Someone told me that grapes grown for wine aren't good to eat. They were wrong - at least for the grapes grown here. The harvest has begun, and Neighbour brought some for me to try. Black are for the wine, green for the cognac. The black aren't as sweet as usual because there wasn't enough rain at the right time, so they are tangy but delicious. The green are perhaps too sweet, but delicate.
There's something special about eating the things grown around where you live: much more pleasant than eating a handful of soil, too (spot the allusions). I looked at the maize (grown for oil), but I think it really isn't very edible. And while I was out on Saturday the sunflower fields were emptied, so I didn't get my paws on any seeds.
I've just had a lunch of local goats' cheese, bread baked 2 miles away, and grapes from the fields across the road. Oh happy.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sun, sea, and heron
Yesterday was warm and sunny, and I went to the beach in the late afternoon, hoping to get into the sea. The plan was partly successful - I paddled. More was not possible because the sea is so shallow at St Georges de Didonne, you'd have to go a long way to get to knee-deep.
Plan, part the second, was competely successful: watching the sun set into the sea from the view-point at Mortagne. Marvellous. Afterwards I drove home along the estuary, on the marsh road. The light here has strange qualities (rather like the north Suffolk coast but without the grey): the lilac and deep pink of the sunset was in the air all around; rather than watching a sunset, it was like being inside it.
A heron launched itself from the side of the road, almost in front of the car, and flapped frantically to gain height and swerve away. Then it flew alongside in a threatening manner. I didn't bother speeding up after braking to avoid it, so we went down the road side by side for a while, until it noticed something more interesting in the reeds.
Plan, part the second, was competely successful: watching the sun set into the sea from the view-point at Mortagne. Marvellous. Afterwards I drove home along the estuary, on the marsh road. The light here has strange qualities (rather like the north Suffolk coast but without the grey): the lilac and deep pink of the sunset was in the air all around; rather than watching a sunset, it was like being inside it.
A heron launched itself from the side of the road, almost in front of the car, and flapped frantically to gain height and swerve away. Then it flew alongside in a threatening manner. I didn't bother speeding up after braking to avoid it, so we went down the road side by side for a while, until it noticed something more interesting in the reeds.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Warm steps and new housemate
The nights are getting chilly but the days are still hot. I just ate lunch sitting on the steps, and am regretting not putting on sunscreen. If I didn't have to work this afternoon/evening I'd go to the beach.
The metal thingies along the bottom of the doorframes keep beasties out quite well: even ants don't find a way over them. Flying beasties get in, of course, and once the Terrace Gecko investigated the open kitchen window but changed its mind when it saw me watching. Yesterday evening a baby gecko scurried over the doorstep and into the kitchen, and disappeared. I've just seen it - it seems to have made a home under the washing-machine, which is fine at the moment (geckos are excellent housemates because they eat insects), but this evening the washing-machine will be switched on...
The metal thingies along the bottom of the doorframes keep beasties out quite well: even ants don't find a way over them. Flying beasties get in, of course, and once the Terrace Gecko investigated the open kitchen window but changed its mind when it saw me watching. Yesterday evening a baby gecko scurried over the doorstep and into the kitchen, and disappeared. I've just seen it - it seems to have made a home under the washing-machine, which is fine at the moment (geckos are excellent housemates because they eat insects), but this evening the washing-machine will be switched on...
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Flooring delivery
The parquet has arrived. Driver-bloke huffed a bit when I gave him directions, and even more when he saw the path and steps. I wondered why, because they only deliver to outside the house and I'd thought there would be no problem with dumping it in the drive (how big is a pallet of parquet anyway?). He asked if I were alone. Then he phoned his boss and said in an annoyed-sounding voice that he'd be a bit late for his next delivery.
And then he carried all the boxes and the three 15-litre glues from the road into the house.
And then he carried all the boxes and the three 15-litre glues from the road into the house.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Paris weekend
Arrived at the hotel and was told that we'd been moved to the other hotel down the road, where there is a ground-floor room. Back down the road, and an encounter with a friendly woman who was deaf. Sis#3 was already at the hotel; person on the desk said he'd decided ground-floor room wasn't suitable because of the floor surface in the corridor and put us in a third-floor room. I suspect he was wrong, but ground-floor is often noisy so I didn't mind... except that the lift was too small for Chariot and I had to partially dismantle it. Nice room, though big-city-no-space size: we moved the beds as far apart as possible. We'd both had enough of travelling for the day, so we had a quick look at the street-market, sat outside a café and watched The World over our tasses, and went for a wander round the Galaries Lafayette. Perfume sampling, of course, and got pounced on by someone who demo'd putting on eye-cream with the inside of the wrist (interesting, must try it sometime). Found some gorgeous clothes in wonderful colours and horrible price-tags. Didn't buy any, of course.
Just as well we spent nothing in Lafayette, because the evening meal (in a flashier Café) was horrendously expensive. And perfectly marvellous. Marvellous décor, too, all brass lamps and red walls and candles. It was fun watching the waiters: there was a kind of roundabout of shelves and work-surfaces through which they ran at high speed. They scurried and bustled everywhere, making the place look even more like a scene from a 1930s film.
The next day we braved the buses. They're actually very good, and it's much more fun to look at the streets and squares as you pass than it is to fight the crowds of the dark noisy metro. Besides, most of the buses have ramps, which WORK :)
... And went to the Louvre. Sis#3 has been outside it a few times, but never inside. It was hard work, trying to follow the maps and find ways round the steps and stairs, but we managed to see the Mona Lisa and a lot of rather more interesting things including some huge friezes from the palace of Darius I, which, my dears, are in just the colours I want for the new room (though where to find a sofa in pale greeny-turquoise, I don't know).
Caught a bus all the way back to Gare Montparnasse. So, that's the route from Montparnasse to Gare du Nord sussed for when I go Eurostar :)
And so to bed^Whome.
Just as well we spent nothing in Lafayette, because the evening meal (in a flashier Café) was horrendously expensive. And perfectly marvellous. Marvellous décor, too, all brass lamps and red walls and candles. It was fun watching the waiters: there was a kind of roundabout of shelves and work-surfaces through which they ran at high speed. They scurried and bustled everywhere, making the place look even more like a scene from a 1930s film.
The next day we braved the buses. They're actually very good, and it's much more fun to look at the streets and squares as you pass than it is to fight the crowds of the dark noisy metro. Besides, most of the buses have ramps, which WORK :)
... And went to the Louvre. Sis#3 has been outside it a few times, but never inside. It was hard work, trying to follow the maps and find ways round the steps and stairs, but we managed to see the Mona Lisa and a lot of rather more interesting things including some huge friezes from the palace of Darius I, which, my dears, are in just the colours I want for the new room (though where to find a sofa in pale greeny-turquoise, I don't know).
Caught a bus all the way back to Gare Montparnasse. So, that's the route from Montparnasse to Gare du Nord sussed for when I go Eurostar :)
And so to bed^Whome.
Weekend in Paris - travelling there
I drove to Angoulême to catch the TGV. It's 90 minutes away, but easy to park there and less hassle than catching an ordinary train from Saintes or Jonzac and then changing - at least, I think it is. Getting up before sunrise is always difficult, and more so after only 3 hours' sleep; I set off a bit late, having gone back into the house three times to find things I'd forgotten - the third time for something which was already in the car. Fortunately the route was easy to follow and there was hardly any traffic, so I was doing well until 10 miles from Angoulême. Just at the end of the stretch of dual-carriageway (isn't it always?) I came up behind a lorry travelling slowly. Soon I realised it wasn't the lorry driver's fault - in front of him was a line of cars, or rather a parade. Seems there was a vintage car rally. There was nowhere safe to overtake (especially in a RHD car); after a couple of miles the lorry driver gave up and pulled into a layby. Usually I'd be delighted to amble after a beautiful Mk 3 Triumph Spitfire; I think both the Spitfire and the MG in front of it could have gone a lot faster if they hadn't been behind a small 1920/30s car (I didn't find out what it was). Eventually there was a piece of road with a clear view of nothing coming the other way.
I arrived a little later than hoped at the station, but still in time... except that I couldn't find a way to the platform, nor anyone to ask. There was quite a queue for the only person in the ticket office, and by the time I found the desk (nowhere near the ticket office) where I needed to request assistance in crossing the track, the train was already waiting at the other platform. There was only a small queue here, but when it was my turn someone shoved in front of me (I was so tempted to clout his ankles). The person at the desk said it was too late to find a member of staff to take me across and I'd have to catch a later train.
Disconsolately I trundled back to the ticket office and joined the queue again. Suddenly a stationstaffer appeared and said he'd come to take me across and they were holding the train! Oh joy! And what a nice thing to do (though when we arrived in Paris 4 minutes late I wondered if I should apologise to the other passengers, but was comforted by the memory of the frantic group of Anglos who'd realised that they were on the wrong train and if the train hadn't been held back they'd have been travelling north instead of south).
The elevator-thingy is so much fun, unlike the ramps that are used on UK stations. One feels quite regal.
Lovely ride, those TGV trains. Being Saturday, first class was only 6 euros extra, so of course I'd gone for it. When they changed my seat booking to the wheelchair space, I wondered if it had been necessary to pay the extra.
Gare de Montparnasse is a bit of a nightmare, but after a few circles I got out on the correct side. I'd checked bus routes, but it wasn't necessary because the hotel was quite close, the weather was sunny, and it was fun to trundle through the streets past all the busy cafés.
I arrived a little later than hoped at the station, but still in time... except that I couldn't find a way to the platform, nor anyone to ask. There was quite a queue for the only person in the ticket office, and by the time I found the desk (nowhere near the ticket office) where I needed to request assistance in crossing the track, the train was already waiting at the other platform. There was only a small queue here, but when it was my turn someone shoved in front of me (I was so tempted to clout his ankles). The person at the desk said it was too late to find a member of staff to take me across and I'd have to catch a later train.
Disconsolately I trundled back to the ticket office and joined the queue again. Suddenly a stationstaffer appeared and said he'd come to take me across and they were holding the train! Oh joy! And what a nice thing to do (though when we arrived in Paris 4 minutes late I wondered if I should apologise to the other passengers, but was comforted by the memory of the frantic group of Anglos who'd realised that they were on the wrong train and if the train hadn't been held back they'd have been travelling north instead of south).
The elevator-thingy is so much fun, unlike the ramps that are used on UK stations. One feels quite regal.
Lovely ride, those TGV trains. Being Saturday, first class was only 6 euros extra, so of course I'd gone for it. When they changed my seat booking to the wheelchair space, I wondered if it had been necessary to pay the extra.
Gare de Montparnasse is a bit of a nightmare, but after a few circles I got out on the correct side. I'd checked bus routes, but it wasn't necessary because the hotel was quite close, the weather was sunny, and it was fun to trundle through the streets past all the busy cafés.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Lavender sunset
What a beautiful evening. The sunset was very red and the air was still and warm and full of the scent of grass and lavender.
I tried to take a photo of the sunlight reflecting redly off the terrace roof and painting the big tree gold, but took too long to find the camera. Now the sky matches the flower-scent.
I tried to take a photo of the sunlight reflecting redly off the terrace roof and painting the big tree gold, but took too long to find the camera. Now the sky matches the flower-scent.
Fire in the field
The old stairs were donated to Really Helpful Neighbours to attach to their grenier (grain-loft) because she was worried about him using the ancient ladder. He's a tough old bloke, but that ladder looked lethal.
She does worry about him doing daft things. Last week he caused a bit of excitement. I almost missed it, but while driving home noticed flashing lights and emergency vehicles at the end of the lane, and a group of people standing around discussing whatever it was had happened. It seems that while clearing straw in the field he'd set it alight with the tractor, and someone had gleefully called out the fire service. Two fire engines and the police arrived. Of course, it will be in the local paper because there is a complete report of the Sorties des pompiers (rescued cat from tree, unlocked car door, that kind of thing). Those rural fire engines are cute little things, as if from a French version of Trumpton. Hope he doesn't have to pay for it.
She does worry about him doing daft things. Last week he caused a bit of excitement. I almost missed it, but while driving home noticed flashing lights and emergency vehicles at the end of the lane, and a group of people standing around discussing whatever it was had happened. It seems that while clearing straw in the field he'd set it alight with the tractor, and someone had gleefully called out the fire service. Two fire engines and the police arrived. Of course, it will be in the local paper because there is a complete report of the Sorties des pompiers (rescued cat from tree, unlocked car door, that kind of thing). Those rural fire engines are cute little things, as if from a French version of Trumpton. Hope he doesn't have to pay for it.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Room nearly finished
Most of the new room is complete apart from the flooring. It needs a door, and I'm being awkward and insisting on a glazed door because I want to be able to watch the sunlight on the barn walls (Hey, this is important. If I wanted to be surrounded only by modern walls I could have bought a new bungalow. In fact, I would have liked a window under the stairs; but that would have been very awkward.) The trip to the secondhand and recovered building and furniture place in Royan was sadly fruitless. They had some beautiful wooden glazed doors in stock, but all too big. I briefly wondered what Benoit and Camille would say if I demanded that the wall be re-built with a bigger doorway. Only briefly. Anyway, Camille found this
http://www.bricodepot.fr/saintes-saint-georges-des-coteaux/node/493 which looks good and isn't very expensive.
Today I've varnished half the stairs, topside only, and I'm shattered. Also, it might be cheaper if I didn't get so much varnish on the floor and in my hair. The varnish sold by the man in the hugely expensive trade supplies place (did he look at me and think "female AND English!"?) turned out to be darker and not as red as the sample we showed him. I bought some more varnish of the same brand in a hypermarket while I was in Royan, but chose a lighter colour. There was "blond oak" which looked rather yellow, so I got "light oak" which was a pleasant light nondescript wood colour - on the tin. On the stairs, it glows like a marigold. Ah well, it should fade.
There's a local decorator and pointing expert, an Anglo immigrant called James, who is setting up in business. He will fix up the old walls with pointing, attempt to cover the dreadful dark grey concrete that some previous owner applied to damaged stones, and apply sealant to stop the saltpetre leaking all over the place. He'll also paint the new walls, or at least he'll paint those parts I can't reach, because although 100 euros a day is a good price for the work, I'm running out of money. He starts on Monday so I'd like to get as much done as possible this weekend. There's a brocante tomorrow, and that will take up some time. hmm.
As for the flooring, the supplier of reasonably-priced bamboo parquet is in Paris and charges 205 euros plus tax for delivery. There are more local suppliers, but much more expensive. You can get it in UK much cheaper, so I've emailed a UK firm who will deliver in Europe and asked for a quotation for delivery but they haven't replied. grump. I may have to pay the c.200 quid for delivery.
http://www.bricodepot.fr/saintes-saint-georges-des-coteaux/node/493 which looks good and isn't very expensive.
Today I've varnished half the stairs, topside only, and I'm shattered. Also, it might be cheaper if I didn't get so much varnish on the floor and in my hair. The varnish sold by the man in the hugely expensive trade supplies place (did he look at me and think "female AND English!"?) turned out to be darker and not as red as the sample we showed him. I bought some more varnish of the same brand in a hypermarket while I was in Royan, but chose a lighter colour. There was "blond oak" which looked rather yellow, so I got "light oak" which was a pleasant light nondescript wood colour - on the tin. On the stairs, it glows like a marigold. Ah well, it should fade.
There's a local decorator and pointing expert, an Anglo immigrant called James, who is setting up in business. He will fix up the old walls with pointing, attempt to cover the dreadful dark grey concrete that some previous owner applied to damaged stones, and apply sealant to stop the saltpetre leaking all over the place. He'll also paint the new walls, or at least he'll paint those parts I can't reach, because although 100 euros a day is a good price for the work, I'm running out of money. He starts on Monday so I'd like to get as much done as possible this weekend. There's a brocante tomorrow, and that will take up some time. hmm.
As for the flooring, the supplier of reasonably-priced bamboo parquet is in Paris and charges 205 euros plus tax for delivery. There are more local suppliers, but much more expensive. You can get it in UK much cheaper, so I've emailed a UK firm who will deliver in Europe and asked for a quotation for delivery but they haven't replied. grump. I may have to pay the c.200 quid for delivery.
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