My family have been visiting. It was marvellous to have them here, and for them to see some of the local scenery and architecture, and experience a little of the social life. They took photos, some of which I'll be able to add to the gallery.
We went to the night market at Jonzac. The stalls are mostly food and crafts. And food. There was quite a lot of food. Did I mention the food? Apparently the oysters were excellent, and I can vouch for the Moroccan lamb and couscous, and the marinated pork with new-potato-in-skins chips. The citron loukum was delicious, too. Speakers are brought out into the square for music: sadly not live, but varied and interesting, though rather loud. We were a little late arriving because we'd gone to look round the town, so all of the area nearest to the food stalls was already packed out. We acquired a table and set it up at the top end, which was much more comfortable and not so loud. Not long afterwards they ran out of chairs, and a couple who arrived even later came to share our table but had to sit on a trailer. There's a very jolly atmosphere about the whole event.
Last night we had a barbecue and I invited some neighbours and Ben and Camille from Casa Nova. Ben and Camille couldn't stay long, but at least my family met them ("these are the people who've been building the rooms you're sleeping in"). The family from next-door came round, and we did a good bit of improving international relations. It was a marvellous party, going on very late.
This morning we were up early. The Family have left now, and I'm feeling really sad.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
New bedrooms
Camille's photos of converting the grotty space upstairs into two bedrooms and a bathroom.
It's so beautiful up there, I'm considering moving to the first floor for the winter. The small bedroom particularly appeals, with its reading-space by the low window. It's also insulated, dry, and light.
My regret is that the bats' home has been wiped out. I'm not so sorry about the stone martens.
It's so beautiful up there, I'm considering moving to the first floor for the winter. The small bedroom particularly appeals, with its reading-space by the low window. It's also insulated, dry, and light.
My regret is that the bats' home has been wiped out. I'm not so sorry about the stone martens.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
And then there was the driving to and from Bordeaux.
Toll-roads are a nuisance with a right-hand drive car (unless you happen to have a passenger, which I rarely do), so recently I bought a Liber-t "badge". It's a gizmo which is read by the toll-machine and then the appropriate amount comes straight out of your bank account. No fussing with money or card, just slow down until the barrier rises. There's a deposit for the gizmo and a charge of 2 euros for every month that it's used. I don't use toll roads frequently, so that's ok: it's worth it not to have to get out of the car, especially when driving back to England in winter.
I usually take the slow pretty route to Bordeaux; yesterday, of course, I had to test the new toy on the stretch of A10 between Mirambeau and Bordeaux. The instructions say that in case it doesn't work, take a ticket and hand both ticket and gizmo to the toll attendant at checkout. That's not likely to be helpful because the tollbooths are automated and don't usually have attendants. Anyway, it worked. (Note to self: close leftside window before approaching toll machine because the gleeful screech it emits by way of welcome is eardrum-ripping.)
The A10 was fast, so I arrived before the rush-hours had ended. 10km traffic jam. I know I wouldn't really have been there sooner if I'd set off later, but it felt like that. The driving around Bordeaux is oddly similar to driving in southern England: crowded and full of car-drivers who don't know which lane is what.
There was an unplanned tour of the Lac area (saw one road three times) until, finally, I found the shops.
On the way home at 10pm it was much quieter, but I had a strange experience. A member of the Middle Lane Owners' Club, driving a big RHD 4x4, slowed down while overtaking me and the pottering car in front. I thought he might have wanted to take the exit we were about to pass, so I slowed down to give him room. He pulled ahead, and then, just after the exit, piled on the brakes. I warily passed him on the inside (not much choice really). Then I overtook dodderer-in-front and pulled away from both of them. A little while later, the 4x4 roared up behind me: MLOClubber flashed his lights three or four times. I didn't like this, so decided to leave the motorway at the exit coming up, and take the slow route. He swerved across to follow me. Oh dear, I thought; though perhaps it was someone I knew? But I didn't recognise the car. At the roundabout I went right round and he stayed with me. I went round again, and he turned off the second time.
Phew.
Toll-roads are a nuisance with a right-hand drive car (unless you happen to have a passenger, which I rarely do), so recently I bought a Liber-t "badge". It's a gizmo which is read by the toll-machine and then the appropriate amount comes straight out of your bank account. No fussing with money or card, just slow down until the barrier rises. There's a deposit for the gizmo and a charge of 2 euros for every month that it's used. I don't use toll roads frequently, so that's ok: it's worth it not to have to get out of the car, especially when driving back to England in winter.
I usually take the slow pretty route to Bordeaux; yesterday, of course, I had to test the new toy on the stretch of A10 between Mirambeau and Bordeaux. The instructions say that in case it doesn't work, take a ticket and hand both ticket and gizmo to the toll attendant at checkout. That's not likely to be helpful because the tollbooths are automated and don't usually have attendants. Anyway, it worked. (Note to self: close leftside window before approaching toll machine because the gleeful screech it emits by way of welcome is eardrum-ripping.)
The A10 was fast, so I arrived before the rush-hours had ended. 10km traffic jam. I know I wouldn't really have been there sooner if I'd set off later, but it felt like that. The driving around Bordeaux is oddly similar to driving in southern England: crowded and full of car-drivers who don't know which lane is what.
There was an unplanned tour of the Lac area (saw one road three times) until, finally, I found the shops.
On the way home at 10pm it was much quieter, but I had a strange experience. A member of the Middle Lane Owners' Club, driving a big RHD 4x4, slowed down while overtaking me and the pottering car in front. I thought he might have wanted to take the exit we were about to pass, so I slowed down to give him room. He pulled ahead, and then, just after the exit, piled on the brakes. I warily passed him on the inside (not much choice really). Then I overtook dodderer-in-front and pulled away from both of them. A little while later, the 4x4 roared up behind me: MLOClubber flashed his lights three or four times. I didn't like this, so decided to leave the motorway at the exit coming up, and take the slow route. He swerved across to follow me. Oh dear, I thought; though perhaps it was someone I knew? But I didn't recognise the car. At the roundabout I went right round and he stayed with me. I went round again, and he turned off the second time.
Phew.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Shopping should be done in closed stores with a troupe of minions
Last week I should have gone to Bordeaux to buy lights and mirrors and shelves and cupboards and window-blinds and a mattress, and instead I fell down the steps and mashed my left hand (it's still swollen and stiff but usable for most things). The website claims that Thursday evening is the quietest time, so yesterday I was very careful about steps, and had no excuse.
They call that quiet? It was packed full of families with small children, even after 8pm. The children were well-behaved, but there was such a lot of them, so navigating was difficult. Most of the stock appeared to be soft toys and miniature furniture, and cute as tiny rockingchairs may be, they weren't what I was looking for. I couldn't find staff in most of the areas; in the mattress section I met another customer with the same problem, so we teamed up to tour and test the mattresses and read the information. As the "closing soon" announcement came on, I still hadn't finished, but oh joy, there was a group of assistants! Three of them in a corner chatting to each other, tsk. All three happily took over finding the boxes and getting them through checkout and to the car.
The worst thing was the incessant loud repetitive muzak. I couldn't think, and all I wanted to do was get away from it. I bought the essential mattress and some of the other things on the list, but not everything. I'll have to find another source for the rest, because I'm not going back!
They call that quiet? It was packed full of families with small children, even after 8pm. The children were well-behaved, but there was such a lot of them, so navigating was difficult. Most of the stock appeared to be soft toys and miniature furniture, and cute as tiny rockingchairs may be, they weren't what I was looking for. I couldn't find staff in most of the areas; in the mattress section I met another customer with the same problem, so we teamed up to tour and test the mattresses and read the information. As the "closing soon" announcement came on, I still hadn't finished, but oh joy, there was a group of assistants! Three of them in a corner chatting to each other, tsk. All three happily took over finding the boxes and getting them through checkout and to the car.
The worst thing was the incessant loud repetitive muzak. I couldn't think, and all I wanted to do was get away from it. I bought the essential mattress and some of the other things on the list, but not everything. I'll have to find another source for the rest, because I'm not going back!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Storm, sun, warble, vroom
During the night a beautiful storm passed over twice, with attendant but brief downpours of the kind where one has to get up to check that the waterfall is only outside. This morning the air is clear, there's a small breeze, the flowers smell wonderful, and the birds are performing an oratorio. I was up soon after dawn in case the plumber arrived early (he hasn't turned up yet).
The bird chorus changed from frantic to placid as the light strengthened and it became warmer; a young redstart lost its way and cheeped plaintively for mama all the way along the wrong side of the house. People headed out into the vineyards and fields on their little tractors and, in one case, an ancient bicycle painted lime green and orange. The loud roar was neighbour's motorbike. There is a family of pearl-shelled snails making its way down the side-door towards the rose-bushes: if they don't move a bit faster they'll get cooked in the sunlight.
And for breakfast I had the most amazing plums from next-door's garden (a present, I didn't go scrumping!) which have apricots somewhere in their ancestry.
The bird chorus changed from frantic to placid as the light strengthened and it became warmer; a young redstart lost its way and cheeped plaintively for mama all the way along the wrong side of the house. People headed out into the vineyards and fields on their little tractors and, in one case, an ancient bicycle painted lime green and orange. The loud roar was neighbour's motorbike. There is a family of pearl-shelled snails making its way down the side-door towards the rose-bushes: if they don't move a bit faster they'll get cooked in the sunlight.
And for breakfast I had the most amazing plums from next-door's garden (a present, I didn't go scrumping!) which have apricots somewhere in their ancestry.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Baby birds
I saw a baby redstart leave the nest and flap fatly down to the terrace floor! It was out on the ledge so I stayed very still, watching from the bedroom window, as the mother bird flew up and down in demonstration and nudged it in encouragement. It turned round a few times and stretched, and then suddenly hopped off the edge and made a wobbly diagonal. It's amazing how such a fluffy ball can manage the flight with wings that have never been used. The parent looks so svelte next to it.
I can't hang out the washing because the mother bird is in such a panic that every time I move in the kitchen she comes right up to the door and shouts at me. If I go out there she'll probably have a heart attack.
I can't hang out the washing because the mother bird is in such a panic that every time I move in the kitchen she comes right up to the door and shouts at me. If I go out there she'll probably have a heart attack.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Tiles and marshes and fishing huts
Today Didier Moreau was laying tiles on the floor upstairs, using the tiles intended by the owner-before-last for the whole of the ground floor. Owner-before-last had made a start with them in the kitchen and lobby. I bought the rest off the Potrons, but so many were broken that there wasn't enough to do much, not even to cover the rehearsal room; however, there is enough for the upstairs hallway and shower-room.
With another big van in the drive all day, I couldn't go out. For most of the day it was too hot for driving, so I was happy to stay in the cool kitchen until Didier finished. He left the fence open for me, and before I could get through it, one of the horrible dogs ran in and peed on the mound of plaster. I was right there, too! While the Casa Nova people are working here, their beautifully-mannered and well-trained dog keeps the others out, and of course she uses a discreet corner at the end of the garden. I'd happily have a dog like her.
I went out on the marsh to look for other routes to the estuary. The maps don't entirely correspond to the roads and I still haven't worked out the geography of that area: perhaps it changes when one is looking the other way. According to the trip meter it's just over 8 miles to Port Charron where the fishing huts are, but it doesn't seem anything like that far, even driving slowly to watch the wildlife. I wished I'd taken a camera to get more photos of the fishing huts and nets. There is one which has almost disintegrated and is no more than poles sticking up out of the water with a few half-rotted planks clinging to them, draped with old-cobweb tatters of netting. It has an eerie Flying-Dutchman beauty and a kind of dignity.
As for wildlife, I saw two coypu. It seems that they are as much of a pest as in East Anglia, so there are schemes to limit them, but it was quite exciting.
On the way home there was another reason to wish for a camera. Pale grey clouds had gathered in the west, forming something I've not seen before. Dozens of white tornado-shaped cloud fragments hung down from the grey, looking like jellyfish seen from below.
With another big van in the drive all day, I couldn't go out. For most of the day it was too hot for driving, so I was happy to stay in the cool kitchen until Didier finished. He left the fence open for me, and before I could get through it, one of the horrible dogs ran in and peed on the mound of plaster. I was right there, too! While the Casa Nova people are working here, their beautifully-mannered and well-trained dog keeps the others out, and of course she uses a discreet corner at the end of the garden. I'd happily have a dog like her.
I went out on the marsh to look for other routes to the estuary. The maps don't entirely correspond to the roads and I still haven't worked out the geography of that area: perhaps it changes when one is looking the other way. According to the trip meter it's just over 8 miles to Port Charron where the fishing huts are, but it doesn't seem anything like that far, even driving slowly to watch the wildlife. I wished I'd taken a camera to get more photos of the fishing huts and nets. There is one which has almost disintegrated and is no more than poles sticking up out of the water with a few half-rotted planks clinging to them, draped with old-cobweb tatters of netting. It has an eerie Flying-Dutchman beauty and a kind of dignity.
As for wildlife, I saw two coypu. It seems that they are as much of a pest as in East Anglia, so there are schemes to limit them, but it was quite exciting.
On the way home there was another reason to wish for a camera. Pale grey clouds had gathered in the west, forming something I've not seen before. Dozens of white tornado-shaped cloud fragments hung down from the grey, looking like jellyfish seen from below.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Debiangeek meets
The Trio heading by car to Spain for Debconf stayed the night here. It was lovely to see them, however briefly. Yesterday was not a good day for the roads around Paris, and they were shattered by the time they arrived. Hope for a better drive down through Spain.
They seemed to be impressed by House. (I really need a name for House: I've been using "Le Rivalard" but that is the name of the hamlet) and suggested, only half-seriously, that it would be a good venue for a mini-con or spodding or bug-squashing party.
I like this idea. We could fit 12 people in House, 16 in the big gite across the sunflower field, and make the garage/workshop into a dormitory. For working in, two medium-size rooms and the big rehearsal space, the terrace, and the garden. I don't think the wifi signal is good enough in the little house.
Morning sessions; afternoon trips to Roman ruins, beaches, and vineyards; evening sessions, and a talk and demo or two to the locals (in English or French).
They seemed to be impressed by House. (I really need a name for House: I've been using "Le Rivalard" but that is the name of the hamlet) and suggested, only half-seriously, that it would be a good venue for a mini-con or spodding or bug-squashing party.
I like this idea. We could fit 12 people in House, 16 in the big gite across the sunflower field, and make the garage/workshop into a dormitory. For working in, two medium-size rooms and the big rehearsal space, the terrace, and the garden. I don't think the wifi signal is good enough in the little house.
Morning sessions; afternoon trips to Roman ruins, beaches, and vineyards; evening sessions, and a talk and demo or two to the locals (in English or French).
Friday, July 17, 2009
Rain, falling, silver
I was planning to go to Ikea yesterday to buy a mattress, lights, shelves, and a mirror. Then I fell down the steps and crunched my hand so it's not usable for wheelchairing. Bother. It's improving today and I can type but not close it properly.
The weather started to get rough, too, with thunderstorms passing near. It's much cooler now and intermittently raining hard with blasts of sunshine in between, and very gusty. We can tell when the wind is getting strong because it's coming from the south-west and as it passes over the next hamlet an alarm shrieks. I thought it was a car alarm, but it's a swimming-pool alarm. Didn't know they had alarms.
The new bedroom walls have now been painted a delicate pale grey.
The weather started to get rough, too, with thunderstorms passing near. It's much cooler now and intermittently raining hard with blasts of sunshine in between, and very gusty. We can tell when the wind is getting strong because it's coming from the south-west and as it passes over the next hamlet an alarm shrieks. I thought it was a car alarm, but it's a swimming-pool alarm. Didn't know they had alarms.
The new bedroom walls have now been painted a delicate pale grey.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Broomstick lives!
Broomstick has risen anew, or partly new. It's no longer a Powertrike, but a Viper.
PDQ who built it had been unhelpful; five or six different repair shops (wheelchair and electric bike specialists and a garage) and electrical fixers had only got it going briefly. After the fuse blew last summer it hadn't started at all.
M'sister located Team Hybrid who make the Viper, which is similar to the Powertrike but with much better reviews, several of them by people who'd had Powertrikes. A new Viper is very expensive, so they agreed to use the existing wheelchair (with better wheels) and the frame and battery, and fit the controller, motor, brakes etc. as well as new wheels.
I took Broomstick to their pretty little workshop near Fareham. It's full of interesting bikes of different shapes, and wheelchair conversions of all kinds. Some of the things they build for children are very inventive, and so are the sports machines. The owner is in a wheelchair, so he knows what he's doing.
Broomstick was sent back looking all shiny and with snazzy mountain-bike wheels.The wider tyres are causing the only problem, because the wheelchair has fabric sides which they catch, but they are so much better. The Viper controller is smaller and neater, too. And it works!
I took it to Carole's birthday picnic in Thetford Forest (a wonderful huge and masses-of-food affair). Now I'm relearning how to balance it on the bumpy stony lanes :)
PDQ who built it had been unhelpful; five or six different repair shops (wheelchair and electric bike specialists and a garage) and electrical fixers had only got it going briefly. After the fuse blew last summer it hadn't started at all.
M'sister located Team Hybrid who make the Viper, which is similar to the Powertrike but with much better reviews, several of them by people who'd had Powertrikes. A new Viper is very expensive, so they agreed to use the existing wheelchair (with better wheels) and the frame and battery, and fit the controller, motor, brakes etc. as well as new wheels.
I took Broomstick to their pretty little workshop near Fareham. It's full of interesting bikes of different shapes, and wheelchair conversions of all kinds. Some of the things they build for children are very inventive, and so are the sports machines. The owner is in a wheelchair, so he knows what he's doing.
Broomstick was sent back looking all shiny and with snazzy mountain-bike wheels.The wider tyres are causing the only problem, because the wheelchair has fabric sides which they catch, but they are so much better. The Viper controller is smaller and neater, too. And it works!
I took it to Carole's birthday picnic in Thetford Forest (a wonderful huge and masses-of-food affair). Now I'm relearning how to balance it on the bumpy stony lanes :)
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Calais to Rennes
On the way to the village near Rennes I took a different route.
Brionne, like nearby Bernay, has lots of Normandy timber-framed houses with the timber painted. The colours are fairly dull: ochre, maroon, mid-blue, burnt umber; however, the effect of the juxtaposition of clashing colours is startlingly garish.
Le-Pin-au-Haras is a many-horse town. Not many people, but lots of horses. And carriages. And some splendid buildings.
On to Argentan, which is twinned with Abingdon near Oxford. Many of the towns are twinned, but few of them with English towns. It's curious to drive through a place twinned with somewhere I know, and notice the similarities and differences; like being in a parallel dimension.
Along a Roman road, bordered by trees like so many French roads. The road rose and fell until, cresting a hill, the view became a Grassiot painting: misty horizon smudging the line between cloud and sea.
I spent a little time near Mont St Michel, wondering what it would look like without the buildings. There's no point in trying to cross to it - tiny almost vertical stony streets would be more than even Broomstick could manage.
Rennes rocade was of course a horrible traffic jam.
Brionne, like nearby Bernay, has lots of Normandy timber-framed houses with the timber painted. The colours are fairly dull: ochre, maroon, mid-blue, burnt umber; however, the effect of the juxtaposition of clashing colours is startlingly garish.
Le-Pin-au-Haras is a many-horse town. Not many people, but lots of horses. And carriages. And some splendid buildings.
On to Argentan, which is twinned with Abingdon near Oxford. Many of the towns are twinned, but few of them with English towns. It's curious to drive through a place twinned with somewhere I know, and notice the similarities and differences; like being in a parallel dimension.
Along a Roman road, bordered by trees like so many French roads. The road rose and fell until, cresting a hill, the view became a Grassiot painting: misty horizon smudging the line between cloud and sea.
I spent a little time near Mont St Michel, wondering what it would look like without the buildings. There's no point in trying to cross to it - tiny almost vertical stony streets would be more than even Broomstick could manage.
Rennes rocade was of course a horrible traffic jam.
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