 2007
The weather continues very changeable, veering between storms, sunshine, wind and heat. On Sunday morning violent storms were forecast, but the morning began completely cloudless, we had breakfast in the garden and N was finally able to cut the lawns again; they had grown so quickly in the last couple of weeks.
This was just as well, as we were expecting guests in the afternoon - N’s friend Odile and her friend Thérèse after many false alarms and cancelled visits finally arrived for a couple of days; Sunday & Monday rather than the more traditional weekend, as Thérèse works in a library which is open on Saturdays. Apart from all the usual preparations, I kept remembering things which needed picking from the garden while it was still dry and fine - cherries for making clafoutis (a traditional French dessert with cherries and batter, a little like a cherry toad-in-the-hole) sage leaves, potatoes and lettuces. It felt a little like those TV pictures of areas where a tornado is expected. By five o’clock the rain was falling fast; everything was ready and we sat in the verandah with tea and cake watching the woodshed door for the arrival of our guests.
They phoned first as they had got lost, so N explained and eventually met them at the front gate. They drove round to the back and were amazed by size of the house and garden (even in the rain) as so many visitors are when they arrive via the garage or woodshed. They joined us for tea, and then were shown their rooms (Odile in the Italian room and Thérèse in the smaller attic) and the rest of the house, which Thérèse kept declaring « un petit paradis », and saying didn’t we feel as though we were living in a Jane Austen novel? I said I thought it was probably a couple of decades too late, but had thought recently that Life had become rather like a Jane Austen novel (without the proposals of marriage perhaps….) in that it mainly revolves round having people to stay and going to stay with other people.
Anyway, apart from the clafoutis and several cheeses, we ate chicken saltimbocca (fillet of chicken with Italian ham and sage leaves) and five home-grown vegetables: potatoes, peas, broccoli, cauliflower and turnips for dinner in the grande pièce. Afterwards they gave us presents - it was a little like Christmas - a bottle of champagne to drink on our own « en amoureux » Victorian books on the Medieval Mind (in English) for N, plus seeds and plant labels, and for me a candle, soap, and two books: a recipe book all about « peelings » and an amusing book of writings by the Duchess of Devonshire (translated into French).
We all watched the programmes and interviews surrounding the results of the final round of the election, the only surprise being that the expected landslide win by the Right turned out not as massive as originally predicted. Our two guests differed greatly; one blonde with leftish tendencies and the other dark with strong right-wing views. More than once N had to intervene with some totally unrelated innocuous comment or question to diffuse the tension!
The next morning we all went for a little walk to have a look at the village and the market; they were delighted by everything and kept saying it was all so much better than where they lived, which they described as suburbs but not real countryside, Thérèse bought postcards from the maison de la presse and flowers for me, and I kept desperately hoping it would stay dry enough for lunch in the garden; it did and there was even a little sunshine. The cider tasted so much better out of doors - as always - and N gave them each a bottle to take with them from the wine cellar, plus a few cherries. As we had coffee in the garden the first drops of rain fell, but they were due to set off and by the time they had left it was fine again.
All in all they were with us less than twenty-four hours, but as Odile said, a good break can often feel like lot longer. They told me I was an excellent hostess, which obviously pleased me, but they were excellent guests! And as always, we hope guests will regard it not as a unique occasion but as the first of many visits (now they have found the way!) N and I enjoyed much of the rest of the afternoon sitting in the garden; in the sunshine with the lawns mowed and the new flowerbed looking really pretty and colourful it was a real pleasure, not to mention having new books to read.
When N mentioned Bovril sandwiches in the evening I said I had been reading about them lately; he said was George Sand feeding them to Chopin? I said no, I had been reading the Duchess of Devonshire, who apparently lived on them as a child. (Two very interesting books to read concurrently; both formidable women with perhaps not much in common. N and I both agreed that if G Sand had fed Bovril sandwiches to F Chopin , he would have had a far stronger constitution, probably lived a lot longer and composed far more music. Interesting subject for an essay.)
Wednesday 20 June 2007
Yesterday morning N set off for Paris, to attend a Sorbonne ceremony in the afternoon, honouring one of his fellow Emeritus professors. I will go by train on Friday, in time for an appointment at 4.30 with the local notaire regarding our Wills, and am meanwhile enjoying peace and quiet here in the sunshine. Yesterday was the first day of real summer weather; still the same blend of sunshine, wind and heat, with a little rain at the end of the day, but real June weather, as we approach the longest day with the sun so high and the nights and mornings so light. Both yesterday and today I have spent a lot of time sitting in the garden, with the result that I have now finished reading both the Duchess of Devonshire (very small volume) and the Life of George Sand! (Two large volumes, started last autumn.) Have also got lots of washing done (ideal drying weather) and almost all the ironing, and most importantly have made a hand-written copy of my Will in French ready for Friday, as it appears that only then is it legal and able to be registered. (It also exists in computer-printed versions in French and English…)
Thursday 21 June 2007
N phoned this morning to say that he had heard from the Palmers, and that they were accepting our invitation to lunch in Saint-Denis next Sunday. Matt and Elke - who were here at LNL briefly for the music party last summer - are also coming. I feel totally devoid of ideas at the moment! And it is never as easy cooking there as it is here, but no doubt inspiration will come from somewhere. But I look forward to seeing them all again. On Tuesday we are going to Le Mans again to see Simone; I think N feels there is not much point if he isn’t playing quartets or trios, but Simone kindly said she wanted to show me more of « le vieux Mans », I think by way of a thank-you for looking after her when she last stayed here. We are only staying one night, going straight from Paris and then back to LNL in a sort of triangle, which will involve taking dressing gowns and toiletries from Saint-Denis which will end up back here, in the wrong place!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Saturday 2 June 2007
Before we set off for the UK two and a half weeks ago there were two very important events. Firstly, N succeeded in getting tickets for one of only two performances of West Side Story in Paris, for January 1st next - what a way to start the year! (Unfortunately he has since mislaid them, and has looked everywhere he can think of at least twice, so has contacted the Châtelet theatre regarding some replacements.)
The other event was the arrival in the post of a digital camera for me as my birthday present from N just a couple of days before we left. I had very little time to familiarise myself with it, but did my best and we even managed to get one or two photos on to the computer. Two of the people we stayed with on our travels had similar cameras, so I was able to learn a little more from them.
We were away about nine days in all, staying in three different places and visiting several more, and experiencing the entire gamut of British weather. Arriving in Dover in the early afternoon we drove westwards a good way along the south coast through lots of English seaside in the summer sunshine - Folkestone, Hastings, Rye, Arundel; and I got very excited at the sight of English street signs, red post boxes and a cricket match. At Portsmouth we took the ferry to the Isle of Wight (the first time I had ever been there) and stayed for a couple of days with N’s Auntie who lives in sheltered accommodation, in a guest room complete with TV and kettle; I had forgotten this useful English amenity. I enjoyed getting to know her and the island - « unspoilt » was the word which kept coming to mind - and the weather was perfect; English summer at its best, warm and sunny. We visited Osborn House, at least I did; they explored the gardens, and then we all had a ride in a carriage pulled by a horse, a thing I had never done before. When the passenger sitting beside the driver got off, I climbed up to sit next to her - a most interesting experience, high up looking at the horse’s back and the speed altering at the whim of the horse. After lunch in a wonderful traditional restaurant called God’s Providence in Newport, we went on to Carisbrooke Castle, like Osborn full of school parties on end of term outings, and we stocked up with purchases in the English Heritage shop.
On the Friday morning we took a very early ferry back to Portsmouth, and drove as far as Gloucestershire to have lunch with N’s cousin Penny and family in a little village outside Nailsworth. It made me think of an Italian village; all on hills of differing levels; even the house - two ancient cottages knocked together - had part of its garden level with the roof of a one-storey wing. The house was full of antique china and clocks - some of the former used at lunch and tea - and we ate with Penny’s husband and mother, another of N’s aunts. In between we all went for a walk to see her cottage, a little up the hill in the same village. There was also a large friendly dog, whom they insisted was still a puppy! We came away with instructions for an excellent Nut Roast, an old family recipe which N remembered from his childhood, and then made our way on to N’s daughter Claire in Worcester where we had stayed last summer, arriving in time for a supper which bore an uncanny resemblance to the lunch we had just eaten, although both were very tasty! We especially enjoyed the variety of English cheeses.
In Worcester the weather deteriorated; but I was able to get lots of essential English shopping done on the Saturday morning - at Lakeland, Marks & Spencer’s, Dorothy Perkins and Boots, including having photos developed within an hour from both our cameras (the last time for me.) In the afternoon we all went to Tewkesbury, including a compulsory visit to the Abbey, memorable both for the sound of a marvellous choir rehearsing for a concert later in the day (reminding me of rehearsing in Great St Mary’s Church in Cambridge on the afternoons before concerts) and for the jars of Tewkesbury Abbey marmalade and chutney we bought. We also came across an antiques fair, where I was pleased to find a set of napkin rings; something I had been looking for for some time. They look like ivory (but probably aren’t) and are numbered 1 to 6, except that number 4 is missing, and so should be easily understood by both French and English guests!
By Sunday it was raining very hard and showed no sign of stopping and Claire and Dan asked if we would like to visit the steam railway which runs from Kidderminster to Bridgnorth. I liked this idea tremendously - fortunately the others did too, including 3 year-old Charlotte - and we drove to Kidderminster. It rained from beginning to end, but we enjoyed the trains and different kinds of carriages and engines, and the stations with their signs, adverts, luggage, and a little rail museum. At Bridgnorth, which looked like an interesting little town if only it had been drier, we had lunch in a little pub before it was time to get the train home. Throughout I - and also N - took photos with my new camera, some while leaning out of the train window, including a particularly artistic one with telegraph poles reflected in the wet carriage amid the steam. In the evening two violinists had been invited to the house, so string quintets were played, which I enjoyed too.
On Monday morning we set off in more rain to Shenfield to visit Kathryn, John and Iona, arriving in time for lunch. We seemed to spend a lot of the afternoon reading the Sunday Times and being offered tea, cakes and then champagne, all of which was very pleasant and restful, and reminded me that guests do not always need to be taken out and shown things; we all need rest time too. (On each of our evenings at Shenfield we watched a film on DVD: The Da Vinci Code, The Pink Panther and Casino Royale.)
Tuesday was the day for my planned visit to Ipswich to catch up with my own family, cleverly managing to meet daughter Caroline at Shenfield station on the train from Liverpool Street. (A lot of trains in a few days!) Apart from visiting my mother I also had both lunch and supper in different pubs, plus a quick cup of tea at my sister Issy’s house, then back on the train to Shenfield.
Wednesday was our last full day, and various outings to London were proposed, including Kew Gardens, the British Museum and Bluewater Shopping Centre. Rain still seemed likely, so we felt Kew was out; as a compromise we spent the morning at the British Museum, followed by a quick trip to Oxford Street in the afternoon. N had not visited the museum for some years, so had not seen the new enclosed glass roof - I had seen this on a London examiners’ meeting trip - and we all (he, I, Iona & Kathryn) enjoyed seeing the Sutton Hoo Treasure and a room dedicated to the History of Money. We also enjoyed the shop, and especially lunch in the wonderful restaurant; Kathryn’s treat.
While in Oxford Street I took the opportunity to buy more bedding - I have always maintained that if I were to give one piece of advice to my daughters as they journey through life it would be to buy John Lewis bedding whenever possible. I have had some which has lasted me over 20 years and said this to the assistant who served me, who seemed agreeably surprised. I needed her help to find square pillow-cases to fit our pillows here, and ended up with four pillow-cases, a king-sized quilt cover and bottom sheet, all in plain white polyester cotton. The two sets of bedding I had originally bought at IKEA are beginning to age and are not as white as they were, and being all cotton - although very comfortable - take a lot of ironing. The new ones should be easier to iron, just as comfortable, and should last a lot longer! But they are not as pretty……
We left Shenfield for Dover on Thursday morning, stopping first of all for a large shopping spree at Braintree Sainsbury’s; N anxious to stock up with pickles, chutney, baked beans, cream of tomato soup, Marmite, cheese biscuits and tinned steak pies, and me looking for golden syrup, suet, granary bread, peanut butter (which I had rediscovered on the breakfast table at Shenfield), white wine vinegar, cornflour and curry paste. It isn’t that we don’t like French food, or find it inferior - far from it! - we just like the best of both worlds, especially home-made English cakes and puddings. I also found several packs of my usual hair colour reduced to £1.88 (instead of 9 euros) so got those too - I think they must be going out of production.
After a fish & chip lunch on Dover sea front we took the ferry home in glorious sunshine most of the way, until halfway here the sky turned very black, the temperature dropped ten degrees and we were back in torrential rain again. Even with several stops we arrived here at about 9.30, anxious to see what had happened while we had been away.
As we hoped, the painters had been and finished the front facades, which looked a lot whiter. The grass had gown enormously - all that sun and rain - and the cherries looked ripe. Lots of roses had come and gone (I had picked some the morning we left to take to Auntie Connie in the Isle of Wight; she appreciated them very much.) Both the large flowerbed and the vegetable garden had made a lot of progress; N said it was just as though someone had tipped a very large packet of Weed Seeds all over the vegetables.
Friday 8 June 2007
I seemed to spend all of last Friday walking round the house putting things away, in particular all the things from Sainsbury’s, which involved setting up a new Biscuit Cupboard, and rearranging jams and preserves and putting all the pickles and chutneys in the outhouse with the homemade ones, as there was no more room in the kitchen. On Saturday it was warm again, and we were able to have breakfast outside on the terrace for the first time this year - boiled eggs and our new English granary toast - before inspecting the garden more fully and making a quick trip to Conches, to Gamm Vert and Intermarché. (N had a voucher for a free gardening book from Gamm Vert, which expired that day. It is a lovely book, full of beautiful photographs.) I also managed to catch up with an exercise DVD and a visit to the hairdresser, after which I felt almost human again. There was of course the usual post-visit washing, cleaning and bed-changing which took up all the rest of Saturday and Sunday, as by Monday I was off again, ready to welcome our next guest.
I had made these complicated rearrangements some weeks before and had to re-read my own notes carefully! My friend Gill was arriving at the Gare du Nord on Tuesday, to stay partly in Paris and partly at LNL, so I set off on Monday lunchtime from Conches station, having been driven there by N. The fine weather seemed here to stay for a few days at least, so I was able to pack nothing more substantial than cotton jackets (and no umbrella! what a pleasure.) That morning the painters had turned up again to touch up the walls here and there, and to start cleaning the verandah roof, the low tiled roofs and the remaining garden paths with their power washer.
I arrived at the apartment at Saint-Denis mid-afternoon and after the usual unlocking of internal doors, opening windows and seeing to the thirsty - but very healthy - geraniums, I set off for Carrefour for a few essentials to tide us over a couple of days. I had forgotten C & A was nearby and was pleased I had gone in to have a look; came away with a wonderfully-fitting pair of plain white cropped trousers for 14.99 euros, all the better as I had tried on lots recently (especially in M & S) none of which fitted and all of which were far more expensive. I thought, not for the first time, that I must have a C & A-shaped bottom.
After my shopping N phoned to ask where I kept the old towels as water was coming in under all the outside doors as a result of the paths and verandah roof being pressure washed. He then phoned again to ask were I kept the details of the doctor’s phone number, as he wanted to make an appointment for the next day; he had had trouble with his back lately, and now had a pain in his foot, plus what seemed to be a cold. He said it was a good job I wasn’t there to see all the mess; he had had to remove all the troughs of busy lizzies from the verandah windowsills, together with the white table and chairs on the terrace.
I spent the evening watching a video of the film « Sense and Sensibility » (bought from a Brocante sale in Normandy, and taken to Saint-Denis as I thought, quite rightly, that there would be more time to watch it there.) The next morning I made up the little bed for Gill, tidied up the apartment and set off to meet her at the Gare du Nord.
We took her bag down to Left Luggage, and on coming up to the platform again discovered that a large central part of the station had been cordoned off by the soldiers who are always on patrol there. After some minutes there was a loud explosion and we managed to work out that an abandoned suspect suitcase had been blown up; they are constantly making announcements to this effect, so presumably this was a warning. As we were finally allowed to cross the station we saw all the damaged clothes and shoes all over the place and were hurried along by a policewoman who told us it was not « un spectacle. »
For her half-day in Paris (it was by then about 11.30) Gill wanted to visit Big Shops, so we took bus 43 to the Gare St Lazare and walked to Boulevard Haussmann, in time for lunch at Lafayette Maison, where I had previously only had tea with Madeleine and Caroline. We were early enough to get a wonderful window table looking out on to the shops and the back door of the Opéra.
After much catching up with gossip and then shopping, we went back to get Gill’s bag from the Gare du Nord and then home to Saint-Denis by RER. She was duly impressed both by the apartment and by the convent! After the TV news and a small supper, we had an early night. The next morning we locked up and set off to the Gare St Lazare by metro, from where we took the train to Conches, where N was waiting for us with the car. He was not really very well however, and was sorry not to have been able to prepare salade niçoise as he had promised. I made lunch while he showed Gill round the outbuildings, and we then ate in the garden, the only day during her brief stay when it was sunny enough.
The parts of the house and garden which had been cleaned - the paths, the low roof over the kitchen, dining room and grande pièce, and the verandah roof - looked much better, but almost everything else seemed to be covered in black fibres, the result of the pulverising of the black moss on the roofs; or plastered in mud where the water had hit the earth at great speed. I decided there was nothing I could do for the moment - fortunately Gill had had similar work done and knew the problems - but the verandah windows and formerly « white » flowers looked awful. The painters had asked if they could put one of their notices at the front of the house, so they have tied it to the railings, I don’t know how long for. But the façade does look nice and white, so I suppose it may get them some business!
Everything I cooked lasted twice as long as usual, as N was eating hardly anything. We had not planned to do much, fortunately, as Gill and I had spent so much time on trains and she was due to go home on yet more trains. She had a good look at all of the house, we continued to catch up on news and look at photographs and we all three watched a DVD of Midsomer Murders. Most of all, she said, she enjoyed catching up on sleep in the big Italian bed.
We took her to Conches at lunchtime today and put her on the train for Paris, then I tried to visit some Conches shops; in vain as everything was shut for lunch. The most urgent thing was a new battery for my watch; very annoying without it, although while at home in the garden I was getting quite good at telling the time from the striking of the church clock. Back home again, I decided I didn’t really want to start getting dirty this afternoon, so caught up with some ironing instead.
Thursday 14 June 2007
Saturday was warm again, and I spent much of the day trying to clear up the dirt left by the painters’ « cleaning ». It was worst all along the side of the house under the lower roof; black dirt all over the windows, window sills, plants and paths. I cleaned all four windows, plus the outside door between them and brushed down the concrete sills, gave the geraniums and herb plants a shower and swept the path. I then progressed round the corner to the verandah, and cleaned those windows, wiped the wooden sills and tried to tidy up the white busy lizzies. (They look much better now the dirty petals have fallen off and new clean ones have grown.) I then went round to the other side of the house where it wasn’t quite so bad, and wiped more windows and sills, and washed the door to the first outhouse and the single water butt - covered in splashed mud from the path cleaning. After I’d finished all this I was so hot and dirty that I gave myself a shower, hair wash, manicure and pedicure - I very rarely do all this at the same time! We both kept wishing it would rain - nothing to do with the water butts this time, but to wash away all the remaining dust and black fibres from the paths, roofs and plants. We had to wait until yesterday however, when we had several heavy showers and just a little thunder, and saw later on the TV news that in the department of Orne (just down the road at L’Aigle) there was a lot of damage done by huge hail stones!
N is still not completely well, and is having a long sleep every afternoon, as well as sleeping all night. He has since decided perhaps the UK tour was too much all at once. He also decided he might have hay fever, and has been along to the pharmacie for some medicine, and feels the better for it.
While having breakfast in the garden I suddenly saw a large ginger cat strolling past our water butt, one I have previously noticed walking round the village. We think it must be he who was responsible for chewing the holes in our rubbish bags, and for the paw-marks on the dustbin, and lately on the windscreen of the car (presumably trying to get a better look at the swallows’ nests.) N rushed to get him a saucer of milk, but he was not thirsty and ambled away. We decided he probably gets into our garden over the neighbours’ wall, behind our hedge.
On Sunday I seemed to spend almost all day dealing with cherries. We had begun to collect a few of these when Gill was with us, and had eaten them for lunch, but there were lots more ripe ones and they needed picking. The telescopic tool is quite good, we were certainly able to reach more than last year, but it tends to take off great bunches complete with leaves and twigs. We got a lot more just standing at the top of the step ladder and reaching up. The top of the step ladder has a useful hook (probably for a paint pot) which is just right for the basket with a handle, saves having someone else standing there with the basket.
After lunch while N was asleep I spent what seemed like hours stoning all the cherries ready for jam with last year’s excellent cherry stoner, but without much conviction as I already knew cherry jam was difficult, and all my recipe books told me the same. But by the end of the afternoon I had six or seven pots, a lovely colour, with nice whole shaped fruit inside. We have tried it for the first time at breakfast today; not surprisingly very runny, but very tasty. Perhaps better on ice cream or on duck.
By Monday I was looking forward to a nice ordinary typical day; the first one for some time, it seemed, after variously being in Britain, in Paris and having a guest. A typical day when we are here on our own goes like this:
We usually wake about 7.45 and whoever gets up first makes tea and coffee with the bedroom kettle. After drinking it, and some discussion, reading or listening to the radio (today N read me some Goethe) breakfast is at about 8.45 - currently in the summer in the verandah, if not warm enough for outside. If I’m doing exercises - I try to do them about every three or four days, alternating Pilates and Aerobics - this is just before breakfast. By the time I have cleared away breakfast and the kitchen, gone upstairs and tidied up the bedroom and bathroom and got myself ready for the day, it is usually about 10.30, and the next task is fetching the bread. (« Aller au pain » as they say here.) This includes any other errands in the village, to the Post Office, supermarket or butchers, but not so many trips to the Quincaillerie as when we were first here. Monday was market day, so I passed the time of day with the fish man and bought kippers and salmon fillets and went to one of the two fruit & veg stalls (I try to alternate between the two) for tomatoes, pears, strawberries and avocados. There were several clothes stalls there yesterday, and another selling tables with extensions - unbelievably from about four to twelve people. N usually starts the morning with viola practice and then reads newspapers in several different languages on the internet. After that he normally works in the garden if it is fine.
When I get back from the village there is sometimes washing to deal with if I’ve put it in the machine early, otherwise chores in the house or garden, or baking or other cooking. Lunch is at about 1.00, hopefully in the garden at the moment, if not in the verandah, and is usually bread and cheese and/or salad. In the winter we have it in the dining room, and it usually includes homemade soup.
After lunch we have a little sit down with tea and coffee (and sometimes a piece of chocolate) which is good when you’ve been on your feet all the morning, not like being at the office at all! If it’s warm we sit in the garden and talk or read; if not we watch TV, often Sherlock Holmes on the TMC channel. Occasionally, if we feel we deserve a long rest or a treat we watch a DVD. In the afternoon I spend time in my study, catching up with correspondence, e-mails and of course the Blog. I stop at about 5.00 for tea, and for a long time now we have been watching Cash in the Attic on BBC Prime over tea, which makes a good break. We both enjoy seeing what kinds of junk people have, and how much it is all worth.
Between tea and dinner I catch up on ironing, or whatever needs doing in the ironing and sewing room; yesterday I shortened two pairs of trousers, mended a skirt, patched a pillow-case and sewed on a button. The aim is always to clear the room of anything waiting to be ironed/mended/altered. I achieve it occasionally, but not often! There is usually jazz to listen to on France Musique at this time, a good accompaniment. If N is not in working in the garden (or asleep!) he is usually working at something in his study in the attic, or watching TV in Italian, Spanish or German.
At about 6.15 or 6.30 I go downstairs to prepare dinner, which we eat in the dining room at about 7 or 7.15, aiming to be finished in time to see the main TV news and weather from 7.55 to 8.40. Any prime-time programmes start after that, rather late if they are long. We rarely watch anything on the main French channels; N favours Mezzo (the classical music channel) and I was enjoying all the new film channels until I discovered in the magazine for June they are suddenly no longer listed by day and time, only alphabetically for the month. Yesterday I tried to e-mail an enquiry about this; no luck so sent my question by letter instead. We also watch Arte, the French/German channel and the History Channel, and sometimes BBC Prime, where I catch up on all sorts of excellent programmes I never had time to see in Cambridge.
On Tuesday we drove to Bernay to visit the Renault garage there; N had received a letter to the effect that all new Renaults need something seeing to - only « préventatif » the man said. We had to make an appointment for the end of the month. After that I was able at last to get a new watch battery from a useful jewellers in the main street, and also visited the little Italian delicatessen. We were able to eat my purchases for lunch in the garden, but since then the weather keeps alternating radically between heat and rain; at least most of the black dust is washed away, and the plants are appreciating it no end.
We are getting used to using our new numbered napkin rings from the antiques fair in Tewkesbury; N said he felt he should have number 1, to which I agreed only on grounds of age and height, so I have number 2 and the rest will be for guests.
Today we have picked yet more cherries, and have put them (after being stoned by N) in the large Rumtopf jar with some very strong eau de vie, or Alcool pour fruits, as it says on the bottle, bought at the village shop. There are three large peaches on our peach tree, much larger than last year, but still hard. The lettuces are growing faster than we can eat them and we have had one or two lovely little Savoy cabbages. Today we enjoyed this year’s first new potatoes for lunch, both white and purple, with lots of butter and mint, and N says there will be peas, cauliflower and broccoli by the weekend!
Before we set off for the UK two and a half weeks ago there were two very important events. Firstly, N succeeded in getting tickets for one of only two performances of West Side Story in Paris, for January 1st next - what a way to start the year! (Unfortunately he has since mislaid them, and has looked everywhere he can think of at least twice, so has contacted the Châtelet theatre regarding some replacements.)
The other event was the arrival in the post of a digital camera for me as my birthday present from N just a couple of days before we left. I had very little time to familiarise myself with it, but did my best and we even managed to get one or two photos on to the computer. Two of the people we stayed with on our travels had similar cameras, so I was able to learn a little more from them.
We were away about nine days in all, staying in three different places and visiting several more, and experiencing the entire gamut of British weather. Arriving in Dover in the early afternoon we drove westwards a good way along the south coast through lots of English seaside in the summer sunshine - Folkestone, Hastings, Rye, Arundel; and I got very excited at the sight of English street signs, red post boxes and a cricket match. At Portsmouth we took the ferry to the Isle of Wight (the first time I had ever been there) and stayed for a couple of days with N’s Auntie who lives in sheltered accommodation, in a guest room complete with TV and kettle; I had forgotten this useful English amenity. I enjoyed getting to know her and the island - « unspoilt » was the word which kept coming to mind - and the weather was perfect; English summer at its best, warm and sunny. We visited Osborn House, at least I did; they explored the gardens, and then we all had a ride in a carriage pulled by a horse, a thing I had never done before. When the passenger sitting beside the driver got off, I climbed up to sit next to her - a most interesting experience, high up looking at the horse’s back and the speed altering at the whim of the horse. After lunch in a wonderful traditional restaurant called God’s Providence in Newport, we went on to Carisbrooke Castle, like Osborn full of school parties on end of term outings, and we stocked up with purchases in the English Heritage shop.
On the Friday morning we took a very early ferry back to Portsmouth, and drove as far as Gloucestershire to have lunch with N’s cousin Penny and family in a little village outside Nailsworth. It made me think of an Italian village; all on hills of differing levels; even the house - two ancient cottages knocked together - had part of its garden level with the roof of a one-storey wing. The house was full of antique china and clocks - some of the former used at lunch and tea - and we ate with Penny’s husband and mother, another of N’s aunts. In between we all went for a walk to see her cottage, a little up the hill in the same village. There was also a large friendly dog, whom they insisted was still a puppy! We came away with instructions for an excellent Nut Roast, an old family recipe which N remembered from his childhood, and then made our way on to N’s daughter Claire in Worcester where we had stayed last summer, arriving in time for a supper which bore an uncanny resemblance to the lunch we had just eaten, although both were very tasty! We especially enjoyed the variety of English cheeses.
In Worcester the weather deteriorated; but I was able to get lots of essential English shopping done on the Saturday morning - at Lakeland, Marks & Spencer’s, Dorothy Perkins and Boots, including having photos developed within an hour from both our cameras (the last time for me.) In the afternoon we all went to Tewkesbury, including a compulsory visit to the Abbey, memorable both for the sound of a marvellous choir rehearsing for a concert later in the day (reminding me of rehearsing in Great St Mary’s Church in Cambridge on the afternoons before concerts) and for the jars of Tewkesbury Abbey marmalade and chutney we bought. We also came across an antiques fair, where I was pleased to find a set of napkin rings; something I had been looking for for some time. They look like ivory (but probably aren’t) and are numbered 1 to 6, except that number 4 is missing, and so should be easily understood by both French and English guests!
By Sunday it was raining very hard and showed no sign of stopping and Claire and Dan asked if we would like to visit the steam railway which runs from Kidderminster to Bridgnorth. I liked this idea tremendously - fortunately the others did too, including 3 year-old Charlotte - and we drove to Kidderminster. It rained from beginning to end, but we enjoyed the trains and different kinds of carriages and engines, and the stations with their signs, adverts, luggage, and a little rail museum. At Bridgnorth, which looked like an interesting little town if only it had been drier, we had lunch in a little pub before it was time to get the train home. Throughout I - and also N - took photos with my new camera, some while leaning out of the train window, including a particularly artistic one with telegraph poles reflected in the wet carriage amid the steam. In the evening two violinists had been invited to the house, so string quintets were played, which I enjoyed too.
On Monday morning we set off in more rain to Shenfield to visit Kathryn, John and Iona, arriving in time for lunch. We seemed to spend a lot of the afternoon reading the Sunday Times and being offered tea, cakes and then champagne, all of which was very pleasant and restful, and reminded me that guests do not always need to be taken out and shown things; we all need rest time too. (On each of our evenings at Shenfield we watched a film on DVD: The Da Vinci Code, The Pink Panther and Casino Royale.)
Tuesday was the day for my planned visit to Ipswich to catch up with my own family, cleverly managing to meet daughter Caroline at Shenfield station on the train from Liverpool Street. (A lot of trains in a few days!) Apart from visiting my mother I also had both lunch and supper in different pubs, plus a quick cup of tea at my sister Issy’s house, then back on the train to Shenfield.
Wednesday was our last full day, and various outings to London were proposed, including Kew Gardens, the British Museum and Bluewater Shopping Centre. Rain still seemed likely, so we felt Kew was out; as a compromise we spent the morning at the British Museum, followed by a quick trip to Oxford Street in the afternoon. N had not visited the museum for some years, so had not seen the new enclosed glass roof - I had seen this on a London examiners’ meeting trip - and we all (he, I, Iona & Kathryn) enjoyed seeing the Sutton Hoo Treasure and a room dedicated to the History of Money. We also enjoyed the shop, and especially lunch in the wonderful restaurant; Kathryn’s treat.
While in Oxford Street I took the opportunity to buy more bedding - I have always maintained that if I were to give one piece of advice to my daughters as they journey through life it would be to buy John Lewis bedding whenever possible. I have had some which has lasted me over 20 years and said this to the assistant who served me, who seemed agreeably surprised. I needed her help to find square pillow-cases to fit our pillows here, and ended up with four pillow-cases, a king-sized quilt cover and bottom sheet, all in plain white polyester cotton. The two sets of bedding I had originally bought at IKEA are beginning to age and are not as white as they were, and being all cotton - although very comfortable - take a lot of ironing. The new ones should be easier to iron, just as comfortable, and should last a lot longer! But they are not as pretty……
We left Shenfield for Dover on Thursday morning, stopping first of all for a large shopping spree at Braintree Sainsbury’s; N anxious to stock up with pickles, chutney, baked beans, cream of tomato soup, Marmite, cheese biscuits and tinned steak pies, and me looking for golden syrup, suet, granary bread, peanut butter (which I had rediscovered on the breakfast table at Shenfield), white wine vinegar, cornflour and curry paste. It isn’t that we don’t like French food, or find it inferior - far from it! - we just like the best of both worlds, especially home-made English cakes and puddings. I also found several packs of my usual hair colour reduced to £1.88 (instead of 9 euros) so got those too - I think they must be going out of production.
After a fish & chip lunch on Dover sea front we took the ferry home in glorious sunshine most of the way, until halfway here the sky turned very black, the temperature dropped ten degrees and we were back in torrential rain again. Even with several stops we arrived here at about 9.30, anxious to see what had happened while we had been away.
As we hoped, the painters had been and finished the front facades, which looked a lot whiter. The grass had gown enormously - all that sun and rain - and the cherries looked ripe. Lots of roses had come and gone (I had picked some the morning we left to take to Auntie Connie in the Isle of Wight; she appreciated them very much.) Both the large flowerbed and the vegetable garden had made a lot of progress; N said it was just as though someone had tipped a very large packet of Weed Seeds all over the vegetables.
Friday 8 June 2007
I seemed to spend all of last Friday walking round the house putting things away, in particular all the things from Sainsbury’s, which involved setting up a new Biscuit Cupboard, and rearranging jams and preserves and putting all the pickles and chutneys in the outhouse with the homemade ones, as there was no more room in the kitchen. On Saturday it was warm again, and we were able to have breakfast outside on the terrace for the first time this year - boiled eggs and our new English granary toast - before inspecting the garden more fully and making a quick trip to Conches, to Gamm Vert and Intermarché. (N had a voucher for a free gardening book from Gamm Vert, which expired that day. It is a lovely book, full of beautiful photographs.) I also managed to catch up with an exercise DVD and a visit to the hairdresser, after which I felt almost human again. There was of course the usual post-visit washing, cleaning and bed-changing which took up all the rest of Saturday and Sunday, as by Monday I was off again, ready to welcome our next guest.
I had made these complicated rearrangements some weeks before and had to re-read my own notes carefully! My friend Gill was arriving at the Gare du Nord on Tuesday, to stay partly in Paris and partly at LNL, so I set off on Monday lunchtime from Conches station, having been driven there by N. The fine weather seemed here to stay for a few days at least, so I was able to pack nothing more substantial than cotton jackets (and no umbrella! what a pleasure.) That morning the painters had turned up again to touch up the walls here and there, and to start cleaning the verandah roof, the low tiled roofs and the remaining garden paths with their power washer.
I arrived at the apartment at Saint-Denis mid-afternoon and after the usual unlocking of internal doors, opening windows and seeing to the thirsty - but very healthy - geraniums, I set off for Carrefour for a few essentials to tide us over a couple of days. I had forgotten C & A was nearby and was pleased I had gone in to have a look; came away with a wonderfully-fitting pair of plain white cropped trousers for 14.99 euros, all the better as I had tried on lots recently (especially in M & S) none of which fitted and all of which were far more expensive. I thought, not for the first time, that I must have a C & A-shaped bottom.
After my shopping N phoned to ask where I kept the old towels as water was coming in under all the outside doors as a result of the paths and verandah roof being pressure washed. He then phoned again to ask were I kept the details of the doctor’s phone number, as he wanted to make an appointment for the next day; he had had trouble with his back lately, and now had a pain in his foot, plus what seemed to be a cold. He said it was a good job I wasn’t there to see all the mess; he had had to remove all the troughs of busy lizzies from the verandah windowsills, together with the white table and chairs on the terrace.
I spent the evening watching a video of the film « Sense and Sensibility » (bought from a Brocante sale in Normandy, and taken to Saint-Denis as I thought, quite rightly, that there would be more time to watch it there.) The next morning I made up the little bed for Gill, tidied up the apartment and set off to meet her at the Gare du Nord.
We took her bag down to Left Luggage, and on coming up to the platform again discovered that a large central part of the station had been cordoned off by the soldiers who are always on patrol there. After some minutes there was a loud explosion and we managed to work out that an abandoned suspect suitcase had been blown up; they are constantly making announcements to this effect, so presumably this was a warning. As we were finally allowed to cross the station we saw all the damaged clothes and shoes all over the place and were hurried along by a policewoman who told us it was not « un spectacle. »
For her half-day in Paris (it was by then about 11.30) Gill wanted to visit Big Shops, so we took bus 43 to the Gare St Lazare and walked to Boulevard Haussmann, in time for lunch at Lafayette Maison, where I had previously only had tea with Madeleine and Caroline. We were early enough to get a wonderful window table looking out on to the shops and the back door of the Opéra.
After much catching up with gossip and then shopping, we went back to get Gill’s bag from the Gare du Nord and then home to Saint-Denis by RER. She was duly impressed both by the apartment and by the convent! After the TV news and a small supper, we had an early night. The next morning we locked up and set off to the Gare St Lazare by metro, from where we took the train to Conches, where N was waiting for us with the car. He was not really very well however, and was sorry not to have been able to prepare salade niçoise as he had promised. I made lunch while he showed Gill round the outbuildings, and we then ate in the garden, the only day during her brief stay when it was sunny enough.
The parts of the house and garden which had been cleaned - the paths, the low roof over the kitchen, dining room and grande pièce, and the verandah roof - looked much better, but almost everything else seemed to be covered in black fibres, the result of the pulverising of the black moss on the roofs; or plastered in mud where the water had hit the earth at great speed. I decided there was nothing I could do for the moment - fortunately Gill had had similar work done and knew the problems - but the verandah windows and formerly « white » flowers looked awful. The painters had asked if they could put one of their notices at the front of the house, so they have tied it to the railings, I don’t know how long for. But the façade does look nice and white, so I suppose it may get them some business!
Everything I cooked lasted twice as long as usual, as N was eating hardly anything. We had not planned to do much, fortunately, as Gill and I had spent so much time on trains and she was due to go home on yet more trains. She had a good look at all of the house, we continued to catch up on news and look at photographs and we all three watched a DVD of Midsomer Murders. Most of all, she said, she enjoyed catching up on sleep in the big Italian bed.
We took her to Conches at lunchtime today and put her on the train for Paris, then I tried to visit some Conches shops; in vain as everything was shut for lunch. The most urgent thing was a new battery for my watch; very annoying without it, although while at home in the garden I was getting quite good at telling the time from the striking of the church clock. Back home again, I decided I didn’t really want to start getting dirty this afternoon, so caught up with some ironing instead.
Thursday 14 June 2007
Saturday was warm again, and I spent much of the day trying to clear up the dirt left by the painters’ « cleaning ». It was worst all along the side of the house under the lower roof; black dirt all over the windows, window sills, plants and paths. I cleaned all four windows, plus the outside door between them and brushed down the concrete sills, gave the geraniums and herb plants a shower and swept the path. I then progressed round the corner to the verandah, and cleaned those windows, wiped the wooden sills and tried to tidy up the white busy lizzies. (They look much better now the dirty petals have fallen off and new clean ones have grown.) I then went round to the other side of the house where it wasn’t quite so bad, and wiped more windows and sills, and washed the door to the first outhouse and the single water butt - covered in splashed mud from the path cleaning. After I’d finished all this I was so hot and dirty that I gave myself a shower, hair wash, manicure and pedicure - I very rarely do all this at the same time! We both kept wishing it would rain - nothing to do with the water butts this time, but to wash away all the remaining dust and black fibres from the paths, roofs and plants. We had to wait until yesterday however, when we had several heavy showers and just a little thunder, and saw later on the TV news that in the department of Orne (just down the road at L’Aigle) there was a lot of damage done by huge hail stones!
N is still not completely well, and is having a long sleep every afternoon, as well as sleeping all night. He has since decided perhaps the UK tour was too much all at once. He also decided he might have hay fever, and has been along to the pharmacie for some medicine, and feels the better for it.
While having breakfast in the garden I suddenly saw a large ginger cat strolling past our water butt, one I have previously noticed walking round the village. We think it must be he who was responsible for chewing the holes in our rubbish bags, and for the paw-marks on the dustbin, and lately on the windscreen of the car (presumably trying to get a better look at the swallows’ nests.) N rushed to get him a saucer of milk, but he was not thirsty and ambled away. We decided he probably gets into our garden over the neighbours’ wall, behind our hedge.
On Sunday I seemed to spend almost all day dealing with cherries. We had begun to collect a few of these when Gill was with us, and had eaten them for lunch, but there were lots more ripe ones and they needed picking. The telescopic tool is quite good, we were certainly able to reach more than last year, but it tends to take off great bunches complete with leaves and twigs. We got a lot more just standing at the top of the step ladder and reaching up. The top of the step ladder has a useful hook (probably for a paint pot) which is just right for the basket with a handle, saves having someone else standing there with the basket.
After lunch while N was asleep I spent what seemed like hours stoning all the cherries ready for jam with last year’s excellent cherry stoner, but without much conviction as I already knew cherry jam was difficult, and all my recipe books told me the same. But by the end of the afternoon I had six or seven pots, a lovely colour, with nice whole shaped fruit inside. We have tried it for the first time at breakfast today; not surprisingly very runny, but very tasty. Perhaps better on ice cream or on duck.
By Monday I was looking forward to a nice ordinary typical day; the first one for some time, it seemed, after variously being in Britain, in Paris and having a guest. A typical day when we are here on our own goes like this:
We usually wake about 7.45 and whoever gets up first makes tea and coffee with the bedroom kettle. After drinking it, and some discussion, reading or listening to the radio (today N read me some Goethe) breakfast is at about 8.45 - currently in the summer in the verandah, if not warm enough for outside. If I’m doing exercises - I try to do them about every three or four days, alternating Pilates and Aerobics - this is just before breakfast. By the time I have cleared away breakfast and the kitchen, gone upstairs and tidied up the bedroom and bathroom and got myself ready for the day, it is usually about 10.30, and the next task is fetching the bread. (« Aller au pain » as they say here.) This includes any other errands in the village, to the Post Office, supermarket or butchers, but not so many trips to the Quincaillerie as when we were first here. Monday was market day, so I passed the time of day with the fish man and bought kippers and salmon fillets and went to one of the two fruit & veg stalls (I try to alternate between the two) for tomatoes, pears, strawberries and avocados. There were several clothes stalls there yesterday, and another selling tables with extensions - unbelievably from about four to twelve people. N usually starts the morning with viola practice and then reads newspapers in several different languages on the internet. After that he normally works in the garden if it is fine.
When I get back from the village there is sometimes washing to deal with if I’ve put it in the machine early, otherwise chores in the house or garden, or baking or other cooking. Lunch is at about 1.00, hopefully in the garden at the moment, if not in the verandah, and is usually bread and cheese and/or salad. In the winter we have it in the dining room, and it usually includes homemade soup.
After lunch we have a little sit down with tea and coffee (and sometimes a piece of chocolate) which is good when you’ve been on your feet all the morning, not like being at the office at all! If it’s warm we sit in the garden and talk or read; if not we watch TV, often Sherlock Holmes on the TMC channel. Occasionally, if we feel we deserve a long rest or a treat we watch a DVD. In the afternoon I spend time in my study, catching up with correspondence, e-mails and of course the Blog. I stop at about 5.00 for tea, and for a long time now we have been watching Cash in the Attic on BBC Prime over tea, which makes a good break. We both enjoy seeing what kinds of junk people have, and how much it is all worth.
Between tea and dinner I catch up on ironing, or whatever needs doing in the ironing and sewing room; yesterday I shortened two pairs of trousers, mended a skirt, patched a pillow-case and sewed on a button. The aim is always to clear the room of anything waiting to be ironed/mended/altered. I achieve it occasionally, but not often! There is usually jazz to listen to on France Musique at this time, a good accompaniment. If N is not in working in the garden (or asleep!) he is usually working at something in his study in the attic, or watching TV in Italian, Spanish or German.
At about 6.15 or 6.30 I go downstairs to prepare dinner, which we eat in the dining room at about 7 or 7.15, aiming to be finished in time to see the main TV news and weather from 7.55 to 8.40. Any prime-time programmes start after that, rather late if they are long. We rarely watch anything on the main French channels; N favours Mezzo (the classical music channel) and I was enjoying all the new film channels until I discovered in the magazine for June they are suddenly no longer listed by day and time, only alphabetically for the month. Yesterday I tried to e-mail an enquiry about this; no luck so sent my question by letter instead. We also watch Arte, the French/German channel and the History Channel, and sometimes BBC Prime, where I catch up on all sorts of excellent programmes I never had time to see in Cambridge.
On Tuesday we drove to Bernay to visit the Renault garage there; N had received a letter to the effect that all new Renaults need something seeing to - only « préventatif » the man said. We had to make an appointment for the end of the month. After that I was able at last to get a new watch battery from a useful jewellers in the main street, and also visited the little Italian delicatessen. We were able to eat my purchases for lunch in the garden, but since then the weather keeps alternating radically between heat and rain; at least most of the black dust is washed away, and the plants are appreciating it no end.
We are getting used to using our new numbered napkin rings from the antiques fair in Tewkesbury; N said he felt he should have number 1, to which I agreed only on grounds of age and height, so I have number 2 and the rest will be for guests.
Today we have picked yet more cherries, and have put them (after being stoned by N) in the large Rumtopf jar with some very strong eau de vie, or Alcool pour fruits, as it says on the bottle, bought at the village shop. There are three large peaches on our peach tree, much larger than last year, but still hard. The lettuces are growing faster than we can eat them and we have had one or two lovely little Savoy cabbages. Today we enjoyed this year’s first new potatoes for lunch, both white and purple, with lots of butter and mint, and N says there will be peas, cauliflower and broccoli by the weekend!
