Into the light

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.

Too cold

Debrah's few stolen days here have flown by and this afternoon she headed back to London again, without either of us having a firm flight booking and therefore not knowing when we will see each other again - a very unsatisfactory state of affairs.

Both sets of weekend guests also departed today so I am back to being here on my own. It won't be for long though - I have a party of four Americans arriving for two nights in midweek, a couple coming next weekend for three days and someone coming to spend a week cooking with me, which is very exciting.

Debrah and I spent a good part of the last few days working out the schedule for him and what I am going to show him, which will include market shopping and wine tasting as well as cooking. I am really looking forward to it.

The market produce is just beginning to show signs of spring with some early asparagus, artichokes, strawberries and broad beans making an appearance yesterday. It is still a bit too early for local produce and most of this stuff appeared to have been shipped across from North Africa - still, it will give me more options for showing cooking techniques next week even if the produce isn't yet the best.

One thing that was lacking in the market yesterday was eggs. We only came across one stall who had any and they had come from the Aveyron, which in the highly departmentalised nature of France means they were foreign and imported. They were very good though.

One woman, presumably after seeing the egg cartons on top of my shopping bag, chased me past a couple of stalls to stop me and ask where I had managed to buy them as she couldn't find any. Is it just too cold for the poor hens or being French, have they gone on strike or are they all knackered after a year of laying and having a well earned holiday? It would be nice to think of them all sat on a deckchair somewhere hot recharging their batteries - except that our local hens are undoubtedly free range.

It is still very cold though and even though the sun has shone for the last couple of days, the snow is still lying on top of the Montagne Noire and the wind is bitter, all of which won't be doing anything good for my electricity bill as the radiators do their best to heat our four metre ceiling spaces.

Enough now, it's time for spring, surely.