A pain in the knee

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!

Getting on

It was a Monday chores day today. I cleaned out both apartments and made them ready for Wednesday's new guests and ran two sets of laundry through the washing machine (oh goody - ironing tomorrow) and went to the supermarket to re-stock on cleaning and kitchen essentials.

There is nothing like the same amount of hard marketing going on here in the supermarkets as there is in the UK, where every aisle has, so called, massive discounts and two for one offers. There are special offers to be had but they are the same as they were last year and the year before - nothing appears to have changed - whereas in the UK all the stores are falling over themselves to try and keep you spending in a much more exaggerated way than I have ever seen before.

Things have changed though. It is now much more expensive to shop in France, even for basics, than it was four years ago when we first moved here. I notice it particularly in 'Les Halles' and in the weekly market - it's very easy these days to burn through €100 on meat, fruit and vegetables. So, sadly, the fancy olives and the 'fritons' and the expensive serrano ham are no longer everyday or even weekly purchases.

Part of the change is obviously due to the collapse of sterling against the euro but it can't all be explained by that. Petrol for example is now more expensive in France than the UK, when for years it was the other way round, even allowing for the exchange rate.

Makes you wonder if the French dream is dying for us Brits - the Sunday Times would certainly have you believe so with weekly articles about people selling up and moving back. I don't think so - just as the UK supermarket offers aren't all they claim to be, so the journalistic doom about the end of opportunity abroad is also overly dramaticised.

If you are ready for the change of pace and looking forward to a better quality of life then the dream is still there - if your income is the same and the cost of living is the same then the weather is definitely better.

It was a lovely day today again - cold but bright blue skies - I even had the roof down on the car as I went to the supermarket this afternoon.

Driving was no problem but walking has been a bit awkward this afternoon. I have done something to my right knee whilst on all fours this morning cleaning bathroom and kitchen floors - god, it hurts. I'm sure it will sort itself out but frankly, it's no fun getting older is it?