So that's that, pretty much, for another year. We hosted our last client dinner on Sunday evening and I hosted our last market tour and cooking day for four clients on Saturday. Well, they were the last ones that we have booked until just before New Year so it feels very much like the end of the season. We have a couple of more bookings to come but they are self-catering so there is very little to do for them.
It sort of feels not before time too. As Debrah so beautifully summed it up "When are the people going to stop coming"? I know exactly what she means and I feel ready for a rest from the seven days a week schedule. We will have a bit of time to ourselves, a bit of lazy time and a trip to England to see family and friends.
It's been another good year at 42rvh with pretty solid bookings from May until now and very few free nights in either suite during that whole period. On top of that we started outside catering for other holiday rentals which was interesting. We will take stock of what worked well and what didn't and which areas of the business we need to change and which areas we want to develop. We coped with the volcanic ash cloud, the double dip recession, the falling euro and the strikes - or rather our guests did - so thank you all for persevering.
After three years the suites are beginning to show a bit of wear and tear so there will be some maintenance needed during January and February - a bit of paint here and there, a few repairs and a few furniture changes - I think it's known as a refresh.
It's also five years since our own apartment was first decorated by us so we are going to make some changes to the kitchen, to accommodate the cooking days more easily, and some changes to our own bedroom where we need more storage space for Debrah's clothes and shoes! We certainly won't be sitting down for the winter.
And it does feel like winter is nearly upon us - the clocks have gone back, the gel fires have been lit, the winter duvets are back on the beds and we had our first power cut during the week.
Debrah has enjoyed her first Summer here - let's see if I can get her through the winter months without too much melancholy!
Monday 1 November 2010
Friday 24 September 2010
Happy ever after
Last week was all about cooking, cooking and cooking - four dinners in five nights, two in-house at 42rvh and two outside at Chateau Aragon. They were coupled with clients who needed breakfast and who were very keen to be up and out at a decent hour - so it was late nights and early mornings and running on adrenalin for a few days.
Since then it's been a bit quieter - breakfasts all week but only the early mornings and no late nights - a chance to catch-up with chores and a bit of sleep.
On Monday I slept for two hours in the afternoon which is unheard of - I rarely sleep during the day - but I felt so much better for it. No going out, a good cycle ride midweek and lots of thinking about future plans. There isn't really any relaxing because there are always maintenance jobs to be planned and always the 'next big thing' to sort out.
I wouldn't have it any other way though. If I think we can just stand still doing what we do here at 42rvh then we won't stand still at all - we will go backwards. So we have to keep looking for new opportunities to expand and develop what we do, which is why we are cooking for clients at outside holiday rentals and why we are always on the lookout for ways to expand the 42rvh offer.
The outside clients were from the USA and were celebrating a 50th birthday. We cooked three dinners for them over the course of the week, a simple supper on the day they arrived, a four course Summer dinner and a four course Languedoc regional dinner which naturally featured quite a lot of duck. It all went well.
They very kindly gave us a bottle of Syrah that they had dragged all the way from just outside Seattle. I looked it up and it's a good bottle of wine from one of the most respected winemakers in Washington state. What can you say to something like that? - its as if they knew before they arrived that it would be the perfect tip. It is now safely tucked away in the basement cellar waiting the day - whenever that may be.
The in-house guests were equally appreciative. We always have a very soft spot for a young in-love couple of newlyweds like the ones who arrived last Sunday - nearly welled up just looking at them and very much hope that in 20 years time they are still as happy and enthusiastic as they were when I first met them. Bless.
Since then it's been a bit quieter - breakfasts all week but only the early mornings and no late nights - a chance to catch-up with chores and a bit of sleep.
On Monday I slept for two hours in the afternoon which is unheard of - I rarely sleep during the day - but I felt so much better for it. No going out, a good cycle ride midweek and lots of thinking about future plans. There isn't really any relaxing because there are always maintenance jobs to be planned and always the 'next big thing' to sort out.
I wouldn't have it any other way though. If I think we can just stand still doing what we do here at 42rvh then we won't stand still at all - we will go backwards. So we have to keep looking for new opportunities to expand and develop what we do, which is why we are cooking for clients at outside holiday rentals and why we are always on the lookout for ways to expand the 42rvh offer.
The outside clients were from the USA and were celebrating a 50th birthday. We cooked three dinners for them over the course of the week, a simple supper on the day they arrived, a four course Summer dinner and a four course Languedoc regional dinner which naturally featured quite a lot of duck. It all went well.
They very kindly gave us a bottle of Syrah that they had dragged all the way from just outside Seattle. I looked it up and it's a good bottle of wine from one of the most respected winemakers in Washington state. What can you say to something like that? - its as if they knew before they arrived that it would be the perfect tip. It is now safely tucked away in the basement cellar waiting the day - whenever that may be.
The in-house guests were equally appreciative. We always have a very soft spot for a young in-love couple of newlyweds like the ones who arrived last Sunday - nearly welled up just looking at them and very much hope that in 20 years time they are still as happy and enthusiastic as they were when I first met them. Bless.
Wednesday 8 September 2010
Change
You decide that you are going to sell something, let's say a property for instance - so you obviously think I need to get this looking in the best possible condition and take some really good photographs that show it off to it's best and get all the details and information to hand ready to give to any interested potential buyer and employ a pro-active estate agent to act on my behalf who will insist on all the aforementioned things being done.
I can't remember how many properties I have looked at over the past four years but I do know that not one of the owners or agents involved had done any of the above but they had all consistently overpriced the property by at least 40%.
So it was that Debrah and I went to view an interesting property in Carcassonne this week. Ideas and plans and thoughts about how to do things differently and better are always part of our business thinking and it doesn't hurt to go and check some things out from time to time.
It has potential ... but it would have so much more potential if the price was lower and there was a scaled floor plan available and if the whole building wasn't so full of old stuff that you could actually see the fabric of the place, get a feel for the space and not have to climb over things to get from one room to the next. Just pay someone €500 to get all the shit cleared out, repair the roof tiles that have caused the water leak, get the rotten beam fixed cos you know you will have to drop the price for it anyway, take some measurements and make a floor plan. What's wrong with people - it's not that difficult.
We will see - it may be right, it may not, it may have the potential or it may not - it's far too early to say and there are still far too many unknowns. It may well go the way of all the others we have looked at - interesting but not practical or feasible. It may be the start of something new.
The weather finally turned this week and with the kids back to school (rentree) and the start of the harvest (vendange) and a drop in temperature comes a feeling of the end of Summer and the start of Autumn.
Yesterday was grey and dull and drizzly in all senses but today dawned with the bluest of blue skies with the whitest of white clouds scudding across it on a fresh breeze relentlessly pushing on towards the Mediterranean. It was a fabulous Autumn day and hopefully the first of many to come over the next two months. Not cold at all but without the searing 35 degree heat of Summer. The light was clear, not hazy and the air was fresh not sultry. I personally think Autumn is the best time of year to be in the Languedoc - we are not there yet but it is definitely coming.
Having been confined indoors all day yesterday under the grey skies, we decided we should take advantage of a free afternoon and get out of the place - we hadn't been out for a roof down pootle through the Languedoc countryside for ages and the new Audi hadn't been there at all - it was time.
Always inspiring, always breathtaking, always beautiful and always isolated, after just 10 minutes drive out of Carcassonne. The colours are still green but the dark bottle green of late Summer, the vignerons are starting to harvest the white grapes - the red will come in later this month, the roads are empty, the roof is down and the scenery and wildlife is spectacular - it is a wonderful way to escape.
Todays memorable sightings included ponies and horses standing stoically against the irritation of flies and the wind, a feisty mare not wanting to go into a horse box, a magnificent majestic eagle soaring not that far above us as we crested the top of a pass - what a wingspan? - a small group of deer rushing for cover from an open field into the gladed shade of a river, an eccentric black goat, a huge handsome bull in a field of cows and some very large (and some very tiny) fish in the River Lauquet, where we stopped for a walk along the banks in the sunshine.
And yes, it was all very romantic and very beautiful. Life is good.
I can't remember how many properties I have looked at over the past four years but I do know that not one of the owners or agents involved had done any of the above but they had all consistently overpriced the property by at least 40%.
So it was that Debrah and I went to view an interesting property in Carcassonne this week. Ideas and plans and thoughts about how to do things differently and better are always part of our business thinking and it doesn't hurt to go and check some things out from time to time.
It has potential ... but it would have so much more potential if the price was lower and there was a scaled floor plan available and if the whole building wasn't so full of old stuff that you could actually see the fabric of the place, get a feel for the space and not have to climb over things to get from one room to the next. Just pay someone €500 to get all the shit cleared out, repair the roof tiles that have caused the water leak, get the rotten beam fixed cos you know you will have to drop the price for it anyway, take some measurements and make a floor plan. What's wrong with people - it's not that difficult.
We will see - it may be right, it may not, it may have the potential or it may not - it's far too early to say and there are still far too many unknowns. It may well go the way of all the others we have looked at - interesting but not practical or feasible. It may be the start of something new.
The weather finally turned this week and with the kids back to school (rentree) and the start of the harvest (vendange) and a drop in temperature comes a feeling of the end of Summer and the start of Autumn.
Yesterday was grey and dull and drizzly in all senses but today dawned with the bluest of blue skies with the whitest of white clouds scudding across it on a fresh breeze relentlessly pushing on towards the Mediterranean. It was a fabulous Autumn day and hopefully the first of many to come over the next two months. Not cold at all but without the searing 35 degree heat of Summer. The light was clear, not hazy and the air was fresh not sultry. I personally think Autumn is the best time of year to be in the Languedoc - we are not there yet but it is definitely coming.
Having been confined indoors all day yesterday under the grey skies, we decided we should take advantage of a free afternoon and get out of the place - we hadn't been out for a roof down pootle through the Languedoc countryside for ages and the new Audi hadn't been there at all - it was time.
Always inspiring, always breathtaking, always beautiful and always isolated, after just 10 minutes drive out of Carcassonne. The colours are still green but the dark bottle green of late Summer, the vignerons are starting to harvest the white grapes - the red will come in later this month, the roads are empty, the roof is down and the scenery and wildlife is spectacular - it is a wonderful way to escape.
Todays memorable sightings included ponies and horses standing stoically against the irritation of flies and the wind, a feisty mare not wanting to go into a horse box, a magnificent majestic eagle soaring not that far above us as we crested the top of a pass - what a wingspan? - a small group of deer rushing for cover from an open field into the gladed shade of a river, an eccentric black goat, a huge handsome bull in a field of cows and some very large (and some very tiny) fish in the River Lauquet, where we stopped for a walk along the banks in the sunshine.
And yes, it was all very romantic and very beautiful. Life is good.
Monday 6 September 2010
Networking
The last few days were mostly about networking.
I used to really hate networking in my old life - talking to dull corporate people, who really did give a damn, about the latest accounting standard on acceptable depreciation practices, about the effect of the budget on corporate tax planning, about rights ownership of a squiggle somebody did somewhere, sometime that looks like one somebody else did somewhere at some other time ... Don't get me wrong, I was quite good at it in my own way - but really really interested? - well obviously I became less interested which is why I am now running a stylish and fabulous holiday escape destination in the South of France.
I constantly have to remind Debrah that when I am drinking wine, eating and generally having a lot of fun, that I am in fact networking. It is wholly, exclusively and necessarily for the benefit of my business and as such should be tax deductible.
So it was that last Thursday, International Cabernet Day, I was invited to O'Vineyards, based in Villemousstassou, to sample some local cabernet based wines including their own cabernet franc version. It was a chance to meet some local residents, growers and merchants, to taste some wines, to visit the cellars, to explain what an Englishman is doing in Carcassonne and to hand out a few cards.
Ryan O'Connell of O'Vineyards does a fantastic job of promoting Languedoc wines through his video blog, facebook and twitter and is a huge example to all vignerons (and everyone) of the power of promotion through social media. He and his parents also make some fabulous wines which are getting better with each year - the 09 cabernet tasted direct from the tank has masses of potential and could be their best yet. To see what Ryan gets up to go to http://love-that-languedoc.com.
Ryan was recording events and tweeting during the evening, which is when my car had it's five minutes of fame. I recently bought a new (15 year old) Audi cabriolet to replace my very tired, but faithful, old (18 year old) Audi. (Don't get me started on that - I know it's just a car but we have been through a lot together and I still feel bad about it.) The letters on the still British registration plate of the new car are CAB. I had obviously thought about it as representing cabriolet but it didn't occur to me until Ryan pointed it out that CAB meant CABernet on this day of all days - photo was taken, posting and tweeting ensued and my car became a star for a fleeting moment.
On Saturday we had a visit to 42rvh from Juliet and Sarah of Mr & Mrs Smith - we were added to the collection at the beginning of the year. They were in France for a couple of days looking at potential new listings and had wanted to stay but their enquiry came too late during this busy time of the season - happily we were able to offer them some supper, a chance for Sarah to see the apartments and for Debrah to meet them having missed out on Juliet's initial visit back in February.
Without going into the detail, they were not very enamoured with their overnight accommodation - and we were very happy to offer them a relaxed Sunday morning breakfast at 42rvh followed by a wander around the brocante at La Trivalle - one of the best brocantes of the year here in Carcassonne, always held on the first Sunday of September.
As always, we came away with a little something that we will put down somewhere until we know what we are going to do with it! Debrah picked up some pre-war copies of L'Illustration, a plate dating from the 50's, some big industrial type aluminium light fittings for a future project and Juliet carried off a yellow enamel coffee pot which needed to be stashed in her hand luggage before finding a home on a window sill in North London. I carried and Sarah paid and a good time was had by all. Please come back soon because you know you are always welcome.
Sunday felt like the last fling of high Summer before the slightly more relaxed heat of Autumn. There was a cloudless sky, no air movement and a baking sun. It was no hotter than many other days here this past month but the sun had an intensity that seemed to be saying 'goodbye to 35 degrees' (there were a couple of late afternoon ambulance calls to sufferers of heat exhaustion just to prove the point).
Today was cooler and cloudy and this evening full of rumbling and growling, flashing lightening and stormy rain - this is the Languedoc - dramatic and intense - not a dreary, limp-handshake, warm champagne, credit insurance moment to be had - thank God.
I used to really hate networking in my old life - talking to dull corporate people, who really did give a damn, about the latest accounting standard on acceptable depreciation practices, about the effect of the budget on corporate tax planning, about rights ownership of a squiggle somebody did somewhere, sometime that looks like one somebody else did somewhere at some other time ... Don't get me wrong, I was quite good at it in my own way - but really really interested? - well obviously I became less interested which is why I am now running a stylish and fabulous holiday escape destination in the South of France.
I constantly have to remind Debrah that when I am drinking wine, eating and generally having a lot of fun, that I am in fact networking. It is wholly, exclusively and necessarily for the benefit of my business and as such should be tax deductible.
So it was that last Thursday, International Cabernet Day, I was invited to O'Vineyards, based in Villemousstassou, to sample some local cabernet based wines including their own cabernet franc version. It was a chance to meet some local residents, growers and merchants, to taste some wines, to visit the cellars, to explain what an Englishman is doing in Carcassonne and to hand out a few cards.
Ryan O'Connell of O'Vineyards does a fantastic job of promoting Languedoc wines through his video blog, facebook and twitter and is a huge example to all vignerons (and everyone) of the power of promotion through social media. He and his parents also make some fabulous wines which are getting better with each year - the 09 cabernet tasted direct from the tank has masses of potential and could be their best yet. To see what Ryan gets up to go to http://love-that-languedoc.com.
Ryan was recording events and tweeting during the evening, which is when my car had it's five minutes of fame. I recently bought a new (15 year old) Audi cabriolet to replace my very tired, but faithful, old (18 year old) Audi. (Don't get me started on that - I know it's just a car but we have been through a lot together and I still feel bad about it.) The letters on the still British registration plate of the new car are CAB. I had obviously thought about it as representing cabriolet but it didn't occur to me until Ryan pointed it out that CAB meant CABernet on this day of all days - photo was taken, posting and tweeting ensued and my car became a star for a fleeting moment.
On Saturday we had a visit to 42rvh from Juliet and Sarah of Mr & Mrs Smith - we were added to the collection at the beginning of the year. They were in France for a couple of days looking at potential new listings and had wanted to stay but their enquiry came too late during this busy time of the season - happily we were able to offer them some supper, a chance for Sarah to see the apartments and for Debrah to meet them having missed out on Juliet's initial visit back in February.
Without going into the detail, they were not very enamoured with their overnight accommodation - and we were very happy to offer them a relaxed Sunday morning breakfast at 42rvh followed by a wander around the brocante at La Trivalle - one of the best brocantes of the year here in Carcassonne, always held on the first Sunday of September.
As always, we came away with a little something that we will put down somewhere until we know what we are going to do with it! Debrah picked up some pre-war copies of L'Illustration, a plate dating from the 50's, some big industrial type aluminium light fittings for a future project and Juliet carried off a yellow enamel coffee pot which needed to be stashed in her hand luggage before finding a home on a window sill in North London. I carried and Sarah paid and a good time was had by all. Please come back soon because you know you are always welcome.
Sunday felt like the last fling of high Summer before the slightly more relaxed heat of Autumn. There was a cloudless sky, no air movement and a baking sun. It was no hotter than many other days here this past month but the sun had an intensity that seemed to be saying 'goodbye to 35 degrees' (there were a couple of late afternoon ambulance calls to sufferers of heat exhaustion just to prove the point).
Today was cooler and cloudy and this evening full of rumbling and growling, flashing lightening and stormy rain - this is the Languedoc - dramatic and intense - not a dreary, limp-handshake, warm champagne, credit insurance moment to be had - thank God.
Tuesday 31 August 2010
Back to the Future
I was just stood at the window overlooking the courtyard watching a little pipistrelle bat flying round and round. The sun had disappeared after another gloriously warm cloud free Languedoc day but it wasn't yet dark enough to see the stars - it was twilight - and on two or three occasions I thought the little bat was going to fly straight into the bedroom despite my presence at the window watching it - it must have flown within a metre of me.
Debrah has gone to London for a couple of days and being on my own here, after a satisfying supper of echine de porc and saute potatoes and with glass of red wine in hand, I was in a contemplative mood and suddenly remembered my blog.
What blog is that?, I hear you all say. When is a blog not a blog? - when you don't post anything - and I haven't been here since May apparently. Frankly, that's a damn poor effort and one that I mean to put right from now on.
So where to begin? It would be impossible to recount all that has happened this year although much of it would have made very good reading I am sure - the winter 'where are we going to live?' angst, the bizarre tarot card experience, the on off property sale in London, the move, the snow, the expansion into outside catering for other holiday rental properties, the joy and the happiness of living together under one roof after pretty much four years of commuting back and forth to London spending too much time in different countries.
Perhaps that sums up my blog absence more than anything - being happily together here in France.
Well the Summer of fun is drawing to a close and with the rentree upon us it is time to refocus energies towards next year's plans for the business. So it was timely that we had a photographer, on behalf of The Sunday Times Travel Magazine, here today - the third photographer we have had here this year. This one was shooting for an article that will probably come out in the Spring edition - an article focussing on the food and wine element of our offer here at 42rvh - which is all very timely because that's the area that we would like to expand. There is nothing to say yet of course - it's all being bounced about in our heads.
For now, I am just happy that I have managed to return to this page.
Debrah has gone to London for a couple of days and being on my own here, after a satisfying supper of echine de porc and saute potatoes and with glass of red wine in hand, I was in a contemplative mood and suddenly remembered my blog.
What blog is that?, I hear you all say. When is a blog not a blog? - when you don't post anything - and I haven't been here since May apparently. Frankly, that's a damn poor effort and one that I mean to put right from now on.
So where to begin? It would be impossible to recount all that has happened this year although much of it would have made very good reading I am sure - the winter 'where are we going to live?' angst, the bizarre tarot card experience, the on off property sale in London, the move, the snow, the expansion into outside catering for other holiday rental properties, the joy and the happiness of living together under one roof after pretty much four years of commuting back and forth to London spending too much time in different countries.
Perhaps that sums up my blog absence more than anything - being happily together here in France.
Well the Summer of fun is drawing to a close and with the rentree upon us it is time to refocus energies towards next year's plans for the business. So it was timely that we had a photographer, on behalf of The Sunday Times Travel Magazine, here today - the third photographer we have had here this year. This one was shooting for an article that will probably come out in the Spring edition - an article focussing on the food and wine element of our offer here at 42rvh - which is all very timely because that's the area that we would like to expand. There is nothing to say yet of course - it's all being bounced about in our heads.
For now, I am just happy that I have managed to return to this page.
Monday 24 May 2010
Law and Order
Last week I had my first encounter with the forces of law and order here in Carcassonne.
After a dash to the Apple Store in Montpellier on the Saturday before last, we left our UK car in the open air parking by the Boulevard Varsovie - it is free on Saturday afternoon and on Sunday and I knew that I would need it early on Monday morning before I had to pay for parking.
Our Renault Laguna has only just arrived back in it's spiritual French homeland after looking after us for 7 years in London. It had made the trip down here many times and was in fact our means of transport when we first came to tour this region and when we first looked at 42rvh, but I only have one parking space here so the Renault was sitting in the public car park until I could find it a permanent home.
Alas, when I went to get it on Monday morning it wasn't where I left it - it was nowhere to be seen.
I trudged down to the Gendarmerie to report a stolen car but was told that it was 'pas vole, mais enlevee' (accents missing I know) - not stolen but towed. It appears there was a 'brocante' on the Sunday morning and there were signs inconveniently placed so that you couldn't actually see them telling you that parking was prohibited for that day - somehow we failed to see the inconveniently placed signs - car was towed.
There were 5 gendarmes lurking around the reception desk of the police station. The one with the biggest moustache and the thickest incomprehensible accent did all the talking, another wrote out the fine and gave me the form I needed to get the car back from the 'fourriere' (car pound) and the rest said nothing but tried their best to look cool and intimidating, which worked very well.
Despite my best efforts I left none the wiser as to where my car was and what to do next to get it back.
At the Mairie they told me I had to go to the Gendarmerie - thanks. At least the "Police Municipale' told me where the car pound was - well sort of - opposite the Decathlon store, tucked down a little side road. We drove up and down the road for half an hour before we spotted the place, which was of course locked up - but at least we could see the Renault and knew where it was.
We were trying to decide what to do next when an Audi Avant pulled up driven by a swarthy (and handsome, apparently) Mediterranean bloke who demanded what we wanted, disappeared and returned with a key, extracted €96 from me and gave us back the car. He was in fact very charming about the whole thing and told me I needed to visit the police station to pay the fine before he gave my wife a cheery wave as he left!!
I went to the police station again the following day and was greeted by a completely different group of gendarmes who couldn't have been more helpful. 'Yes, you can pay the fine here' and 'Yes, the signs could have been more clearly displayed' and 'Yes, this is the same desk that issued you the ticket'. It would seem that the great Socialist French state is still working to keep as many people in employment as it possibly can - obviously the policeman who issued me the ticket was not authorised to receive payment for said ticket or he would have undoubtedly told me so at the time - wouldn't he?
The towage and the fine cost me €130 in total so a permanent solution to the Renault parking was needed. A friend had told me that the underground parking in town was no more expensive long term than renting a private garage, so that seemed to be the best option.
So it was that I took the car to the Place Gambetta and spoke to the man in the office on the lower ground floor.
"I'd like to buy an annual parking ticket please"
"No, not possible", was the reply
"A quarter?"
"Non"
"A month?"
"Non"
I could buy a seven day pass that would (nearly) take me to the end of the month. Then, I hope, I can buy a monthly ticket that will take me to the end of June and then I can buy, I think, a half yearly ticket to the end of the year and then, finally, I will be able to buy an annual ticket - but if I don't turn up on the last day of the month or the first day of the following month I will have missed my chance! Bonkers.
Bonkers indeed but part of the charm nonetheless - there are things about France that are very different but unless you go with the flow you will just find it all too stressful. So I can't buy an annual season ticket from 20th May to 20th May next year - I have to go back at the end of the week and start the haggling once again.
Just remember, it's all part of the charm
After a dash to the Apple Store in Montpellier on the Saturday before last, we left our UK car in the open air parking by the Boulevard Varsovie - it is free on Saturday afternoon and on Sunday and I knew that I would need it early on Monday morning before I had to pay for parking.
Our Renault Laguna has only just arrived back in it's spiritual French homeland after looking after us for 7 years in London. It had made the trip down here many times and was in fact our means of transport when we first came to tour this region and when we first looked at 42rvh, but I only have one parking space here so the Renault was sitting in the public car park until I could find it a permanent home.
Alas, when I went to get it on Monday morning it wasn't where I left it - it was nowhere to be seen.
I trudged down to the Gendarmerie to report a stolen car but was told that it was 'pas vole, mais enlevee' (accents missing I know) - not stolen but towed. It appears there was a 'brocante' on the Sunday morning and there were signs inconveniently placed so that you couldn't actually see them telling you that parking was prohibited for that day - somehow we failed to see the inconveniently placed signs - car was towed.
There were 5 gendarmes lurking around the reception desk of the police station. The one with the biggest moustache and the thickest incomprehensible accent did all the talking, another wrote out the fine and gave me the form I needed to get the car back from the 'fourriere' (car pound) and the rest said nothing but tried their best to look cool and intimidating, which worked very well.
Despite my best efforts I left none the wiser as to where my car was and what to do next to get it back.
At the Mairie they told me I had to go to the Gendarmerie - thanks. At least the "Police Municipale' told me where the car pound was - well sort of - opposite the Decathlon store, tucked down a little side road. We drove up and down the road for half an hour before we spotted the place, which was of course locked up - but at least we could see the Renault and knew where it was.
We were trying to decide what to do next when an Audi Avant pulled up driven by a swarthy (and handsome, apparently) Mediterranean bloke who demanded what we wanted, disappeared and returned with a key, extracted €96 from me and gave us back the car. He was in fact very charming about the whole thing and told me I needed to visit the police station to pay the fine before he gave my wife a cheery wave as he left!!
I went to the police station again the following day and was greeted by a completely different group of gendarmes who couldn't have been more helpful. 'Yes, you can pay the fine here' and 'Yes, the signs could have been more clearly displayed' and 'Yes, this is the same desk that issued you the ticket'. It would seem that the great Socialist French state is still working to keep as many people in employment as it possibly can - obviously the policeman who issued me the ticket was not authorised to receive payment for said ticket or he would have undoubtedly told me so at the time - wouldn't he?
The towage and the fine cost me €130 in total so a permanent solution to the Renault parking was needed. A friend had told me that the underground parking in town was no more expensive long term than renting a private garage, so that seemed to be the best option.
So it was that I took the car to the Place Gambetta and spoke to the man in the office on the lower ground floor.
"I'd like to buy an annual parking ticket please"
"No, not possible", was the reply
"A quarter?"
"Non"
"A month?"
"Non"
I could buy a seven day pass that would (nearly) take me to the end of the month. Then, I hope, I can buy a monthly ticket that will take me to the end of June and then I can buy, I think, a half yearly ticket to the end of the year and then, finally, I will be able to buy an annual ticket - but if I don't turn up on the last day of the month or the first day of the following month I will have missed my chance! Bonkers.
Bonkers indeed but part of the charm nonetheless - there are things about France that are very different but unless you go with the flow you will just find it all too stressful. So I can't buy an annual season ticket from 20th May to 20th May next year - I have to go back at the end of the week and start the haggling once again.
Just remember, it's all part of the charm
Sunday 23 May 2010
A new start
So much for my April pronouncement about restarting my blog writing in earnest - six weeks has passed since then without a word being typed here - it's time to get up to date.
Here is the shortened version of events;
- the Winter was spent mostly in London trying to decide where our future lay - that is, was I moving back to London or was Debrah moving out to France?
- it was complicated by Christian moving out and going to college in Falmouth, being unhappy and missing London, Amy finishing college and getting a job in London and moving in with us and stressing out Debrah cos she wasn't Christian and by me not earning very much money for several months when I could have tried a bit harder to find some work.
- we decided to sell our London apartment without knowing any answers and got an offer that we didn't expect and so accepted still without knowing any answers.
- a fabulous few days of weather in France plus some very bizarre signs and pointers from a totally unexpected source convinced us both that our future lay in France (don't ask because I couldn't ever possibly tell anyone what really happened - but well spooky that's for sure)
- the whole London sale thing became a complete nightmare of buyer pulling out on exchange and trying to force the price which he did but he was already paying over the odds so in the end we still got an excellent deal but it was incredibly stressful and annoying to say the very least.
- we officially moved to France on 1st May 2010
- we have been trying to combine two lots of furniture and household effects into one and now have a storage container full of stuff on the edge of town which still needs to be sorted out.
- Debrah is heading back to London every other week for a few days because they insist on paying her good money to do so but she isn't happy about the whole thing so we shall see how long that lasts.
- 42rvh is stacked full of clients in May and June, despite the economic meltdown, the political vacuum in the UK and the mysterious ash cloud which I am convinced is some sort of sinister hoax designed to meltdown the airline industry.
- our recently imported UK Renault got towed last week, because I didn't notice the sign for the brocante the next day, which cost me about 130 euros in total which is very very annoying but a damn sight cheaper than it would have been in London.
- we are both very very happy with our new life in France and very much in love
There you are - what more can I say?
Here is the shortened version of events;
- the Winter was spent mostly in London trying to decide where our future lay - that is, was I moving back to London or was Debrah moving out to France?
- it was complicated by Christian moving out and going to college in Falmouth, being unhappy and missing London, Amy finishing college and getting a job in London and moving in with us and stressing out Debrah cos she wasn't Christian and by me not earning very much money for several months when I could have tried a bit harder to find some work.
- we decided to sell our London apartment without knowing any answers and got an offer that we didn't expect and so accepted still without knowing any answers.
- a fabulous few days of weather in France plus some very bizarre signs and pointers from a totally unexpected source convinced us both that our future lay in France (don't ask because I couldn't ever possibly tell anyone what really happened - but well spooky that's for sure)
- the whole London sale thing became a complete nightmare of buyer pulling out on exchange and trying to force the price which he did but he was already paying over the odds so in the end we still got an excellent deal but it was incredibly stressful and annoying to say the very least.
- we officially moved to France on 1st May 2010
- we have been trying to combine two lots of furniture and household effects into one and now have a storage container full of stuff on the edge of town which still needs to be sorted out.
- Debrah is heading back to London every other week for a few days because they insist on paying her good money to do so but she isn't happy about the whole thing so we shall see how long that lasts.
- 42rvh is stacked full of clients in May and June, despite the economic meltdown, the political vacuum in the UK and the mysterious ash cloud which I am convinced is some sort of sinister hoax designed to meltdown the airline industry.
- our recently imported UK Renault got towed last week, because I didn't notice the sign for the brocante the next day, which cost me about 130 euros in total which is very very annoying but a damn sight cheaper than it would have been in London.
- we are both very very happy with our new life in France and very much in love
There you are - what more can I say?
Friday 9 April 2010
New Blog Start
My blog writing has become extremely tardy of late but that's because there is so much going on but at the same time nothing is actually confirmed so I don't really want to go public with it all. To hell with that, you might say - this is a blog not a press release and that would be a very valid point of view.
My blog writing has become trapped between saying what is happening and what I feel and how it is and treading a fine line of being publicly and politically correct because somebody might read it and get upset. I am not sure how this state of being came about - many of my past blogs have seriously upset a huge number of people and was I bothered - well yes, but actually no.
I don't think there is any point writing a personal blog unless it is says what you feel, think or believe, even if that be wrong, erroneous or misguided because none of us is perfect, all seeing and knowing or beyond reproach. If we get it wrong then plenty of people will tell us so and that's how it should be and hopefully we learn from those experiences.
Where am I going with this? - not sure really but hopefully tomorrow I will just start writing my blog once more, outlining my everyday experiences and relating what is going on in my life without the censor's pen, political correctness or being over-sensitive about upsetting people (mrs lady wife excepted of course)
My blog writing has become trapped between saying what is happening and what I feel and how it is and treading a fine line of being publicly and politically correct because somebody might read it and get upset. I am not sure how this state of being came about - many of my past blogs have seriously upset a huge number of people and was I bothered - well yes, but actually no.
I don't think there is any point writing a personal blog unless it is says what you feel, think or believe, even if that be wrong, erroneous or misguided because none of us is perfect, all seeing and knowing or beyond reproach. If we get it wrong then plenty of people will tell us so and that's how it should be and hopefully we learn from those experiences.
Where am I going with this? - not sure really but hopefully tomorrow I will just start writing my blog once more, outlining my everyday experiences and relating what is going on in my life without the censor's pen, political correctness or being over-sensitive about upsetting people (mrs lady wife excepted of course)
Monday 29 March 2010
Recycling our lives
After another few weeks in London with Debrah, I flew back to Carcassonne today ahead of the Easter weekend. Debrah is following in a couple of days for a well deserved break from her job and her office.
The last few months have involved an enormous amount of soul-searching by us both as we determined to solve our 'living in different countries' conundrum. It hasn't been easy but decisions have been made and our lives are about to change which is all very exciting - but more of that another time.
Back here in Carcassonne and excitement is measured in different degrees from life-changing decisions. The programme for the Summer music festival has been announced and we have new recycling bins on the corner of the street - oh, and apparently sushi has arrived somewhere in town.
This year the music festival starts earlier than normal, in mid June, and goes on well into August which I think is a good move. It used to be crammed into three weeks of July with concerts every night, which was too intense. There will be the usual mix of classical, dance, theatre and contemporary French and International music - the highlights of which are Bob Dylan, Carmen, Jamiroquai, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Mika, Ballet Bejart, Motorhead, The Cranberries, Saoud Massa, Simple Minds and Roberto Alagna. Something for everybody there I think. Tickets go on sale tomorrow.
Now then - waste collection - not a topic to set the pulses racing, I know, but actually it has always been a bit of an issue here in the Bastide, the very heart of Carcassonne. Because the streets are so narrow and because most of the building are split up into apartments, it is impossible for everyone to have their own dustbin - so there are bins at every junction and there are collections three times a day, every single day of the year, which is most impressive.
The problem though was that everything went in the same bins and therefore recycling just didn't happen. There are bins/collection points for glass, paper and cardboard and plastics at different points throughout the town but human nature being what it is, they weren't used as well as they should have been.
Now at least we have a recycling bin and general waste bin on every corner if not in every home. Sure, it isn't perfect and still requires everyone to do their own waste separation but so does every recycling system that exists anywhere in the world. I was encouraged by my first trip to the bins - it very much looked as if everyone was playing their part - good for them.
As for the sushi, well I need to do a bit more exploring and research to find out exactly where and what has arrived - it remains to be seen whether Carcassonne is yet ready for such a bold move but I hope so - if the quality is good it will be a welcome addition to our culinary options.
The last few months have involved an enormous amount of soul-searching by us both as we determined to solve our 'living in different countries' conundrum. It hasn't been easy but decisions have been made and our lives are about to change which is all very exciting - but more of that another time.
Back here in Carcassonne and excitement is measured in different degrees from life-changing decisions. The programme for the Summer music festival has been announced and we have new recycling bins on the corner of the street - oh, and apparently sushi has arrived somewhere in town.
This year the music festival starts earlier than normal, in mid June, and goes on well into August which I think is a good move. It used to be crammed into three weeks of July with concerts every night, which was too intense. There will be the usual mix of classical, dance, theatre and contemporary French and International music - the highlights of which are Bob Dylan, Carmen, Jamiroquai, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Mika, Ballet Bejart, Motorhead, The Cranberries, Saoud Massa, Simple Minds and Roberto Alagna. Something for everybody there I think. Tickets go on sale tomorrow.
Now then - waste collection - not a topic to set the pulses racing, I know, but actually it has always been a bit of an issue here in the Bastide, the very heart of Carcassonne. Because the streets are so narrow and because most of the building are split up into apartments, it is impossible for everyone to have their own dustbin - so there are bins at every junction and there are collections three times a day, every single day of the year, which is most impressive.
The problem though was that everything went in the same bins and therefore recycling just didn't happen. There are bins/collection points for glass, paper and cardboard and plastics at different points throughout the town but human nature being what it is, they weren't used as well as they should have been.
Now at least we have a recycling bin and general waste bin on every corner if not in every home. Sure, it isn't perfect and still requires everyone to do their own waste separation but so does every recycling system that exists anywhere in the world. I was encouraged by my first trip to the bins - it very much looked as if everyone was playing their part - good for them.
As for the sushi, well I need to do a bit more exploring and research to find out exactly where and what has arrived - it remains to be seen whether Carcassonne is yet ready for such a bold move but I hope so - if the quality is good it will be a welcome addition to our culinary options.
Monday 8 March 2010
I don't believe it
What an extraordinary day!
On Saturday I was sat outside Cafe Saillan enjoying some lunch, some wine, some chat with friends and 20 degree heat from a cloudless blue sky. I have the beginnings of a suntan to prove it.
Today, it has snowed incessantly from first light until 6.30pm this evening and dumped a good six inches of the stuff right here in the centre of town. The strong wind meant that the snow was drifting and is considerably deeper in places. I can only imagine what it must be like up in the Haut-Vallee and the Corbieres hills.
The snow warnings were around whilst we soaked up that magical South of France sunshine, one of the main reasons we live here, but you never really believe that it's going to be as bad as predicted - just covering themselves surely.
When I first got up it didn't look that bad - a smattering of snow and just a few flakes falling. A false dawn. It didn't stop snowing though and it was very sticky stuff. I ventured out to the pharmacy and felt like a snowman when I got back.
My departing guests left early on a train for Toulouse. My arriving guests were flying into Toulouse from Hamburg and driving down to Carcassonne. As the hours went by and the snow continued to relentlessly pile up and I had heard nothing from them, I wondered if they would arrive at all. When I heard that the A61 autoroute was blocked I feared the worst.
But sometime after 4pm the doorbell sounded and a very slightly shocked mother and daughter, here to practice French (no point looking at me then), stumbled in from the snow wearing inappropriate shoes. Poor things. It had taken them three to four hours for a journey that should take an hour and a half at most.
There was no point them trying to explore the town or walk up to the castle (I later ventured out to survey the scene - when I got to the old bridge I couldn't even see the Cité for the snow still swirling around in the air) so I persuaded them to take a bunch of dvd's and snuggle up in the safe and warm of their suite for the evening.
Earlier, I had noticed that the tree in the courtyard was looking in a more stressful state as the day developed with the weight of the snow pulling down the branches dangerously low to the ground. Whilst preparing my supper this evening, I heard an almightly crack and swooshing sound and knew what had happened. I rushed to the bedroom window to find a huge branch had come down onto the courtyard, neatly resting next to my snow laden car. I will have to deal with that tomorrow - I just hope the other branches manage to hang on in there.
At least it has now stopped snowing and indeed there are signs that some of the snow is melting. It had better get on with it - I am not sure that I could cope with yet another flight cancellation on Wednesday.
On Saturday I was sat outside Cafe Saillan enjoying some lunch, some wine, some chat with friends and 20 degree heat from a cloudless blue sky. I have the beginnings of a suntan to prove it.
Today, it has snowed incessantly from first light until 6.30pm this evening and dumped a good six inches of the stuff right here in the centre of town. The strong wind meant that the snow was drifting and is considerably deeper in places. I can only imagine what it must be like up in the Haut-Vallee and the Corbieres hills.
The snow warnings were around whilst we soaked up that magical South of France sunshine, one of the main reasons we live here, but you never really believe that it's going to be as bad as predicted - just covering themselves surely.
When I first got up it didn't look that bad - a smattering of snow and just a few flakes falling. A false dawn. It didn't stop snowing though and it was very sticky stuff. I ventured out to the pharmacy and felt like a snowman when I got back.
My departing guests left early on a train for Toulouse. My arriving guests were flying into Toulouse from Hamburg and driving down to Carcassonne. As the hours went by and the snow continued to relentlessly pile up and I had heard nothing from them, I wondered if they would arrive at all. When I heard that the A61 autoroute was blocked I feared the worst.
But sometime after 4pm the doorbell sounded and a very slightly shocked mother and daughter, here to practice French (no point looking at me then), stumbled in from the snow wearing inappropriate shoes. Poor things. It had taken them three to four hours for a journey that should take an hour and a half at most.
There was no point them trying to explore the town or walk up to the castle (I later ventured out to survey the scene - when I got to the old bridge I couldn't even see the Cité for the snow still swirling around in the air) so I persuaded them to take a bunch of dvd's and snuggle up in the safe and warm of their suite for the evening.
Earlier, I had noticed that the tree in the courtyard was looking in a more stressful state as the day developed with the weight of the snow pulling down the branches dangerously low to the ground. Whilst preparing my supper this evening, I heard an almightly crack and swooshing sound and knew what had happened. I rushed to the bedroom window to find a huge branch had come down onto the courtyard, neatly resting next to my snow laden car. I will have to deal with that tomorrow - I just hope the other branches manage to hang on in there.
At least it has now stopped snowing and indeed there are signs that some of the snow is melting. It had better get on with it - I am not sure that I could cope with yet another flight cancellation on Wednesday.
Saturday 20 February 2010
Hosting and Cooking
The flight was an hour late because of ice and snow at East Midlands but that allowed the morning rain to clear here in Carcassonne - so in the end it worked out just fine for my four new guests yesterday.
They are a jolly bunch, much taken to laughter and joking and having a good time, which is what you expect from guests on a weekend break (we have had some dullards here in the past) so it was a pleasure to spend an hour with them last night over some canapes and cocktails in true 42rvh style.
In fact the canapes had all been devoured by the time I had mixed the drinks, which for me is a compliment - it means they enjoyed them. They were particularly enthusiastic about the beetroot puree and goats cheese which is extra pleasing because it was the first time that I had served that particular combination.
It was drizzling and cold again this morning when I sauntered down to the boulangerie. I haven't had to put a client breakfast tray together since the new year but it all soon fell back into place. As with the canapes the night before, there wasn't a crumb left on the tray when I went to collect it.
By the time I went back to the market the sun was shining out of a cloudless sky - it was so nice to feel some warm-ish sunshine on my face. It is still just a bit early for anything new and springlike in the market and the cold winter won't have helped that - but there were signs that things are about to change - the first artichokes up from Spain and tulips on the flower stalls - but for the most part it is still apples, pears and oranges or cabbages, leeks, carrots and blette. All of it fabulous of course but I am itching to get my hands on some new season produce.
I roasted a piece of beef this evening following a recipe from a new cookbook that Debrah had bought for me at Christmas - the recipe was titled 'Grandma's roast beef' and is one of those traditional French recipes handed down through generations that is classic in it's composition, simplicity itself in the preparation and delicious in it's consumption - without actually doing very much to anything the flavours and textures came together sublimely.
It helps enormously that the beef from M Campaci in Les Halles is some of the best beef I have ever eaten or cooked anywhere. I have written before about the traceability of his meat - not to a herd or a farm but direct to the individual animal that the joint came from. I adore that he always tells me, without me ever asking, exactly how long to cook it for and at what temperature - and it isn't because I am English and he thinks I don't know how to cook because he tells the 90 year old grannies just the same and they have probably been cooking beef joints since before he was born. It's just what he does as a true artisan of his trade and I love it.
It was a shame that I didn't have anyone to share it with me and I will be eating the rest of the beef all next week, but I won't hesitate to cook it again, will definitely do it for Debrah and would have no hesitation serving it to guests. A success.
They are a jolly bunch, much taken to laughter and joking and having a good time, which is what you expect from guests on a weekend break (we have had some dullards here in the past) so it was a pleasure to spend an hour with them last night over some canapes and cocktails in true 42rvh style.
In fact the canapes had all been devoured by the time I had mixed the drinks, which for me is a compliment - it means they enjoyed them. They were particularly enthusiastic about the beetroot puree and goats cheese which is extra pleasing because it was the first time that I had served that particular combination.
It was drizzling and cold again this morning when I sauntered down to the boulangerie. I haven't had to put a client breakfast tray together since the new year but it all soon fell back into place. As with the canapes the night before, there wasn't a crumb left on the tray when I went to collect it.
By the time I went back to the market the sun was shining out of a cloudless sky - it was so nice to feel some warm-ish sunshine on my face. It is still just a bit early for anything new and springlike in the market and the cold winter won't have helped that - but there were signs that things are about to change - the first artichokes up from Spain and tulips on the flower stalls - but for the most part it is still apples, pears and oranges or cabbages, leeks, carrots and blette. All of it fabulous of course but I am itching to get my hands on some new season produce.
I roasted a piece of beef this evening following a recipe from a new cookbook that Debrah had bought for me at Christmas - the recipe was titled 'Grandma's roast beef' and is one of those traditional French recipes handed down through generations that is classic in it's composition, simplicity itself in the preparation and delicious in it's consumption - without actually doing very much to anything the flavours and textures came together sublimely.
It helps enormously that the beef from M Campaci in Les Halles is some of the best beef I have ever eaten or cooked anywhere. I have written before about the traceability of his meat - not to a herd or a farm but direct to the individual animal that the joint came from. I adore that he always tells me, without me ever asking, exactly how long to cook it for and at what temperature - and it isn't because I am English and he thinks I don't know how to cook because he tells the 90 year old grannies just the same and they have probably been cooking beef joints since before he was born. It's just what he does as a true artisan of his trade and I love it.
It was a shame that I didn't have anyone to share it with me and I will be eating the rest of the beef all next week, but I won't hesitate to cook it again, will definitely do it for Debrah and would have no hesitation serving it to guests. A success.
Wednesday 17 February 2010
Travel
The plane landed on schedule at exactly 2.15 pm, which meant that we were all subjected to the ridiculous Ryanair fanfare of smugness that announces an on time flight arrival. Annoyingly it was the only thing about my journey to France that was predictable.
My bus, yes I did say bus, changed it's destination half way through the journey to Tottenham Hale Station - so that it terminated at Tottenham Town Hall, which is a good half mile short of where I wanted to be to catch the Stansted Express to the airport. Bit of a discussion with the driver ensued along the lines of I'm not paying again for the last half mile. To his credit he was sympathetic to my concerns and issued me a transfer ticket for the no 41 that was coming up very soon behind us - who knew they had such things or that public transport personnel actually gave a damn in this day and age (don't get me started on the 'let's have a few days off at the drop of a hat for no good reason' tube drivers).
A ten minute delay and a sprint from the bus to the platform to just catch the train. Phew. No time to buy a paper, or a ticket for that matter but it's only a 45 minute 'Express' journey and the guard would be along to take fares no doubt. Wrong in every respect. The train pottered along at barely walking speed for most of the way, taking 20 minutes longer than it should have done and no-one appeared to make me buy a ticket - just someone rather half-heartedly trying to persuade me to buy a coffee type drink. Er, no thank you.
I negotiated security without problem and just as I was about to be enticed by shopping opportunities that I could ill afford, the gate number popped up on the screen for my flight - I decided to head straight over to gate 44 and parked myself near the front of the non-priority queue. Ten minutes on and there weren't that many people at the gate which is a bit unusual - except if the gate number has been changed on the main boards but not announced on the tannoy - the rest of the passengers were happily assembled at gate 42. When the announcement finally came there was a fair amount of course anglo-saxon uttered in the vicinity of gate 44 which I cannot repeat here.
Remarkably I still managed to get a seat on the front row in the plane and figured I'd be out of the airport and home before most people had collected their bags. Perhaps not. When I last flew to London the front steps on the plane malfunctioned and I had to wait for everybody else to get off from the back door before I could disembark - what are the chances of that happening on consecutive flights? I have no idea but that's exactly what occured. How very very tedious.
My good friend David was at the airport to collect me, which was very kind of him - he was so busy chatting away about what had (not) been going on in Carcassonne in my absence that he drove, on auto-pilot, off towards his house rather than mine - which just about summed up my whole journey.
My bus, yes I did say bus, changed it's destination half way through the journey to Tottenham Hale Station - so that it terminated at Tottenham Town Hall, which is a good half mile short of where I wanted to be to catch the Stansted Express to the airport. Bit of a discussion with the driver ensued along the lines of I'm not paying again for the last half mile. To his credit he was sympathetic to my concerns and issued me a transfer ticket for the no 41 that was coming up very soon behind us - who knew they had such things or that public transport personnel actually gave a damn in this day and age (don't get me started on the 'let's have a few days off at the drop of a hat for no good reason' tube drivers).
A ten minute delay and a sprint from the bus to the platform to just catch the train. Phew. No time to buy a paper, or a ticket for that matter but it's only a 45 minute 'Express' journey and the guard would be along to take fares no doubt. Wrong in every respect. The train pottered along at barely walking speed for most of the way, taking 20 minutes longer than it should have done and no-one appeared to make me buy a ticket - just someone rather half-heartedly trying to persuade me to buy a coffee type drink. Er, no thank you.
I negotiated security without problem and just as I was about to be enticed by shopping opportunities that I could ill afford, the gate number popped up on the screen for my flight - I decided to head straight over to gate 44 and parked myself near the front of the non-priority queue. Ten minutes on and there weren't that many people at the gate which is a bit unusual - except if the gate number has been changed on the main boards but not announced on the tannoy - the rest of the passengers were happily assembled at gate 42. When the announcement finally came there was a fair amount of course anglo-saxon uttered in the vicinity of gate 44 which I cannot repeat here.
Remarkably I still managed to get a seat on the front row in the plane and figured I'd be out of the airport and home before most people had collected their bags. Perhaps not. When I last flew to London the front steps on the plane malfunctioned and I had to wait for everybody else to get off from the back door before I could disembark - what are the chances of that happening on consecutive flights? I have no idea but that's exactly what occured. How very very tedious.
My good friend David was at the airport to collect me, which was very kind of him - he was so busy chatting away about what had (not) been going on in Carcassonne in my absence that he drove, on auto-pilot, off towards his house rather than mine - which just about summed up my whole journey.
Monday 25 January 2010
Surprise visit
I am back in Carcassonne - for four nights only - so don't miss it.
Actually nobody knows I am here so all my local friends will probably miss it. Although that's not strictly 100% true because Claire knows I am here. Claire had been briefed to handle the client check-in tomorrow but my sudden arrival here at short notice means that I will now look after that myself. Claire is the only person here that I have told about my trip over, but I suspect that others may well also know by now.
Not that anyone has been in touch. I'm not sure if I am relaxed about that or a bit upset. I have made no effort to contact anyone else so I have to be relaxed about it really.
Brigitte knows I am here too - she saw the shutters open and the lights on and rang the doorbell this evening when she got back from work. We have a meeting of the co-propriete on Wednesday. She is the President and she was very serious when she spoke to me about the meeting and the agenda - we have to do something about the noisy tenants and the cleaning. I agree - get a cleaner and make the tenants move out - if only it were that simple - this being France I suspect much discussion and a lot of paperwork will be needed to implement anything at all and even then we probably won't notice the difference. There will be much debate and everyone will get a chance to say what they think (after all, I am living in the last bastion of socialism in Europe) after which we will all agree to do nothing for now and continue as we were before.
She looked at me as if to say "I am just a woman - it is very ard (there are no h's in french) for me to deal wiz zis". Well my French is nowhere near good enough for me to deal wiz zis so I will be voting to re-elect you as president for another year. You will 'ave my full backing.
My trip out here was indeed very short notice. I came out for a meeting today which went very well indeed - and that's all I am going to say about that for the time being.
It's really good to have something positive to (not) talk about because the last two weeks in London haven't been great. What is it about January that brings everyone down and brings everything in life to a head. As long as I can remember the leaden grey skies of a new year in London have always caused trouble. It's almost as if the oppressiveness is designed to make us re-examine what we are doing and what we have done and whether we should have done it differently and whether we should now be thinking and acting anew.
It is nothing to do with new years resolutions- they are the equivalent of the lookout on the Titanic spotting an iceberg ahead - jolly good intentions but not going to make a lot of difference when the real problem is the design of the ship in the first place.
January makes us ask the most searching and fundamental questions about what we are doing and why, what we have done and why and what are we going to do next.
Crikey - I've definitely spent too long in France - far too philosophical for my own good.
Actually I did make a new year resolution to continue my exercise regime but to cut down on my alcohol intake. After my crazy discovery of cycling last year my exercise regime over the last month has been rubbish, so I have failed badly on that front, but at the same time I have been very smugly not drinking during the week - who would have thought?
The net result is that I don't really feel any healthier at all - just very very tired.
Actually nobody knows I am here so all my local friends will probably miss it. Although that's not strictly 100% true because Claire knows I am here. Claire had been briefed to handle the client check-in tomorrow but my sudden arrival here at short notice means that I will now look after that myself. Claire is the only person here that I have told about my trip over, but I suspect that others may well also know by now.
Not that anyone has been in touch. I'm not sure if I am relaxed about that or a bit upset. I have made no effort to contact anyone else so I have to be relaxed about it really.
Brigitte knows I am here too - she saw the shutters open and the lights on and rang the doorbell this evening when she got back from work. We have a meeting of the co-propriete on Wednesday. She is the President and she was very serious when she spoke to me about the meeting and the agenda - we have to do something about the noisy tenants and the cleaning. I agree - get a cleaner and make the tenants move out - if only it were that simple - this being France I suspect much discussion and a lot of paperwork will be needed to implement anything at all and even then we probably won't notice the difference. There will be much debate and everyone will get a chance to say what they think (after all, I am living in the last bastion of socialism in Europe) after which we will all agree to do nothing for now and continue as we were before.
She looked at me as if to say "I am just a woman - it is very ard (there are no h's in french) for me to deal wiz zis". Well my French is nowhere near good enough for me to deal wiz zis so I will be voting to re-elect you as president for another year. You will 'ave my full backing.
My trip out here was indeed very short notice. I came out for a meeting today which went very well indeed - and that's all I am going to say about that for the time being.
It's really good to have something positive to (not) talk about because the last two weeks in London haven't been great. What is it about January that brings everyone down and brings everything in life to a head. As long as I can remember the leaden grey skies of a new year in London have always caused trouble. It's almost as if the oppressiveness is designed to make us re-examine what we are doing and what we have done and whether we should have done it differently and whether we should now be thinking and acting anew.
It is nothing to do with new years resolutions- they are the equivalent of the lookout on the Titanic spotting an iceberg ahead - jolly good intentions but not going to make a lot of difference when the real problem is the design of the ship in the first place.
January makes us ask the most searching and fundamental questions about what we are doing and why, what we have done and why and what are we going to do next.
Crikey - I've definitely spent too long in France - far too philosophical for my own good.
Actually I did make a new year resolution to continue my exercise regime but to cut down on my alcohol intake. After my crazy discovery of cycling last year my exercise regime over the last month has been rubbish, so I have failed badly on that front, but at the same time I have been very smugly not drinking during the week - who would have thought?
The net result is that I don't really feel any healthier at all - just very very tired.
Monday 11 January 2010
It's definitely cancelled
Travel, snow, travel, snow, travel, snow - that has been the theme of the Christmas and New Year period. I know I wasn't the only one affected but this is my blog, so my experience is what matters.
Christian was due to fly back to London last Wednesday, before heading back to Falmouth at the weekend. As the snow started coming down again in the UK in buckets we were glued to our computer screens trying to understand whether his flight was going to come or not.
My past experience of the Ryanair website is that it is notoriously slow to update so I switched to the BAA Stansted Airport website which seemed to be giving real time information. Christian's flight was due in at 2.15 and at about midday it was shown as cancelled on the BAA site. We decided to jump in the car and get to the airport to rearrange his flight before the majority of the passengers had arrived. Airport visit number one.
The lady at the information desk said that it wasn't cancelled. I said that it was. She went off to telephone Ryanair and came back with that classic French shrug. It is not yet cancelled she said so we couldn't yet transfer the flight - and with that she and all other staff disappeared.
What to do? Believing the cancellation imminent we chose to hang about and grab some lunch in the airport restaurant. It has never been a good experience and it was no different this time - rude staff and very average food. We regularly popped back downstairs to be met with no staff and nothing on the so called information screen.
Then out of the blue there was an announcement for Stansted passengers to check in their bags. I went to investigate and was told that the outbound flight had indeed been cancelled but that they were arranging for another plane. Okay. I dashed back home with Christian, collected his stuff, took him back to the airport, said our goodbyes and headed home. Airport visit number two.
Debrah and I were going to visit our mates at Chateau Rigaud for a few days on our way back to London and so had our own packing to do and closing up of 42rvh for the next six weeks or so. We had been home no longer than 15 minutes when Christian called - the flight had just been cancelled after getting everyone's hopes up and checking them all in through security - how cruel was that. I went back to collect a thoroughly morose and despondent Christian who seemed to think that the world had just ended. Airport visit number three.
Again the question - What to do? Rebook for Carcassonne and leave him behind, rebook for somewhere else and drop him off or take him with us to Bordeaux and then London? The thought of a twelve hour car journey seemed to tip Christian over the edge altogether - the most absurb overreaction I have ever seen - frankly I didn't relish the prospect if he was going to continue to be that miserable for the next three days - but with no idea when an airport might open again in the UK we had no option. Thankfully the stress (!) of it all had tired him out and he slept all the way to Bordeaux and awoke in a jollier mood.
On Thursday morning we explored all options in both France and the UK and found a flight from Bergerac to Southampton, which seemed to be open and operating. Goodbyes once more and I drove him to Bergerac with about an hour to spare before the flight and showed him where to check-in. As I left I hoped I wouldn't see him for another two months - when he's back from college - you know what I mean. Airport visit number four.
If we hadn't been able to get him away we would have driven back to London on the Friday, but the plane came and he went and arrived safely in Southampton and then London by train. And relax - it's always great to see Anna and Aib and we had a nice lunch out in a deserted St Emilion and talked about plans and dreams for the future whilst sampling a few local wines.
A breakfast time start was planned for Saturday. As I pulled back the curtains I looked out upon the glorious lawns of Chateau Rigaud covered in an inch of pristine white snow. Bugger. We ventured out but the roads were well slippy and 20 mph was the top speed attained - that combined with the forecasts from Northern France and the UK was enough for us to change our travel plans once again. We stayed another night.
With Debrah due back at work on Monday morning we could delay no longer. We left and 12 hours later we arrived - in London - hurrah. The roads were pretty much clear all the way and finally it all went to plan.
I think we might just stay put for a while.
Christian was due to fly back to London last Wednesday, before heading back to Falmouth at the weekend. As the snow started coming down again in the UK in buckets we were glued to our computer screens trying to understand whether his flight was going to come or not.
My past experience of the Ryanair website is that it is notoriously slow to update so I switched to the BAA Stansted Airport website which seemed to be giving real time information. Christian's flight was due in at 2.15 and at about midday it was shown as cancelled on the BAA site. We decided to jump in the car and get to the airport to rearrange his flight before the majority of the passengers had arrived. Airport visit number one.
The lady at the information desk said that it wasn't cancelled. I said that it was. She went off to telephone Ryanair and came back with that classic French shrug. It is not yet cancelled she said so we couldn't yet transfer the flight - and with that she and all other staff disappeared.
What to do? Believing the cancellation imminent we chose to hang about and grab some lunch in the airport restaurant. It has never been a good experience and it was no different this time - rude staff and very average food. We regularly popped back downstairs to be met with no staff and nothing on the so called information screen.
Then out of the blue there was an announcement for Stansted passengers to check in their bags. I went to investigate and was told that the outbound flight had indeed been cancelled but that they were arranging for another plane. Okay. I dashed back home with Christian, collected his stuff, took him back to the airport, said our goodbyes and headed home. Airport visit number two.
Debrah and I were going to visit our mates at Chateau Rigaud for a few days on our way back to London and so had our own packing to do and closing up of 42rvh for the next six weeks or so. We had been home no longer than 15 minutes when Christian called - the flight had just been cancelled after getting everyone's hopes up and checking them all in through security - how cruel was that. I went back to collect a thoroughly morose and despondent Christian who seemed to think that the world had just ended. Airport visit number three.
Again the question - What to do? Rebook for Carcassonne and leave him behind, rebook for somewhere else and drop him off or take him with us to Bordeaux and then London? The thought of a twelve hour car journey seemed to tip Christian over the edge altogether - the most absurb overreaction I have ever seen - frankly I didn't relish the prospect if he was going to continue to be that miserable for the next three days - but with no idea when an airport might open again in the UK we had no option. Thankfully the stress (!) of it all had tired him out and he slept all the way to Bordeaux and awoke in a jollier mood.
On Thursday morning we explored all options in both France and the UK and found a flight from Bergerac to Southampton, which seemed to be open and operating. Goodbyes once more and I drove him to Bergerac with about an hour to spare before the flight and showed him where to check-in. As I left I hoped I wouldn't see him for another two months - when he's back from college - you know what I mean. Airport visit number four.
If we hadn't been able to get him away we would have driven back to London on the Friday, but the plane came and he went and arrived safely in Southampton and then London by train. And relax - it's always great to see Anna and Aib and we had a nice lunch out in a deserted St Emilion and talked about plans and dreams for the future whilst sampling a few local wines.
A breakfast time start was planned for Saturday. As I pulled back the curtains I looked out upon the glorious lawns of Chateau Rigaud covered in an inch of pristine white snow. Bugger. We ventured out but the roads were well slippy and 20 mph was the top speed attained - that combined with the forecasts from Northern France and the UK was enough for us to change our travel plans once again. We stayed another night.
With Debrah due back at work on Monday morning we could delay no longer. We left and 12 hours later we arrived - in London - hurrah. The roads were pretty much clear all the way and finally it all went to plan.
I think we might just stay put for a while.
Tuesday 5 January 2010
Welcome to 2010
It's a new blog year and I have already been pretty tardy in getting back into the swing of letting you all know what has been going on - so first things first, Happy New Year to all of you who kindly take the time to follow my ramblings here on the blogosphere.
As always at this time of year, there has been a lot of reflection and a lot of new thinking about the twelve months to come - and, as ever with a seasonally based business, a whole lot of paranoia about whether anyone is actually going to make a booking or not for our fabulous luxury apartments here in Carcassonne at 42rvh.
I get the same feeling every January and this is no different. The upside is that it spurs you into action on all the things that you have been meaning to do and vaguely thinking about during the last year whilst you were too busy to do anything about them - like new business ideas and updating the website and not getting pissed off about the people moving into your territory and copying/ripping off everything that you have been doing - the nerve of some people.
I guess that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and that is how I am going to deal with it - we must have been doing something right these past two years here at 42rvh or we wouldn't be being copied. I will embrace them all and see how best we can all work to our mutual benefit - I really mean that - there is no point holding grudges or developing enemies. It is also true that no business ever survived by standing still, so we have to evolve and that is what we have been turning our attention to over the past few days.
The website is undergoing a major overhaul to freshen it up and to include our new thinking about what our clients want for 2010 and beyond. As ever, it is part based on feedback, part based on evolution and part total guesswork with our fingers crossed that we are right. It's not ready yet but soon.
In the meantime, our New Year guests have departed, having enjoyed a fabulous five course dinner here at 42rvh on their last night. The minute they departed on Saturday morning I was dashing up to the airport to collect Christian, my poor overworked student stepson who looked like he hadn't slept for about a week.
I love him to bits but we always have our stepfather/stepson issues to resolve for a couple of days before we settle down to liking each other quite a lot - by which time we have always fallen out with my wife/his Mum - aaaarrrrggghhhh.
Anyway, he went to sleep for about 48 hours now that he was back in the company of grown-ups and Debrah and I had a delightful evening with Fabian and Nathalie. They are quite the most delightful French people we know and our only real French friends - because they are very chic, very enlightened, very stylish and completely lovely in all respects. They won't read this but I would be very happy if they did.
Sadly, the weather has been anything but exciting and apart from our beach picnic day it has been grey and damp and cold and pretty miserable, which hasn't helped anybody's mood.
We all need to just hang on in there through the January melancholy.
As always at this time of year, there has been a lot of reflection and a lot of new thinking about the twelve months to come - and, as ever with a seasonally based business, a whole lot of paranoia about whether anyone is actually going to make a booking or not for our fabulous luxury apartments here in Carcassonne at 42rvh.
I get the same feeling every January and this is no different. The upside is that it spurs you into action on all the things that you have been meaning to do and vaguely thinking about during the last year whilst you were too busy to do anything about them - like new business ideas and updating the website and not getting pissed off about the people moving into your territory and copying/ripping off everything that you have been doing - the nerve of some people.
I guess that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and that is how I am going to deal with it - we must have been doing something right these past two years here at 42rvh or we wouldn't be being copied. I will embrace them all and see how best we can all work to our mutual benefit - I really mean that - there is no point holding grudges or developing enemies. It is also true that no business ever survived by standing still, so we have to evolve and that is what we have been turning our attention to over the past few days.
The website is undergoing a major overhaul to freshen it up and to include our new thinking about what our clients want for 2010 and beyond. As ever, it is part based on feedback, part based on evolution and part total guesswork with our fingers crossed that we are right. It's not ready yet but soon.
In the meantime, our New Year guests have departed, having enjoyed a fabulous five course dinner here at 42rvh on their last night. The minute they departed on Saturday morning I was dashing up to the airport to collect Christian, my poor overworked student stepson who looked like he hadn't slept for about a week.
I love him to bits but we always have our stepfather/stepson issues to resolve for a couple of days before we settle down to liking each other quite a lot - by which time we have always fallen out with my wife/his Mum - aaaarrrrggghhhh.
Anyway, he went to sleep for about 48 hours now that he was back in the company of grown-ups and Debrah and I had a delightful evening with Fabian and Nathalie. They are quite the most delightful French people we know and our only real French friends - because they are very chic, very enlightened, very stylish and completely lovely in all respects. They won't read this but I would be very happy if they did.
Sadly, the weather has been anything but exciting and apart from our beach picnic day it has been grey and damp and cold and pretty miserable, which hasn't helped anybody's mood.
We all need to just hang on in there through the January melancholy.
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