My 50th birthday was over two months ago but now that the season has finished for me down in Carcassonne, I can finally get around to enjoying the fabulous birthday present that Debrah put together for me.
The first leg of my food and wine extravaganza was an evening butchery course at The Ginger Pig in Marylebone. The Ginger Pig started with a shop in Borough Market eight years ago and now has four London shops supplied by their four North Yorkshire farms. All their meat is free range and they also make a fabulous array of pies and terrines. We ate some of their wonderful chipolatas just last Sunday morning.
They run four butchery courses - pork, beef, lamb and sausage making. My chosen course was pork and I, and the other six participants, duly turned up at the Marylebone shop at 6.30pm on Monday evening, where Barry and Borat - no, not that one - were our hosts for the evening.
We were kitted out in white coats and Borat started with an introduction about the history of the company, what free range actually means, how the pigs and other animals are raised, how to spot stressed meat and the difference between the traditional breeds that they raise on their farms.
Then it was immediately hands on (after washing them of course). There were no introductions and none of that "tell me why you are here and what you'd like to get from the course" type nonsense. There was no time and it wasn't important - I couldn't tell you the name of any of the other attendees.
Barry slapped half a pig on the board and we were off straight away. In fact Barry seemed to rather enjoy slapping the meat and picking it up and slapping it back down again and encouraged us all to do the same thing whenever possible.
Half a pig is very heavy and to prove it we each had to pick it up and then try and hold it out in our arms for as long as possible - I managed about 10 seconds but it was a major effort.
We were shown how to use the knives (the sharpest knives I have ever used in my life) and the saw as we took off the leg and then the shoulder, which was then halved, and separated the loin from the belly. Each joint was explained in terms of it's meat and fat and what it would be used for, how many different cuts it could make and how to cook each one.
Barry was pretty frightening with the big chopping knife in his hand and never took more than two chops to get through anything and mostly just one - hitting the exact spot he aimed for with incredible precision whilst the rest of us hacked away like Anne Boleyn's executioner making a right old mess of the job but got there in the end. Unlike poor Anne, at least this pig was already dead - but only just, because it was slaughtered last Friday - apparently you don't hang pigs to mature like other meat because they just go off.
Finally, we had to put together the joint that each of us would be taking home - in this case a boned and rolled loin. We removed the skin and scored and salted it. We boned it, seasoned it, rolled it and then tied it up with the skin back in place on top - I can now tie a butchers slip knot, well sort of.
We rounded the evening off with a glass of wine and delicious plate of roast pork, potatoes and carrots. We ate standing around the butchers blocks, improvised as dining tables by the addition of a plastic cover, because there were no chairs which was all rather weird but all part of the no-frills, it's all about the meat, experience.
I highly recommend it to anyone interested in cooking. It gives you a wonderful grounding in the connection between the cut of meat in front of you and the animal it came from and a healthy respect for the skill, knowledge and passion of a good butcher.
When I got home I proudly pulled my own work of culinary art from it's bag to show it off to Debrah, only to find that one of my knots had fallen apart. Damn - more practice needed on those knots then.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Friday, 6 November 2009
Guy Fawkes Night
I arrived in London the day before 'Guy Fawkes Day'. Obviously bonfire night means nothing to the French, although the ex-pat community can always be relied upon to keep up the tradition. So the fortunate timing of my return to the UK meant that I was looking forward to a great display of fireworks over the London night sky.
It was a great evening for fireworks - dry, not too cold and a clear moonlit sky - well it was in London anyway. But, sadly, I was disappointed, despite being out and about for most of the evening. There was the odd bang and the occasional burst of light. I know that most of the organised displays will probably be at the weekend but I still expected a lot of activity out of back gardens. There used to be ten years ago when my own children were younger - we sent up fireworks from the smallest restricted spaces and so did all our neighbours and my memories of my own childhood were of huge glowing bonfires, mugs of soup, sparklers, parkin and catherine wheels.
I wonder if the fact that all firework displays seem to be organised these days, which is a factor of the draconian health and safety regime now prevalent in the UK, has killed the spontaneity of bonfire night. How very very sad.
Whilst health and safety is taken very seriously in France, there is still a sense of personal responsibility for ones own actions. A wander around the outer walls of the Cité in Carcassonne is a prime example - not a warning sign or barrier or handrail in sight but plenty of unguarded large drops in evidence. Faced with that people automatically take more care about what they are doing.
The demise of bonfire night is made all the more obvious by the incessant rise of the Halloween nonsense. It didn't exist at all when I was a kid but now it seems that today's children are far more excited about the crass and gross Americanism that is halloween than an old British tradition of burning a guy on top of a bonfire and all that that signifies historically.
That's life I guess, it constantly changes and evolves - such a shame not to have the night sky filled with rockets coming up from all directions and the morning after mist with the unmistakable smell of smoke and gunpowder - at least I used to think of it as gunpowder when I was a kid.
It was a great evening for fireworks - dry, not too cold and a clear moonlit sky - well it was in London anyway. But, sadly, I was disappointed, despite being out and about for most of the evening. There was the odd bang and the occasional burst of light. I know that most of the organised displays will probably be at the weekend but I still expected a lot of activity out of back gardens. There used to be ten years ago when my own children were younger - we sent up fireworks from the smallest restricted spaces and so did all our neighbours and my memories of my own childhood were of huge glowing bonfires, mugs of soup, sparklers, parkin and catherine wheels.
I wonder if the fact that all firework displays seem to be organised these days, which is a factor of the draconian health and safety regime now prevalent in the UK, has killed the spontaneity of bonfire night. How very very sad.
Whilst health and safety is taken very seriously in France, there is still a sense of personal responsibility for ones own actions. A wander around the outer walls of the Cité in Carcassonne is a prime example - not a warning sign or barrier or handrail in sight but plenty of unguarded large drops in evidence. Faced with that people automatically take more care about what they are doing.
The demise of bonfire night is made all the more obvious by the incessant rise of the Halloween nonsense. It didn't exist at all when I was a kid but now it seems that today's children are far more excited about the crass and gross Americanism that is halloween than an old British tradition of burning a guy on top of a bonfire and all that that signifies historically.
That's life I guess, it constantly changes and evolves - such a shame not to have the night sky filled with rockets coming up from all directions and the morning after mist with the unmistakable smell of smoke and gunpowder - at least I used to think of it as gunpowder when I was a kid.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
All over for 2009
My final guests of the year departed yesterday morning on the East Midlands flight. I cooked my last client dinner of 2009 on Sunday evening, delivered the last breakfast yesterday morning and the last airport drop-off soon afterwards.
I have cleaned and prepped both suites and all the laundry is done - just one set of sheets still to iron, which will be done first thing tomorrow before I head off to London.
There was a sense of relief when I said goodbye to the last clients at the 'kiss and fly' drop off point at Carcassonne airport. The season is long and intense and relentless and although I love my work and get far more job satisfaction than I ever did in my past working life, there is no real let up from April onwards until the end of October - now to be precise. I am glad of the break.
I headed off to Lagrasse late afternoon for dinner with Michael and Nicole knowing that they were cooking dinner for me and that I could stay over because I didn't have to worry about a breakfast. I relished the thought that I could stay in bed as long as I liked.
As it happened I was awake quite early - force of habit I guess - and just dozed and surfed the internet whilst the wind and rain battered the shutters. It wasn't a very pleasant morning.
Whatever the weather the drive through the valley between Carcassonne and Lagrasse is always stunning. At this time of year the colours are magnificent with every shade of red, yellow and brown and a patchwork of different coloured vineyards backed by the garrigue and rugged hills - just beautiful.
My mind has now turned to other things though and I am very excited about getting back to London, not only to see Debrah but also because my eldest daughter, Amy, is staying with us for a few days too. She is down in the big city from Lincolnshire on a work placement with a PR company which she is hoping will turn into something permanent - but if not there then we will do our best to find her something else from the contacts we have. Even so, it will be just nice to see her - first time since July.
So the clients have gone and I'm heading back to London to see my ladies. I should just be happy and excited, but strangely I also feel an element of sadness.
Maybe it's just the uncertainty of this time of year - bookings are over and we are changing the way we are running the business next year, which really means starting from scratch and losing the goodwill we have built over the last two years. When you have no bookings it always fills you with fear.
Maybe it's the closing down of the apartments, unplugging everything, emptying the fridge, closing the shutters up, turning the water off, locking the doors.
Maybe it's just the Autumn melancholy.
However, I can't but help feel that this is the end of something - the end of an idea that Debrah and I formed three years ago which has gone better than we could have hoped and has in it's turn caused us more difficulties than we could have imagined.
C'est la vie. We just have to make what comes next even better.
I have cleaned and prepped both suites and all the laundry is done - just one set of sheets still to iron, which will be done first thing tomorrow before I head off to London.
There was a sense of relief when I said goodbye to the last clients at the 'kiss and fly' drop off point at Carcassonne airport. The season is long and intense and relentless and although I love my work and get far more job satisfaction than I ever did in my past working life, there is no real let up from April onwards until the end of October - now to be precise. I am glad of the break.
I headed off to Lagrasse late afternoon for dinner with Michael and Nicole knowing that they were cooking dinner for me and that I could stay over because I didn't have to worry about a breakfast. I relished the thought that I could stay in bed as long as I liked.
As it happened I was awake quite early - force of habit I guess - and just dozed and surfed the internet whilst the wind and rain battered the shutters. It wasn't a very pleasant morning.
Whatever the weather the drive through the valley between Carcassonne and Lagrasse is always stunning. At this time of year the colours are magnificent with every shade of red, yellow and brown and a patchwork of different coloured vineyards backed by the garrigue and rugged hills - just beautiful.
My mind has now turned to other things though and I am very excited about getting back to London, not only to see Debrah but also because my eldest daughter, Amy, is staying with us for a few days too. She is down in the big city from Lincolnshire on a work placement with a PR company which she is hoping will turn into something permanent - but if not there then we will do our best to find her something else from the contacts we have. Even so, it will be just nice to see her - first time since July.
So the clients have gone and I'm heading back to London to see my ladies. I should just be happy and excited, but strangely I also feel an element of sadness.
Maybe it's just the uncertainty of this time of year - bookings are over and we are changing the way we are running the business next year, which really means starting from scratch and losing the goodwill we have built over the last two years. When you have no bookings it always fills you with fear.
Maybe it's the closing down of the apartments, unplugging everything, emptying the fridge, closing the shutters up, turning the water off, locking the doors.
Maybe it's just the Autumn melancholy.
However, I can't but help feel that this is the end of something - the end of an idea that Debrah and I formed three years ago which has gone better than we could have hoped and has in it's turn caused us more difficulties than we could have imagined.
C'est la vie. We just have to make what comes next even better.
Friday, 30 October 2009
Feel the burn, smell the smoke
After yesterday's triathlon - cooking, eating and drinking - I was in much need of some healthier living and exercise today.
So a fruit breakfast, an hours ironing, some avocado and tomato as an early and pre-cycle lunch and a two and a half hour bike ride was what followed - and picking up my newest, and possibly last guests of the year, from the airport.
I am constantly apologising to new guests for the battered state of my 17 year old Audi and the fact that I have to use a screwdriver to get the seat to tip forward so that one of them can get in the back seat - but everyone waves my apologies away and tells me what a fabulous car it is and what a pleasure it is to be picked up at the airport in an open top car.
Today both guests decided to sit in the back so I felt even more like a chauffeur and they more like visiting royalty. It helps too that it was 20 degrees (at 10.30am) under an azure blue sky at the end of October.
We cooked two casseroles yesterday but only ate one of them. It had been suggested that my cooking guests might try the second for lunch today but when I checked with them at 1.00pm they were still not hungry and also trying to save some room for dinner at La Barbacane this evening. I so totally understood.
With no lunch to prep for them I was straight out on my bike for the afternoon and today I set two new records for myself - a 50km ride and over a 100kms for the week (132km to be exact - smashed that limit). I went out through Pennautier and uphill towards Aragon before doubling back to Ventenac, then Pezens, Villesquelande, down the canal for a bit towards Bram then up across the valley to Arzens, Alairac, Lavalette and finally back into town.
I had to take a detour around the river Aude and back under the Cité before heading home because I was determined to break the 50km mark and the direct route would have left me about 3km short.
I don't feel too bad - but I am sure my legs will feel a bit heavy tomorrow.
The Autumn countryside looked fabulous - the vines and trees all vivid reds, yellows, oranges and browns and the smell of wood fires was an ever present reminder of the season as farmers and gardeners burn off their cuttings and leaves.
The low sun caused quite a problem, especially in and out of the trees and along the canal - at times you are completely blinded, usually just as you hit a large prominent tree root on the towpath - a very painful reminder of the very narrow bicycle seat beneath.
Then, when I wandered down to town late afternoon with the sole purpose of just buying a ficelle to make toasts for the new guest's canapes, I bumped into my cooking clients sat outside Bar Felix enjoying a beer and the last of the sunshine. They insisted that I join them and I was well chuffed to hear them discussing the dishes from the previous day and how and when they were going to put them into practice - he is especially keen to try the chocolate fondants and can envisage having to try them many many times to perfect the timing !!
Happy guests - gives one a warm contented glow - as does a plateful of the second casserole which I tucked into this evening. I'm going to need another bike ride.
So a fruit breakfast, an hours ironing, some avocado and tomato as an early and pre-cycle lunch and a two and a half hour bike ride was what followed - and picking up my newest, and possibly last guests of the year, from the airport.
I am constantly apologising to new guests for the battered state of my 17 year old Audi and the fact that I have to use a screwdriver to get the seat to tip forward so that one of them can get in the back seat - but everyone waves my apologies away and tells me what a fabulous car it is and what a pleasure it is to be picked up at the airport in an open top car.
Today both guests decided to sit in the back so I felt even more like a chauffeur and they more like visiting royalty. It helps too that it was 20 degrees (at 10.30am) under an azure blue sky at the end of October.
We cooked two casseroles yesterday but only ate one of them. It had been suggested that my cooking guests might try the second for lunch today but when I checked with them at 1.00pm they were still not hungry and also trying to save some room for dinner at La Barbacane this evening. I so totally understood.
With no lunch to prep for them I was straight out on my bike for the afternoon and today I set two new records for myself - a 50km ride and over a 100kms for the week (132km to be exact - smashed that limit). I went out through Pennautier and uphill towards Aragon before doubling back to Ventenac, then Pezens, Villesquelande, down the canal for a bit towards Bram then up across the valley to Arzens, Alairac, Lavalette and finally back into town.
I had to take a detour around the river Aude and back under the Cité before heading home because I was determined to break the 50km mark and the direct route would have left me about 3km short.
I don't feel too bad - but I am sure my legs will feel a bit heavy tomorrow.
The Autumn countryside looked fabulous - the vines and trees all vivid reds, yellows, oranges and browns and the smell of wood fires was an ever present reminder of the season as farmers and gardeners burn off their cuttings and leaves.
The low sun caused quite a problem, especially in and out of the trees and along the canal - at times you are completely blinded, usually just as you hit a large prominent tree root on the towpath - a very painful reminder of the very narrow bicycle seat beneath.
Then, when I wandered down to town late afternoon with the sole purpose of just buying a ficelle to make toasts for the new guest's canapes, I bumped into my cooking clients sat outside Bar Felix enjoying a beer and the last of the sunshine. They insisted that I join them and I was well chuffed to hear them discussing the dishes from the previous day and how and when they were going to put them into practice - he is especially keen to try the chocolate fondants and can envisage having to try them many many times to perfect the timing !!
Happy guests - gives one a warm contented glow - as does a plateful of the second casserole which I tucked into this evening. I'm going to need another bike ride.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
In the kitchen
The dishwasher has just gone on for the second time this evening and finally all the debris from the client cooking day has been cleared.
The two clients and I have been on our feet since 9.45am this morning when we set off for the market and apart from one brief half hour break at about 2.00pm, we have been shopping, cooking or eating ever since.
I think they had a good time and I hope that they have learned something from the day. We certainly covered a lot of ground and cooked a lot of dishes and have eaten far too much.
Three delicious but easy to make soups, pumpkin, leek and potato and pea, two simple pan cooked fish recipes, sardines with a Mediterranean sauce and 'merlan' with a cream sauce, a piquant fennel salad, a chicken liver salad, a 'daube' of beef, a 'blanquette de veau, potatoes boulangere, 'petit pois a la francaise', sauteed blette, strawberry compote, a thin crust apple tart and hot chocolate fondants.
As ever it was the chocolate puddings at the end of the day, just when you would have thought we couldn't eat any more, that caused the most excitement - they always get the most amazing reactions.
We didn't eat it all of course - that would have been ridiculous - it just feels like that right now. I need to go and lie down.
The two clients and I have been on our feet since 9.45am this morning when we set off for the market and apart from one brief half hour break at about 2.00pm, we have been shopping, cooking or eating ever since.
I think they had a good time and I hope that they have learned something from the day. We certainly covered a lot of ground and cooked a lot of dishes and have eaten far too much.
Three delicious but easy to make soups, pumpkin, leek and potato and pea, two simple pan cooked fish recipes, sardines with a Mediterranean sauce and 'merlan' with a cream sauce, a piquant fennel salad, a chicken liver salad, a 'daube' of beef, a 'blanquette de veau, potatoes boulangere, 'petit pois a la francaise', sauteed blette, strawberry compote, a thin crust apple tart and hot chocolate fondants.
As ever it was the chocolate puddings at the end of the day, just when you would have thought we couldn't eat any more, that caused the most excitement - they always get the most amazing reactions.
We didn't eat it all of course - that would have been ridiculous - it just feels like that right now. I need to go and lie down.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
You looking at me?
When the alarm went off at 6.30am this morning I could have sworn that I'd only just finished the washing up from the previous night's client dinner. Why do guests on holiday want breakfast at 8.00am? - they should be lazing about taking the opportunity not to get up at the crack of dawn as they most surely must do in their normal working lives.
Never mind. I am here to serve and breakfasts were duly delivered bang on time as always.
Sadly there were no figs on the trays. I scoured the market last Saturday but not a fig in sight - and yes I could give a fig about it - I adore them. I think the cold snap a week ago has finally done for them.
They aren't the only things that have departed for another season - the evening boules sessions are also over now that the clocks have gone back. It is dark before Bob and Pierre can get away from their work, although, to be honest, I am not sure that they do a great deal of work so I might suggest an afternoon game because one thing that hasn't gone away is the sun, now thankfully restored with heat and a warm wind.
It was well up into the twenties this afternoon and my face is once again tingly from a touch of sunburn after my bike ride. The contrast with a week ago is remarkable - then we had frost on the ground and everyone switching their heating on - now we are back in short sleeves and flinging open the windows - quite bizarre.
Today's cycling took me to new heights, quite literally. I have never cycled up so many hills in one day ever before and my legs are feeling the strain of it and the previous two days - over 80kms so far this week. It doesn't seem to be getting rid of my gut though which is rather depressing.
I chose a new route today that took me up behind the Cité, through Palaja and on to Lac du Cavayere (or Carcassonne Plage as it is also known). It has been quite a while since I was up at the lake, and I drove there the last time about two years ago. There have been a lot of changes and I was quite impressed, which says a lot for a cynical old git like me, with all the facilities available, especially for families and children.
It was also extremely handsome in the sunshine and it's Autumn colours - the lake is set in a bowl on top of a hill surrounded by dense woodland - hence the many hills to ride today. There is a path that winds around the lake which must be at least three kilometres from beginning to end - it was such a shame that Debrah was stuck in London because it would have been a lovely walk together with hardly another soul about.
You can also cycle all round, apart from one set of steps where you have to carry your bike, and apart from the numerous short steep slopes where the path negotiates the woodland around the edge of the lake. I have to admit that I had to dismount twice as the slope and my heavy legs took their toll on my climbing ability.
I hadn't realised that there was a large chateau close to the lake set in the woods just to the north - the upper floors must have a magnificent view but I guess the owners might be slightly annoyed that their perfect view of the wilderness has been compromised by the lake being turned into the French chav playground of Summer Carcassonne.
It was a classic 19th century turreted twiddly grey chateau and was quite majestic set amongst the woodland that surrounded it. I consulted my map and negotiated a couple of woodland tracks, noting the 'propriete prive' signs at every turn, until I found myself outside the front door - i.e enormous iron gates about a kilometre from the house itself.
There was a side road and a sign for a gite which I was about to explore when I noticed the very large doberman that was looking at me - well silently staring and unmoving.
I have come across many a dog on my cycles and the majority bark a great deal and run back and forwards in their excitement and jump up and down a bit but mostly they have wagging tails and are just happy to see you - the bark is worse than the bite so to speak.
I absolutely did not get that impression from this dog - I thought he would quite like to bite me if I came any closer. So I decided to abandon the exploration of Chateau Gaja and beat an initially slow and then furiously fast retreat - funny how fear can get your legs moving - that and the barely audible deep growl coming from his direction.
Unfortunately I also backed myself into a corner as the lane took me downhill but only to the dual carriageway, with no crossing in evidence. I could go down the dual carriageway for a couple of kilometres to the next roundabout before then heading back to Carcassonne or I could turn around and go back uphill and back past gnasher waiting up there for me.
Obviously I took the long way back - tired legs or not.
It's a scandal - letting dogs like that loose on private property, although to give the dog some credit, he seemed to know that as I was on the road I wasn't technically trespassing. I could just imagine him thinking "Go on, step on the grass, I dare you". He's probably a soft sweetie that likes his tummy being tickled.!
Never mind. I am here to serve and breakfasts were duly delivered bang on time as always.
Sadly there were no figs on the trays. I scoured the market last Saturday but not a fig in sight - and yes I could give a fig about it - I adore them. I think the cold snap a week ago has finally done for them.
They aren't the only things that have departed for another season - the evening boules sessions are also over now that the clocks have gone back. It is dark before Bob and Pierre can get away from their work, although, to be honest, I am not sure that they do a great deal of work so I might suggest an afternoon game because one thing that hasn't gone away is the sun, now thankfully restored with heat and a warm wind.
It was well up into the twenties this afternoon and my face is once again tingly from a touch of sunburn after my bike ride. The contrast with a week ago is remarkable - then we had frost on the ground and everyone switching their heating on - now we are back in short sleeves and flinging open the windows - quite bizarre.
Today's cycling took me to new heights, quite literally. I have never cycled up so many hills in one day ever before and my legs are feeling the strain of it and the previous two days - over 80kms so far this week. It doesn't seem to be getting rid of my gut though which is rather depressing.
I chose a new route today that took me up behind the Cité, through Palaja and on to Lac du Cavayere (or Carcassonne Plage as it is also known). It has been quite a while since I was up at the lake, and I drove there the last time about two years ago. There have been a lot of changes and I was quite impressed, which says a lot for a cynical old git like me, with all the facilities available, especially for families and children.
It was also extremely handsome in the sunshine and it's Autumn colours - the lake is set in a bowl on top of a hill surrounded by dense woodland - hence the many hills to ride today. There is a path that winds around the lake which must be at least three kilometres from beginning to end - it was such a shame that Debrah was stuck in London because it would have been a lovely walk together with hardly another soul about.
You can also cycle all round, apart from one set of steps where you have to carry your bike, and apart from the numerous short steep slopes where the path negotiates the woodland around the edge of the lake. I have to admit that I had to dismount twice as the slope and my heavy legs took their toll on my climbing ability.
I hadn't realised that there was a large chateau close to the lake set in the woods just to the north - the upper floors must have a magnificent view but I guess the owners might be slightly annoyed that their perfect view of the wilderness has been compromised by the lake being turned into the French chav playground of Summer Carcassonne.
It was a classic 19th century turreted twiddly grey chateau and was quite majestic set amongst the woodland that surrounded it. I consulted my map and negotiated a couple of woodland tracks, noting the 'propriete prive' signs at every turn, until I found myself outside the front door - i.e enormous iron gates about a kilometre from the house itself.
There was a side road and a sign for a gite which I was about to explore when I noticed the very large doberman that was looking at me - well silently staring and unmoving.
I have come across many a dog on my cycles and the majority bark a great deal and run back and forwards in their excitement and jump up and down a bit but mostly they have wagging tails and are just happy to see you - the bark is worse than the bite so to speak.
I absolutely did not get that impression from this dog - I thought he would quite like to bite me if I came any closer. So I decided to abandon the exploration of Chateau Gaja and beat an initially slow and then furiously fast retreat - funny how fear can get your legs moving - that and the barely audible deep growl coming from his direction.
Unfortunately I also backed myself into a corner as the lane took me downhill but only to the dual carriageway, with no crossing in evidence. I could go down the dual carriageway for a couple of kilometres to the next roundabout before then heading back to Carcassonne or I could turn around and go back uphill and back past gnasher waiting up there for me.
Obviously I took the long way back - tired legs or not.
It's a scandal - letting dogs like that loose on private property, although to give the dog some credit, he seemed to know that as I was on the road I wasn't technically trespassing. I could just imagine him thinking "Go on, step on the grass, I dare you". He's probably a soft sweetie that likes his tummy being tickled.!
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Hippie shit
The busy busy client weekend became a little easier mid-afternoon today when Liverpool beat Manchester United. I was supposed to be in the middle of a client dinner right now but that victory combined with the celebratory drinks and the promise of the chance to sing in front of a load of strangers at the Celt (open mic night this evening) proved too much to resist for my client.
Personally I have never understood the desire to stand up and sing but maybe that's because I can't. Whatever, I'm not bothered really and tomorrow is just as good a night to host dinner - in fact after my weekend I'm not at all unhappy about it.
This weekend has been very full on with client activity and it comes swiftly after a hectic week of burning the candle at both ends and the disappointment of the barn and Debrah going back to London and just not feeling 100% on top of my game. It was all a bit of a vicious circle and I am glad of the break.
I always suspect that everything's getting a bit too much when I get a cold sore out of nowhere - and I don't just do cold sores like everyone else of course. I get them on my nose or on my ear and my sinuses swell up and inflame and make my whole face look odd - it's very uncomfortable rather than painful but no less welcome. Horse face, according to Debrah - she likes horses a lot but it stops her wanting to kiss me so I don't see the funny side at all.
I don't know what causes it and it hasn't happened since the Spring - maybe the sudden cold snap that caught us all unawares, maybe the frustration at missing the barn and the subsequent soul searching about what to do next that ensued, maybe the dinners out and dinners for clients of which there have been many over the last two weeks or maybe a combination of all those things. I just don't know but it doesn't half piss me off.
At least today I managed to get out on my bike for an hour which I haven't done for over a week. It felt like it too as I headed out to the west of town into the wind but ultimately I felt so much better for the exercise. It's so easy to make excuses not to go out (it looks like rain, it's a bit chilly, I'm not sure what time the clients are due to turn up) but as with everything it's so easy to convince yourself not to do something when you so should just get on with it.
Five kilometres into the ride I was struggling but when I turned sideways onto the wind it became a bit easier and the whole dramatic landscape of the black mountains opened up in front of me. It was moody alright with big black clouds being thrust along by the wind but patches of sunlight were highlighting the browns and reds and oranges of the autumn vines.
Suddenly the ride became easier and the clean air filled my lungs and the joy of being out of town in the midst of the most glorious dramatic landscape became all consuming. I wish I'd had my camera with me but then again I probably wouldn't have stopped because I was on a cycling mission. I will try and go out again every day this week if I can.
I was so tired yesterday that I was early to bed last night and hope to do the same this evening. I was so tired yesterday that I was tucking myself away not long after I had done my canapes and cocktails duty with my new arrivals. Not that I got a peaceful night's sleep - it was all a bit noisy outside and I was still sleeping in the spare bedroom which overlooks the street because 42rvh was fully booked including the Masters Room (my bedroom when there are no clients here).
There was a very large happening in Carcassonne yesterday which probably contributed to the late night noise. There was a 'manifestation Occitan' - basically a celebration of the Occitan language and culture which a great many people here want to protect for future generations - well at least the 15-20,000 thousand people that turned up.
I am all in favour of tradition and celebrating our history and our past but I think it has to be in perspective to our current lives - to modern France in this case. The movement wants Occitan to be tought as the second language in schools here, much in the way that Gaelic is compulsory in Ireland and Welsh in Wales. I sort of agree as long a place can be found for it in the curriculum without it holding back the prospects of the children in school making the most of their lives - teach Occitan sure, but, as well as, not in place of English or German or Spanish.
Good branding though and masses of red and yellow Occitan flags made the march and parade from town up to the Cité extremely spectacular. Clients that departed this morning said that they had followed the march and been very moved by a sermon and rendition of the Occitan anthem in the Basilica and a fabulous view of the massed throng with banners and flags raised backed by the setting sun was only ruined because they had left their camera back at 42rvh!
Spectacular as it was I couldn't help thinking that it was a bit of a lost cause too. I am an ardent reader of history and am fascinated by who we are today and the all the twists and turns that have led us to this point in our political, economic and social development - so dressing like a mental art student, blowing into a recorder, banging a drum and dancing in barefeet as if every step is on on a bed of red hot coals seems a bit hippie if you ask me, and not a good reason to embrace Occitan as a movement for the future.
Still, I got a nice free map of Occitania with the local paper yesterday - I like maps and have already spent a good couple of hours looking at it. No chance of putting it up anywhere of course - the design guru would have a fit.
Which just goes to prove, it's all out of date and it's time to move on
Personally I have never understood the desire to stand up and sing but maybe that's because I can't. Whatever, I'm not bothered really and tomorrow is just as good a night to host dinner - in fact after my weekend I'm not at all unhappy about it.
This weekend has been very full on with client activity and it comes swiftly after a hectic week of burning the candle at both ends and the disappointment of the barn and Debrah going back to London and just not feeling 100% on top of my game. It was all a bit of a vicious circle and I am glad of the break.
I always suspect that everything's getting a bit too much when I get a cold sore out of nowhere - and I don't just do cold sores like everyone else of course. I get them on my nose or on my ear and my sinuses swell up and inflame and make my whole face look odd - it's very uncomfortable rather than painful but no less welcome. Horse face, according to Debrah - she likes horses a lot but it stops her wanting to kiss me so I don't see the funny side at all.
I don't know what causes it and it hasn't happened since the Spring - maybe the sudden cold snap that caught us all unawares, maybe the frustration at missing the barn and the subsequent soul searching about what to do next that ensued, maybe the dinners out and dinners for clients of which there have been many over the last two weeks or maybe a combination of all those things. I just don't know but it doesn't half piss me off.
At least today I managed to get out on my bike for an hour which I haven't done for over a week. It felt like it too as I headed out to the west of town into the wind but ultimately I felt so much better for the exercise. It's so easy to make excuses not to go out (it looks like rain, it's a bit chilly, I'm not sure what time the clients are due to turn up) but as with everything it's so easy to convince yourself not to do something when you so should just get on with it.
Five kilometres into the ride I was struggling but when I turned sideways onto the wind it became a bit easier and the whole dramatic landscape of the black mountains opened up in front of me. It was moody alright with big black clouds being thrust along by the wind but patches of sunlight were highlighting the browns and reds and oranges of the autumn vines.
Suddenly the ride became easier and the clean air filled my lungs and the joy of being out of town in the midst of the most glorious dramatic landscape became all consuming. I wish I'd had my camera with me but then again I probably wouldn't have stopped because I was on a cycling mission. I will try and go out again every day this week if I can.
I was so tired yesterday that I was early to bed last night and hope to do the same this evening. I was so tired yesterday that I was tucking myself away not long after I had done my canapes and cocktails duty with my new arrivals. Not that I got a peaceful night's sleep - it was all a bit noisy outside and I was still sleeping in the spare bedroom which overlooks the street because 42rvh was fully booked including the Masters Room (my bedroom when there are no clients here).
There was a very large happening in Carcassonne yesterday which probably contributed to the late night noise. There was a 'manifestation Occitan' - basically a celebration of the Occitan language and culture which a great many people here want to protect for future generations - well at least the 15-20,000 thousand people that turned up.
I am all in favour of tradition and celebrating our history and our past but I think it has to be in perspective to our current lives - to modern France in this case. The movement wants Occitan to be tought as the second language in schools here, much in the way that Gaelic is compulsory in Ireland and Welsh in Wales. I sort of agree as long a place can be found for it in the curriculum without it holding back the prospects of the children in school making the most of their lives - teach Occitan sure, but, as well as, not in place of English or German or Spanish.
Good branding though and masses of red and yellow Occitan flags made the march and parade from town up to the Cité extremely spectacular. Clients that departed this morning said that they had followed the march and been very moved by a sermon and rendition of the Occitan anthem in the Basilica and a fabulous view of the massed throng with banners and flags raised backed by the setting sun was only ruined because they had left their camera back at 42rvh!
Spectacular as it was I couldn't help thinking that it was a bit of a lost cause too. I am an ardent reader of history and am fascinated by who we are today and the all the twists and turns that have led us to this point in our political, economic and social development - so dressing like a mental art student, blowing into a recorder, banging a drum and dancing in barefeet as if every step is on on a bed of red hot coals seems a bit hippie if you ask me, and not a good reason to embrace Occitan as a movement for the future.
Still, I got a nice free map of Occitania with the local paper yesterday - I like maps and have already spent a good couple of hours looking at it. No chance of putting it up anywhere of course - the design guru would have a fit.
Which just goes to prove, it's all out of date and it's time to move on
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