Wind, floods, and Ryanair

That was quite a storm[0]. We're alright in Le Rivalard, though power was off for about five hours. Some of the ports are flooded, as it co-incided with a very high tide, and at least one main road is blocked.

While checking the news I noticed that Ryanair are dumping their flights to Angoulême, after only two years. My first reaction was disbelief and regret. The staff at the tiny airport were so keen and helpful, it was a pleasure to go there and so different from the dreadful experience provided by big airports. Without the London route, will they survive?

On the other hand, Ryanair manages to provide a poor experience even from a good airport (they are certainly the worst for wheelchair users). Perhaps a better cheapo airline will take over.

[0] Its name was Xynthia. Rather too pretty a name, methinks.

Flash, bang, drench

The first of the spring storms arrived yesterday evening, with winds gusting to 120 km per hour and crashing thunder. It came from the south-west, hitting the side of the house with the most windows, screaming through all the chinks in the shutters and slamming rain onto the walls and roof. At one point the big shutters on the main door were wrenched open. I managed to get them closed, though one of the fastenings is broken. It was very wet out there, but also quite warm - not, however, warm enough to dance in.

There was only one very brief power outage. I kept a torch with me and lit some candles, remembering last year's massive storm and the night without electricity. It wasn't that bad, but I was nervous.

From hearth to stove

The fire has eaten rather a lot of wood this winter, for little result except warm roof tiles around the chimney. It was a pity to lose the open fire, but the second-hand Godin woodburner looks much better than expected now it's been cleaned up, and it fits the space very well. Though not a very powerful model, it produces enough heat to warm the kitchen. Now that there isn't a big draught through the salle as air rushes up the chimney, it's warmer in there too. It should also be adequate for simmering stews.

I'm not losing the grate: the plan is to put it up in the rehearsal room, with a hood. Unfortunately the lovely backplate (which is said to have come from a local chateau) is mostly covered by the woodburner. Ah well, it's a small sacrifice to be warm.

Back in Charente Maritime

Kent was quite snowy and there were traces of snow on the verges in northern France: the temperature was below zero, so I stayed on the motorway more than usual. With the morning, further south, it became much warmer. I drove through a lot of rain and some sunshine. Finally in Charente Maritime: bright sun and the car thermodisplay reading 13! Garden full of noisy birds, roses and trees in bud.

It's been very cold here, though, and the stone walls had chilled right down. I left the doors open to warm the house a little, until sunset when the clear sky began to let the heat out of the world.

The new pantry shelves look good, and it's amazing how all the heaped clutter is now arranged tidily with plenty of space left for jamjars. The stone walls upstairs are also lovely now that the old cement has gone, and the light-coloured rendering looks so serene.

Downside: stone-dust and sawdust everywhere, which will take days to clean up. I've made a start on clearing a path to the sink and cooker; next will be the job of emptying some ash so I can light the fire. Brendan brought some logs in, which was helpful, but he left all the ash from his fires and the pan is completely full! And then to clean the mould from the fridge: I forgot to put a note on it to say the door needed to be left open. Oops.

Must get the walls warmed before the weekend, because the forecast is cold again.

I love windmills

For the second time this month I drove south on the A12 through Lowestoft. I was previously unimpressed by Lowestoft. I thought it had a rather nasty feel and a very unfortunate appearance. Last week it surprised me; this week I checked carefully... and yes, it was still pretty.

Some of the improvement may be because it looks more open: at some points you can see the sea, and Lowestoft's beaches have always been among the best in the area. Quite a lot was owing to two sights in particular. As you come into the town there is a cleanly gleaming white lighthouse looking like a huge cake decoration. Soon after that, as the road sweeps past the first sight of the waves, there is an even bigger mobile sculpture, moving gracefully and majestically above the barely-noticeable squat stolidity of the port buildings. Beautiful.

Trains

The report on Wot Went Wrong with the Eurostar reminds me of the railway journey I took with my ozzie sister in 1999.

For a treat, we booked first-class on the Tilt Train, a super high-speed stylish machine which does the east-coast run from Brisbane to Cairns. The train, especially the first-class carriage, was very plush and done out like an aeroplane - between the films there was a map display showing where we'd got to, though the picture from the cams mounted on the engine was more interesting.

Being February, it was quite warm. A couple of hours up the coast, the power suddenly went off. Everything died: engine, aircon, lights, door controls, the lot. A guard came through, forcing open the door into the carriage, and asked if someone would lend them a mobile phone because the radio was off too, and the driver needed to contact traffic control to stop the train behind us before there was a very nasty accident. Then the train staff went through with crowbars and opened the external doors so we could get some air.

Apparently this had happened several times before, and was caused by the train overheating. Nothing could be done except wait until it cooled and would start again. It was close to 40C, so cooling took a few hours. We shared any food and drink we could find, made fans out of magazines, and hoped the loos would be back in operation soon. The adventurous or desperate climbed down and investigated the spindly bushes.

At least we weren't in a tunnel.

Snow! More snow!

It's very pretty out there, with sunshine on the snow.

I usually listen to Radio 3 in the car. On long journeys or difficult days the traffic-news-interruption is on, even though they can be quite irritating, especially when they aren't turned off at the end of the report and instead of that delicate and intricate Renaissance piece you have a few moments of aural insult before crossly locating the right buttons.

Today it was the opposite problem. Suffolk Radio's turn-it-off was clearly on a timer: every time the traffic news came on, the long list of roads blocked by jack-knifed lorries and overturned cars got only part-way through before returning me to Radio 3.

Sheffield

Sheffield is a curious place: a mix of grand Victoriana and crumbling warehouses, with the usual depressed-town plethora of unused buildings and empty shops between yuppy multi-apartment blocks decorated with huge adverts for the unwanted flats. Lots of student-y things to do and live gigs, but horrible loud muzak in all the shops and cafes. The trams are lovely, though.

Between the buildings you catch glimpses of snowy hills. Where I used to visit some years ago, I was surprised to discover that if you didn't turn right from the front door, but went left up the hill, instead of being amid little houses and scruffy shops and traffic you found yourself on the moors.

In the summer I plan to visit the Town Hall, of which there are free tours (don't know how wheelchair-friendly).

And then, if I come here in December... the Carols in their natural habitat! Provided one can even get into the pubs now that people know about them.