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.
# posted by Chez Katherine @ 12:12 PM 
