Living in London and the Languedoc

Last Post

2011-01-13T20:51:00.004Z

How did that happen? All of a sudden it's 2011, family have come and gone over Christmas and New Year, our own bedroom has been redecorated to stunning effect, the new centre island has been installed in the kitchen and I am in the middle of the refurbishment of the two letting apartments. It's half way through January already and the new season clients will be be upon us in three weeks time. Blimey!

Painting any of the rooms in these apartments is always a major undertaking because of the sheer scale of everything. So I was very happy to get our bedroom revamp out of the way before Christmas - and fabulously sexy it looks too in it's new deep blue colour. Debrah is very happy with the outcome and anything that makes Debrah happy is good news.

Nothing got done at 42rvh during the three weeks of family visitations for Christmas and New Year - too much cooking and clearing up after to leave time for anything constructive - but that is as it should be over a festive season. We had some clients who were charming, we had a Christmas tree tumble and a few broken baubles, we had a very drunken New Years Eve dinner. All very much par for the course.

We had hoped to install the new kitchen island before the festivities but were frustrated by the sudden non-availability of a key part of the design - it has been my experience here in France for four years now that when you want something urgently there seems to be a sudden nationwide shortage of said product - grrrr. The missing items were finally acquired in the first week of January and the new island was installed last Monday. It's fantastic. A very big thank you to Ian Gillan and his carpentry skills for a fabulous job. The new layout is perfect for the cooking days and for cooking prep for both in-house and outside catering.

It is now three years since 42rvh opened for business and, inevitably, the suites are showing the signs of a bit of wear and tear - water splashes on the walls in the kitchens and bathrooms, chipped paintwork on skirtings and walls from suitcases etc. Time for a refresh. So January's priority is to repaint both suites whilst the sofas get new covers and the windows get new curtains and the rooms get new bits of furniture and the whole place gets a bit of a new look - followed by new photos and a new look to the website - lots to do but all happily progressing and under control.

We have many new plans too for our clients for this year which will find their way onto a new look website just as soon as we can get around to getting that all done.

All change.

And the final change is that this blog, the title of this blog, the original raison d'être for this blog, no longer exists. I no longer split my time between London and the Languedoc. I am now a full-on full time expat who spends all his year in France, only returning to the UK for fleeting visits to see family and friends and buy paint and power tools at half the price. (yes, even allowing for the tolls and petrol cost of driving there and back)

What is wonderful is that Debrah is also here full time too (apart from occasional visits to milk some income from the UK design and marketing industry) and we haven't been happier in years than we are now. I know, very soppy, but true.

So this blog is coming to a close. It has served it's purpose. It was originally written to record my early experiences of living in France on my own, as an observation of life in a different country, as a daily letter to my wife and then as a way of keeping Debrah involved with the renovation of 42rvh and finally a reminder of the highs and lows of opening and running a business abroad.

I say abroad but I no longer think of this as abroad. Don't get me wrong - I still don't understand France or the French or the language for the most part - but I do consider this to be 'home'. This is where I live and this is where I work. I no longer live in London and the Languedoc - I live in the Languedoc, in Carcassonne.

So this will be the final post to this blog page and a new, more relevant, exciting, interesting (hopefully) blog will be appearing soon that will highlight the special relationship we have here with the food and the wine and the markets and the producers and the winemakers and this amazing, still relatively undiscovered region of France.

Adieu et bientôt

Last few clients for 2010

2010-11-01T19:49:00.004Z

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!

Happy ever after

2010-09-24T19:37:00.004+01:00

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.

Change

2010-09-08T20:31:00.003+01:00

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.

Networking

2010-09-06T20:08:00.005+01:00

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.

Back to the Future

2010-08-31T19:58:00.005+01:00

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.

Law and Order

2010-05-24T21:03:00.003+01:00

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

A new start

2010-05-23T23:02:00.003+01:00

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?

New Blog Start

2010-04-09T21:29:00.003+01:00

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)

Recycling our lives

2010-03-29T21:30:00.005+01:00

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.

I don't believe it

2010-03-08T18:04:00.003Z

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.

Hosting and Cooking

2010-02-20T20:32:00.003Z

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.

Travel

2010-02-17T20:48:00.004Z

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.

Surprise visit

2010-01-25T21:33:00.005Z

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.

It's definitely cancelled

2010-01-11T18:01:00.004Z

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.

Welcome to 2010

2010-01-05T21:23:00.004Z

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.

Wine Tour

2009-12-31T16:35:00.004Z

The new guests arrived on Tuesday evening - two couples from the UK travelling together. We settled them in with some canapes and a glass or two of wine and then sent them off for some dinner at Cote Ferme, the restaurant of the delicatessen, La Ferme. The feedback was good which is always a relief.

The next morning I had to get myself back into breakfast mode again, not having put a client breakfast tray together for nearly two months.

The guests are a booking through Wendy Gedney, who organises wine tours in the Languedoc. Several clients went on her tours during the year and they all had a great time, so we decided to go out with her and the clients yesterday to experience one of her tours for ourselves.

We started off at Domaine de Cabezan, just outside Villegailhenc in the Cabardes region. This is a very new operation. Clement Mongus and his family moved here from the Alsace and have set out to create a lifestyle business for themselves with the vineyard and four gites and his wife's teaching job - any one element on it's own would not be enough to support them.

We tasted a rosé and four reds - two vin de pays and two AOC wines. They were good to varying degrees but not good enough for us to be tempted to buy any.

From there we headed to Lastours for lunch at Puits des Tresors, which frankly was a bit disappointing. The restaurant has a Michelin star although I was told that service can be very slow (even by French standards). We ate in the newish cafe and partook of the €18 fixed menu - the food quality and the service was rubbish.

Our next stop was at a truffle farm and olive oil producer, Le Mazet de la Clamoux. On the slopes opposite the entrance to the Gouffre de Cabrespine sits a small unpretentious little house surrounded by olive and oak trees. It is here that Sandra and Olivier Galibert run their little operation. I say little - apart from the 11 hectares on this site he also has 30 hectares of vines in the Minervois which keep him busy and she has a special needs teaching job. It seems that everyone does more than one thing round here to make a living.

The real star of the truffling though was the dog - who gave us a demonstration of her unique skills by locating four truffles in next to no time as we wandered up the slopes amongst the oaks.

Afterwards we tasted truffle butter and olives and wine and then Olivier produced his homemade Carthagene, the local aperitif, and his Walnut wine , also fortified - both excellent, both dangerous. We bought some of his wonderful cold pressed olive oil.

The last stop, by now after dark and under the light of a near full moon, was at Chateau de Rieux in Rieux-Minervois where Emmanuel de Soos was waiting to show us around his cellar and his wines. We tasted a delicious Viognier (and bought a case) as well as his two top of the range reds (both excellent). I will be visiting him again during the year to take some of his wine boxes which will be just perfect for use at 42rvh.

It was well past seven when we got back - a very full and interesting day out and justified my faith in Wendy and her tours.

Gluttons

2009-12-30T20:09:00.004Z

It has been a quiet Christmas here at 42rvh - just me and Debrah indulging ourselves in food, wine and movies.

Debrah requested some food deliciousness and I was very happy to oblige. We started on Christmas Eve, went all through Christmas Day and didn't finish until Boxing Day because the proposed culinary line-up was just too much to fit into one sitting, even an elongated one.

We had some great wine too and for once not all local.

We finally ventured out the day after when a burst of Winter sunshine tempted us down to the coast for a walk along the beach. Of course we took a picnic along with us in a wicker hamper and sat contentedly munching sat on a beachfront bench at La Franqui, just next to Leucate. The Mediterranean looked cold but that didn't deter a couple of wind surfers or the many and varied dogs chasing about the sand.

It was back to work on Monday with much cleaning, ironing and general preparation for a group of four clients arriving for a four night stay over New Year. I can't complain - their trip has paid for all the lovely food and wine.

Here is a rundown of our self-indulgence.

Christmas Eve
- A dozen local oysters, red wine vinegar and shallot dressing or oriental dressing (rice wine vinegar, mirin, soy and coriander)
- Boiled Lobster with Simon Hopkinson's sauce for a boiled lobster (naturally) and watercress, baby chard and mizuna salad (there was a bit of bonding with Henri the Homard during the day but they are a bit impractical as a pet so in the pan he had to go)
Greca di Tufo and Fiano di Avellino, Terredora, Campagnia, Italy

Debrah chose both the wines back in London and they proved to be the perfect accompaniment to the seafood supper.

Christmas Day
- Home marinated salmon with dill and the remains of the lobster sauce which is in fact a sort of mustard mayonnaise and went perfectly with the salmon (so good in fact we are going to serve it to guests later this week)
- Tartare of mackerel with pickled cucumber and citrus cream (skinning and boning the fish is the only fiddly bit - the rest is easy to prepare and the combination of flavours is wonderful)
with both these course we polished off the remains of the Italian whites from the night before
- Chicken Liver Parfait (my day at Corrigans put to good effect - it worked a treat but maybe could have had an extra 5 minutes in the bain marie - deliciously rich and yummy though)
- Potato, Celeriac and Truffle Oil Soup (probably a bit odd to have soup at this juncture but the it's earthiness and creaminess was a perfect link between the lighter first courses and the ones to follow)
- Pigeon in Muscat with grapes (just the one bird between the two of us - we were pacing ourselves - and D isn't a great fan of game but this worked so well with the sweetness of the wine cutting through the richness of the bird - a veritable success)
La Chapelle, St Jacques D'Albas, Minervois 2004
- Braised Pheasant in pimenton and cream sauce (this was a step too far for D who isn't mad about cream sauces either - oh well, I liked it but I should have known better)
Ledogar, Domaine Grand Lauze 2004, Vin de Table, Corbieres

Boxing Day
- Pan fried scallops, boudin noir and quince (wow! - for me this was the best dish I cooked all Christmas - fantastic flavour combination helped enormously by the wine..)
Condrieu, Guigal, 2005
- Fillet steak poached in red wine with potato puree (this was good but we both agreed that as good as it was we prefer our steak pan fried and the potato didn't work as well as the celeriac puree that should have gone with this dish - we used the celeriac for something else next day)
L'Hospitalis, La Clape, Georges Bertrand 2005
- Sauternes & Olive Oil cake with bitter orange ice cream (it was supposed to be sauternes but I can't be that profligate so I made the cake with a Muscat de Rivesaltes instead - the ice cream is good and very easy to make)

Beach picnic - what a feast
- boiled and roast ham (make one every Christmas and only at Christmas for some strange reason - just delicious - can't beat it)
- celeriac remoulade (with capers and gherkins and mustardy dressing for extra kick)
- avocado and radish salad
- duck liver pate
- left over cold pheasant
- quails eggs
- baguette
no wine - bit of a shock I know but I was driving

There and back

2009-12-23T20:48:00.004Z

Well I did make it to London and I have made it back to Carcassonne again, but there have been many moments over the past few days when in my heart I really felt it wasn't going to happen.

My four hour door to door everything goes right perfect trip from Carcassonne to London took double that time on Sunday but I'm not complaining because the journey actually took place rather than being cancelled once more. In fact it took two days and four hours from my original departure date last Friday.

It was a gorgeous sunny Sunday morning but it had been a bitterly cold night and ice on the runway was the major concern. The first two flights of the day were diverted to Perpignan but at least the passengers were bussed down there to get their flight. The plane from Stansted was delayed which turned out to be a major blessing - the extra time allowed the sun to do it's work on the runway and in mid-afternoon the airport at Carcassonne was declared open and my flight became the first to arrive for three days. It was a relief to finally get back to London.

Debrah had a big client presentation on Monday and wanted to be in work early, so I took the opportunity to drop her into London at 8am and head off to my parents in Sussex to make up a little bit for missing them at the weekend. The roads were mostly clear and I was down there in no time - the quickest journey there for many a year.

My Mum hadn't been out since Friday because of the snow so jumped at the opportunity to come with me to the supermarket and get some more supplies, there being more bad weather forecast. I said we should stick to the main roads but not knowing the way I relied on her directions which started taking us a bit off-piste so to speak. We were very lucky to get away with one downhill icy approach to a junction - a gentle dab on the brakes and I knew immediately that we would not be able to stop and so sailed straight out and onto the main road where there was more traction. I silently thanked my lucky stars that there was no traffic at that moment whilst playing the whole thing down for my mother's benefit.

We came back on the main road all the way!

The journey home to London was a nightmare. I left straight after lunch, aware of the weather warning - initail rain turned to snow and then a blizzard but the traffic kept moving but slower and slower and slower until it finally came to a halt at the top of Brixton Hill - it then took me 2 hours to cover the five miles from Brixton to Borough (if that far) and then it took us a further three and half hours to get from Debrah's office to home - normally a 30 minute journey. All in all it took me 7 hours to cover the 50 miles from Sussex back to Hornsey.

Fastest journey time going out - slowest coming back. There was no point getting upset about it - there was nothing anyone could have done to make it any better. Despite the moaning Middle Englanders on the TV the next day complaining about the lack of warning, the lack of information and the national disgrace of our inability to cope, the reality was that a warning was issued, the roads were gritted, people were driving sensibly and I saw many instances of fantastic public spirit and stoicism as passers-by helped those skidding, falling off bikes, falling over and in general need of assistance. The snow just overwhelmed the system. We sat motionless for over an hour in traffic and saw no road rage or bad temper - just a resignation as to the situation whilst the police dealt with broken down buses and blocked roads and whatever else was thrown at them.

And whilst all this went on the Eurostar problems had created problems for Eurotunnel. we had a reservation for this morning but for a couple of days it was very unclear whether it would be honoured or not.

Despite more warnings about icy roads and freezing temperatures, in the end we had the smoothest journey one could hope for from London to Calais and then on to our Carca home - so what if we left at 2am and arrived at 5pm - we got here and now we can finally start to relax and enjoy the festive season.

Making the most of it

2009-12-19T22:00:00.005Z

I was determined to make the most of my unexpected, unplanned and unwanted extra day in Carcassonne, although it was still far too cold first thing in the morning to contemplate rushing out of bed.

By mid-morning the sun had made a welcome appearance and I ventured out - hmm - the quid pro quo for the sun bonus was a biting bitter wind that cut straight through you. My mind was constantly thinking about that runway up at the airport - sun good, cold wind bad.

For the past three years I have bought a Christmas tree from the same stallholder at the Saturday market and remarkably she remembered me straight away when I got down there today. "Ah Monsieur", she said. "Un grand sapin pour vous". She was right. I always buy one of her biggest trees because I want to make the most of our 4m high ceiling and she always tries to tell me it will be €50 for that one because it is special and she has been saving it for me and I tell her that that's bollocks and I'm only paying €40 for this one here which is better. (We don't actually say that of course because her English is rubbish and my French is just as bad but that is what we both mean with our limited words and sign language).

As I leave with the tree hoisted on my shoulder ready to take out the eye of any careless passer-by she is probably cursing me as an English cheapskate whilst I am thinking 'I wasn't born yesterday, love'. Anyway, she got her sale and I got my tree - so we were both happy.

At the meat market M Devillechabrol, the purveyor of the best confit de canard in town, was initially amused to see me again but was rapidly put in his place when Mme Devillechabrol pointed out that it wasn't at all funny that my flight had been cancelled yesterday. Bless them both for actually being interested.

By midday I realised that I hadn't eaten anything so the call from Bob was most welcome and I hurried down to the Longchamps to meet him and David and for the menu of the day which was a hearty onion soup and a plate of sauerkraut - warming, filling and ultimately windy.

I spent the afternoon and late evening in the kitchen preparing some advance goodies for Christmas and in between I took the opportunity to visit 'O' Vineyard in Villemoussetassou. I had first met the owners at the truffle fair in Moussellens back in January this year, some of my guests had visited during the year and then through a series of chance meetings and twitter contacts and blogs we were back in contact again. They were holding an open evening today which I thought I was going to miss but as it turned out I had the opportunity to visit.

Ryan's video blog of visits to vineyards in the Languedoc Roussillon region is well worth a look if you are at all interested in wine - it's very quirky but vignerons seem to open up to him more because of it. It's a new take on wine promotion and let's face it, most French vineyards in this region are rubbish at promoting themselves. Go to love-that-languedoc.com to have a look.

Dishearteningly, when I left the vineyard there was a fresh layer of snow on the ground and a slow steady snowfall has continued all evening - not serious enough to stop me driving home without a problem but I suspect with a heavy heart that it might just stop me getting back to London tomorrow. We shall see.

Snow fun

2009-12-18T21:10:00.005Z

When I pulled open the curtains this morning it was snowing. Not the sleety wet snow that we had here last Monday but proper white stuff that was already beginning to blanket my car parked in the courtyard below.

Normally I would be quite excited about a bit of snow - there is still a childhood pleasure in stomping about in it and throwing the odd snowball - but not on a day when you want to catch a flight.

I had a dreadful sense of foreboding.

I remembered Debrah saying that snow was also forecast for London, so logged onto the BBC to find the words weather, snow, chaos, travel and don't prominently displayed. Damn.

I spent the morning monitoring the situation on various websites, the best of which was the Stansted airport site which gave very real time information about each scheduled flight and it's status. From that I knew that Stansted was open but there were inevitable delays and the Carcassonne flight was still scheduled to leave at some point.

The Ryanair site continued to list the flight as 'ON TIME' well past the scheduled departure time - useless.

So the plane would get here late - well that's fair enough given the conditions and everybody would have accepted that if that was the extent of the problem. The problem was in fact at Carcassonne airport.

It snowed for two hours here and at least two inches fell in town very rapidly but it just as rapidly started to disappear when the sun emerged at lunchtime. When I went up to the airport the roads were clear. I tried to reassure myself that they would have gritted and snowploughed the runway and all would be well.

Some chance.

Carcassonne airport does not have any snow clearing facilities and presumably couldn't call for any help because the local ones were all busy elsewhere. A snowplough, a snowplough, my kingdom for a snowplough.

There was an awful lot of shoulder shrugging going on.

So the East Midlands flight - the first of the day - went to Perpignan. It appears that the only three available coaches were commandeered to take the passengers for that flight down there.

The Dublin flight also went to Perpignan but with no more coaches the return flight was cancelled.

The Stansted flight found its way to Beziers. It was inevitable that the return, my flight back to Stansted, was going to be cancelled. We all knew it was going to be cancelled but until it is officially cancelled one cannot book another flight without paying again.

So we waited and they made us wait until late afternoon before finally confirming what we all knew all along.

Resignedly, I made my way back to 42rvh and turned the heating on again and opened a couple of shutters to let a bit of light in. I managed to get myself on the Sunday flight, the Saturday one being already full with people trying to get back to Dublin - the nerve.

So instead of having a nice hot supper ready for Debrah when she gets home from work tonight we will both be eating on our own again. The weekend plan had been to visit Debrah's mum in Kent and my parents in Sussex - so that will all have to be re-arranged although I suspect, given the snow in the SE of the UK, we might not have been able to go anyway.

And there is freezing weather forecast for here for the next two days - let's hope that snow isn't sat on that runway still come Sunday lunchtime or I will not be quite so sanguine about the whole thing.

Cosy Courgettes

2009-12-17T22:16:00.003Z

A clear sky makes all the difference to the day. There was sunshine through the bedroom window, eventually, when it had crept up over the rooftops and there was a glorious hour of sunshine through the kitchen window at lunchtime.

The clear sky meant that it was a colder morning than the last few days - minus four seems to be the general consensus and although I know it will have been colder elsewhere in France it was cold enough thank you very much.

You know it's really cold, as opposed to just cold, when the market stallholders start covering up their vegetables, as they did today. It's slightly odd - 'here is my stall but I have covered everything up so you can't see what it is I am selling' and in true French style some of them are not that helpful when you ask either - "have you got any leeks", I asked, "Yes", was the reply without moving or offering to show me under which particular cover they were hiding. Reminded me of the classic Inspector Clouseau line - does your dog bite? - minimal information and nothing more.

Thankfully they are not all like that and the stallholders I have got to know after four years of working the market are more than happy to show me their tucked up pears and nestled down spinach. It is quite a sweet thought that they love their fruit and veg so much that they tuck them into bed on a very cold morning - they look after them like their own - it is their living after all.

I also did a huge supermarket shop this morning. The plan was to get everything we might need, except last minute fresh food, sorted out in advance because we won't get back down here until late on the 23rd. It was a good plan but as always with shopping I have already thought of several things I didn't pick up - we are driving down next week so maybe I will get them in London and bring coals to France so to speak.

After much deliberation I have managed to narrow down my list of potential recipes for Christmas to about 40 which is just as well because tomorrow morning before I leave for London I intend to place the orders for the fish, shellfish and meat that I will need to make a splendid feast my my beloved one.

No pressure then - let's hope I get it right.

Getting Christmassy

2009-12-16T20:10:00.005Z

I have been trawling through my numerous cookbooks looking for Christmas inspiration and have only succeeded in confusing myself enormously. I must have earmarked about 200 different recipes to try but have still not decided on what to cook for our Christmas dinner - which this year will just be the two of us hiding at home, eating, drinking and watching movies!

My short trip out here neatly bisects the Saturday market and I will also head back to London before the Foire au Gras this weekend. The Tuesday market was a bit of a disappointment with very few stallholders braving the freezing weather and not much on offer in the meat and fish market either - I guess they are all saving up for next weeks stampede.

It was so cold that when I came back in my face was tingling for a good 15 minutes. I decided that I needed a hat of some sort so went back to town later and went completely overboard on a (fake) fur lined hat that comes right down over my ears - so much better - I have even taken to wearing it indoors but have drawn the line at keeping it on in bed.

The first Christmas cards arrived today - my Mum and Dad are always quick off the mark and spelled Debrah's name correctly for the first time in about 10 years - there was a card from Domaine Gayda, no doubt hoping I will continue to send guests their way next year - and finally one from the Anglican church in Limoux listing all the times of the Christmas services. I have never been there and I don't know how they got my name and address but top marks for effort in reminding us all what the forthcoming celebrations are really all about.

A completely unrelated celebration was the first anniversary of the opening of The Celt pub. It was the usual mix of Irish folk music, various games in which worthless prizes could be won and slightly too much alcohol. I came home, eventually, with the same amount of money that I started the night with because all the drinks, for me anyway, were on the house - which was nice.

A dull head and the chilly air would have kept me in bed this morning but I had arranged to meet Cecile for a coffee at ten.

This afternoon I went to look at another pile of stones in need of much loving care - this pile was near Moux which is about halfway between Carcassonne and Narbonne. It dates back to the 13th century but is now just four walls overgrown with ivy - no roof, no floor, no doors or windows. There is about 5000sqm of land with some syrah vines that could produce about 3000 litres of wine - but the aspect is wrong and the nearby railway and main road are the things that weren't shown or mentioned on the details. It's probably not for us.

There was plenty of snow on the Alairic mountains and the Montagne Noire and I presume on the Pyrenees too, but it was too cloudy to see that far. As it normally is, the weather was a bit better as I headed east towards the sea and I even saw some sunshine after the unrelenting grey cloud and cold wind of Carcassonne for the last three days.

Swine flu or H1N1 or 'la grippe' finally appears to have arrived in the town too since I was last here. Tom from the bar has had it and Louis, Cecile's son, was off school for a bit and two schools have been closed for ten days or so because of the number of cases. Vaccination seems to be progressing here as it is in the UK - just all keep out of my way please - the last thing I want is a holiday illness.

Brrrrr

2009-12-14T19:35:00.004Z

It was cold today. There was low cloud and sleet and snow all day long. Brrrr. It's the sort of damp cold that goes right through to your bones.

It has always been a problem to heat these vast rooms. It is criminal that the chimneys were destroyed when the building was split up into apartments - a big roaring log fire is exactly what is needed in these spaces. Instead the little electric radiators cost a fortune to run and stuggle to make a difference, not helped by the draughty window frames and huge windows or the fact that nobody has been here for the last five weeks.

It wasn't too bad this morning whilst I was doing physical work. There were curtain tracks to fix and light bulbs to change both inside and outside in the courtyard and a shower head to repair - all of which involved carting ladders about the place and much climbing. I still feel a bit nervous on ladders on my own even though it is now over two years since I came off them during the renovation.

I really noticed the cold this afternoon when I was working on my computer. When I got up from my desk my nose was frozen and I had shivers running down my back. Soup and casserole is what I have been eating today - on and off all day actually because the effect seems to wear off after about an hour. I shall go and put myself in bed shortly - that's the warmest place.

I was very impressed that the car started first time and seems to be non the worse for being neglected and sitting about in all weathers for the last 40 days. I think maybe I should get a cover for it if I am going to be away for longer periods next year.

Obviously it wasn't the sort of day for being out and about so I still haven't been down to see what's new in town or catch up on any gossip over a coffee with anyone. Maybe tomorrow.

Back to the Future

2009-12-13T19:10:00.007Z

After five weeks in the UK I flew back out to Carcassonne today to do a few jobs and to prepare for Christmas and New Year.

To be honest, I have been kicking my heels a bit in London. I have finished any odd jobs and done all the admin and filed the tax returns. My real achievement of the past two weeks has been to annoy Debrah, who, despite wanting me back and appreciating dinner on the table, the rubbish being taken out and someone to talk too, just couldn't stand me being at home whilst she was at work every day - so I have got out of her hair for a few days - absence and all that.

I felt a bit bad about leaving Debrah and a bit odd about coming back to Carcassonne - it felt like such a long time since I had been here and the dreary train to Stansted, the palaver of airport security and the dithering 'where shall I sit' passengers on my flight all made the journey as tedious as it could possibly be.

It was grey and cold on arrival and the apartment was dark and chilly when I opened up the front door but there is something uplifting about opening the shutters and turning on the hot water and the heaters and re-acquainting oneself with familiar things. I now feel a tinge of excitement about getting everything in order for Christmas and New Year before Debrah arrives next week.

Naturally the fridge was empty so I ventured out towards the only supermarket usually open on a Sunday to get myself some supper. Imagine my shock when I found the town rammed with people and all the shops open - the French seem to have had some sort of transformation in my absence and decided to jump from 1970 into the 21st century in one go, although I suspect I haven't seen the last of the three day week and power cuts.

The postbox was also rammed full. The volume of 'publicité reaches a peak in the run up to the festive season and five weeks of flyers from Leclerc, Geant, et al makes for quite a pile of 'cuisse' and 'saumon' related special offers. In addition it would seem that, the day after I left for London, Le Figaro newspaper launched a concerted effort to persuade me to take a subscription out - so five weeks of back copies of that also went straight into the bin.

The lights are up in the streets and the ice rink and Christmas market in the square as usual. I will save that treat and my first 'vin chaud' for later in the week.

Top day out

2009-12-07T17:19:00.003Z

Boo - my birthday is finally over. Three months and sixteen days after the actual day my final treat took place on Saturday - but this time Debrah came with me.

We went to Corrigans in Mayfair for a wine and food matching day and this wasn't just any old wine and food matching - it was wine and food of the highest order. The food had been billed as tapas to go with the wines but the reality was a full-on Michelin starred lunch - ten beautifully prepared different foods starting with four appetisers, three meaty middle courses and then, unusually, a fish main course followed by cheese and dessert.

We ate really well. There were also lots of ideas to take away and think about for use at 42rvh. I anticipate some kitchen practice sessions in the next week or so.

The wines were not to be ignored either and there were some interesting pairings too.

I had never before had a wine from Canada but there was a delicious buttery chardonnay that, if I hadn't known where the wine was from, I would have guessed Burgundy.

There was also a delicious Languedoc red from Domaine d'Aupilhac which I shall seek out as well as some champagne, sherry, an albarino from Spain, a sauternes, a pinot noir and a sauvignon blanc from New Zealand and a red dessert wine from Maury, Mas Amiel, which is just the best thing to eat with chocolate fondant.

My fabulous wife told everyone present that the chocolate fondant wasn't as good as mine, which was very sweet of her, but actually she was right - maybe it had been sitting around for a few minutes which is a nightmare for a fondant.

The session was hosted by the restaurant's general manager, Dawid Koegenlenberg, also known as Inspector Grape on his personal web wine blog which is well worth checking out - inspectorgrape.wordpress.com

I firmly believe that a fabulous long lunch is such a civilised way to eat and drink and much healthier for you than a very long and late dinner. After lunch there is always time to relax and digest before bed - which is just about all we managed last Saturday slumped on the sofa in front of X-Factor and Match of the Day.

All in all it is a top day out, highly recommended and very good value for money for the quality of the food and wine that is served.

For those that are interested here is the full offering;

Starters
Rock Oyster Vietnamese
Champagne NV Veuve Fourny et Fils 1er Cru Blanc de Blanc
Crispy Olive filled with organic Goats Cheese & spicy harissa
Manzanilla San Leon, Sanlucar de Barrameda
Mackerel Tartare & Beetroot Foam
2008 Terras Gauda O Rosal, Rias Baixas - Galicia
Foie Gras Mousse soaked in Pedro Ximenez & Chutney
2001 Chateau Filhot - Sauternes

Middle Courses
Chicken Liver Parfait & Toasted Brioche
2008 Kerner, Weingut Eisacktaler - Alto Adige
Game Pie with roast fillet of Hare
2006 Montpeyroux les Truffieres, Domaine D'Aupilhac - Languedoc
Butter Poached Pheasant, Red Cabbage & Coleslaw
2007 Delta Pinot Noir, Hatters Hill, Marlborough - New Zealand

Main Course
Monkfish en croute, Bearnaise sauce, Green beans & Ratte potatoes
2005 Chardonnay Le Clos Jourdanne, Niagara - Canada

Cheese
Cashel Blue
2004 Pacherenc de Vic Bilh, Alain Brumont - SW France
Ragstone Goats Cheese
2008 Staete Landt Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough - New Zealand

Dessert
Chocolate Fondant with orange, Yoghurt foam and clementine
2007 Maury Vintage, Mas Amiel - Languedoc

Cooking with a star

2009-11-30T15:15:00.005Z

Part three of my belated birthday treat was a trip to Corrigan's restaurant on Upper Grosvenor Street in London's Mayfair for a masterclass with the man himself, Mr Richard Corrigan.

I have attended one other cooking masterclass in my life, a day with Jean-Christophe Novelli, which was a gift from my colleagues when I left advertising some four years ago. That day was much more of a cookery demonstration - lots of techniques, lots of tasting but no real hands on time and it took place at his home in Hertfordshire, not in his restaurant.

Saturday's class took place in the kitchens of the restaurant - fifteen of us split into groups working with the restaurant chefs and Corrigan flitting between to make sure we all got a piece of him. It was very much a hands-on experience in a professional kitchen, which is what made it all the better. We were also cooking our own lunch - well up to a point obviously.

My group started with the first course, which appropriately enough for someone with a holiday business in the Languedoc, was a chicken liver and foie gras terrine with caramelised mustard fruits - and yes I will be replicating it when I get back there. We moved onto the fish course - dover sole on a curried pumpkin broth - where I got the chance to do some fish filleting although there was nothing they could teach me about cooking with pumpkin and we finished on the bakery section where we completed the christmas pudding souffle mix for dessert and put together the petit fours.

Despite my flippant comment about the pumpkin - I learned an enormous amount. Just watching the chefs operate was an education - the head chef was on top of at least fifteen different things that were going on whilst simultaneously giving his time to the group of four 'tourists' in his care.

Everything was also done on a scale that I had never witnessed or contemplated before. My largest pan at home was small compared to anything in that kitchen. The ovens and fridges and machines were all awesome to behold and there was very little space to operate in, even allowing for the people that wouldn't normally have been there.

Sadly, we only managed three rotations and didn't get onto the meat course, which was a pity and with such a large group it was inevitable that we couldn't all get to do everything - but that is exactly what I wanted to do. I would happily have stayed in the kitchen all day and helped to produce every aspect of every dish if I could.

As it was we were ushered out to the private dining room where a six course lunch with wines was lavished upon us. What a shame that Debrah hadn't booked to join me for the lunch because lots of other partners did come along.

It was what I would call a proper lunch which didn't wind up until about five o'clock, by which time the front of house staff were in full flow in the restaurant and all the chefs had retreated to the kitchen to prepare for the 160 covers they were expecting that evening.

It was a great experience but actually it so very nearly didn't happen. I had called to confirm at the start of last week only to be told that they hadn't received the booking form and that the course was full. You can imagine my disappointment and Debrah's anger. Then out of the blue on Friday, they called to say that I could go because another participant had dropped out due to illness - hurrah.

Sat talking to my fellow food enthusiasts over lunch it became clear that the event management company employed by Corrigans was less than organised and that we weren't the only ones that suffered, including the restaurant themselves - there were after all 17 attendees when the maximum should have been 15.

Thankfully, I got there by the skin of my teeth and am very very glad that I did.

This is what we helped to make and ate for lunch afterwards

Chicken Liver Parfait & Mustard Fruits
2007 Etna Bianco di Casale, Sicily

Clare Island Smoked Salmon, Mozzarella, capers & golden raisins
2007 Assyntiko cuvée 15, Santorini, Greece

Steamed fillet of Dover Sole, Pumpkin & Ginger Velouté
2005 Riesling Wein Von Steirm, Neumayer, Austria

Butter Poached Bronze Turkey & Roast Leg with bread sauce
2006 Savigney-les-Beaune, Jean Feiny

Christmas Pudding Soufflé
2005 Riesling Auslese, Hans Lang, Germany

Stilton soaked in Banyuls with Irish Soda Bread
2001 Chateau Filhot, Sauternes

Pleasures and Disappointments

2009-11-23T21:07:00.005Z

Last Saturday Debrah and I had lunch at the two Michelin star restaurant Hibiscus in the West End of London. This was the second part of my 50th birthday present and we both agreed it was one of the best restaurant experiences we have had for years.

Hibiscus opened in Ludlow originally but transferred to London a year or so ago. The room was very calm and welcoming, the ambience just right, the staff knowledgeable and friendly and the service excellent - and the food and wine was outstanding.

We chose the six course tasting menu and left it to the chef to excite, surprise and delight us. We also left it to the sommellier to choose the right wines to go with each course. Both succeeded wonderfully. The polenta with truffle was a particular highlight but each course was in itself a glorious tribute to the chef's talent.

While the chef is French and the food very much based in the best traditions of his homeland, it made a welcome change to have wines that were not, well not all of them anyway. I adore French wine but one of the pleasures of eating in London is being able to drink wines from all over the world - in the Michelin starred restaurants I have visited in France the choice is usually local French wine or French wine.

The choice of wine is not the only culinary pleasure of being back in London - in the last few days I have also had two excellent curries, from opposite ends of the price scale.

On Friday I met my good friend Kieron, who wanted to pick my brain about a new business idea, which he did whilst entertaining me to a five star Indian lunch at Moti Mahal - a modern Indian restaurant based in Covent Garden.

Then on Saturday evening, we treated Christian to a takeaway curry at home. At first I wasn't sure I could eat any more after our lunch but once it was here we all tucked in with gusto - especially Christian who was back home for the first time since he went off to Uni at Falmouth - back home to be fed and washed, poor boy.

I am also very lucky that Debrah works near to Borough Market. It's a lot more commercial (and expensive) than Carcassonne market but it does give me my market fix. Last Friday I caught a butchery and cookery demonstration about game and watched fascinated whilst a deer was skinned and then cut up into it's constituent parts ready for cooking.

I also had a fix of Languedoc wines last Thursday when I was able to attend, courtesy of Louise Hurren, a tasting of organic wines from the region which was held at the Maison du Region de Languedoc-Roussillon in Cavendish Square - just behind John Lewis on Oxford Street, so a great central location for this regional outpost that does so much to promote the products of my part of the South of France.

It hasn't all been good though. I met some former work colleagues at a converted pub restaurant called the Bountiful Cow in Holborn and was completely underwhelmed by a fairly ordinary steak and chips that wasn't at all cheap.

On the same day I searched for ages for an internet zone - for some reason I thought that in a big international city, a worldwide business hub even, there would be many more free or pay as you go locations where anyone could turn up and just log on - alas that isn't the case. I ended up in the coffee shop of the Aveda salon and No, I don't want any face cream thank you.

And of course it has been lashing down with rain on a daily basis with massive windy squalls that make umbrellas useless - it doesn't help that I know it has been abnormally warm and dry back in Carcassonne - isn't the weather weird?

Here is the full lunch line up from Hibiscus

Oeuf en Cocotte, Ras al Hanout, Palm Heart Velouté

Cornish Red Mullet, sprout leaves & onion salad, bone marrow & onion toast
2007 Chablis 1er Cru, Côte de Léchet, Laurent Tribut

Creamy Polenta, Fresh Hazelnut, Umbrian White Truffle
2007 Riesling Qba, Scharzhof Egon Muller, Germany

Roast Mortimer Forest Venison, Pear confit in red wine, Savoy Cabbage purée
2006 Capoposto, Negroamaro, Alberto Longo, Puglia

Selection of British and French cheeses
NV Ratafia de Champagne, Henry Giraud, Ay, France

Iced Nougat parfait of Candied roots, Physalis coulis
2007 Tokaji Furmini Late Harvest, Disznóko, Hungary

London Life

2009-11-17T21:57:00.004Z

After the initial excitement of getting back to London - being re-united with Debrah, seeing Amy and attending the butchery course - life has settled down again.

It's a bit weird sitting in a small, modern two bed apartment in North London rather than the vast, spacious, eigtheenth century apartment we have in Carcassonne. The open plan living room with kitchenette at one end is the same size as the kitchen in France, which naturally makes cooking here a very different proposition and the ceiling height is halved - two metres not four. I miss my office and the feeling of space but I don't miss being on my own.

The on-site gym has replaced my bike as my means of exercise - less cardio-vascular and more weights - which makes a welcome change.

I also have the good old BBC and British television although I find myself watching it just because it's there, which is a good argument for not having it in France. I still don't have any satellite or pay per view but I also don't have a local bar that I want to visit so have missed all the rugby internationals and the football of the last week. Did I really miss anything? - no, not at all.

I have been excited by the new Waitrose in Crouch End and totally pissed off with the Tesco Express down the road. I have been buying from Borough Market, which is conveniently close to Debrah's office, trying to emulate my shopping habits in France. It's very difficult to do that here in London because there isn't an excellent fresh fruit and vegetable market three times a week just two minutes away from the apartment - but because I have the time and flexibility to shop around and to cook it has been possible to buy fresh and British, if not exactly local, and the chicken and pork and beef that we have bought have sustained us through at least two dinners each.

Debrah has been extremely busy at work and very stressed by it all. I am relieved that I was back here when an ongoing issue with a contractor finally came to a head - thankfully it is all now resolved, but she still has weekly deadlines on other projects in rapid succession. I am happy to be able to take all other day to day stuff away from her so she can concentrate on just getting through this very busy period for her.

After the Friday evening explosion it was a relief that Debrah didn't have to work at the weekend and with Christian away at college and Amy having returned home to Lincolnshire, we had a self-indulgent weekend to ourselves.

On Saturday we went to Brent Cross shopping centre. I was surprised that the Christmas decorations, which I had expected to see, were quite muted and understated rather than garish and gaudy - perhaps the credit crunch has affected the usual brash excess that marks this time of year. I can't remember the last time I was in a shopping mall and apparently, according to Debrah, I wandered around with a slightly dazed expression - a bit like a child in a toyshop for the first time.

On Sunday we took my new boots for a walk across Hampstead Heath - how terribly North London Sunday is that? After the gales and rain of Saturday it was much quieter and dry and the view from the top of Parliament Hill was very dramatic across the whole of the London basin as far as the North Downs some 20 miles south of the river.

It's good to be back in London for a bit and it's great to be living with Debrah again and the plans for next year are slowly crystallising.

Cutting up a Pig

2009-11-10T19:13:00.004Z

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.

Guy Fawkes Night

2009-11-06T16:43:00.003Z

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.

All over for 2009

2009-11-03T17:49:00.004Z

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.

Feel the burn, smell the smoke

2009-10-30T20:23:00.003Z

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.

In the kitchen

2009-10-29T21:12:00.002Z

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.

You looking at me?

2009-10-27T19:37:00.004Z

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.!

Hippie shit

2009-10-25T19:16:00.005Z

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

Wine therapy

2009-10-21T23:28:00.005+01:00

If anything could pull me out of my depression about the lost barn then a wine tasting at VinEcole would be a pretty good bet.

I had booked my place at 'The rising stars of the Languedoc' tasting some weeks ago. As a result of a recommendation from Matthew Stubbs, owner of VinEcole, I found myself chauffeuring two Irish guests there as well - I can't complain, without the referral they wouldn't have been staying here at 42rvh and I was driving there anyway so two extra people in the car made no difference.

There were two of the featured winemakers present, which made the tasting of their wines more interesting and a large diverse group covering eight different nationalities.

As I am increasingly finding from these tastings and my own exploration of the wine of the region, there are a great number of very very exciting and delicious white wines being made here in the region.

I was totally stunned by the four whites that I tasted tonight - one from an estate whose red wines I have admired for a long time (Mas du Soleilla), one from Saint Chinian (Mas Champart), a fabulous red wine region but not the first great white I have had from there, one from Collioure (Domaine de la Rectorie), which by chance I had also served at dinner with Daniel and Cecile last Saturday and one from Limoux (Domaine de Mouscaillo), a beautifully balanced and clean chardonnay and I had the pleasure of sitting next to the winemaker for the night.

Equally, I was disappointed by the red wines on offer. The Languedoc produces a massive amount of fruity, spicy, delicious red wine and the standard is improving all the time too. As a result, I think that many producers are starting to try and produce something a little bit different - to try and make it stand out and be recognised and yet, what they should be doing, in my mind, is just making the best example of the best wines of this region because there is nothing wrong with them if they get it right and they market them properly.

Rant, rant - I'm in that sort of mood.

Tonight I sampled a 100% cabernet franc (Domaine Gayda), which had a fragrant fruity nose but was strong and powerful and dry - there is a reason that this grape is used in blends, a Corbieres that was 95% mourvedre (Ch La Baronne) that was so tannic that it sucked all the moisture and feeling from my mouth - ditto the comment re blending, a 100% carignan from the Roussillon (Clot de l'Oum) which blew my head off with it's intensity - ditto blending encore, and a 90% syrah (Ch Canet) which was the only red of the four that I really liked.

I adore all those grapes but I think I might prefer them in a classic Minervois or Corbieres GSM blend rather than as an 'almost' single cepage wine. Interestingly, Syrah can be quite an obnoxious wine on it's own - just think of Aussie Shiraz - same thing, more jazzy antipodean name but this syrah was a stand-out wine.

Maybe it helped having Floris, the Dutch owner of the estate, there to explain it all. He even bought along a bottle of the just pressed 2009 wine so that we could compare it to the 2007 we were tasting - how fantastic was that - these grapes had been harvested over the last few weeks and just pressed and this was the initial result.

This is what wine buyers taste to assess the quality of the vintage and to make their expert opinions as to whether it will be great or not. Well I can tell you that 2009 will be a great vintage in the Languedoc - the summer drought has reduced quantity but the quality is great. The Ch Canet 2009 tasted of raw red fruit but it was already a better wine than many other finished products I have tasted and it won't be ready for consumption or sale for another year.

The 2007 was as soft and round and fruity as a lovingly prepared Syrah could ever be - joy.

So what's my point? Well just that wine constantly and consistently surprises and amuses me - and that's the beauty of it - always a lovely, exciting and new discovery to be made, always a new winemaker to meet and get to know, always a new taste experience. I love it.

On the other hand, just don't mention barns to me.

Second best

2009-10-20T15:58:00.003+01:00

It has been the most disappointing and frustrating weekend imaginable. It was fabulous to have Debrah here in France for the weekend of course but events beyond our control meant that rather than spending the time excitedly planning a new project together for 2010, we are back to square one and resigned to plan B.

Last Wednesday, the day before Debrah flew out, I had a call from the agent - I assumed the call was to confirm the appointment for the second viewing of the barn that I first looked at a couple of weeks ago - but no, it was to inform me that an asking price offer had been accepted.

Naturally we still went to look at it, directly from the airport on arrival. Naturally it was everything Debrah expected and naturally, it could have been everything that she has envisaged it would be. Our annoyance, frustration and depression could not have been greater.

We called the agent again. "Is there any chance of a counter offer?", we pleaded. In true French agent fashion they kept us waiting over the weekend - stringing out the agony before, eventually, we got the dreaded news that a 'compromis de vente' had been signed and that was pretty much that.

At the same time, in expectation of us moving to France permanently, I had put our UK apartment up for sale. Despite the poor housing market there, we have received an offer. It's not quite enough but it was encouraging.

So, over the weekend we went through plan after plan and scenario after scenario, different options, different incomes, good and bad points of each, searched our hearts and our heads and finally decided that it would have to be back to the initial thinking for 2010.

The one thing that absolutely isn't going to happen for 2010 is that Debrah and I will spend most of the year living and working in different countries - as we have for most of the last four years.

So, the London apartment will come back off the market and I will go back to London at the end of the month when the last of my current bookings has departed. Unless by some miracle the barn comes back or a similar one appears from nowhere, we will spend next year in the UK and the apartments here will be let out on a self-catering only basis, which will work very well no doubt because of their excellent location and design.

There is nothing wrong with plan B - it just isn't plan A.

Good dinner

2009-10-12T23:30:00.003+01:00

Sometimes I really get to enjoy my job - like evenings when I have to prepare and share dinner with an interesting and diverse group of intelligent and likeable people from all walks of life and from all over the world.

Tonight was one such occasion and all thanks to the inability to find a decent restaurant for guests to go to on a Monday night slightly out of season in France - well in Carcassonne anyway, but I suspect it applies to a wider group of similar small provincial towns across the country.

Now that we are into October, all of the restaurants that I recommend for guests who are looking for something slightly better than a basic brasserie, are closed on a Sunday and Monday night - actually some of them are always closed on those days even in the height of the Summer tourist season.

So my Mexican guests who arrived late yesterday were asking me this morning about dinner tonight and I was struggling to advise them. "Can you do dinner for us?, asked Antonieta. I couldn't say no in the same way I couldn't resist her original email asking "I want stay your luxury hotel". I'm not criticizing her English at all, it was sweet. My Spanish is rubbish.

My Australian guests arrived late this afternoon after a long drive across country from Tours. I could tell that they were weary and needed looking after - I offered and they jumped at the chance to have dinner at home so to speak.

When I woke up this morning I was going to be eating on my own tonight - finishing off the coq au vin that I prepared yesterday - by 6pm I was cooking a dinner for five.

They were all young - by which I mean under 40 and probably well under 40 - a corporate lawyer with his own firm employing 30 or so qualified staff, a specialist in pacemaker surgery and defibrillators who recently won a 'clinitian of the year' award, a graphic designer turned art therapist and a architect turned health care worker. Both women had designed their own homes - both men built what they were told to build - that sounds horribly familiar but very successful as a formula.

Naturally with Australians in the house the conversation turned to Skippy the kangaroo!

Naturally with Mexicans in the house the conversation turned to swine flu ( we all agreed that it wasn't their fault) and the new trend for premium grade sipping tequila.

We also discussed at some length why Central America celebrates Columbus Day (it was today by the way) as a national holiday when he bought the misery of European invasion onto the indigineous peoples of the region. Funnily enough, they hadn't really thought of it like that. I guess they focus on the positive benefits - whatever they may be.

Well you get the gist of it all - it was varied and intelligent and serious and light hearted - and the very essence of a good get together around the dinner table.

I just have the washing up to finish off.

Late or early?

2009-10-11T22:09:00.005+01:00

When the booking form came back I didn't notice the anomaly and filed it away with the others. It was only when I looked at it again a couple of days ago that I realised there might be a problem. The arrival date stated Monday 12th October but the travel details said 'arrive by car on Sunday afternoon'. Hmmm.

The clients in question are a couple from Mexico - my first from Central America - and their whole booking was a little bit strange with an initial confusion over dates and then a double payment in the wrong currency, which left me owing them some money - thankfully not the other way round.

Bizarrely and as it turned out fortunately, I had no bookings this weekend and I had taken the precaution of making sure their suite was prepared just in case they did turn up on Sunday afternoon.

I have no idea why I had no bookings for the weekend. I had clients in all three suites up until Friday night and have clients all next week. In all honesty, the weekend was a bit dull here on my own but I did get the chance to have a lie in this morning (until ten, don't you know - can't remember the last time that happened, weekend or no weekend) and I did drive out to have another look at the barn.

Well nobody turned up in the afternoon and nobody called. It looked like it was just a typing error on the form and they were coming tomorrow - that is, until the phone rang at 10.30pm. It was my Mexicans, they were in Carcassonne but couldn't find me and didn't know where to park the car.

What can you do or say in such circumstances? Nothing really. I went out to get them, showed them where to park the car, helped them with their luggage and got them settled into their apartment. They seem a very nice couple.

I am just glad I'd prepared for the eventuality and that I wasn't already in my pyjamas.

Changeable

2009-10-08T23:00:00.003+01:00

After a month of waking up, looking out of the window, and thinking 'blue sky and 30 degrees again', we had quite a lot of weather today.

It rained all through last night and was still drizzling this morning when I went out to the boulangerie for breakfast supplies. I even dug out a rainproof jacket especially for the occasion.

By the time I had prepped and delivered the three breakfast trays the rain had eased and a mean and moody sky was glowering over the town as I completed my market shopping for this evenings client dinner. It was steamy and humid but by no means cold - despite the locals being wrapped up in coats and scarves!

I dragged myself out on my bike (it's been about 10 days since my last outing) and pedalled off out into the Minervois. I can't remember seeing the landscape look so dramatic. There was low cloud hanging around the top of the Alaric mountains but the longer I was out the more the sky cleared until patches of blue emerged and the sun started to shine through.

Instantly the temperature shot up and steam started rising off the tarmac as the sun dried the damp roads. The contrast between the sun and the slate grey clouds was breathtakingly beautiful.

I was so distracted by this loveliness that I found myself in Marseillette after an hour of cycling and realised that it was of course the same distance back again. Ease myself back in to it I had thought - 40kms and two hours by the time I got back - and not a little weary from the effort. Today's ride took my total distance covered to over 500kms since I bought my bike computer back in late July - bloody hell, that's quite a long way.

When I met Cecile for a coffee in the square the sky was cloudless and the temperature was back up in the mid twenties - it was a glorious sunny afternoon. All my guests came back to change their clothes, having gone out prepared for a cool and damp day - which to be honest is what it looked like at 9.00am this morning. A rainy day in the Languedoc = an hour of rain and lots of sun either side of it.

Dinner for two sets of guests this evening was accompanied by the biggest, longest, loudest, brightest, noisiest, wettest, thunderstorm I can ever remember. Just as the guests arrived I detected the faintest distant rumble and mentioned that we might have a storm - understatement or what.

Ten minutes later the lightning was flashing across the sky every 60 seconds, the rain was lashing down the street and the thunder was drowning out all attempts at conversation. I picked a good night to not send them out to a restaurant.

It's all calm again now - the sky is quiet, the dinner is over, the guests have gone to bed and the washing up has been done (or is still doing in the dishwasher) and I have reached the limit of today's personal energy allowance - I'm pooped.

Food is for sharing

2009-10-06T20:04:00.003+01:00

It's all smelling a bit fishy in the kitchen as a result of my impulse market buying this morning. Having made a casserole at the weekend in London, I went shopping with that in mind but somehow came back with mackerel for lunch and a kilo of mussels for supper.

I'm not really sure what happened but it seems my head rejected the idea of red meat and craved a bit of omega 3 - and once I was over by the fish counter my brain started trawling through it's store of fishy recipes and pan cooked mackerel with shallot, tomato and capers and moules mariniere is what came out.

I guess I have to be happy with that - it's the very essence of Mediterranean market shopping - looking at what looks good on the day and buying accordingly. So I was very interested to read recently that McDonalds in France is one of their biggest markets outside the USA (bigger than the UK and growing faster) and that Picard, purveyors of gourmet ready frozen meals, is by no means suffering during the economic downturn. So much for the myth of the French pulling up some vegetables from the garden for their supper.

Despite the outward socialist demeanour, capitalism is hard at work here.

I have noticed, however, that even when the French are eating sandwiches or takeaway food they still find a place to sit down and eat together either as a family or with work colleagues or with friends - the conviviality of sharing food survives and that is a very good thing.

I ate both my lunch and my supper on my own at home. I love my food and I love cooking and eating but there are days when I find it hard to put in the effort to prepare a good meal just for myself.

I did today, twice. Mind you, I had enough for two, if not three, this evening.

A kilo of mussels doesn't look that much especially when they are small ones and take up less room in your bag. When I got back from the market I made a pond for them in the sink and let them swim about a bit whilst I got on with my jobs. When it came to cleaning them this evening I realised how many were there - either that or they multiply like rabbits when your back is turned. It took a good half hour or more to clean them and with only me eating it took a good half hour or more to pick each one out of it's shell and devour the sweet little delicious morsels.

It's impossible to read while eating mussels because you have to concentrate on what you are doing - and with no-one to talk to, it ends up being a bit of a chore. It's the sort of food where you need to be able to talk to someone without looking at them or if you must look at them, they won't mind you waving a mussel shell, the one you use for picking out the other mussels from their shells, in your face. Oh for someone to say "You had more than me" or "That's not a very big mussel" type innuendo. I even gave up on spooning the residual winey buttery juice into my mouth and picked my bowl up and drank it down in one go - now that's very French.

Moules Mariniere is a wonderful, fabulous, delicious, evocative, French classic - just don't eat it, or anything else if you can help it, on your own.

Into the light

2009-10-05T22:16:00.004+01:00

When I left London this morning it was grey and damp and drizzly stood on the platform at Tottenham Hale station. It didn't help that I was dressed for the South of France - short sleeved polo shirt, linen jacket, jeans, loafers and no socks. I can't remember the last time I wore socks without it being a special occasion (my Mum's birthday lunch I think).

Back in Carcassonne it was blue sky, breezy and warm - not as warm as it has been but still warm - warm enough to put my shorts on again and not to bother with socks.

Fortunately for me, this morning was the only bad day during my five day London trip, so I really can't complain at all. I flew back last Wednesday immediately after checking out guests and went straight into London sorting mode - there was lots to do.

I had my toothache attended to on Thursday morning followed by my unruly hair and the car key problem fixed on Friday, which took all morning and entailed me sitting about in London traffic going nowhere very fast for a good three hours - what a waste of time.

Then over the weekend we got to work getting Christian's recently vacated room back into shape. Rubbish disposed of, dust and sundry shit hoovered up from every nook and cranny and all the walls repainted - it looks quite nice now, although there is still a lingering smell of teenage boy about the space - which isn't pleasant. I also painted the hallway and generally started the preparation for putting the appartment on the market.

Well that's the plan anyway. Sell in London, buy again in France and live together in peace and love in exile. It's a good plan.

Irrespective of all that, the highlight of the last week was just spending five days with Debrah - eating, talking, drinking, planning, painting, watching TV - whatever we did we were able to do together and that makes for a very pleasant change. I now just have to see out the October bookings and then I can go back to put the plan into action and we will never have to spend so much time apart again - hurrah for that.

I did some cooking for Debrah too whilst I was there - roast belly pork, roast chicken, a pea and ham risotto and a cow face casserole (ox cheek to be exact). It's all credit to Debrah that she didn't bat an eyelid when I said that I had bought ox cheek instead of stewing steak - most men and women I know would have run a mile before eating it, which would have been their enormous loss. It was delicious, marinated in red wine and herbs and then cooked very very slowly with onion, lardons. carrots, turnips, mushrooms and thyme. Debrah has three portions left over to soften the blow of my absence until she comes out here next week.

It felt really strange just cooking for myself again this evening. I have three sets of new guests on Wednesday and a dinner to host on Thursday, which will keep me busy, but just isn't the same.

Check both sides

2009-09-28T19:22:00.002+01:00

I am very pleased to report that Katie from Domaine Gayda telephoned immediately upon receipt of my email and put my mind at rest about their policy re vegetarian food at the restaurant. They had offered to make a full vegetarian menu from whatever they had fresh that day in the kitchen, but it appears that, for one of my guests, a pasta dish was what she wanted and that they couldn't do on the day.

So she left, forcing my other guests to leave too because they were dependent on them for transport - they weren't really, I would have gone and collected them, but they felt obliged and probably a bit embarrassed - as were we all ultimately.

My lesson is always to check both sides of the story before jumping to any conclusions and I am very relieved that I can continue to happily rely on Domaine Gayda in the future to look after any of my guest's food requirements.

Meanwhile at 42rvh I had a full house of guests at the weekend and a fridge full of champagne. Sadly it wasn't mine - being a man with many fridges, I was just storing it for a friend's 40th birthday party on Saturday evening - so I had to give it back but I did get to drink some in the end.

Canal boat, pub, nightclub - guests who had arrived from all over Europe it seemed - and a lot of champagne. You can probably guess the rest. I was up bright and breezy for breakfasts but definitely jaded by mid-afternoon and still struggling for energy as I put together the guests dinner I was hosting on Sunday night. I'm not as young as I used to be.

And so to today and my next property viewing - not a pile of stones this time but a barn and a garage on a small piece of land that could make the perfect little retreat for two people. It has potential, I think, but needs a lot of questions answered first. At least it was located roughly where they said it was and for once there weren't a lot of unexpected "Oh, didn't I tell you about that" bits to take in.

The truth, but not the whole truth

2009-09-24T20:00:00.004+01:00

My third property visit of the week today - a collection of buildings ripe for renovation in a secluded location just outside Arques - apparently.

"I'll pick you up at midday and we'll view the property at one", said Michael. He arrived at 12.30pm and we met Nicole and Anna in Arques at 2.00pm and got to the property at 2.30pm.

In fact Michael and I got to Arques twenty five minutes before two and thought we might have a beer whilst we waited for the others. Alas, both bars in town were closed - at lunchtime in September - that's not a good sign is it? Three other cars pulled up outside one of the bars to see if it was open and were equally disappointed - all that lost business is a common factor in France but they just don't seem to care.

The half hour difference between the time checks above between Arques and the pile of stones that I had come to look at give you an indication of how 'just outside Arques' the property actually was. On and on up the mountain we went - past La Frau Basse and on up to La Frau Haute, which as it's name implies is high - about 600m high. Three kilometres said Anna but even allowing for the winding road it must have been at least double that, if not ten.

It was a charming and beautiful valley on a fabulous sunny Autumn day but it may be a bit more hostile in six months time in the depths of winter. At least it had the isolation that was promised - apart that is from the three other houses close by and the narrow entrance to the site that entailed squeezing the car past the neighbours front door on the left hand side and their washing line and vegetable garden on the right!!

It's frustrating but you just have to make the effort to look at these places to know if they are right and to work out in your mind if that is what you are really looking for.

Michael and Nicole decided not to come back to Carcassonne for supper with me so I had the roast chicken all to myself and delicious it was too - cooked with tarragon and lemon and garlic and eaten with a fresh tomato salad and a green salad. Yes of course I washed it all down with some wine.

In fact, despite the frustrations of the property viewing of the last few days and my constant nagging toothache, I was in a very good mood this evening. I roasted the chicken early and then left it covered under foil whilst I popped out to win a couple of games of boules with the boys down by the river as the sun set and the moon brightened. You couldn't really imagine a better location with the Cité as a backdrop and the dramatic sunset and a competitive but friendly sporting rivalry amongst friends. So, that would be two-nil to the English team then.

The one dampener on the day was that both my guest couples encountered disappointment with their lunch at Domaine Gayda. I had booked them on a wine tasting at VinEcole, which they all thoroughly enjoyed, and then lunch in the restaurant at the Domaine afterwards. It is a magnificent location with an unparalleled view of the Pyrenees on a day like today - but it's no good at all if they can't cater for vegetarians and it appears that they can't.

So my guests left without lunch and I feel terribly embarrassed about the whole thing because I didn't realise that Gayda was so backward in it's approach. I also feel a bit responsible because I have eaten there many times myself but just hadn't appreciated that it would be a problem for some of my guests.

I will write to them - in this day and age that attitude is just not acceptable. Probably 10% of my guests are vegetarian and I have no problem cooking for them here at 42rvh and no problem sending them out to 'enlightened' restaurants in Carcassonne. I am a little bit shocked that Gayda could not not provide for them.

But then, nothing is as it appears to be, is it?

Not what it says on the tin

2009-09-23T22:21:00.005+01:00

The details on the website indicated that the property was 30 minutes drive from Carcassonne. I drove back down the mountain like Sebastian Loeb at his best (the French 5 times world rally champion for those of you struggling with that name) and it still took me an hour and a quarter to get back here.

What is it with estate agents and completely misleading information? Earlier this week was the "Oh no it doesn't flood" blatant lie and today I find that time is indeed relative to your rally ability and the slowness of the second hand on a dodgy Turkish Rolex copy. My watch might be having difficulty keeping up with real time but it's nothing compared to the time estimates of 'agents immobilliers'. Doctor Who couldn't have got back any quicker.

As you will have guessed, I went to look at another property today. It's not right for us but it is in a stunning location if you are not expecting guests. It was three miles to the end of the drive - i.e three miles from the turn off from the side road that was ten miles from the nearest village and fifteen miles from the nearest boulangerie. I would have hated to get home and find I had forgotten to collect the baguettes on the way.

I am quite used to the country roads here and my driving style could be described as fast if you are faint-hearted (if you can, imagine playing V-Rally on Playstation). Besides it was a glorious sunny day and the wind was in my hair and I had guests arriving back at 42rvh - so I had to get back. I think the average punter in a Opel Zafira hire car stuffed full of luggage might be a bit more circumspect - it would probably take them two hours from Carcassonne airport.

So - too far, too remote, too isolated, too much work needed - fantastic place though if you had the money and weren't bothered about guests and running businesses. It's an 18th Century farmhouse in gorgeous ochre stone that sits right on the top of a mountain with the most spectacular views in every direction. It has structurally sound walls and has had a new roof put on it, but because it's as old as it is and has never been updated very much it still looks like the animals live inside in better conditions than the humans. The whole interior needs completely ripping out and replacing - a massive job for anyone.

Because of it's age it is also protected by 'Monuments Historique', which means that one couldn't put new doors or windows into it or extend it. The problem with that is that every door is built for someone five feet tall and all the windows are very small too so that natural light, even on a glorious Autumn day like today, is at a premium.

I stood there and watched the butterflies zig-zagging about, marvelled at the eagles soaring overhead, listened to the cowbells from across the valley and tried to picture the pool and the garden and the terrace. I was constantly swishing the flies away (despite the 800m altitude this was still farmland) and have a multitude of nettle stings on my ankles from the overgrowth around the house.

As always one has to weigh up the good and the bad, the positive and the negative. Nowhere will be perfect but it has to have a lot more going for it than against it and sadly this place falls into the latter category.

We will keep looking of course and I am off to see somewhere else tomorrow. As long as the agent hasn't been misleading anyone it should be perfect - I will reserve judgement on that though for 24 hours in light of recent experience.

Day out

2009-09-22T22:11:00.004+01:00

I went back to have another look at the watermill today. I think it's very interesting but it's probably a bit small and the aspect not quite right (best side of the building is north facing).

I am also a bit obsessed with the proximity to watercourses given the change in climate patterns and the increase in occurences of flash flooding over the last ten years. A river frontage is fabulous but not when it's in your living room.

When I last visited I asked the agent about the big flood here in 1999 and he said that it didn't reach the house. After he had gone I wandered up to the Mairie and asked and was given a similar answer. So that's alright then.

After an overcast start it turned into a glorious day here today. After breakfasts and an airport drop-off I drove out to Lagrasse to meet Michael and Nicole for some lunch. As I set off the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds and mist and it was extremely beautiful in a moody misty autumnal way as I motored down the valley.

I really like this time of the year here in the Languedoc. The weather is mostly dry, the days are warm without the mad heat of mid-summer, the wine harvest is in full flow making more lovely stuff to drink next year and the colours and the countryside look magnificent.

Michael had a bit of a hangover and they were running a bit behind schedule - so lunch wasn't yet ready. I suggested we go off to look at the mill again first and then come back. I was also taken by them to meet an English lady, Anna, who has lived in the region a long time, runs a property sale website and knows pretty much everything that is going on with sales and purchases. She has given us another option to look at and also mentioned in passing "You know that the watermill had floodwater up to the first floor in 1999". Oh really - how very interesting!

By the time we got back to Lagrasse there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We ate lunch on the terrace and made plans for the week ahead before I headed back to Carcassonne to check on my guests - they were of course just knackered from spending all day up at the Cité being tourists.

So the watermill has probably been ruled out but I have two other options to look at, and photograph and measure, before I head back to the UK for a few days next week.

Easy day

2009-09-21T22:01:00.005+01:00

I had the luxury this morning of sleeping until 8.00am - that's the latest my alarm has been set for a very long time - and after the busy weekend it was a much needed and welcome lie-in.

Just one set of guests for breakfast and they were being pleasingly laid back and lazy and wanted a late breakfast - excellent.

There was still a suite to make up and new guests to collect off the Dublin flight which arrived just after lunch but all in all that was relatively calm compared to the last few days. There is always laundry to do, but it will get done, bit by bit and all in good time.

All of which allowed me to get out on my bike for the first time since last Friday and to have a quiet evening on my own, which could only have been made better by Debrah being here too. Soon.

The only thing that has upset the welcome change of pace is the ever increasing level of pain coming from my teeth - it's not the one that I had half sorted the last time I was in London but the filling with a hole in it, which has been getting worse and worse on a daily basis.

At first it was just cold water that produced the instant excruciating pain as it flowed through the hole and onto the nerve - now it is any drink and all food and even air flowing through it, especially when I am gasping up a steep climb on my bike, which is especially cruel as I am already in agony and suffering.

I have an appointment to have it fixed the day after I get back to London - just nine more days of gritting my teeth and waiting for the pain to pass.

Square one

2009-09-20T23:24:00.004+01:00

I have been totally rubbish at blog writing this week. I have thought about it often but have found little inspiration - and as the week went on I became busier with guests and consequently more tired and even less inspired - as this thoroughly uninspiring opening paragraph demonstrates.

I have just finished a client dinner which is the fifth night in a row that I have had client duties to attend to - drinks and canapes on Wednesday and Thursday, dinner for seven on Friday, canapes again last night and then another dinner this evening. At the other end of the day there were three breakfasts to be put together each morning. I have had a full house here this week.

The multinational and British regional theme has also continued after the Americans of last weekend. A British couple courtesy of Nigeria at the start of the week, followed by Canadians, some gritty northerners from Cumbria, some posh southerners from East Anglia and finally a Scouse/Yorkshire mix - plus a booking from Mexico and one from Germany - both firsts for 42rvh.

Their backgrounds are also many and varied including diplomats, oil lawyers, builders, art historians and interior designers. So it is always fascinating to throw them all round the dinner table and see how they get on. The result is that people just do get on - they find some common ground (even if it's just that they are visiting Carcassonne or drinking wine or sitting at my table) and the conversation flows - sometimes on and on.

Friday night was a case in point - seven people around the table and they all got on splendidly which, of course, meant that they got on splendidly until the early hours of the following morning. I managed four and a half hours sleep between clearing up and starting breakfasts.

Maybe my exercise regime of the last six months helps me to deal with it all better. Last week I totalled 97kms on my bike which is new high - if only I had stayed out for another three!

I also went to look at a house out in the countryside this week, as Debrah and I continue to wrestle with finding the best solution for our 'living in different countries' scenario. It is a very old watermill in need of total renovation. It feels quite daunting to think about going back to square one again but is equally quite exciting. It's even more exciting because we would be working on it together. We aren't sure if it's right yet and Debrah hasn't seen it in the flesh but you never know. Watch this space.

Not a night out

2009-09-14T21:58:00.002+01:00

Dinner last night was followed by breakfast for early departing guests at 7.15am - so not very much sleep between the two. Despite that I felt pretty good this morning and had the Apartment suite ready by 9.00am for new guests arriving this afternoon.

They arrived two hours earlier than expected so it was a good thing that I was also ready in advance. Having started the day so enthusiastically though, I have become slower and slower as the day has gone on - the short night has taken it's toll.

Don't get me wrong, I could easily have been persuaded to move onto a second late night and early morning in a a row and but for the necessity of looking after dogs and preparing guest breakfasts it probably would have happened.

Michael came over from Lagrasse this afternoon to look at a property here in Carcassonne and dropped in to say hello afterwards. With Debrah back in London and his partner, Nicole, over there for a short visit (in fact Debrah and Nicole were out together on Saturday evening in London) we had the perfect opportunity for a bit of lads night out if only we weren't so grown up and responsible these days.

Michael couldn't stay here in Carcassonne with me because his two dogs back in Lagrasse needed to be let out and looked after. I couldn't stay overnight in Lagrasse because I have to provide breakfast for my clients here at 42rvh.

So we briefly flirted with the Celt Bar and came back here to eat spaghetti bolognese and then Michael headed off back home and I am heading off to bed, very soon.

Summer's end - not yet

2009-09-13T23:21:00.003+01:00

There has been quite an international flavour to the weekend guest list. At the end of the week I had an English couple, an Australian couple and a mother and daughter from California. They were followed by two couples travelling together from Minnesota. On Friday evening it was the six Americans here - which is a first for 42rvh.

In common with most of my previous American visitors, they were very enthusiastic, very inquisitive and very charming and appreciative. In my view an American with a passport has to be a good American - because they realise that there is life beyond the borders of the USA. I hope the dollar economy behaves itself enough for more of them to keep coming.

I know it's not yet Autumn but the seasonal produce is starting to reflect the change towards the new season. The market has pumpkin and pears and plums and muscat grapes and the first mushrooms. The peaches are still good but the melons are beginning to taste past their best.

So this evening's dinner reflected the change. The Summer melon salad was replaced by pumpkin soup, the tarragon chicken by duck confit and the roast peaches by the old favourite of all guests, hot chocolate fondant. I am already looking forward to casseroles and soups and crumbles.

But I don't want to wish away the Summer too quickly and the weather here continues to be fabulous - in fact better than it was a month ago because the temperature is more bearable in the high twenties rather than the mid thirties but with the same unbroken blue skies. It really has been the most fantastic week.

And with chocolate fondant re-appearing the danger is that my waistline will start expanding again so I need to make the most of this good weather and pound the roads on my bike. I have cycled 80kms this week before today and managed another 37kms today.

One of the side effects of my cycling exercise regime is that I no longer take the Audi out and the weather has been absolutely perfect for it. On days like these I like nothing better than a long drive with Debrah through the French countryside or down to the coast at Gruissan or Bages or Bouzigues or Collioure.

Well Debrah is in London at the moment so I better carry on pounding the pedals and hopefully pounding the pounds as well.

Lies and more lies

2009-09-09T23:55:00.003+01:00

Whilst I was labouring under the weight of my home made cassoulet last night it was all kicking off amongst the Irish community in Carcassonne. I am slightly sad that I missed it from a voyeuristic point of view but really it's the last thing I would want to be involved with.

A quite blatant and obvious wide boy called Steve has been giving it large all year here. He gave the impression that he owned a lot of property and was a big wheeler dealer and could get things done. He tried to persuade Patrick and me to join him by investing.

It was blather - it was obviously blather - but inevitably some people were taken in by it and ended up defending him against the accusations - and now that the truth is out and it has been shown to be a complete tissue of lies and fabrication, the fallout has begun.

He claimed that he owned the four bedroom property with pool that he lived in - but he was in fact just looking after it for the owner, who was also his employer. He claimed that he was a builder extraordinaire with a property portfolio - all nonsense - he owns nothing and has no money and now has nowhere to live as his employer has cottoned onto what he has been up to.

As he backed himself further into a corner he referred to Cathy as his old and senile secretary and laid the blame at her door as his web of lies began to unravel. Cathy is neither old nor senile and has never been his secretary and naturally this rankled somewhat.

Last night it appears that Cathy confronted Steve and told him what she thought, tipped his pint over his head and then got thumped by him for her audacity. Way to go girl but that looks like it hurt a bit. Thankfully the damage isn't too serious.

All of which backs up a decision I made six months ago to distance myself from the pub/late night culture that was becoming ever more prevalent amongst a certain number of the expatriate community here.

A stomach filling cassoulet was definitely the better option - although I would have loved to have seen the baptism.

Too Much

2009-09-08T20:27:00.003+01:00

After three successive weekends of rich food and good wine (my 50th, my mum's 80th and a gate crashed wedding) I thought it would be a good idea to get back to some simpler and healthier food and a bit more exercise.

As I sit here with my stomach full of a cassoulet type supper, I am feeling as if I have a lead weight in my stomach and realise that it's all gone a bit wrong. It just seemed the natural thing to do with the left over chicken and the jar of haricots blancs but now I just want to lie down.

To add to my misery I have a chronic toothache and a self-inflicted burn across the palm of my right hand. The burn is all my own stupid fault - completely forgetting what I was doing by picking up the pan of cassoulet that had been in the oven for the last 45 minutes. Idiot. The toothache is an ongoing problem that was half solved when I was last in the UK and needs further attention when I next get back - in the meantime effervescent codeine/paracetemol big tablets are my best friend.

I have at least booked my next visit to the UK and got an absolute bargain price for the flights. It doesn't happen very often but when the prices and the dates come together it's an absolute joy - so €23 to get to London including a bag in the hold and £13 to get back again - those are the cheapest set of return flights I have ever booked and what makes them even better is that they get Debrah and me together again. Joy indeed.

After the wedding on Saturday, Debrah flew back to London and I returned to Carcassonne to cook dinner for my poor neglected guests. It was all a bit of rush but dinner courtesy of the Chateau Rigaud vegetable garden and fridge was on the table at the appointed hour - 'merci' Anna and Aib.

The wedding weekend was a lot of hard work and a lot of fun too. It was a chance to see Debrah that I couldn't pass up and somehow I felt like an integral part of the wedding planning having listened to the cursing over the months as deadlines were missed and changes were made. The least I could do was help Debrah bring it all to the reality that she had envisaged.

The weather on the day itself was glorious, having been changeable all week, the bride looked lovely, the service was emotional and beautiful (Debrah cried as we looked on from a distance), the chairs were all moved one more time (from lawn to barn for the wedding dinner), the speeches were predictable, the band were excellent and the bar was free (as in paid for by the client) as we joined in the late night celebrations with a few vodka shots.

In Debrah's case too many vodka shots - she was not a happy bunny on Sunday morning. Reflecting my newly found sensibleness (everything's relative) at some point during the evening I decided I had had enough and just put myself to bed - even though there was a full blown party going on - crazy.

If only I had been as sensible with the cassoulet - I really must go and lie down.

Arts and Crafts

2009-09-04T19:49:00.002+01:00

My life has suddenly all gone a bit arts and crafts.

Debrah has been designing a wedding for a few months now - a wedding taking place at Chateau Rigaud - a business society wedding, someone high up in one well known business is marrying someone very high up in another well known business. I don't know why I am being so cagey about them or who they work for because they are probably the sort of people that would be very happy with the publicity, but out of respect for Anna and Aib and their business here at the chateau I will say no more.

And as Debrah had to come out to France to oversee the final design arrangements ahead of the big day tomorrow, it was another opportunity for us to get together. So I left my guests in Carcassonne to their own devices and hot footed it up here to help out and see my wife.

Last week when I was in London I found myself ordering ribbon and organising it's delivery to France. Today I got to play with the ribbon - wrapping it around boxes of chocolate and then around little lavender posies. I helped hang paper lanterns and moved boxes of wine and then we all had to thread 650 chrysanthemum flowers on fishing wire to be hung up tomorrow - the fun isn't over yet that's for sure.

Getting back to work

2009-09-01T17:40:00.003+01:00

I arrived back in France today to grey skies and, now, torrential rain - not seen in these parts for a goodly number of weeks. In fact I am told that the weather has been good here until today - sorry everyone.

It has been a quite intense couple of weeks of celebrations and nearly two weeks since I had paying guests here. I have to admit that it feels like even longer and it took me a little while this afternoon to get my head back into gear. I have new guests arriving tomorrow and their room is now sorted and ready.

There were guests in the suites whilst I was in the UK, staying on a self-catering basis. Claire did a great job of looking after them and has even done all the washing from the midweek changeovers - not the ironing though - that jolly job awaits me tomorrow.

My mother's 80th birthday weekend went as well as a family get-together can go and was a lot better than some we have had in the past. Everyone was very relaxed, apart from my Mum, and there were relatives present that I haven't seen for at least 10 years. Naturally everyone was looking a lot older or had in fact just grown up from being a child and turned into a young adult.

Before all that kicked off on Saturday, we managed to celebrate Debrah's birthday. We stayed at West Stoke House near Chichester and had a great dinner with lots of good wines. It is a restaurant with rooms so the food and wine is excellent - but the rooms are lovely too. I would describe the atmosphere as calm Englishness and highly recommend it.

The proprietor used to work at BBH, the very same advertising agency that I once worked for. Our paths never crossed then but they have now. Bizarrely, the owners weren't there last weekend - they were staying with another ex-BBHer in Provence. Roslyn runs a similar business to this at Le Paradis near Orange. She is one of our best friends. Small world indeed.

Sad news

2009-08-27T18:28:00.004+01:00

During the course of the day I have received one facebook message, one phonecall and one email from different people in France, all giving me the same sad news. Gerard, the proprietor of the Makhila Bar was found by his son this morning - he had hanged himself.

It was common knowledge that in recent weeks he and his wife had split and that the Makhila was up for sale, which in itself was shock enough as they had appeared to be a very happy couple and were such a well known part of the Carcassonne social scene - but you never really know what lies under the surface.

Nevertheless, it is still a big shock and difficult to take in. I saw him only a few days ago, just last weekend - as usual we exchanged handshakes, smiles and 'ca va's'.

He was an instantly recognisable character - loud shirts, bald pate, big moustache, colourful reading glasses pushed up onto his forehead. He was larger than life, a gentle man but with fierce eyes that betrayed his Basque heritage and his love of rugby. He had no time at all for football.

Gerard was a patron of the Carcassonne rugby union team and the Makhila was their official watering hole. When the team won the celebrations went on well into the night. During the successful campaign for promotion from Pro D2 I was able to discern the result on a Sunday evening by opening my kitchen window and gauging the noise level and type of music coming from the Makhila at the top of the hill two hundred metres away.

The Makhila is a Basque Bar. It is brash and loud. It is a temple to bullfighting and rugby and food and drink. I have spent many an evening in there, although less so this year, often right to the end and sometimes beyond. When everyone started smoking inside it took me a couple of minutes to realise I was part of a lock-in.

The bar was full of big men with bigger moustaches and even bigger thirsts, but Gerard's wife, Francoise, was as much a part of the place as he was which is why the news of their split was such a surprise. I have eaten many a plate of tapas, drunk many a glass of pastis, many a glass of red wine and been handed as many 'on the house' too.

The Spanish Festival which took place last weekend was the Makhila's weekend. They always had the largest 'bodega' and the largest crowd and the loudest music containing all the usual French and basque drinking anthems. A couple of years ago an inordinate amount of rosé was consumed on this very day - 27th August - Debrah's birthday. There were some hangovers the day after that.

His empire had been growing. Last year he set his son up as the proprietor of a basque delicatessen based in 'Les Halles', the towns permanent meat and fish market. It specialised in basque products - wine, hams, cheeses, quince paste and everything chilli and pepper. There was always someone I knew sat at their bar with a coffee, or wine, or both, no matter what time of the day - usually some time in the morning. It was here last Saturday that I last saw Gerard.

If he was outside the Makhila when I drove past in the Audi he always gave me a wave. I shall miss that and I will miss his presense in town. I don't think I will be able to go into the Makhila ever again.

Whatever drove you to take your own life, Gerard, may you rest in peace.

Pain and Pleasure

2009-08-27T13:08:00.004+01:00

I have had a toothache for a while now. I first noticed it just after our week away in the Quercy - a cold drink went straight through a tooth and let me know about it. Since then a dull pain has started to develop and then intensify, kept under control by the lovely codeine/paracetemol effervescent painkillers that you can buy over the counter in French pharmacists.

Back in London for this week, I finally managed to get into the dentist to find out what's what with my teeth and the bad news is that I have an abcess which needs root canal work. The pain begins at 3.30pm this afternoon. Then hopefully the pain stops too.

My 50th birthday now seems a long way past. It was last Saturday actually but I had no time to write about it because I was busy with friends and guests and Debrah all weekend and because when I got back to London there was no internet connection for two days here at home.

When you haven't got it you realise how dependent you have become on it. I couldn't check bank accounts, I couldn't check business enquiries, I couldn't blog, twitter, facebook or skype - it was very very frustrating.

After one day doing other things, against all my principles I resorted to visiting a Starbucks. I have never liked the place and have always thought it was expensive and the coffee rubbish but I always remember that they had free internet access. Well nothing has changed - the coffee is still like dishwater and the service appalling (wrong orders/dropped drinks/wrong change - just in the 45 minutes I was there) - except that the internet connection is no longer free. It seems they have pulled the plug on the one good thing they offered.

I had a fabulous birthday and a wonderful weekend from beginning to end. The highlights included being told by a neighbour to keep the noise down (the nerve) on Friday night, a delicious lunch on the terrace of restaurant Le Parc on Saturday, Tim acting as the most charming wine waiter on Saturday evening, dancing to a French disco in the early hours, Aib's Sunday hangover, pizza and grilled meat at Les Paillottes in Pradelles-en-Val followed by river swimming at Rebaute on Sunday afternoon and Sam throwing up into a wheelie bin on Monday on the way to the airport - classic.

This week, indeed month, of celebrations continues apace. It is my Mum's 80th on Sunday and Debrah's birthday today - so we should be raising a glass to her later on this evening - root canal surgery and local anaesthetic permitting!

Non Anniversary

2009-08-17T18:15:00.004+01:00

My weekend wasn't really a weekend - they were work days and very busy ones too.

Two sets of guests left on Saturday (one airport drop-off and one at the train station). So two rooms to clean out and market shopping ahead of dinner in the evening for the remaining guests.

They left on Sunday (another airport run) and three sets of new guests all arrived - so all the rooms had to be prepped and ready for them. One airport pick-up, one arrival via the train station and my first ever Italian visitors arrived on a big BMW touring bike after a very hot 5 hour ride across Southern France dressed in leathers - sweaty. Canapes and drinks in the evening completed my working day.

Yesterday was in fact my wedding anniversary and a poignant reminder of how difficult this year has been for Debrah and me, living in different countries for most of the time, getting on with our jobs, trying to earn as much as we can, making the best of things, but finding it very lonely a lot of the time.

Denis insisted on us going out for supper again, but said that he was a poor wife stand-in and couldn't manage the heels! He is a lovely man and if I couldn't have supper with Debrah then I couldn't have wished for a better companion for the evening.

We followed my guests, at a discrete distance, to Brasserie Saint Germain, the only brasserie in town that appeared to be open on a Sunday evening in the middle of August, the day after a public holiday.

As you would expect it was doing a roaring trade - so much so that we had to sit inside because the outside terrace was packed. Not so bad a decision actually - my guests were all outside and the air-con was on inside.

We enjoyed a steak and chips each and a good bottle of red wine between us and chewed the fat and put the world to rights. Very pleasant it all was too but an anniversary dinner it was not.

Hot again

2009-08-14T20:15:00.003+01:00

Phew! Hot again today. It has been the most glorious week - hardly a cloud in the sky.

I have put the bike back together but haven't had a chance to go out and anyway, it was too hot to cycle in the late afternoon which was the only time of day that I had an opportunity. It is four o'clock siesta weather, not four o'clock cycle weather.

Instead I was taken out to lunch by Denis and Grainne, who are over from Dublin for a few days. The occasion was my birthday, which in fact isn't until next weekend - but they will have left by then and they insisted, which was extremely lovely of them.

We went to Domaine Gayda and sat on the terrace and marvelled at the spectacular view - no matter how many times I have seen it, and it is many many times, it still takes my breath away.

It was all very civilised. I was driving because I had guests there who had been to a VinEcole tasting and I needed to bring them back to Carcassonne. So even with a birthday lunch there was still an element of work to be done.

There is a busy weekend ahead with changeovers for all three rooms so I better get some sleep - I'm not getting any younger you know.

Back in the groove

2009-08-11T22:50:00.004+01:00

I am now well and truly back into the swing of things here in Carcassonne - guests in and out, ironing, cleaning, dinners, cycling and missing Debrah very much.

I had new guests on Sunday who left this morning. They were on a golfing holiday which is an unusual one because golf courses are few and far between in these parts - but they played the local course yesterday and said it was very good. Each to their own - they spent €50 each on green fees whereas I would spend the same on a fabulous lunch.

My other guests arrived yesterday with their 3 month old baby making his arrival known to everyone in the vicinity. I cooked dinner for them tonight - an enjoyable evening talking about London stuff and Languedoc stuff but they didn't overstay their welcome which is just as it should be. All the clearing up and washing up is done and dusted and my fabulous dishwasher is chuntering away as I type.

This morning I cleaned the stairwell and the courtyard outside. It was all looking a bit tatty and needed a bit of a sprucing. One of the drawbacks of firing the managing agents last year is that the weekly cleaner no longer comes to give the 'common parts' a bit of a tickle and a massage. The plan was that we would do it ourselves, between us, so to speak.

Well in reality that means me and the lovely Denis, on the very few times that he is here - today he vacuumed the second floor and I cleaned the first floor and entrance etc. Brigitte, La Presidente, is so sulky about the new chavvy rental neighbours next to her upstairs that she has given up altogether. She passed me today whilst I was cleaning the stairwell and said just a curt "Bonjour" - nothing more. Anyway, I can't be doing with moody women so I just ignored her too. She'll be back to her coquettish alter ego when she wants something.

I cycled both yesterday (on my own) and today (with Patrick). I have finally got a grip on the wind direction and now plan my route accordingly - out into the wind and back with it behind me.

My bike has had a lot of use this year and is well overdue a good service - it is filthy and the brakes need replacing and on the bone hard trails of the summer everything is being shaken apart. It was a bit Keystone Kops today with bits falling off every two kilometres or so - I finished the ride with the front mudguard strapped to the back of the bike. A trip to Decathlon looms tomorrow as I have guests at the weekend who want to use the bikes.

Debrah is working hard in London - too hard and too stressed as far as I can tell (was London ever any different) and for all my keeping myself busy here I would far rather be with Debrah - so roll on Thursday next week.

Alentejo Pork and Clams

2009-08-09T20:58:00.005+01:00

Whilst I was in London last week I met Giovanna for some lunch at the Eyre Brothers restaurant in Shoreditch. It is a favourite London haunt because the food is good, the bar is good and David Eyre is a good friend. He and his then girlfriend, now fiancé, came out to Carcassonne last year for a weekend break and he ended up cooking for me the day after I had cooked for him - one of those daunting 'oh my God, a chef is coming to stay' experiences.

If you don't know who David Eyre is then you should. He is responsible for the whole gastropub revolution following the success of the Eagle on Farringdon Road in the 1990's.

Anyway, we had ordered some bar tapas last week which were fabulous as ever and then a couple of additional dishes arrived courtesy of the chef, which was nice of him. One of them was Alentejo Pork and Clams, which was absolutely delicious and I told David so - next minute he was sat at the bar with pencil and paper writing out the recipe for me to take away - how good is that?, a handwritten recipe from the master. I know I am being greedy but I wish he had written down the other six recipes he described to me, including a beetroot soup that sounded fabulous. By this time we were conducting a wine tasting too - hence my inability to remember all the details!

When I got back to Carcassonne last Thursday the dish was still very much on my mind and so I set out to find the ingredients and put it to the test.

The beauty of recipes being handed on from person to person is that they evolve and develop. I have David's Eagle cookbook and the Alentejo recipe is in it and it's quite different from the one he wrote out for me - and the one I cooked this weekend was different again because I didn't have exactly the ingredients, although all the key elements were there.

I was determined to try it and imagined that I would be cooking it for myself, so I was delighted to find that Denis is over from Dublin and that he had a free evening - it is so much better to cook for other people.

The result? - Denis gave it a good thumbs up and ate the lot, although being Irish he seemed more intent on polishing off the boiled potatoes. In my usual understated and modest way I thought it was brilliant and I can't wait to cook it again, for Debrah next time and maybe the crew coming down to Carcassonne for my birthday in a couple of weeks time.

Obsessed?

2009-08-07T23:09:00.005+01:00

So much for yesterday's full on thirty degree plus heat as I got off the plane - this morning dawned grey and cool(er).

In fact, perfect for cycling - so off I went for my morning gym session so to speak. This time I correctly worked out the prevailing wind direction and so cycled into the breeze through Pennautier and Ventenac-Cabardes and on to Villesquelande before turning back towards Carcassonne through Caux and Greves. It was just under 30kms in total and I was back by 10.00am and feeling energised and alert.

I am actually becoming a bit of a cycling junkie. Each day I am thinking when can I get out on the bike and I am pushing myself more week by week. I now have a 'bike computer' which records my trip distance and time and average speed and all the rest and I religiously look at the results and vow to go further or faster next time. I know all about obsessions and am very conscious that this could easily become another one if I am not careful - so I need to keep it in perspective.

Why am I cycling?

What am I trying to achieve or prove ?

I started (once again) because I had put weight on over the winter and I wasn't doing any exercise. It was a struggle at first, as it had been when I first bought the bike for the very same reasons four years ago - but soon, as I forced myself to go out and did so more often, I started to enjoy it and started to push myself further and further, harder and harder.

Maybe my impending 50th birthday has something to do with it. Maybe Debrah's sudden gym obsession has something to do with it (I am slightly worried that her personal trainer has taught her how to punch properly!).

There is no doubt that I feel much better for it. I have lost a lot of weight but have no idea how much exactly as we don't have any scales here - that's not really that important though is it? I feel much more alert and alive, which has to be a good thing.

Obsession has to be better than addiction and for that reason I am content with it.

Painful days

2009-08-06T20:26:00.003+01:00

I travelled back to France today after a five day sojourn in London. It was a sad journey. I couldn't help feeling that I shouldn't have been making the trip at all, that I should have been staying in London to support Debrah, who is not having a great time in her new-ish job. The Apartment here in Carcassonne feels large and empty here on my own and after five days together I am missing Debrah very much.

As always I enjoyed London and then again I didn't - some things just really annoy me about the place nowadays, probably the same things that annoy everyone else that lives there but they are still in their 'that's the way it is' mindset, as I was for many years myself, whilst now they just depress or annoy me. It's nothing major, just obvious stuff like transport and people and mess and noise.

Debrah often complains about the noise in Carcassonne, especially the kids on their mopeds (I totally agree with that) but I think it is just as noisy if not noisier in London. You get used to different sorts of noise, I guess, so one always notices what's new or different.

Don't get me wrong, I love London but just get very irritated by certain aspects of it these days.

On Monday I went down to Sussex to see my Mum and Dad. Mum is recovering from another operation but she was in good spirits and seemed a lot brighter than the last time I saw her - in fact they both did which was great to see. It is my Mum's 80th birthday at the end of the month so I spent some time discussing and planning events for that, taking her down to the local event hire place to look at crockery and cutlery and glasses etc and telling her I was going to do all the cooking for the event and none of this bought in ready prepared nonsense that others in my family were veering towards. It's her 80th and she has been my father's full time carer for 15 years now and she deserves a fabulous birthday.

The hardest part of being in London was that as soon as the initial euphoria of being together again had subsided thoughts immediately went back to the impending, imminent departure date, which means that we didn't really get to enjoy the last couple of days together. I find that really difficult because I want to treasure and value every hour that we do have together, not spend them looking forward to the next separation.

Oh well, it's not done deliberately but is just an outpouring of emotions. Two more months and then I will be back in London for the winter and we will make our plans for next year (the plans are made but they change every week or so depending on the current mood) and one thing is certain, whatever the plans are they will either be both of us together full time in London or both of us together full time in France - no more weeks apart.

To that end a couple of good conversations happened in the last few days that should result in some new opportunities for me in the next few months that will tie in well with finishing off the season here and finding something to do when I return to the big city.

Life no longer stands still - which is very exciting.

London calling

2009-07-31T20:28:00.004+01:00

I have seen the most glorious sunrise and a stunning sunset today. It has in fact been a fabulous day here but I didn't really get to see much of the middle of it.

After dinner on Wednesday night, I was tired yesterday and it was a bit of a struggle. So I had an early night and woke up at dawn this morning feeling full of beans. The Yorkshire clients had requested the bikes today so I decided to hit the streets early for a bit of a thrash about whilst I was feeling full of energy.

It was cool but not cold and the streets and riverside pathways were deserted apart from the odd dogwalker or jogger or street cleaner and the sun was just rising up over La Cité as I cycled back along the path by the River Aude. It was so low in the sky that at times I couldn't see a damn thing in front of me and was cycling purely on instinct. I did come across a red squirrel on the path and I can't remember the last time I have seen one of those.

This evening I drove the same clients up to the Michelin starred restaurant Le Parc just as La Cité was once more lit up by the sun, this time the dying rays as it set behind us turning the walls a beautiful mellow amber - the moon was showing above in the still blue sky but the horizon was tinged orange. My guests could not have failed to be impressed - I was pretty blown away myself and I've seen it before!

My other guests finally turned up a day later than planned after they decided to stay an extra night in Spain. I bumped into Miguel and Eric early evening as they were going out and asked if they were going up to the Cité or the Canal or a restaurant - none of those actually. They had seen a gym and were going there - obviously need to keep those figures looking trim!

No different than going out cycling everyday though. The other guests spent all day out on the bikes and I now have a broken mudguard on my bike to show for it - it needs a bit of service and some new brake pads anyway so I'll get onto that when I get back from London. When I asked if they had enjoyed their day she said she had "riden for England" - obviously my good manners stopped me exploring that comment any further.

Meanwhile in town it has all kicked off at Carca-Sun immobillier where the locks have been changed and Lesa is out on the streets having been given her marching orders by Yannick and the rest of the team, presumably for being too mad and erratic. She recounted the whole story to me in an extremely emotional and neurotic way which I could hardly make head or tail of between the shouting and the tears and the swearing - which of course just about sums it up. Her behaviour over the last few months has being increasingly commented upon and she has been losing friends fast. Indeed I had been distancing myself a bit because everything was such a trauma with her - well it is now and I'm not getting involved or taking sides.

Closer to home I told Christine, from the beauty salon downstairs, that I wasn't going to continue renting her parking space - none of the clients use it because of the difficult access and it was an expensive luxury for the sake of easier parking. She wasted no time in telling me to move my car to 'my side' of the courtyard and has been pointedly parking a car there ever since.

Brigitte upstairs has also been sulking for about a month now because she hates her new neighbours with the dog and the baby and hates the older neighbours with the other dog and the attitude problem. As a result she wants to move but the property market is still slow here and I don't think her apartment is in the best condition anyway. So she isn't speaking to anyone and just looks miserable and complains all the time.

What a blessing that I am off to London to see my lovely lady tomorrow - can't wait.

Dinner for guests

2009-07-29T23:57:00.004+01:00

The main act in the square tonight was Christophe, a gravel voiced French rocker - and very popular he must have been given the crowds walking up the hill from the square late on this evening.

I have seen him before and he's not all that. He's trying to be Johnny Halliday, who isn't all that either, but obviously isn't as good because we have never heard of him and frankly he is far too old to be standing up there on stage in leather trousers gyrating about as if he is some sort of sex symbol. Still, the French crowd seem to like him.

I didn't see anything of him this evening because I was hosting a dinner here at 42rvh for two sets of guests and a jolly evening it was too that went on until midnight - ooh, they did like to chat. All very well them trotting off back to their suites, I have to do all the clearing up and then be up an hour before them to sort their breakfast - such is the lot of a luxury holiday apartment proprietor.

We had a bit of a north/south thing going on with one couple from Herts, very respectable middle class and terribly polite in a Shires sort of way, and one couple form Sheffield, both separated/divorced with children and a little bit bling but not overly so in a Yorkshire sort of way. All of them are absolutely lovely people and they all seemed to get on extremely well which is why we went on until midnight.

The Herts lot have been up at dawn and off out to do things and see things and early to bed and the Yorks lot have been having 10am breakfasts and been late for everything by about two hours.

I jokingly said to Debrah this morning that they would probably, despite my advice, get to the hire car office in town bang in the middle of lunchtime when it will of course be closed. At 1.00pm I got a phone call from them saying that they had found the car hire place but it was shut - priceless.

When they did go back they found that car hire prices in France have gone through the sunroof and so they didn't bother anyway - €160 for a Clio for two days is ridiculous so I sympathise. They took a boat up the canal instead - far more sedate.

Music is the future ..

2009-07-28T22:07:00.004+01:00

I haven't seen very much of the July music festival this year - none of the headline acts up in the Cité and very little of the free stuff down here in town.

So tonight I thought, as we are into the last few days of the festival, I would venture down to the Place Carnot, find a spare table and a glass of wine and listen to some music for free.

Alas, it was a bad decision. The band, Tairo, were described in the official promotional material as playing an engaging mix of reggae and soul. Now I know that my reading of French isn't perfect but I didn't come across the word 'crap' anywhere and frankly that would have been a better description. It certainly wasn't soul and it was a bland impersonation of reggae - beat too fast and no feeling or emotion - even sung in French I could work that out. One song's chorus line was 'blah blah blah' which was very apt and I even had my very own Irish bar musician on hand to sum it up for us all - 'fecking shite' was his considered opinion.

So in trying to get everyone up on their feet to dance, they got everyone up on their feet to leave.

The general opinion appears to be that the free music has been of poorer quality this year because more money has been spent on the headline acts, for which of course they have charged higher prices than last year. Well I for one think that last years acts were better than this years - Diana Ross, ZZ Top, Deep Purple, Massive Attack against Depeche Mode, Lenny Kravitz, Status Quo and The Scorpions - but it is all subjective I guess.

If I was in charge of the event next year I would be looking to get Amy Winehouse, Adele, Duffy, Oasis, Blur and Paul Weller here with guest appearances by Queen, Chet Baker and Frank Sinatra - but that probably won't/can't happen.

Earlier in the day - in fact much much earlier in the day - at 5am, I awoke feeling wide awake and so got up. I actually really enjoy that time of the morning (if I have got to bed at a reasonable hour the night before) - it is quiet and it is cool (20 degrees is cool to be doing stuff but too hot to be trying to sleep).

It is one of the advantages of self-employment and not having fixed hours. I get up at 5am. I do some admin and some ironing in the peace and quiet whilst the sun slowly comes up and a magnificent dawn heralds another scorching day in the Languedoc. I venture to the market and the boulangerie at 7.30 and return to sort out the client breakfasts and any other needs. I then head back to the market for anything else I need, especially if I am doing a dinner as I am tomorrow night.

After such an early start I am absolutely ready for lunch at midday. "C'est midi - bon appetit" - as the radio jingle here says so accurately, after which it would be silly not to have a little battery recharge, or siesta as the Spanish put it, or thinking time as my lovely wife would describe it.

The only spanner in the works today was clients asking to borrow the bikes - well yes, I suppose you can 'hire' them for the day but you are stopping me going out and doing the one bit of good exercise that I manage to get in these days. Obviously, I didn't say the last bit to them, but just said "of course" with a smile on my face and advised them on the best route and where to stop for a picnic.

Such are the demands of being a concierge!

Back to work

2009-07-27T21:09:00.004+01:00

With the two day fun break well and truly over it was back to work today with guests in and out.

Breakfasts were delivered at 9 and guests left by 10.30 and bless them all, they left the place looking immaculate which meant that the cleaning bit was a doddle and both suites were sorted and ready by 12.30 just in time for the first airport pick-up.

All the incoming flights today were delayed so there was a lot of hanging around waiting and it wasn't until gone 3.30 that I finally managed some lunch. The delays had shortened my timings for the afternoon too so no time for the 40 winks I'd planned - boo.

The highlight of the day was a drive through visit by Rosa and David and family, who were on their way from the wedding, that Anna and Aib avoided at the chateau at the weekend, to Provence for a week's holiday of their own - Carcassonne is on the way and we hadn't seen each other since they visited last year so it was great to catch up, even if it was just for 45 minutes.

Canapés and cocktails with the new guests this evening and that's it for another day. I'm done in so I'm off to bed.

Cheeky weekend

2009-07-26T21:42:00.005+01:00

What a fabulous little cheeky weekend away that was. Debrah flew down to La Rochelle on Friday and I drove up there from here in Carcassonne. We stayed with the lovely Anna and Aib and family at their summer house rental on the Ile d'Oleron and the equally lovely Tim and Sam had his yacht moored in the harbour.

It was cheeky because it was all sort of last minute and I had guests arriving here so had to make other arrangements for them and it was exciting because I hadn't expected to see Debrah for another week.

Best friends, beautiful location, lovely weather, sailing, beaches, barbeques, and Debrah - it doesn't really get any better.

We didn't arrive until 8ish on Friday night after the 300 odd mile drive, collecting Debrah from the airport at La Rochelle and then queuing with everyone else to get across the viaduct onto the island - but our hosts had dinner on the go and a glass of wine to hand so we soon relaxed into a rather long drunken evening barbeque.

All of which didn't really prepare us for the early start needed to get the yacht out of the harbour on the tide at 9am the following morning - but we all made it down to the harbour in time and bought lunch on the way. To be honest a few of the band were a little dubious about spending all day out on the yacht - we couldn't get back into harbour until after 5pm on the next tide - such is the way of the sea it appears.

It turned out to be a wonderful day out - the weather got better as the day went on and a couple of stomach settling/hair of the dog cold beers at 11am cheered everyone up. When we anchored we swam in the Atlantic (can't remember the last time I did that) and then had a fabulous buffet lunch and swung the kids out over the side on the bosun's chair before heading back to port across the bay.

Today we sat on the beach at St Denis while the kids played/moaned about being bored, before having a beachside lunch at the cafe. It all reminded me so much of many beach holidays when I was young boy many many years ago - in North Wales and Devon and my first ever overseas trip to Portugal when I was about 10 years old.

Sadly I had to leave the party this afternoon and return here. Debrah is staying on for one more night before going back to London and happily we will see each other again next weekend after a busy week for us both.

Fabulous weekend though with top chums - and just a few weeks until I see them all again for my 50th birthday in August here in Carcassonne - excellent.

Wine Discovery

2009-07-23T20:59:00.003+01:00

I awoke at 3am with the wind whipping the curtains in and out of the window. It was hot and humid and sweaty and unpleasant. I closed the window and put on the air cooler instead and thankfully went back to sleep until 6.30am.

I felt alert and bright and ready to go, which made a change from the last few days. So I got up and spent and hour and a half bringing the ironing up to date in the calm and quiet of the early morning. It was still hot but the wind had vanished and with it the oppressiveness which had been overbearing for the last few days - quite remarkable really what a difference it made. Today was hot, but just a normal hot mid-thirties Languedoc day - it felt totally different to the last three days.

I have been offering clients the opportunity to go on wine tours with a company called Vin-en-Vacances, which is run by an English lady, Wendy Gedney. The feedback has been excellent and I was keen to try one of her tours myself.

I have had no clients this week so today presented an ideal opportunity. As it turned out she had no other clients either (strangely quiet for the end of July), so she suggested a voyage of discovery to new wine estates to add to her itinerary which I was quite happy about too.

Over the course of the day we visited three domaines in the Corbieres and had lunch at an excellent restaurant - which is what I would call a good day out.

Our first target was a disappointment though because we couldn't find Domaine Notre Dame in Fabrezans, despite having the address and stopping and getting directions. No signpost, no adverts, no chance of guessing which stone house it might be. How do these people expect potential clients to find them? We gave up and went on to the next one.

This also didn't start promisingly. In the pretty village of Ferriols we found the tasting room for Domaine Grand Lauze. It was closed and locked up and the posters in the window were old and faded. There was a number to call for 'degustation', which we did - a brief conversation, a ten minute wait and M Xavier Ledogar arrived and opened up.

He proved that it is worth persevering. Several days stubble, inappropriate very short football shorts but the leanness and tan of a man who spends his life in the vineyards, the enthusiasm of a man totally in love with his craft and the charm of a Frenchman - and he was called Xavier - Debrah would have loved him.

We tasted four of his wines, all produced biodynamically by him and his brother, Mathieu, from vineyards handed down from generation to generation - some of his Carignan vines were 100 years old. He then drove us up to the rocky hilltop vineyards where falcons swooped over the land and the heat and the noise of the cicadas were both unrelenting. He discussed the weather and the 'terrior' and the phases of the moon and showed us the vineyard where the land was ploughed by horse not machine and everything was done by hand. He talked about restoring the old ruin of a building and living there with a vegetable plot and animals, especially donkeys, in the midst of his vineyards.

Finally he drove us back into the village to the 'Cave' which dated from 1905 with it's old, now unused concrete vats and the new steel ones, the oak barrels and the bags of natural herbs that they use in sprays to stop mildew and other diseases - no synthetic chemicals at all. In one corner there was an odd array of crates and bottles, some without tops but clearly full of something. "C'est mon pere", he said - he likes to make a bit of sparkling wine and a couple of the tops have burst off with the gas, which Xavier carefully retrieved and replaced - good old Dad, I thought, still knocking out a bit of home brew on the side for private consumption.

And that was that - fascinating. When we mentioned that we were heading into Conilhac for lunch at Auberge Côté Jardin, he told us to ask for Sophie and drove out of town to show us the lane that was a shortcut direct to the restaurant.

The Auberge Côté Jardin is trying very hard to be something more than an inn and restaurant in the small town where it is located. I would say that they are trying to win a Michelin star and I think they are doing a very good job. The food was excellent but a little pretentious a la Michelin, the service good and the setting lovely - it is a great discovery and whilst it has the potential to be pricey, you could eat there very well on a midweek lunchtime very reasonably - as indeed we did today.

Next was Chateau du Vieux Parc, which turned out to be about 500m from the restaurant in the centre of Conilhac. A beautiful old house, five generations of the same family, an old cave with concrete vats where the fermentation takes place, a new cave with steel vats for storage and a fantastic new cellar lined with oak barrels. Apparently they have barrels from five different coopers and the resultant wine is a mix of the wines from each of the five which gives a greater complexity - as if wine making isn't difficult enough anyway!

Between the caves and the house was the old park (hence the name) - a beautiful stretch of overgrown but tended woodland park, right in the centre of town - quite a majestic private garden really with statues set amongst the trees. It felt very Victorian, or whatever the French equivalent is - Grand Siecle I guess.

Our final destination was a chateau that we had spotted in the morning on our way to Fabrezan. It just looked curious and was obviously a wine estate but we saw no signs for 'vente' or 'degustation' so were a little hesitant as we approached up the driveway.

Chateau Cabriac turned out to be a wonderful find. The chateau dated from the C11th and was the site of a priory of the templars - a stone cross on the site is used on the labels. The ancestors of the current owners bought it after the Revolution when all the church lands were dissolved (stolen), which basically meant that the state took them over and then sold them back to the previous owners who were in fact the rightful owners anyway (alledgedly). Whatever.

The fabulous lady that came out to greet us from the 16 bedroom chateau could easily have been a duchess or countess from an English country estate. She was totally, charming, very intelligent, spoke very good English and was a bit bonkers in a very very lovely way.

What a find though - seven different types of AOC Corbieres wines of all shades and another seven VdP single cepage wines produced from 100 hectares of vines. What is remarkable is that, as with the previous domaines, it seemed to be run by just two people, a husband and wife, two brothers etc. This was a huge estate and a huge chateau with an enormous number of outbuildings and houses and yet we saw just two people - the husband winemaker and the eccentric wife. It really is a labour of love.

Needless to say I bought some wine from each of them. They all gave so much of their time and of themselves that you sort of feel obliged to buy something from them - but equally you wouldn't know they were there - you could easily drive past and ignore them as I'm sure many people do.

As indeed I have done in the past. Wendy showed me that you can just turn up at these places and the enthusiastic owners are more than willing to talk for ever about their wines. It also showed me that my French isn't as bad as I think it is - it's a damn sight better than Wendy's and I think she got far more out of it because of my presence than she would have on her own.

At least she recognised that and has invited me out again on a proper tour day with clients so that I can experience that too - I'm looking forward to it.

Still not bothered

2009-07-22T20:55:00.002+01:00

Is the moon waxing or waning at the moment? Are my planets not aligned? I wish I knew the answer to why I am feeling so down and depressed and lethargic this week. It really is annoying the hell out of me.

I didn't wake until 9am this morning - I can't remember the last time that I slept in that late. You would have thought I'd have felt better for it but it wasn't the case. I struggled through getting the two suites ready for the weekend guests but it was an effort. I thought about going down to the square for lunch but in the end just couldn't be bothered. I thought about going down to the square this evening for supper and to listen to the live music but again I just couldn't be bothered. There are plenty of people that I could contact for a bit of company but I haven't done so. My God, I'm dull. I'm boring myself.

Maybe it's the oppressive weather. The 'marin' wind is back - the one that drives people crazy - the hot wind from the sahara. It was gusting up to 70kph today which put paid to any cycling - far too dangerous and difficult.

So I'm going to go for an early bed again and I really really hope that I wake up in a different mood.

Am I bothered

2009-07-21T21:03:00.005+01:00

When I went out cycling yesterday I decided to head in the opposite direction to my previous day's ride i.e. west not east, so that in theory the wind would be at my back on the return part of the ride. I was planning something a little gentler and easier than the Sunday marathon.

I should have checked the weather forecast rather than just assuming it was the same. The wind had completely changed direction and was blowing just as strong and still straight into my face as I tried to get back to Carcassonne. The landscape is flatter to the west of town so there was even less shelter too. It was a mere 35kms (listen to me being so blasé) but it ended up being a good hard workout.

So much so that I was completely devoid of energy today. I just couldn't get going at all - I felt lethargic and tired and a bit bored and a bit down in the dumps and depressed. I'm not really sure why - probably a combination of lots of things - or maybe just no real reason at all and just one of those days.

I was up at 6am to prepare a very early breakfast for my departing clients who were on a very early train to Paris. I drove them to the station before the rest of the town had surfaced.

I stripped out their room and then sort of came to a halt. I did get the scaffolding erected in the Mezzanine suite and sorted out the drooping curtain track and the curtains that are constantly coming off their hooks/rings - but it was a massive effort and took the last bit of energy I had.

I had wanted to clean out and prepare both rooms for the next guests due at the weekend but I didn't. If they had been due today then it would have been done of course, but sometimes not having immediate changeovers just stops you dead - maybe I work better under the pressure of a deadline or maybe I just needed to sit down.

Sit down is what I mostly did. Janice came round to talk about handling changeovers next year and we shared a very civilised pot of Earl Grey tea for 45 minutes or so. I watched a bit of the TdF on the telly whilst I still have the opportunity to use the big TV in the Mezzanine and then I went out to Decathlon on the edge of town to buy myself a bike computer so that I will now know exactly how far I have cycled and how fast and all that other statistical nonsense that has always fascinated me since I was a kid.

What I didn't do today was ride my bike and judging by the absolute gale that has been blowing all afternoon and evening it was a good decision. As I write this big fat blobs of rain are falling outside which will put a dampener on the Seal concert in the Cité and the free music in the square (someone called BumCello - enough said).

Hopefully I will wake up tomorrow with renewed vim and vigour - we shall see.

TV/Radio rant

2009-07-20T23:01:00.004+01:00

When I am here in France I don't have access to television from the UK. I can play dvd's and the TV's are connected to the French free-to-air but I haven't signed up for any of the cable packages so I can't get the BBC or ITV or Sky or anything that I can readily understand.

On one level this is OK - I don't actually get the time to sit and watch the telly on most days so I don't miss it, and the Irish pub, The Celt, has all channels available which means that I can pick and choose which Champions/Premier League football, Six Nations Rugby that I want to watch as well as any other sport I might fancy, except that I have to go to the pub to do it.

Which, of course is not the same as watching in the comfort of your own home.

I pay a licence fee in the UK still but my overseas IP address stops me watching or listening to many of the live broadcasts put out by the BBC. 'UK users only', it says on their website. If I was in the UK I wouldn't actually be interested in watching anything on my computer because I would watch it on TV.

So imagine my delight when I discovered that I could listen to Test Match Special here in France. The Ashes series is in full swing and I can listen to every ball whilst pottering about here getting jobs done.

Today I got to listen to the final denouement of the Australian second innings and England's first Ashes victory at Lords since the Thirties. Brilliant.

I still don't understand why I can listen to an international cricket match of huge importance but I can't listen to an everyday Premier League football match on Radio 5 Live every Saturday during the season - makes absolutely no sense and just alienates customers.

Long way home

2009-07-19T18:37:00.003+01:00

With the swelling having gone down on my ankle, a quiet Sunday in prospect and the sun making a welcome re-appearance, I decided it was time that I got back on my bike.

I felt pretty good too and made it to Trebes in no time so pushed on a bit further to Capendu before turning northwards in to the Minervois to Marseillette. That took me an hour and while I stopped for a drink I considered my options. I could have come back all along the canal and that would have been a pretty good ride but I was feeling bullish and you don't get better unless you push yourself.

I carried on into the Minervois through Aiges Vives and on to Laure Minervois. By now I had been going for just under two hours but I still felt ok.

However my route back was directly into the wind - which had suddenly picked up as it does here - and was far more taxing than I was hoping. I had driven the road between Laure and Villarzel many times - it goes past the wine estate at Chateau Saint Jacques d'Albas (top reds) - but funny how I never noticed that the road winds consistently uphill for a good three kilometres. Well you certainly notice it when you are on a bike.

It was slow and hard going but the one thing you can't do is stop - you need to get into a rythym. When I finally crested the hill I took some very deep breaths as I coasted along the top. There was a magnificent view of the whole Aude valley across to the Pyrenees in the distance. Carcassonne was nestled down in the middle and looked very small. I remember thinking 'that looks a long way away'.

Fortunately it was a bit easier going into Villarzel and on to Bagnoles and Malves Cabardes. I got my wind back and started to enjoy it again. My plan was to avoid going back to Trebes and cut across to meet the Canal du Midi. This meant going via Villedubert and that was the flaw in my plan - it sits on top of a hill. Not a big hill admittedly and if I'd tackled it earlier in the day it wouldn't have been a problem but it just about finished me off.

I coasted down the other side to the canal and slowly made my way back home - I tried to up the pace a few times but my legs wouldn't respond so it ended up being a fairly gentle meander.

When I got back home I was exhausted and could barely walk up the stone staircase to the apartment. I put the telly on in the mezzanine suite and watched the TdF guys cycle 200kms and finish going vertically up a Swiss Alp into Verbier - made me feel a bit sick just watching - they are both mad and amazing at the same time.

This evening I did a dinner for the Scottish guests in the Apartment suite - gluten free for him so no chocolate puddings or fig tarts or bread with the cheese.

And the new bites on my leg are driving me mad. They are actually three days old now and I don't know when or where I got them. They look very different to the mosquito bites I got in the Quercy and they itch like hell, no matter how much cream I apply. maybe it wasn't a mosquito or maybe it was a different sort of mosquito - I don't know.

That's another day gone - I need to sleep.

Amputation

2009-07-18T22:07:00.004+01:00

My poor Mum has had to have her little toe on her left foot amputated. She had a melanoma that needed dealing with and after removing that there wasn't much toe left and it was decided that the best thing to do was to remove it.

She put a brave face on it, as my family always does in such instances - stiff upper lip and all that / no need to make a fuss - but I know she was upset about it deep down and I do so worry about her because she will be 80 next month and she is doing a full time carer job looking after my MS affected Dad. It's not easy for my Dad but it's my Mum that carries all the stress and it's her that I am concerned about most, poor thing.

It's one more reason why being in a different country to wife, family and children just isn't working.

Whilst I am really busy I don't get time to sit and think about it but I have just got one couple in this weekend and nobody else until next Saturday and lots of time on my hands - so this last 24 hours I have been very aware of how lonely I feel here without Debrah - despite having lots of friends in town it's just not the same, especially having recently spent 10 days together.

So we are making plans to try and get together next weekend which would be fabulous.

In the meantime, the weather has all gone a bit pear-shaped and I am still being bitten by bugs.

The temperature has dropped form 35 to 20 in the last couple of days which has prompted a rash of coat, cardigan and fleece wearing from my French friends and much moaning about how cold it is. Admittedly it is a big temperature change but it's not really cold - my guests from the West coast of Scotland think it's glorious summer - good for them. No doubt it won't last very long.

When we came back from the Quercy countryside last Saturday I thought the bug biting would stop - and it did for a couple of days but I seem to have picked up a couple of very nasty, itchy and red bites on my calves and feet in the last 48 hours and I'm not sure where they have come from. If I find the culprit it's life will be very short thereafter - despite the cream the bites are driving me mad.

Finally Christine from the beauty salon rang the doorbell the other day and asked about her parking space that I had been paying for because it was time to cough up another six months money. Her face dropped when I explained that I wasn't going to continue with the arrangement (clients don't use the space because it's too tricky to get in and out and, frankly, I can't afford it just for the convenience of being the only one allowed to park in the courtyard). Even though she hasn't found anyone to take the space yet she has insisted that I park my car rather awkwardly to one side - aren't people funny?

Bastille and all that

2009-07-16T19:36:00.004+01:00

Back to reality indeed, the last few days have flown by in a whirl of arrivals and departures, dinners and canapés, cleaning and laundry.

Amy left on Sunday afternoon so that she would be back in time to get up to Lancaster University for her graduation ceremony which took place on Wednesday. Christian left on Tuesday because that was the cheapest flight and Debrah yesterday after the Bastille Day fireworks because she had to go back to the office in London and various guests came and went each day.

All of which meant that Debrah and I had no time just to ourselves over the ten days that she was here and we won't see each other again until 1st August when I next go back to London - no matter that it was all unavoidable, it was still slightly frustrating.

At least this year we got to see two firework displays. On Monday evening we went to Lagrasse for a little soiree with Michael and Nicole and a large part of the village all crammed onto their lovely roof terrace overlooking the old bridge over the River Orbeiu. Lagrasse hosts it's Bastille Day fireworks on the Monday night so as not to clash with the Carcassonne spectacular the following evening - and the terrace has a prime view because it is literally just 20m away from the bridge from which the fireworks are launched.

The 'pompiers' were in attendance to ensure that the surrounding countryside didn't catch fire but that was just a token attempt at health and safety. Our entire terrace of people was showered with the falling sparks as we were immediately under the exploding fireworks - excellent stuff but a bit too close and loud for some of the children who burst into tears at the sound of the first cannonade of explosions.

On Tuesday night we did the whole thing again from the relative safety of Patrick's terrace after hosting a wine tasting and a supper at 42rvh first. It was a fabulous display again and all those watching for the first time were totally blown away by it, although one or two churlish old timers were complaining about it 'not being as good as last year'. It's a fantastic 30 minute barrage of colour and light and sound - why do people have to find fault with something wonderful like a firework display?

Debrah did a sterling evening's work with guests. She provided the tapas with the wine tasting followed by a paella and the fig tarts that completed the pre-firework supper. At Patricks she rescued one guest who had been cornered by Bob, spoke to the other guests at length, was told she was "looking particularly magnificent tonight" by one of Patrick's Irish mates and was then berated by a French woman, who implied she was a bad wife for leaving me here alone! - said woman then proceeded to flirt outrageously with me and pretty much everyone else - thus confirming Debrah's views about their morals. She did well to contain herself or there would have been more fireworks than originally planned for the evening.

It's telling that their assumption is that I am the one being neglected - not that Debrah is being neglected by me here trying to maximise the summer season income before I go back to London to look after my wonderful wife. It won't stop her worrying but she doesn't need to worry at all.

Finally, today I am being hampered by my latest non-serious but slightly annoying injury. At the end of last week I went over on my ankle and then I did it again on Tuesday night. It's the same ankle that I badly strained whilst playing football way back when at University and every few years or so I seem to replicate it by being a bit clumsy. The result is a bit of pain and fair bit of swelling - an ice pack and foot up is the proscribed remedy but fat chance of that with breakfasts, shopping, dinners, cleaning and ironing to do - so I shall probably ignore it for now in true bloke fashion.

Besides, I would really like to go out cycling tomorrow.

Back to reality

2009-07-10T22:25:00.004+01:00

It was supposed to be a relaxing and calm last day of holiday but sadly it wasn't to be. I guess it had all been going far too smoothly and that just isn't the way life is.

Late morning I had a call from my arriving guests to say that there was no-one at 42rvh to meet them but then they had lost Claire's contact number so were calling me instead. It was a classic case of someone not there on the ground having to co-ordinate two lots of people from a distance until they found each other. All that careful planning out of the window because of human nature - as always.

The same happened to Debrah - a late morning phone call about some printing for a wedding client job that turned into a nightmare of missed deadlines and false promises and a load of stress and a ruined final day of holiday - poor Debsie and woe betide that printer - he won't be getting any more work from her.

So it wasn't quite the calm and fun day that it was meant to be. Even so, Debrah and I set the keepy-uppey record in the pool this morning at 247 (a mere shadow of previous efforts in times past but then we have been out of practice for a good few years) and Christian and I came close to matching it on several occasions this afternoon.

This evening Christian and Amy cooked supper for us. They were somewhat unsure of themselves having been put on the spot but they came through with flying colours, with a little help and guidance when needed. Christian claimed to have started many fires before (!) but not to have cooked any food on them. He was very worried that the pork in the merguez sausages wouldn't be cooked - I didn't have the heart to tell him they were made from lamb.

So that's it - our little sojourn in the Quercy has come to an end and tomorrow morning we will pack up and head back to Carcassonne - back to reality for us all.

A week off

2009-07-10T05:53:00.004+01:00

You would have thought that being away from 42rvh for the week, having no guests to look after, no breakfasts to make, no airport runs to do, would have given me a lot more time to write and that there would have been daily updates on my blog. But actually it appears to have been the exact opposite.

Partly I think it's because this blog, in my head, is so very closely associated with everything that goes on, has gone on and will happen in Carcassonne and the running of the business that is 42rvh that because I am taking a week away from all that I have also taken a break from this too.

Partly it's because I keep getting distracted - at this moment I am being distracted by the sun just rising above the horizon, the first bell of the day ringing seven o'clock way across the valley somewhere, the beautiful cloud formations and the birds twittering away in their morning happiness. I am wondering whether to have an early swim or a bike ride or make another pot of coffee and continue writing this. Debrah, Christian and Amy are still in their beds and I don't blame them at all for that.

They all flew out to Carcassonne at the end of last week. On Saturday, after a guest departure, a quick room clean and a visit to the market for provisions, we packed up the car (quite literally packed to the gills) and headed north-west, past Toulouse and into the Tarn-et-Garonne department.

Here in the Quercy, as it is known, Debrah's friend and work colleague, David Rose, has created a little oasis of charm in a remote farmhouse perched on top of a hill with glorious views in all directions. It is beautifully designed as you would expect from a London architect, understated and chic yet retaining the feel of a French country farmhouse, has a fabulous pool, a vegetable garden, fresh herbs and fresh fruit on the trees and everything else that you would expect of a country retreat - an owl living in the barn, noisy birds in the morning, mosquitoes in the night, spectacular sunrises, sunsets, moonlight and stars and peace and tranquility that is only occasionally punctured by the sound of a chainsaw from the neighbouring farm or the French airforce screaming across the sky.

We have had a relaxing and at the same time energetic week. We have all read and slept. We have been out walking and running and cycling. We have swum morning, noon and night and played keepy-uppey in the pool until our arms were aching from the effort. We have eaten like kings on the simplest of fresh food - meat grilled on the barbecue, roast chickens, tomato salad, green salad, more salad of all sorts, cheese, charcuterie and fresh bread.

Today is our last full day here and I suspect that we will do more of the same. The sky is clear, the sun is up and the pool is already beckoning.

Hotter than hot

2009-07-01T23:04:00.005+01:00

Last evening there was a little soiree in the courtyard here at 42rvh which was orchestrated by Brigitte and Christine (beauty salon) and Sophie (music teacher). They all prepared a bit of food and we all bought a bit of wine and everyone moaned about the chavs renting the apartments upstairs, with their babies and dogs and filthy habits. The music teacher played some lovely jazz on the piano, we all applauded and wished each a 'bonne soiree', lots of kissing and it was all over as quickly as it started - but not before we had tidied the rubbish away and left the place spotlessly clean like the honest decent middle class folk we are.

The excuse for the event was the end of school for another year, which everyone in France seems to mark as a special occasion and then all pack up their Renault Espaces and head for exactly the same bit of beach that they headed for last year and the year before and when they were babies and their parents were babies etc. They are such creatures of habit - but then maybe I just notice it because it is slightly different - maybe the majority of Brits are just as much creatures of habit but I have never noticed.

I said last time that I wasn't going to talk about the heat, but it's too hot not to talk about the heat. At midnight last night it was still over 30 degrees and it doesn't feel any cooler this evening. There is no air movement either so no feeling of respite. It's ok if you just sit still but as soon as you move you start to sweat - which is not nice at all.

As for sleeping, it's difficult. Last night I slept fitfully and got up at 5.30am because it was better to be up than lying in bed. I finished all the outstanding ironing and cleaned the studio apartment ready for new guests tomorrow and the spare room ready for Amy arriving today - and then made breakfast for the guests before driving them down to Domaine Gayda and VinEcole for a wine tasting and lunch. All my jobs were done before midday - it has been slow work since then with a bit of sleep grabbed both before and after collecting Amy from the airport.

It is fabulous to have Amy here but she has been knocked out by the heat too. They told her on the plane that it was 42 in Carcassonne - I don't believe that for a minute but 38 or 39 is definitely a possibility.

We had a lovely dinner at La Roulotte. I am always amazed how few people are there considering how much everyone enjoys it when they go. I hope they survive. The owner was telling me that the problem with really hot weather is that everyone just goes to the beach and therefore isn't in town. He would be quite happy for it to rain, or be cloudy or cool, because everyone would look for other things to do besides being on the beach and may well end up in town eating at his restaurant.

We came straight home after dinner and took advantage of no-one being in the studio apartment and watched a movie. It was OK as long as we didn't move but Amy didn't last the course and went off to try and get some sleep - travelling is always tiring.

It all reminds me very much of the first day that I arrived here in Carcassonne, on my own, in July 2005. It was five months after we had completed the purchase and the first time that either of us had been down here since then. I arrived with a van full of stuff and (useless) builders on site. The electricity cut out in mid evening so I had no light and no music and there was so much noise on the street and it was so hot that I think I only got about two hours sleep.

I wondered what I was doing, why I was there and what was going to happen. It all feels a million miles away from now and it is a story in itself that I really should get around to writing down. One day.

Excited

2009-06-29T23:30:00.002+01:00

It was very hot again today - but then we are in summer in the South of France and we would all be complaining if it wasn't hot - so I shall stop writing about it - but it was hot, 36 degrees by most estimates.

It didn't stop the crazy English guy (me) and the crazy Irish guy (Patrick) going out on our bikes this afternoon for a pretty full-on 90 minute cycle. Today we headed west out of Carcassonne before cutting back across country to meet the canal and then back along the towpath. We are always looking for new routes, especially those that avoid the traffic and the main roads. By heading west first we had to endure the headwind on our outward journey rather than when we have turned for home, which is a damn sight easier to cope with.

It was probably way too hot to be doing such things but then the Tour de France boys will be setting off at the weekend and they will make us look like the complete amateurs that we are.

This morning was mostly about ironing - what else is there to say - it has to be done and it was done but there is still more as a result of the very busy week just gone.

My American guests also checked out early because they were worried about driving their hire car back to Montpellier and finding the airport all on the same day. It is of course entirely up to them and just means that I have their washing already done and hung up to dry (more ironing) and one less breakfast to do in the morning.

More importantly, I am almost besides myself with excitement this week at the thought of Debrah arriving here on Friday with Christian and Amy arriving on Wednesday. After a very busy month here running the business it will be fabulous to see everyone and get away for a week. I would like to think that I won't have to get up to make a breakfast, that the kids might spontaneously do that - but I am not kidding myself at all and I know I will be up making a breakfast tray for Debrah - after all she deserves it just as much as I do.

Mousstades

2009-06-27T17:36:00.005+01:00

The busy busy month of June finally feels like it is coming to an end and things worked out very nicely today to enable me to have lunch with friends, watch the Lions match and go out to the festival in Villemoustassou this evening.

June has probably been the busiest month of all since we opened last year. I have been letting out the main bedroom in my apartment as a third suite so we have had even more guests and I have done the whole month on my own because Debrah has been tied up with her work in London. It has been absorbing, non-stop, hectic, exciting, fulfilling, exhausting and good fun - and a bit lonely in-between when in my quiet moments I have quite been missing my wife.

The Dubai based Irish family who arrived on Wednesday (Mum, Dad and three grown up daughters) left this morning. They were a lot of fun and great guests and if Debrah and I ever find ourselves in Dubai we will have an inside track on what goes on there. I cooked dinner for them all on Thursday evening which went on a bit. They were all planning to replicate different courses when they got home which was a nice compliment - but it wasn't all straightforward with one being gluten free and one lactose intolerant. Dad just seemed to accept it all with a smile on his face and heavily used wallet. Nice people and it's great having nice people come to stay.

They kindly moved their stuff out of the Studio suite this morning before they headed down to the market which allowed me to get in there and clean it out before taking Dad up to the airport to collect his hire car, which was just as well because when I got back my new arrivals (mother and daughter from the USA) were sat on my doorstep waiting for me.

Excellent. Departing guests out, arriving guests in and all sorted by 12.30pm. A quick phone call to see what was happening and soon after I was sat at a table in the square with friends having a leisurely lunch, which was followed by the ultimately disappointing Lions Test against South Africa. Oh well, but a pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon knowing that I had no further guest responsibilities to worry about until the morning.

As an aside, whilst I was waiting up at the airport for my guest to collect his hire car so that I could show him the way back into town, I watched with fascination the newly arrived visitors leaving the car hire depot and it didn't fill me with confidence. Some decided not to follow the tarmac road and turned off onto the dusty dirt roads looking for the airport exit, some were just driving on the wrong side of the road, some were going 10kph at most and some had a look of complete fear on their faces as they approached the roundabout that would unleash them onto the French highways. Scary to say the least but no doubt they will all come through their experiences unscathed - well let's hope so.

The 'Mousstades' at Villemoussetassou is one heck of a name for a festival event but is in fact just a lovely French village fete dressed up as a competition for 'bandas' that goes on for three days. It is a circulade village, so one can either find a spot to sit and watch each band in turn as they play two or three numbers and then move on or you can keep walking round and round in the opposite direction to the bands and see each one in turn whilst picking up food and drink on the hoof as you go.

We actually did a bit of both, ate some oysters, drank some white wine, clapped and foot stamped and shouted along with everyone else. When the blue sky turned to black and the strings of lightbulbs were turned on it all took on a very different late night South of France feeling that is hard to replicate anywhere else with the aromas of shellfish and sausages on the barbeque and frying 'frites' and shouts of 'Ole' in response to the trumpeters fanfares.

Well after midnight we carried the very tired Lara and Louis, Daniel and Cecile's children, back to the car. I was quite done myself - but there was no-one to carry me.

Guests

2009-06-22T22:18:00.005+01:00

I waited around all afternoon for my new clients and then two lots turned up when I was only expecting the one.

The clients I was expecting had said they would be arriving by car between 3-5pm. At five I sent them a text asking what time they thought they might arrive and at 6.30pm they turned up, having been on the beach all day and still oblivious to my text or that they had compromised my afternoon.

I guess it goes with the territory and at least I gave the kitchen a much needed thorough clean - so there was a silver lining.

At 7.30pm the doorbell rang again. It was my Australian client - the one supposed to arrive tomorrow - just the twenty four hours early then. To say that I was taken a little bit off guard would be an understatement, especially as I was in the final throws of dinner preparation for yesterday's arrivals who would be coming through the door for their four course gourmet dinner with wines in less than 30 minutes.

Fortunately for him, his suite was a) empty - the only night in June that it was - and b) mostly prepped - I had changed the bed but hadn't cleaned or hoovered but thankfully the previous guests had only been in for one night and had been very tidy. Anyway, he was in no position to complain because I know he was a day early and he was lucky to have a room at all.

So I brushed over the confusion for the time being and gave him some clean towels and settled him into the suite. I couldn't really spend much time with him with dinner guests due and I knew that somehow his itinerary was different from the booking I had taken from his travel agent back in Australia - we could sort it out in the morning. When he said that the car hire company weren't expecting him either - well, there you go. Maybe he went the long way round across the international date line or maybe he's just not with it - who knows.

Being the professional that I am (Debrah would say OCD) the dinner was all ready to go and his arrival was but a mere blip on the proceedings. My dinner guests were unaware of the drama and I even remembered to put the candle on the top of his hot chocolate fondant to mark his 30th birthday, which it was.

In some ways, they reminded me of Debrah and I when we first got together - young affluent couple, high pressured jobs, grabbing a weekend away, constantly bickering ...
She's a cushion buyer - she's bound to have a futility attack at some point.

So dinner went well and all the washing up is done. I was up at 6.30am this morning for guests that had an early start so it feels like a long day. I think if I didn't have to get up early I would probably wake up anyway - I don't think I have been in bed beyond 7.30am any day for the past 20 days since I came back from London, which means I just can't do late nights out at all - I ducked out early from La Fête de la Musique last night for that very reason.

It may be the early mornings or the busy schedule or the years catching up or that going out just isn't really fun without Debrah here. It's 20 days since I last saw her and it will be another 10 before I do - that's just too long and I'm feeling every day of it.

I am so looking forward to our week away at the beginning of July.

To Marseillette and back

2009-06-19T22:30:00.004+01:00

Yesterday was a double changeover day - two sets of guests out and two in. For a change both sets of departing guests were gone by 9.30am and so I had both suites ready for action by the end of the morning.

All very efficient but not a great help in actually saving me time or making my day any easier. Despite my attempts to contact the new guests, their arrival times remained a mystery until late afternoon, which meant that I had no choice than to hang about at or near to home. Inevitably they all turned up and everyone was happy. I thought about going out as there was live music at The Celt but tiredness overtook me and by the time I had spoken with Debrah there was only one further course of action - bed.

I was woken by my alarm at 6.30 but despite that I was surprisingly perky. I got the coffee pot and the washing machine into action and fired up the iron too and before breakfast all was up to date in the relative cool of the morning. Breakfasts were delivered and to say I felt jolly and a bit smug would have an accurate assessment.

Today, after morning chores, I had a free day - no room changes, no guests in or out, no canapés, no cocktails, no dinners, no client responsibilities at all - and that doesn't happen very often and certainly not during maxed-out June 2009. Today was an oasis of me-time in a desert of servitude.

The dawn had heralded the clear skies of previous days and the promise of the same burning heat - but it was a false dawn. Just after delivering the last breakfast I was stood in the kitchen contemplating a plan of action for the day (cycling, swimming, driving,?) when a sudden strong gust of wind blew through the kitchen and grabbed my attention.

It was a proper gust of wind, as in a change in the weather type gust of wind and within half an hour there was the most almighty thunderstorm raging overhead with torrential rain, impressive lightning and instantaneous deafening thunder. Typical, I thought, when I'm cleaning toilets it's 35 degrees and when I'm planning a day out it's raining.

One of my options for today had been to try and find the cycle route that supposedly exists between La Cité and the abbey at St Hilaire. The tourist office only had cycle paths for the Canal du Midi (which are so damn obvious you don't need a map), there was nothing in any of the guide books or bookshops or on any of the websites I found that listed local cycle routes. I know it exists so I'll just have to keep looking until I find it.

By now the rain had passed and a cooler cloudier day than yesterday was actually perfect for cycling so I set off down the Canal towards Trebes. When I got there I still felt good so I carried on into territory I had never covered before and after 90 minutes I had reached the village of Marseillette. Marseillette was closed, as most French villages are at 1.30pm so I started the ride back and immediately realised there was a very strong headwind in my face.

By definition there are very few hills or slopes on a canal path, just the odd one by a bridge or a lock - so there is very little opportunity to freewheel and take a rest - you have to keep pedalling or you just stop and fall over, especially into the wind.

By the time I reached Trebes again I was parched and needed a drink. Fortunately Trebes wasn't closed partly because there is a small port there which has bars and cafes catering to it. A large glass of water and small beer hardly touched the sides but did the job.

The last 11kms back to Carcassonne were just a case of getting into a steady rythym and keeping going. Three and half hours in total and about 45kms - probably the longest ride I have ever done. My legs felt a bit heavy but not overly so and a few hours later I was still feeling a bit buzzy from the whole trip, which I guess is a good thing. we will see how my legs feel in the morning.

Grateful Guests

2009-06-17T22:49:00.002+01:00

I had a disturbed night's sleep last night. I kept hearing noises and woke up a few times but then all was quiet - I'm not sure if the noise was real or imaginary. No matter, when it was finally time to get up and the alarm was ringing in my ear, it was the last thing I felt like doing.

I was a bit sluggish for the whole morning. The cloud cover that persisted made the day humid and oppressive which didn't help either. I would have happily sat down and meandered through the day without really doing anything, which we all feel like sometimes, but that wasn't really an option. Three breakfasts, one set of guests leaving, a bit of ironing, some business admin and a supermarket trip took care of the morning.

In case you get the impression that it's all work, work, work well it isn't all the time. After I got back from the supermarket I wandered down to the square and bumped into Patrick and Rafaele, just back from their three week holiday in Thailand. After Rafaele had gone back to work (she is the source of all our town info and gossip because she works for Cherie FM, the local radio station) I mentioned to Patrick that I might go out on my bike and he jumped at the chance to come with me.

I have always cycled on my own here but now realise how much better it is with someone else. It's not rocket science. It's more convivial because you chat all the way, more competitive because neither wants to be the one to turn back first and ultimately more enjoyable.

We had a good 90 minute ride down a lot of routes, lanes and country paths that I hadn't been on before. I had a 'petite chute' when I lost the front wheel off the edge of a narrow track down by the River Aude - slightly bloodied and bruised but no serious or permanent damage. At least I think not but three hours after getting back my left ankle has swollen up a bit and I spent the evening serving dinner trying to disguise the pain and a slight limp which will probably have made it worse. Of course, I could have just twisted it getting up out of my chair. I'm sure it will be fine in the morning.

This evening it was to back to work but the enjoyable sort of work - preparing a dinner for two of my guests. It was a pleasant but quiet evening and they went away happy, I think, to pack their bags for an early departure back to Edinburgh tomorrow.

More happy guests - like the ones who left a few day ago and have left the most wonderful review of 42rvh on www.tripadvisor.com - bless them - it is comments like those that make it all worthwhile and keep you going when you aren't in the mood.

Routine

2009-06-16T21:00:00.002+01:00

It was a hectic start to the day but it got more relaxed as it went on, which was nice.

Three early breakfasts and an airport drop-off at 9.15am meant that I had to be up at 6.30am again. Actually I can't remember the last time I was up later than that - not out of necessity all the time either - I just seem to wake up then or earlier these days no matter what time I finally get to bed.

I work better in the morning anyway and it's so much cooler at that time of day. I was ironing this afternoon and vowed not to do any more - even if I have to get up at 5am I will only try to do it in the morning from now on.

Another room change followed the airport run and a quick market trip to re-fruit ahead of tomorrow's breakfasts and suddenly it was well into lunchtime and I realised that I hadn't had anything to eat today - no bad thing really because I could still do with losing some more weight and I didn't manage to get out on the bike today either.

I was looking forward to a spot of mild exercise this evening at the boulodrome with the boys (old men!). For the first time in five days I had a free evening with no client commitments. It wasn't to be. After a glorious morning it slowly clouded over as the day went on and gently started raining this evening at the appointed hour of the game. Of course two hours later it stopped. The rest of the week looks tricky because of new clients so that's probably that for another seven days.

All in all a pretty uneventful day - but every now and again that's quite nice.

Busy Busy

2009-06-15T22:13:00.004+01:00

I said I was ready for action and it's a good job that I was - it has been pretty full on all weekend with guests in and out, room changes and two dinners to host.

New guests, on honeymoon from Canada, arrived on Friday, sleeping in my bedroom - grrrrrr - stop it and think of the money. "That bed was so comfortable", they said and "what a fantastic shower", they added. I know that - it's my bed and my shower. Let it go, Peter.

They left on Saturday and new guests arrived from Scotland to replace them. None of them get that this is a one man business not a five star hotel.

Leaving guests - "we will definitely be back from the market and away before noon (check-out deadline) and I know you have a lunch appointment". They returned at 12.45 to hand back their key.

Arriving guests - check-in time is four but arranged to meet them here between two-thirty and three because they were tired and wanted to settle in. They got back from lunch at four.

They think it's five star because I give them five star service of course - it's frustrating when that stuff happens but it goes with the territory - they all left/arrived happy and grateful and I bit my tongue and just got on with it.

Saturday evening meant dinner with Thursday's arrivals from Bolton, who were just the most enthusiastic guests I have had here for weeks. Three breakfasts Sunday morning followed by a room change and an airport drop-off and then dinner on Sunday for the other four guests followed by two breakfasts this morning and another room change, airport drop-off and two new sets of arrivals. Blimey what a weekend.

So, many early mornings and late nights but I have managed some middle of the day me-time in the fabulous sunshine we have been having down here. I had the most delicious plate of oysters at Café Saillan on Saturday ( I was late but not too late) - oysters from Gruissan, fresh, sweet, awesome with just a squeeze of lemon.

Flat peaches have arrived in the market which is a sure sign of summer and my menus changed from asparagus and duck confit to melon salad and roast chicken breast with tarragon butter and serrano ham, and from hot chocolate fondant to strawberries with meringue and cream to roast peaches with creme fraiche.

The fridge is now stocked full of rosé and white

As I have retreated out of my bedroom and the office into the kitchen and the spare room, I have taken my Mac with me to the kitchen table. It now shares a plug point with the toaster and a tabletop with the breakfast trays and the dinner service - it's not ideal. I can't tell you how many times and how many expletives have been issued over the last few days when I haven't been toasting bread because the computer has been plugged in! So frustrating.

But not the end of the world - nothing is.

More important than all or any of the above is that it has been nearly two weeks since I saw Debrah and will be another two weeks before I see her again. It's too long, it's not good and it won't happen again. We just have to get through maxed-out June.

Ready for action

2009-06-11T23:09:00.002+01:00

The week of preparation is over. All the suites are ready (I have moved out of my bedroom into the spare room), all the ironing is done and all the necessary supplies have been purchased.

For the first time ever since 42rvh opened we will have three suites filled with guests - it will be a full on client service weekend.

It started today when I collected new guests off the Liverpool flight this afternoon. They live in Bolton, which is where all my family was born and bred, so immediately there was something in common and a talking point.

They are a lovely young couple who are getting married later this year. She bought the surprise weekend away for him to show him how much she loved him before they get married - no pressure there then!

I am certainly not qualified to comment on people getting married so I won't - I have history - but I am as happy as any man could be with marriage right now. Seeing a betrothed couple in the final throws of wedding planning brings home how much I miss Debrah when we are apart during our enforced absences. London beckons.

In the meantime, there are more guests arriving tomorrow (on honeymoon) and more over the weekend. It will keep me busy and out of trouble.

Pleasing myself

2009-06-09T21:00:00.003+01:00

With two breakfasts out of the way fairly early on and no new guests arriving until Thursday, I decided to have a bit of a 'me' day and leave the ironing and cleaning until tomorrow. Having said that I was still up at 6.30am and didn't get to please myself until after 11.00am, which is a proper half day of work I suppose.

I am counting today's bike ride as pleasing myself, although it was a 20km cycle including rather a lot of hills. My normal ride is getting a bit boring and to be honest a bit easy. It will be fine for a bit of daily exercise when I don't have much time but I really need to push myself a bit harder to lose more weight and really feel the benefit - hence the longer and more challenging route today. Actually, it was Ok but my legs have felt a little heavy ever since without really hurting - I might regret saying that in the morning.

This afternoon I drove out to Chateau Saint Jacques d'Albas, which can be found in the middle of a beautiful valley in the Minervois between Villarzel and Laure-Minervois. The domaine is owned by an Englishman with the excellent name of Graham Nutter. I have tasted his mid-range red before and really liked it and wanted to go and taste the rest of their production and hopefully introduce myself.

Sadly Mr Nutter wasn't there but his wines were and a very helpful French lady took me through them all starting with the rosé and working through the reds to the top of the range 'La Chapelle'. Most of the wines have won awards and there is a new range of whites to come soon.

The other excellent bit of news was that as the owner of a 'chambre d'hôte', I qualified for the trade price list which offered a significant reduction on retail - so naturally I bought some to use at 42rvh for our weekend packages.

Finally this evening I played a couple of games of boules with David and Bob, down by the river in front of Patrick's house. Instead of the ten minute walk I used my bike to get down there - downhill to the river, slowly uphill back from it with heavy legs.

Everyone laughs when I say this but I always find a couple of games of boules quite tiring. I guess it's a bit of fresh air, a bit of exercise and a bit of tension as we always take it quite seriously - well, slightly seriously - someone usually brings along a bottle of wine, the effect of which is to improve the aim of some and drastically diminish that of others. The wine, therefore, becomes part of the tactics and teamwork - it's a very multi-faceted game.

As part of my new found discipline, I declined the pub and came straight home - having the bike and a set of boules with me is always a good excuse to head off. Besides, I am absolutely ready for my bed.

Baby Week

2009-06-08T20:59:00.004+01:00

It's been quite a celebratory evening.

Firstly, the Australian cricket team has just been knocked out of the T20 World Cup after losing their second match. They would be going home if they weren't hanging around in Britain to play the forthcoming Ashes series. All those Aussies that were laughing at England losing to the Netherlands have suddenly gone quiet - and a quiet Aussie is a good Aussie.

Secondly, my third time returning guests have completed their house purchase and are now the proud owners of a village house that is going to take all their time and money over the next year but will eventually, I'm sure, prove to be the holiday home they dreamt of when they first saw it.

Their lives have changed in all sorts of ways. When they first came here in January, she was in mid-pregnancy, in March heavily pregnant and now they are accompanied by little Millie, who apparently did her best to drown out the notaire's heavily accented French during the entire completion meeting.

It has in fact been 'baby week' at 42rvh. My guests at the end of last week arrived with their 11 month old son Felix. Naturally, I sent them to Café Felix for lunch.

It was an overcast and drizzly/rainy weekend, so Saturday lunch at Café Saillan was disrupted. At least they now have a permit to close the road again which makes for a more comfortable outdoor lunch when the sun does shine. The cynics amongst us can't help but link the granting of the permit with the need for a vote - there has been an enquiry going on here for 6 months about the last mayoral election, which was won by less than 100 votes, and a re-election has been now been ordered. The permit, withdrawn several months ago, was re-issued soon after that decision !!

It seems that politics in France might just be as sordid as it appears to be in the UK.

Forecasts

2009-06-05T22:45:00.003+01:00

We have had thunder and lightning this evening; an exciting backdrop to a guest dinner. The rain held off all day but just couldn't contain itself any longer by early evening when it let loose in one almighty torrential downpour that tested the gutters and drains to the full - after that the sky flashed on and off all evening and rumbled away in displeasure.

My guests baby monitor picked up the noise all evening and had them running back to their room to check on little Felix, who was of course fast asleep and oblivious to the whole thing.

I blame myself for the rain - I shouldn't have washed the car earlier today.

After a ten minute shower this morning the sky had cleared once more, so that when I went to the supermarket and then later on to the airport to collect the new guests, I had the roof down on the Audi and the wind in my hair.

I had a first from the new guests this evening whilst I was preparing dinner. They sent me a text message from their suite, which is 5 seconds away from my apartment, asking me to drop the iron and ironing board round to them. That has to be one of the worst examples of an abuse of technology that I have ever come across. How lazy can you get? Still, at least they were ironing something before they went out for dinner which is more than can be said for most of this un-chic town.

I also get my fair share of questions from 'soon to arrive' guests about what clothes they should bring and what the weather is going to be like - as if my first name is Gok and my last is Fish.

As I have never met these people before I have no idea of their usual dress sense and so impossible for me to advise - not that I am any authority on clothing anyway. As to the weather, well my guess is probably as good as the BBC or France Meteo - so there is at least a 50/50 chance that I'll get it right.

Present Imperfect/Future Unclear

2009-06-03T20:47:00.005+01:00

I flew back to France from London today - on time and no problems, which was just as well because I had guests arriving this afternoon and their suite to clean and dress between my arrival and theirs.

I have spent the last week in London with Debrah and she was here before that so we have had the best part of a fortnight in each others company. We enjoyed a great long weekend here in France with trips out to Bouzigues for oysters and Lagrasse to meet new friends. We had an equally good time in London with trips to the market and lunches with Debrah's mum and just the two of us at Orrery on Marylebone High Street.

Actually, it was just perfect to be spending the time together, which is why yesterday and this morning were so difficult - we knew that we will be apart again now until the end of the month and the thought of it made us both a bit unhappy and depressed and a bit bolshy about the continuing time spent in different countries.

Over the last month we have talked and talked about how to solve this conundrum. Should I stop or re-shape the business here in France and go back to London and get a job or should we try to start a bigger business in France that will enable us both to live here full time? - and every single option in-between - sell? - rent? - buy? - borrow? - sit tight? - maximise income? - wait for the house market/job market/exchange rate/economy to improve? Inevitably there is no perfect answer to our imperfect situation.

So here we are again - in different countries relying on skype and email and phone to stay close to each other - trying not to get frustrated or angry or sad or lonely. I have a very very busy month with guests every day between now and 4th July when we get to escape for a week and Debrah has suddenly got new business opportunities flying into the agency (which is good of course). We will both be busy but there is no doubt that we would rather be busy together.

A pain in the knee

2009-05-23T22:06:00.004+01:00

It was a disappointingly grey morning as it had been yesterday, when the hazy cloud didn't really clear and the breeze was just a bit too persistent and, as a result, the temperature didn't quite get as high as it should have done - it wasn't cold, but it wasn't hot either.

Debrah had so wanted a glorious blue sky market day, as it had been last Saturday, but it wasn't to be - so having done our breakfast and shopping guest chores, we jumped in the car and headed for the coast where, I assured Debrah, there would be sunshine.

We could have bought oysters from Bouzigues in the market in Carcassonne and eaten them here, but it's not the same as eating oysters looking out over the 'etang' where the oysters lived until plucked from their briny home and served up on a platter. Besides, we had never been to Bouzigues before and we like an exploration and an adventure.

It was a lovely day trip. The fields of poppies and wildflowers still look resplendent, the countryside is a lush green and the vines are vigourously reaching out in all directions. As we rushed past Narbonne and headed towards Beziers we found the sun, the roof came down on the Audi and the sun started to find us.

Bouzigues is a delightful old fishing village perched on the banks of the 'etang de thau', looking across to the hill and port of Sete. Stretched out across the etang between the two are the oyster beds - like tables set out in an exam room - symmetrically line by line, row by row. Of course, every other house along the quay in Bouzigues has a seafood, or more specifically, oyster restaurant attached to it and why not? - you can't really get much closer to the source of the food you are eating than this.

We had a lovely lunch - 24 oysters, 12 mussels, 12 escargots, 6 palourdes, 2 tielles and a bottle of the local wine, picpoul de pinet, made just a few kilometres away.

To complete the seafood theme for the day, by the time we got home we were both looking a bit lobsterish in the face and arm area - the unprepared no sun cream roof down on the Audi driving had caught up with us both. Oh well.

This evening we had drinks with guests - the guests who took over our bikes yesterday and cycled to Marseillette and back, which is a pretty good effort, and who wanted the bikes again today but had to hire from elsewhere because the other guests had already reserved them.

After months of sitting in their 'cave' home, the bikes have never been so popular or well used. I went out four times this week and then guests for the next two days.

My sudden rush of enthusiasm took its toll though. After my last ride on Thursday, my right knee developed a pain that intensified as the day went on such that by yesterday morning I was unable to manage any stairs or bending without an acute sharp pain just below my kneecap.

I know Thursday was a public holiday here (Ascension) and that the locals have been known to treat the Friday as an extension of said holiday to make a long weekend - 'faire le pont' as they call it, literally means to make a bridge between the holiday and the weekend.

I have never known a knee to join in this practice and I have never known a knee to suddenly turn French and declare itself a 'genou' for the day. It was meant to be working but it wasn't. Also, when was it allowed that one 'genou' declared itself unilateral from the other knee - they are supposed to be a pair, working together for the common good of getting me around the place.

Not surprisingly it feels a bit better today and I suspect that by Monday it will be working as normal!

Bureaucracy, what bureaucracy

2009-05-19T22:06:00.004+01:00

Today I went to see my accountant here in France. His name is M. Fraysse, which means that I always think of him as Mr Strawberry - I know, it would be spelled differently but it does sound the same. I have a French accountant because he understands the system and the rules and the law and I went to see him today to complete my first ever tax return for the business here - my return for 2008.

I am registered as a micro-enterprise. This form of business was introduced to simplify the tax regime for small operators like myself - below the TVA threshold, employing no staff etc.

I have always been told that French bureaucracy is a nightmare, but setting up the business couldn't have been easier - just two letters from M.Fraysse at the beginning of last year - one to the Mairie and one to the tax office.

Well the tax return was even easier - name, address, date of birth, UK address, type of business, turnover, signature - done - blimey. Did I need an accountant to do that? I guess so, I wouldn't have known that was all I needed to do without him.

So that meeting only took half an hour to do, and that included the ten minute formal introductory handshaking and the ten minute formal departure ritual of thanking and kissing everyone who happened to be passing through the office at the time plus the receptionists of course who had made the whole thing possible it seems - weird country. I just imagine everyone is so polite and then you walk out of the office and they all turn to each other and say 'What a wanker', or some such French equivalent, as soon as you have gone. Or am I being paranoid?

No matter - the tax return is done and we await to see what the damage is for payment in September. Not much is what I am hoping and am indeed led to believe - fingers crossed.

Apart from that it was a fairly usual sort of a day. One breakfast delivered at 8am to a very happy and grateful client who wanted to know where she could buy the fabulous fruit compote and granola (home made, so you can't, I'm afraid). One suite cleaned and prepped for new clients tomorrow. One visit to the market for fruit and a slice of calves liver for my supper (for the first time in two months I didn't buy any asparagus - I may have peaked on asparagus consumption for this year). One bike ride and sit-ups in a vain attempt to recover a figure that was last seen about 25 years ago. One set of sheets and towels ironed and aired in readiness for a room change tomorrow and finally, two games of boules in the evening sunshine - one won and one not won (lost, in fact).

Swifts

2009-05-18T19:49:00.004+01:00

I have been watching the antics of the swifts. There appear to be far more of them this year than previous years. All day they chase each other about swooping low over the rooftops and down inside the courtyard - all at incredible speed - hence the name I guess. Sometimes they fly right up against the corner by my bedroom window before virtually stopping in mid-flight, turning around on the spot and setting off again around the tree. They seem to do this repeatedly for hours, but mostly at dawn and dusk.

Apparently it is all part of their Spring mating ritual and unless they are actually incubating eggs of feeding young they spend all their time in continuous flight - they mate in flight and they sleep in flight, soaring higher and higher throughout the night.

I know all this because Debrah's Book of British Birds is on the coffee table and I looked it up, which shows one isn't too old to learn something. I thought it was so interesting I'd thought I'd share it with you.

I expect someone in the Mairie will be hatching a plot to get rid of them - just as they do with the starlings every Autumn.

There seems to be quite a lot of nature going on at the moment. The fields and verges are resplendent in their banks of bright red poppies and wildflowers and the riverbank and streams are full of the happy quacking of new born ducklings in their fluffy brown and yellow coats.

As for me, I'm not quite sure what is going on all of a sudden. I seem to be acting totally out of character. Today I went out on the bike for a good 45 minutes of hard cycling and even did some sit-ups when I got back, I ate a salad for lunch and dinner and I have been drinking coca-cola or water instead of wine. I think I must have been replaced by an alien during the night. After supper tonight I went out for a walk which didn't involve stopping to sit down on a bar stool.

Debrah will no doubt be thinking 'it won't last' and she is probably right. Once the alien leaves me alone I'll no doubt revert to type.

On the business front the Aussies left yesterday and are now in Avignon and I had a new arrival today - a lady travelling on her own who came down to complete a house purchase and is spending a couple of days here to look at the Cité before going home.

Wine Tasting

2009-05-15T23:53:00.003+01:00

Lots has happened this week - most of which I can't tell you about because it hasn't and won't come to fruition for a long time yet and now is not the time to talk about it. All very exciting though and all filling our heads on an hourly basis. Oh - what a tease!

A group of four new guests arrived from Australia on Wednesday. Two of them stayed here last year with their children, so it was great to welcome them back - especially as they have come all the way from Adelaide.

One of the reasons they are here is a brother who works in the wine trade here in the Languedoc. They have also invited friends from the UK to visit at the same time - so it was that I hosted a wine tasting for seven last night and will host a dinner for seven tomorrow night.

It's fine to host a wine tasting with guests who have no idea what you are talking about and believe every word you say - it's slightly more intimidating when there is a wine professional involved too. I don't claim to be a Master of Wine or any sort of guru on the subject but I do know a fair bit after years of extensive personal research at the expense, no doubt, of the health of my liver. So I was mildly relieved and greatly reassured of my knowledge when it turned out that I was as well informed about this great region's wines as my wine making friend was - it just goes to show that nobody can ever know everything about wine - ever.

The wines that took my wine making friend by surprise were a Sauvignon Blanc from Rieux-Minervois and a late harvest sweet wine made by an English winemaker, also in the Minervois.

This whole vast region is known predominately for it's red wine - from Minervois to Corbieres to Fitou to St Chinian to Faugeres. Yet, it is the white wines that I taste that most astound me with their quality.

The reds all seem to be made to a pattern or formula that you expect and there are plenty of them so differentiating between them is more difficult - don't get me wrong, there are some delicious exceptional reds here and the average bottle is both extremely affordable and very drinkable.

The whites take me by surprise though - because I don't expect the quality and finesse that I constantly find - maybe I should stop being surprised.

Last night we had a Sauvignon Blanc from Domaine Saint Francois that was delicious in every respect - floral, aromatic bouquet and a mouth full of fresh peachy, apricoty flavours and just a hint of the oak barrels it had been in for 12 months. It was sublime in every respect and a total bonus as I had just picked it up that day in trying to find something different. The Aussies thought it had to be a Chardonnay but they were wrong and the winemaker vowed to visit the domaine as soon as possible.

The last wine we tasted was a sweet wine - Late Harvest from Domaine La Bouscade. The whole process of making a late harvest wine is an act of faith and as much of a gamble as buying a lottery ticket - the odds really are that bad that the right weather conditions will occur at the right time and the grapes will react in the right way. I think that running a holiday business is a gamble - winemakers make me look positively conservative.

Needless to say, everybody adored the wine and the winemaker actually clapped his hands in appreciation of a top class well-made product. He knows what's involved. My compliments to David and Jo Cowderoy out in Puicheric for turning out the best dessert wine I have ever tasted.

It's a job - but it's a good job.

Visits over

2009-05-11T20:24:00.003+01:00

My Mum and Dad went home yesterday, which allowed Debrah, who came out on Saturday, and me to have a couple of days to ourselves at last - guests left on Sunday afternoon too and no new ones until Wednesday.

Before they went back to the UK, my parents took us all out for an expensive dinner at the Michelin starred 'La Barbacane' at the Hotel de la Cité. It was certainly expensive, and too expensive in my opinion for the standard of the food. I know I am being picky here, but although La Barbacane is excellent, it isn't exceptional and for the prices they are charging it needs to be exceptional.

I would far rather spend my money (or my Dad's money) in Le Parc - more entertaining, surprising and exciting. That comment would really rankle with my friend, Xavier, the general manager of the Hotel de la Cite, because the chef at Le Parc used to be the chef at La Barbacane and I believe there was no love lost when he departed to set up his own establishment.

Still, that's just my opinion and not everyone would agree. I'm not sure my parents would agree - I think they would feel safer in the four star international hotel surroundings of La Barbacane than in the fun and slightly flippant avant-garde surroundings of Le Parc.

No matter - they had a good week despite the problems for my Dad of getting in and out of the apartment. There are people that would say I shouldn't have made them stay here because of the difficulty of the stairs, but these are the same people that would probably stop my Dad going out at all or doing anything. It was tiring for him I know but so is everyday life at home. It was a change of scene for them both and a good rest for my Mum, which is equally if not more important. My Dad does have a way of dominating the proceedings - he gets all the attention - but my Mum needs just as much help and support because she has been looking after him for these past fifteen years of his reduced mobility.

I am worried about my Mum. She is 80 this August and has lost a lot of weight in the past year - she looks so frail suddenly - partly because of mild diabetes that she has recently had diagnosed and, of course, the strain of looking after my Dad all these recent years. She is stubborn and headstrong and opinionated (oh - that sounds like me) but I would never want her to lose her independence which is why I would never want them both to just stay 'at home'.

After they had left Debrah and I enjoyed 48 hours of lovely isolation with each other - talking and planning what we are going to do next and how quickly we can make those plans happen so that we are not sitting in different countries half the time.

How did we get ourselves in this stupid position? - oh yes, that was my fault. Damn me and my stubborn, headstrong, opinionated attitudes.

Parents in town

2009-05-07T21:17:00.005+01:00

My parents arrived on Tuesday - their second visit to Carcassonne and the first staying here at 42rvh. When they last came we were still in the middle of the renovation and the thinking was that it would be better for my Dad in his wheelchair if they stayed close by in a hotel with proper disabled facilities.

The so called disabled facilities at Domaine D'Auriac proved to be anything but, so this time they stayed with me, even though we are on the first floor - once inside everything would be easy with all on one level, huge rooms and double opening doors everywhere.

He can walk a little bit but getting him up the grand staircase was still going to be a problem and so much depends on how he is feeling as to whether he has the strength to make it easy or difficult. And that's how it has been. Arrival on day 1 was easy as was going out on day 2 - coming back on day 2 was a bit more difficult but going out day 3 was ok - coming back on day 3 was very hard because he was tired and hot. We are restricted to one trip out per day - it would be much too much otherwise.

They do appear to be having a great time though and it is a much needed change of scenery and a rest for my Mum and, of course, they get to see me.

We didn't do much on Tuesday when they got here as travelling always takes it out of them and they like to get settled in. Besides, they hadn't seen the finished apartments and I'd had two sets of guests leave just that morning and needed to change those rooms over immediately, so Mum nosed about having a good look into every space and then 'helped' me with the room changes.

"I'll just take this towel through", said Mum
"There are more towels here to take", I said
"I'll come back for another", she replied
'Are you sure you aren't French', I thought to myself - talk about job creation.

Likewise on Wednesday morning - guests out and an immediate room change for new arrivals later in the day. Once that was done we ventured out together for the first time, just down to the Place Carnot for lunch outside at La Roulotte, where we were looked after very well as always and the food was superb and fantastic value at €15 each for three courses. I still don't know how a restaurant offering food that good and that well prepared can survive on those prices. Mum then checked out every shoe shop in town, and there are quite a few, before we ambled home.

Yesterday we went to one of VinEcole's excellent wine tastings and then had lunch on the restaurant terrace at Domaine Gayda. I've done the wine course several times so was very grateful that Matthew changed the wines - it was all new for my parents so they loved it all and I discovered some new wines that I hadn't had before - excellent. It was one of those glorious blue sky Languedoc days and with snow still on the peaks of the Pyrenees the view was outstanding and certainly took my parents breath away. We could see the weather starting to change as we sat and ate and the clouds started to pour over the peaks from Spain.

It was hot yesterday and that's why it was a problem, by the time we got home, for my father to get back up the stairs. Once he was in I knew that he would have a quiet evening and would need a good rest and sleep. As a result, we didn't do much and there was a grave danger of the evening developing into parental sitting (everyone sits in silence staring at each other), so I asked Mum if she'd like to go for an evening stroll around the town - a sort of 'passegiata', if we had been in Italy - which she was more than happy to do. I think she has had enough of sitting with my Dad.

Whilst we were out she asked me if I had noticed any changes in them. I said that I didn't think Dad's mobility had deteriorated at all during the last two years or so but that both of them are more frail generally now and their hearing and memory seems to be a lot worse. Ten minutes later she asked me the same question which just confirmed my concerns.

I postponed plans for today until I knew what the weather would bring and how my dad was feeling once he'd got up. It was grey and cloudy but that also meant cooler temperature wise, so after a very lazy start - by me too it must be said, the first morning for over a week that I didn't have a guest breakfast to do and I slept until 9am instead of usual 7am alarm call - we decided to head for the coast as Mum wanted to see the Mediterranean.

I booked a table at L'Hospitalet, a wine estate situated on the top of the 'Montagne de la Clape', the mountain that separates Narbonne from Narbonne Plage. It was exactly the sort of place that my Mum and Dad love. I don't actually think that the food in the restaurant is all that good, certainly not as good as Gayda the day before, but the staff were excellent and the whole place is extremely wheelchair friendly and my Mum bought herself a watercolour from the resident artist and Dad bought me a dozen bottles of wine from the 'caveau', which was extremely decent of him.

After that we drove down to the beach at Gruissan Plage and I took my Mum for a short stroll on the sand and then drove back slowly via Bages and Peyriac and then across country to Lagrasse and Carcassonne. Despite the overcast weather the whole region is looking fabulous at the moment with poppies everywhere and gorse and hawthorn and all the trees and shrubs on the hills looking all soft and fluffy with their new growth. Sorry, went a bit gay there.

I am pretty sure that I have sold them the whole idea of them moving to the Languedoc - a drier climate will be better for my Dad, a sunnier climate will be better for my Mum, the Mediterranean diet will be better for them both and a change from the routine they have had for 10 years would definitely benefit them - but they will probably find every reason why they shouldn't and not do anything, rather than embracing the positive benefits of such a change. What can you do?

Upset Guests

2009-05-04T23:52:00.004+01:00

It has been an interesting weekend as I have slowly retreated from the gloriousness of my vast apartment into the confines of the kitchen and spare bedroom. Nothing wrong with either of them at all, but it's all relative to what you are used to and it suddenly seems very restrictive compared to my usual grandiose living accommodation.

This evening is actually a first - the first time that I have three sets of paying guests staying here at the same time. I collected new guests from the airport at lunchtime, roof down, naturally, on the Audi.

Lo and behold, two hours later it all went black and I just got out in time to put the roof back up before the sudden deluge - not forecast, not planned, not expected - sort of like real life!

I cooked dinner for them all last night which seemed to go as well as usual - two vegetarians and two confit de canard eaters. It was just winding down about midnight when one of the guests fetched a litre bottle of 10 year old tawny port from their room and insisted that it was drunk, which naturally led on to tales of love and drink and drugs and broken marriages and medical conditions and trauma and heartache - and I didn't even join in the conversation!

The important thing is that the guests currently occupying my bedroom (using my shower, sleeping in my bed and generally lording it about in my apartment) are having a lovely time - they are having a lovely time because they told me so.

Until this evening that is, when apparently on their way back from dinner some kids, from a passing car, threw a bucketful of garlic water all over them - presumably as a prank because they thought it was funny and clever. But it wasn't at all, of course, because it went in their eyes and it stung and they thought in their panic that maybe it was acid or some sort of cleaning product or whatever and it ruined their night and maybe their whole weekend.

How dreadful. What a bunch of little shits. I will report the incident to the local police tomorrow because it's a nasty thing to happen to anyone and it needs to be stopped.

When things like that happen, words really do fail me.