Let it snow, let it snow

When we awoke yesterday morning it was snowing - not a little bit of drizzly sleet but proper, big, slow falling, settling when they landed snowflakes. In no time at all the top of the cars were covered.

Two hours later it was still snowing steadily from a leaden grey sky, the road was slushly, the rooftops were white and Carcassonne had turned into a winter wonderland.

Sadly, the snow turned to rain in the afternoon and the magic slowly disappeared.

It was cold and damp and we didn't really feel like going out. We were also all still full and jaded from Christmas day so decided to postpone the wine tasting with the clients by 24 hours and watch a dvd together instead - it was an excellent decision.

We took a bit of time to get going today as well - I was up to sort breakfast and even Christian was up before 10.00am which is something of a miracle, but we were all a bit half-hearted at the market and a bit lethargic for the rest of the afternoon - well all except Christian, who knocked out another couple of lovely paintings in no time at all in a hastily put together studio in the hallway of the office space - they'll look great on the apartment walls.

I had a night off from cooking. Debrah did the majority, so that whilst I sat and spouted off about wine to our clients, Debrah brought a succession of fabulously tasty morsels to the table that complimented each of the wines we were tasting - which worked really well.

It's all over now - everything except the glasses has been washed up - time for bed.

Well I never!

It's 8pm on Christmas Day and calm has descended on the apartment. The guests have retreated to their room with some dvds, Debrah has tucked herself in bed for a rest and a bit of quiet time and Christian is feeling a little chastened because of the spillage on the shag pile! Me - I'm feeling very mellow and taking stock of our first Christmas with paying guests.

It isn't the first time that I have shared Christmas lunch with complete strangers. A few years ago Debrah and I spent Christmas in Tanzania - but then strangers were expected and anticipated. Once in London, Debrah invited an Australian couple for Christmas and neglected to tell me until two days beforehand - I'd never met them before - that was a bit bizarre.

Today was a totally new experience - guests who had paid to spend Christmas here at 42rvh. Not only that but they are on their honeymoon, having got married last Saturday up at Chateau Rigaud. Apparently they found Rigaud and 42rvh through their own research and contacted us both separately and only then found out that we are best friends from many a year - how serendipitous is that?

Last night we had early evening drinks with them and then took them down to the riverside to watch the spectacular 'son et lumiere' firework display from the old bridge over the Aude river - live on TF3 apparently - and fabulous it was too.

Whilst they dawdled back home we prepared a traditional French Christmas Eve seafood supper, which we laid out in their room with some lit candles and a fire in the hearth. If I say so myself, my oyster shucking was pretty good, but I am by no means as weather beaten and hardy as the boys from Bouzigues who bring the oysters to Carcassonne each week - as my cut hands can bear witness to today.

We had the same seafood supper ourselves and I am proud to be the father of a 19 year old who happily chucks oysters down his throat - something has clearly rubbed off on the boy.

In fact, Christian is my stepson, not my son - but today was momentous, and not only because of being our first guest Christmas. I first met Christian when he was 4 years old and up to the age of six or so he called me Dad - but then his real dad overheard him say that to me and flipped his lid about it. My dark years and Christian's teenage years followed, but today, in front of Debrah and our guests, he formally pronounced me to be his dad.

After all we have been through - and I give no opinion on his dad because I hardly know the man - it came as a bit of a bolt from the blue. I admit that I felt extremely emotional at the time and still do as I write this. I am under no illusions that we won't be arguing about something trivial in the morning, but frankly that cannot dull the glow I am feeling. I have thought of Christian as my son for 15 years now and for him to acknowledge that in front of other people today has still taken me somewhat by surprise. I can't think of a better Christmas present.

Of course, he did his best to dull the glow by throwing a glass of vodka/pomegranite cocktail over the shag pile carpet in the studio - no doubt a result of the wine he had drunk over lunch, but I can't have a go at him about that because I have done many a similar thing myself in the past at his age and since.

I think our guests had a lovely time. I think Debrah and Christian weren't too phased by the whole experience. I think the goose was a hit with the apricot and sage stuffing. I think I'd quite like to settle myself down and start reading my five new cookbooks.

Fingers crossed

Will everything please stop breaking!

Over the last few days, things breaking seems to be the pattern of life. The tree drama was enough of a disaster but it hasn't stopped there.

When we opened one of the new pan sets that we bought in London, to go in the suites, we found a pan with a broken handle and therefore a useless pan. On Monday whilst emptying the dishwasher, a china spoon exploded into three pieces - it is nothing special really but is part of a set that we use on our breakfast trays and is therefore annoying and inconvenient.

When we arrived back from the supermarket yesterday afternoon, all the dining room lights blew in one enormous bang and fused the circuit - naturally it happened as we got back, not before we went - and I didn't have replacement bulbs in stock for the original 1970's wall lights that adorn our dining room. Fingers crossed that I can find some in town today because I really don't fancy the supermarket on Christmas Eve and besides I have enough to do already.

On Monday I received an email from my father stating that he had been trying to telephone me but that the phone is permanently engaged. I checked and it is - can't phone out and nobody can phone in - a bit of a problem when that is my business number and the only alternatives are expensive English mobile phones.

I went to see France Telecom in their showroom in town, who helpfully told me that the line was 'en service' and that the problem was mine. I told them it had worked perfectly well for two years as it was currently set up and nothing had changed so can you please help me solve it. Er, "Non".

Fortunately, an English lady overheard my stilted French conversation and told me that she'd had exactly the same problem and that it was a fault with the 'livebox' - it was only solved by bringing it into the showroom, shouting a lot and getting them to change the unit. I surveyed the queue of twenty odd customers all trying to buy last minute mobile phone presents, thought about having to disconnect my internet, bring the 'livebox' into the showroom and try and have the necessary conversation and decided to leave it until after Christmas.

When I got back home Christian said "Is there something wrong with the internet - it isn't working" Aaarrgghhhh.

My first fear was that it related to the phone problem, but after a bit of investigation it turned out that the server at France Telecom was the fault and a couple of hours later it came back on line - what a relief.

Now if everything will just keep working and/or just fix itself please, we might be able to get on with looking after our guests.

My fingers are well and truly crossed.

Christmas tree

We had our annual tree disaster today - it fell over whilst we were out and smashed a good many of the new black, white and glass baubles.

Last year it started to fall whilst someone was stood next to it and they managed to stop it going completely. You'd think we would have learned from the experience.

A four metre tree is a bit of a handful to get upright and straight at the best of times but we thought we had it balanced and secure - it stood up for over twenty four hours anyway and then decided to fall over.

It was a bit of a mess to be honest - so now it is tied back to the wall so that it can't fall - and Debrah went out to buy some new baubles and it looks better now than it did before. There is always a silver lining.

Back to work

Well that's a bit of a shock - we've got guests again.

We haven't had any guests here since the end of October and I have to admit to being a bit out of practice. We have a Spanish couple who drove here last night from Barcelona. They arrived in Carcassonne at about 11.00pm and asked where they could get something to eat - er, Barcelona probably - this is a small rural French town - what is it about the Spanish and eating at midnight?

So we put together a tray of charcuterie and cheese and baguette and couple of glasses of wine and delivered it to their room - in-between having to apologise for the electricity going off - how very embarrassing.

I was so out of practice that I didn't have everything I needed for their breakfast tray, but fortunately we had enough time to make a market trip before we had to put it all together for them.

In fact we made three trips to the market this morning - the last one to collect our Christmas tree, which Christian and I carried back up the hill together. It isn't quite as impressive as last years tree but now that it is proudly standing in the corner of the main living room with all its lights and decorations in place (black and white this year) it looks very much the part.

Driving home for Christmas

That's a relief - getting back to Carcassonne unscathed - at one point I didn't think I was going to get past Calais!

I have been in London for a week and for most of the time I was ill - nothing more I don't think than a nasty cold but I could have done without it - and so could Debrah who is sadly showing signs of coming down with it just as I am beginning to feel better.

I went back to London to see (infect) Debrah, to sort some UK finances (only partly successful so far) and to drive the Renault down to Carcassonne full of accumulated purchases that have been getting in the way in our small London apartment and a few special purchases ahead of our first Christmas and New Year with guests.

So, that's why I was up and out at 4.00am this morning to catch the 6.05am channel tunnel train. I reached Folkestone without incident, bought a coffee and a bacon sarnie and joined the end of the queue for my train - I was the last car onto the upper deck, but only just.

After the, by now, routine security checks, I started the car up again and it immediately revved up to 3000rpm and stuck there - I blipped the throttle to try and free it (before remembering that the days of sticky throttle cables are long gone as it is all controlled by electronics now). I moved off slowly, engine roaring away and then realised I couldn't go any faster than about 15mph in any gear and the dashboard panel was now telling me I had a fuel injection fault.

I was desperately trying to decide what to do. I had a car stuffed to the gills with all sorts and couldn't work out if it was better to break down in the UK or in France, although I was now technically in France because I had gone through passport control - so did that already negate my UK breakdown cover? My mind was racing as fast as the engine and by now I was at the back of the queue at the top the ramp leading down to the train. I turned the engine off and restarted in the hope it might just sort itself out - it's electronics, it's just IT, so re-boot it.

It didn't work - so trying not to draw any attention to myself - I crept onto the train, switched off and spent the 30 minutes so-called relaxing journey time fretting about what to do at the other end if the problem persisted.

Thirty minutes later, as the car in front pulled away, I nervously pushed the starter button and, in the words of Leonard Cohen. Jeff Buckley and Alexandra Burke, to name but three - hallelujah. I was so grateful that I spoke lovely words of encouragement to the car all the way down the 700 miles across France - bonkers I know, but that was actually just the beginning of a stressful day's driving.

France was foggy - I don't mean bits of it, I mean all of it - well all of it until I got to the Languedoc - 600 miles of it. Mile after mile of greyness punctuated by dazzling bright red and white/yellow fog lights and no sense of perspective or distance and road signs glimpsed at the last minute as they loom up out of the gloom. It is two hours since I got back and I still feel totally wired from the effort of concentration all day.

It was freezing point or below for the whole journey too with bits of drizzle here and there to help visibility and then, when I got to the Massif Central, there was the snow! Just a bit to begin with but then later it was clear that a good foot of the stuff had fallen, which meant at least two foot banks of snow on the hard shoulder where the snowploughs had pushed it off the road - and a very good job they had done too - the road was pretty much clear but the Megane on it's side in the middle of the road (it looked as if it had clipped the snow bank and flipped) reminded me to take it easy.

Judging ones pace is the key in conditions like that - too slow and I wouldn't have got here until midnight and would run the risk of someone ploughing into the back of me - too fast and well anything could happen.

It was very wintry, beautiful and Christmassy (as far as I could see into the gloom). Trees were bent over with the weight of snow - a veritable winter wonderland - they should have built one of those closed down 'Lapland' parks near Clermont Ferrand instead of in Hampshire - except the French aren't stupid enough to waste their money on such nonsense.

Miraculously, the fog lifted for 10 kilometres either side of the fabulous Millau bridge and gave me a great view of it - what a fantastic piece of engineering - shame the light was beginning to fade as I got there - it was one of those days really

Lights off, lights on

Brigitte rang the doorbell on Friday at lunchtime.

"Peetere, we 'ave a problem with ze electricite" she said. She went on to say that she was working and had only come home to find the EDF invoice to give to me so that I could phone them and arrange for someone to come out and fix it and that she didn't have time because she needed to eat a 'leetle something' before rushing back to work.

Manipulation! - you bet it was. How hard would it have been for her to call. rather than me with my imperfect French negotiating a telephone answering system and a faceless voice in the call centre.

I knew we had an electricity problem because when I came home the previous evening the courtyard and the stairwell were pitch black and with a dark brooding sky above it was impossible to see anything. I edged my way in through the main door and up the stairs using the light from my mobile phone. All the power was out in the common parts but fortunately not inside the apartment.

On Friday morning I did my best to see if I could find the problem, but anything other than checking fuses and re-setting the meter is beyond me and the meter absolutely refused to re-set.

Imagine my surprise then, that I not only called EDF and got through 6 levels of answering system to reach the correct department and managed to give them the correct reference numbers but they also turned up within two hours, changed the meter and restored the power. Sometimes I surprise myself and sometimes the French surprise me too.

It's officially Christmas here in Carcassonne. The mayor switched on the lights on Friday evening and the market and the ice rink and the big wheel and the luge are all open for business - and doing good business judging by the number of people in town last night - far more than usual for a Saturday evening - the 'vin chaud' stall was exceptionally busy.

But you can't change all the habits of a lifetime. I had heard that the meat market was opening on Sunday mornings in the run up to Christmas but the reality was that two enterprising stalls, my favourite pork butcher and the Basque Deli, were open and the rest firmly shut.

Both those open were doing good business - they were offering tastings and aperitifs and in return were selling quite a bit of stuff. I had only had a coffee this morning before looking into the market and in no time at all I was sharing some oysters and charcuterie and a glass of wine with stall and bar and restaurant owners and their wives, all before midday - that's the proper alternative French way to start a Sunday if you haven't gone to mass!

I picked up a couple of things for supper this evening, went to the boulangerie and returned home feeling perky enough to decide to make a prune and almond tart.

The lights in the Place Carnot and the Place Gambetta look fabulous and with the ice rink and the music you can't help but feel in a festive mood. It's all very kitsch but also very infectious - so it's a shame that we weren't able to tempt any visitors out here from the UK to sample it.

I did take two bookings yesterday though, so maybe things are looking up.

Management

I was the host for the latest meeting on the co-proprietors which took place last evening - time: 6pm, venue: my dining room, my comprehension of five French people talking at the same time: very little.

I might have the largest share of the vote (because I own the greatest proportion of the floor area) but I have the least ability to influence the direction or ultimate outcome of any debates. It is embarrassing and a little tedious (but necessary) that I need to clarify in my poor French (or Brigitte's poor English translation on my behalf) what has just been agreed or decided. That is not a criticism of Brigitte - without her ability to speak some English I would be completely in the dark.

One of the problems of my shortcomings with the language is my inability to understand the psyche of the French mind and the nuances and undercurrents of any decisions. We all have our own motives for doing things or wanting things and it is sometimes hard enough to work that out in one's own language - never mind in one you are considerably less than fluent in. I would hate to think of them manipulating me for their own ends but I can't help but be suspicious because I have no idea if they are or not. In the end you just have to trust your judgement of people and their character.

So, they are a bunch of charlatans who are using me - then, on the other hand, maybe not. I have no idea.

Still, we have reduced the management charge by more than 50% since firing the managing agents and taking over the building ourselves but there is much renovation work to be done on the facade and the stairwell and we have a troublesome tenant on the second floor whom we would all like to see depart as soon as we can find a way to convince the proprietor (who lives in Paris) that he should go - moves are afoot, apparently, from what I can understand.

Sadly, the worldwide economic situation isn't helping our desire to expand the business here. Nobody seems interested in selling. They all think their money is better off in stone and lime mortar than in the banking system and I suspect that there are tax incentives that they are clinging onto - so we are hitting a solid stone wall in our expansion plans. Alors!

Brigitte and Christine (from the beauty salon downstairs) hung around for a bit after everyone else had left - there was an unfinished bottle of wine and, despite the French insistence that they don't drink very much, they weren't leaving until it had been despatched.

Christine had put up with the noise from our renovation directly above her beauty salon for a year or so and this was the first opportunity I'd had to show her the results. Of course she was impressed and very complimentary - everyone is - it is a fantastic space and a fabulous renovation.

It might just be the very best apartment in Carcassonne - so it would be a tragedy to have to give it up but who knows what will happen in these troubled economic times. We have to keep an open mind.

Know thy neighbour

In anticipation of a meeting of the co-proprietors this week and any discussions about exterior and interior common parts renovations, I visited the 'mairie', from where I was sent off to the OPAH office, for information about any grants available for renovations to historic buildings in the town centre.

In true French bureaucratic style I came away none the wiser, a bit more confused and with a couple of forms to complete. It appears that there are grants available but, no, they couldn't tell me how much or for what until I had completed the forms and taken photographs of the areas to be worked on and had a full and detailed estimate from an approved builder/decorator/supplier - but once I do all that they will make a decision within three weeks - thank god for small mercies.

"Do you have a list of approved suppliers", I asked. "Non", she replied. That's helpful then, I thought as I left.

We had some bad news last week relating to our plans for the takeover of the rest of the apartments at 42rvh - the studio that was for sale on the second floor has been sold to an ex-pat Frenchman living in Korea and will now be rented out.

Brigitte was equally upset as she will now have a new neighbour immediately next to her - she was banking on us buying it and only allowing very quiet guests to stay, which obviously can't be guaranteed either.

Then on Saturday morning the tenant from the courtyard apartment, situated below our bedroom, started moving out and things are looking up again. I was always planning to speak to the owner of that apartment - it is now imperative that we try to get him to sell to us before he puts another tenant in there.

We were being very nosy neighbours from upstairs as the removals commenced - we weren't sure if he was actually moving out or not and wanted to know for certain - that and natural curiosity obviously. When the bed appeared on the back of the trailer that had been brought into the courtyard we were convinced he was going.

When Debrah called me over to the window to show me something astonishing I thought I was about to behold an ugly table lamp or cheap reproduction coffee table, given her abhorrence of bad taste and bad design, but no, it was altogether a much more shocking sight.

Nestled in the protection of the bed were automatic weapons - rifles, pistols and a machine gun. They looked real enough and I have no reason to believe that they weren't - after all the departing tenant was indeed a member of France's armed forces based here in Carcassonne, the 3rd parachute regiment - the same regiment that shot 17 civilians earlier this year during an open day that was designed to bring the army and the townspeople closer together!

As we watched from above, a collection of swords was brought out and added to the haul. They may well have been ceremonial but even so it was quite sobering to think that all those implements of destruction were housed beneath our bedroom for the last year. The tragedy of the open day exposed a myriad of lax procedures relating to weapons and ammunition - I'm glad that I didn't know those weapons were there and I'm equally glad that they are no longer there.

Sleep safely and don't have nightmares.

Wine, food and friends

On Friday we finally managed a visit to a local wine estate - Domaine la Bouscade, which is based in Puicheric and is owned and run by an English couple, David and Jo Cowderoy.

We first came across one of their wines when we sampled their 'late harvest' naturally sweet wine at a wine tasting at VinEcole with Matthew Stubbs, who praises David at every opportunity as one of his favourite 'garagiste' winemakers.

And you know what, they really do make the wine in the big garage next to their house in the middle of the village - the vineyards are a few kilometres away. Jo very kindly gave us a couple of hours of her time and showed us round the wine making process before sitting us down at their dining room table to sample some of their wines - whites, rosé and reds.

We have been meaning to visit vineyards and meet the winemakers since we first came out to France, but somehow have never found the time. We actually have a really good reason for doing so now as we need to source a good house wine for the suites and for the dinners. The wines from La Bouscade might well fit the bill and so we bought a good selection to try out over Christmas and beyond.

All of which made us a bit late getting back to the house and left us with a bit of a rush to prepare dinner for our lovely French friends, Nathalie (8 cookbooks published in France) and Fabien and also Xavier (marketing director of the Hotel de la Cité) and Charlotte. We have cooked many dinners over the course of the year for guests but this was our first local soirée and we wanted it all to go right, which, typically of course, it didn't.

Nathalie had promised to show me how to prepare a fresh foie gras and so I had purchased one that morning in anticipation but her email with the list of ingredients that I needed didn't reach me for some reason and as a result I was ill-prepared for my cooking lesson - so Nathalie showed me how to de-vein the liver and explained the recipe so that I could make it the next day.

Whilst I was slightly embarrassed with my cooking lesson, Debrah was being embarrassed by her beans, which having been soaked overnight, were being decidedly stubborn when it came to being cooked, taking at least an hour longer than they should have. Beans have been a recurring (or should I say, repeating) problem over the weekend - more of that later.

So we ended up eating a bit late but everyone seemed to enjoy the food and everyone seemed to have a lovely time, although Fabien started to feel a bit 'malade' towards the end of the evening. I'm certain it was nothing to do with anything we served but it didn't help our paranoia.

You so want your first dinner party for local people to be absolutely perfect - it wasn't but it was a success nonetheless.

New Bar

The problem with the difficult tenant isn't resolved and is probably going to run and run.

Last night I accompanied Brigitte whilst she attempted to both smooth the ground and also to tell him what is and what isn't acceptable. He was extremely surly and very uncooperative throughout the entire conversation and nothing was resolved. To make matters worse, the owner of the apartment is so far removed from Carcassonne and the day to day reality that they can't form an opinion or take sides from a distance, which is to be expected I guess.

Sadly, we also found out that the studio that was for sale upstairs has been sold - thus scuppering our next move in the master plan of acquiring all the other apartments in the building. There may have to be a drastic re-think.

This evening I ventured down to the new Irish bar - Debrah didn't fancy it so stayed at home - and realised how much the town has been missing a good bar. It reminded me that a lot of the people I now know in this town I originally met in the old Irish bar or met through people I was introduced to at the bar - including Patrick, the new owner.

So, I chatted with Patrick and his lovely Mum and Dad and then with Dutch Rob, who owns a book shop in Montolieu (I haven't seen him for over a year) and with Brigitte and a girlfriend of hers (they drank Guinness with strawberry sirop - bizarre) and with Bob and David (but not Pierre because he was down in Narbonne with one of his girlfriends) and with Lesa (who I haven't seen for a month since she went back to Australia) and naturally with Susan who is now running the bar and with Gary who is manning the door.

I am very pleased for Patrick - it's a good bar and does what good bars do - brings people together - and of course I will have somewhere new to send our guests next year.

Drama

With no guests in the studio suite we are taking full advantage of the big TV and we are loving a mini-series.

When Debrah was last here we sat through the first ten episodes of the Tudors and we bought the second series in HMV at Stansted on the way out here last Sunday - and have already sat through the next ten episodes - all the way up to the separation of Anne Boleyn's head from her body.

I do miss a good BBC historical costume drama out here in France and I have to say that I much prefer to watch a series straight through in one go (or over three days) than have to make sure I am at home at the same hour on the same day over a ten week period if I was watching it in the UK on the telly.

Where is series three? What are we going to watch tomorrow?

I suppose we are going to have to work our way through the five film box set of Audrey Hepburn movies that was reduced by 75% at the airport - not quite the same level of blood, guts, sex and religious zeal though, I suspect.

Just in case you get the wrong idea, it is not all lounging about on the sofa with remote control in hand - oh no, I have been busy with odd jobs here and there that have needed doing for some time. The repair work to the damaged wall in the apartment en-suite bathroom was finally finished today with a last sanding and a paint touch-up and the tile cutter made an unexpected appearance from it's basement home as I finally got around to finishing the step in our spare bedroom.

That job will take a few days to complete but the tiles have been cut to size and are ready to go. This is one of those jobs that has been waiting for over a year to be finished, not because I didn't want to do it but because it was never top of the list of jobs to be done.

It will be good to finally finish it, but I suspect there will be some heartache along the way before then - even today it nearly all went wrong - I needed three tiles for the job and we had four spare tiles left over from the renovation works and I messed up on one of the tile cuts - I might have panicked or lost my temper in the past but not any more because these jobs now hold no fear for me - I know I can I do it.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the work that I shunned to watch Henry VIII. It was the Champions League football that is now available for viewing in the newly opened 'Celt' Irish bar. Patrick has finally finished the build and the bar is open, although typically I missed the opening night party last week whilst I was in London.

After Anne's head fell off I popped down there for an hour to say hello to Gary on the door and Susan behind the bar and to Patrick and to wish them all well - it was great to see a good crowd in there - even Jean-Jacques, one of the waiters from Bar Felix, seems to have already become a regular which is a good sign - if the French locals adopt the bar it is bound to succeed.

The old Irish bar, O'Sheridans, has also re-opened under it's new management - when I walked past this evening there were only three people inside and the place looked very dead - let's hope it stays that way.

I didn't stay long and I'm glad that I didn't - if I had I would have missed the big argument between Brigitte and the young tenant who lives above our living room. It sounded as if they were shouting down the corridor at each other and then Brigitte rang the doorbell - she was visibly upset.

It transpires that said tenant has been keeping her awake at night with music and loud friends in his room. He also continues to bring his motorbike into the building when he has been expressly asked not to do so because of damage to the fabulous stone on the ground floor. It is a problem that needs to be dealt with as soon as possible - if my French was better I would speak with him directly and I may well have to do so at some point, but in the meantime we have a meeting of the co-proprietors scheduled for next week and we will try to find an amicable solution - hopefully one that involves him moving out!!

The last thing we need is for this develop into our own real life mini-drama.

Unhappy clients

We have had our first bad review. It was posted on tripadvisor at the end of last week by our very last visitors of the year so far - the same ones who described Carcassonne as a dump.

Clearly they didn't enjoy their weekend here.

It is very disappointing when you have gone out of your way to accommodate someone with a baby (when we clearly state that our rooms are not suitable for families) and ask them several times if everything is alright, request that they just ask if they need anything and get positive responses whilst they are here, only for them to get home and write a lot of stretched truths and vindictive comments.

I am annoyed because I think a lot of what was written was unfair criticism from someone expecting 4 star service but only prepared to pay for bed and breakfast - and it is now up in the public domain for anybody to read.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion so we will just have to take it on the chin. As far as I can tell they are the only people who have visited all year who didn't enjoy being here - which I guess says more about them than it does about us and 42rvh.

Still, we can't rest on our laurels and with the tough economic climate we are going to have to work even harder to attract customers for next year and to improve what we offer. We have already re-launched the website with more information and more services and we will look at all the comments and criticisms that we have received this year and see how we can address them.

As a result Debrah and I spent a lot longer than we thought we would trying to fix a curtain pole in place over the entrance to the en-suite shower room in the apartment suite - at one point the whole thing came apart in my hands as I was balanced on top of the ladder and we had curtain rings and poles and ends all over the place - but after a couple of deep breaths we got it sorted and in place.

The curtain will provide a bit more privacy between the two rooms and came from some helpful suggestions earlier in the year.

I'm all for constructive criticism - bitchiness is just so unnecessary.

Clear as mud

The last week seems to have flown by and here we are back in France once more. It felt as if I was in London for weeks, although it was only 13 days and it also felt as if I had been away from France for weeks, although now that I am back everything is just as it was and feels very familiar.

It was a strange and difficult time in London. I have a sense that I didn't achieve a great deal and yet lots of little things got sorted and fixed (new tyres and brake light for the car, mended plug in the sink etc) and I was there to help Debrah with her tooth problem. Just being there was the most important thing for her, so in that sense it was very valuable time.

I am very pleased to say that Debrah looks much healthier than she has for a while which is entirely due to not having a massive throbbing pain in her mouth any longer and, as a result, not having to take massive amounts of painkillers each day - she has got stronger and healthier every day for the past week - hurrah - and now she can have a week of rest and relaxation here in France with me and with no work pressures, although we do have some Christmas planning to do on menus and room decoration etc.

London is of course full of Christmas, in the papers and in the shops and especially on the TV - and the lights are all in full neon glow on Oxford and Regent Street and I suppose elsewhere too. We are probably two weeks away from it all kicking off here in Carcassonne although the preparations are well under way and most of the lights are up in place and ready to go.

The other thing that you can't avoid in the UK is the credit crunch/economic downturn/depression - it is rammed down your throat at every opportunity in every branch of the media, in every TV programme and every newspaper article - I really believe the media make any problem much worse than it really is in their need to tell the same story in ever more dramatic tones as they bid to outdo each other with their sensationalist exposeés.

Of course, there is an economic problem and I am affected as much as anyone and have spent a large part of the last week assessing the impact of the falling pound against the euro, the options for our London apartment (impossible to sell at the moment, but possible to rent it out), how to relieve the impact of debts and coming up on a daily basis with a different solution to solve the problem of Debrah and me spending too much time apart from each other.

Are we any clearer about what we are going to do - absolutely not.

Extraction

The tooth with the abcess has finally been removed - thank god for that. Debrah is fast asleep recovering from the trauma and the sedation drugs and I'm just recovering from a stressful and tiring afternoon and an unexpectedly close-up view of a tooth extraction.

In the end it all happened very suddenly after a frustrating week of trying to resolve the problem and a week of continued pain for Debrah.

I landed back in the UK on Monday afternoon and went directly to Debrah's office and from there directly to a swish (in fact, Swiss) dental clinic in the heart of the West End. The dentist was excellent and all the staff very friendly and understanding of Debrah's fear and her pain and after a couple of x-rays and a bit of "Can I look in your mouth?, No you can't" fencing between Debrah and the dentist we left with an estimate for £3,500 (better than the £7,000 we had been quoted by one private dentist) and a promise of an appointment as soon as possible.

If Debrah hadn't needed treatment under sedation the work could have been done there and then but because sedation was absolutely necessary we had to wait until an anaesthetist was available - a real catch-22 situation - the ridiculousness of which was confirmed when we were told that the first available date for an appointment was 10th December, nearly a whole month away.

Clearly there was no way Debrah could cope with the pain for another month, so we went back to square one, typed 'emergency dental treatment london' into google and started phoning around. I tried to get in touch with the dental hospitals, where I figured that sedation would be readily available, but got lost in a maze of telephone answering systems and many other clinics could do immediate emergency treatment but didn't provide sedation.

Finally I found a small clinic in Camden that had availability the next day and at a cost that made the other quotes look like outrageous profiteering, which no doubt there is in this line of business at the moment. They gave me an appointment at 2.30 - I was so relieved that I didn't even spot how ironic that time was!

It all suddenly seemed too good to be true and I read every page of their website just to make sure we weren't going to end up in someone's kitchen with a bottle of whisky and a pair of pliers - but the reality was it was a small one dentist clinic with non of the glitz and overheads of the big West End ones.

The conscious sedation was interesting stuff - Debrah had a completely hallucinogenic time and said some bizarre things such as "Why are they putting scorpions in my mouth?" and "What did the dog do?" before later on trying to bite the dentist. It went well until the final root wouldn't come out and the sedation started to wear off but we got there eventually and, thankfully, Debrah doesn't remember too much about it.

There is more work to be done and the broken tooth is still there but for now, I hope, once the hole heals up and the bruising settles down, the pain will have gone.

Painful to behold

Debrah has gone back to London today and I am following her tomorrow - it has been a traumatic weekend with hospital visits and tears and tooth pain and it needs to be resolved immediately.

It would have been much better if I had been able to go back with Debrah today but there were good reasons for not doing so - a check-in at Maison Juliette that I promised to do, and at short notice, it would have been difficult to find someone else to do it, and a conversation I needed to have with Brigitte about plans for 42rvh. I will find someone else for the check-out and will take Debrah straight to the dental clinic tomorrow evening when I get back to London.

The weekend had started well - we were enjoying some bonus time together after the midweek missed flight and now desperately need to get hold of the second season of the Tudors.

On Friday lunchtime we visited a chic new lunchspot in town - an extension of the excellent delicatessen, La Ferme. It had a fabulous wine tasting/dispensing machine which every home should have and an excellent policy of selling all the wines from the shop at retail price plus €10 which is significantly less than a restaurant mark-up. The food however was a bit pricey, though delicious. It was full last Friday but then they had only just opened the day before - it will be interesting to see how it does and is certainly somewhere to send guests.

Naturally on Saturday we took in the market in the morning and even though we didn't need very much it is always such a pleasure in Autumn sunshine, a welcome relief after the rain all week. There was also a new event in town this weekend - the 'Festival des Saveurs', featuring food and drink artisans from all over the region, cookery demonstrations from the top chefs in town and of course, plenty to sample and taste and indeed buy.

Later that day, we had a visit from a representative of a travel website that would really like to list us - it seems interesting and would open up a new market for us as the site is centred on Spain and has very much a Mediterranean clientele.

It was after this visit that all hell broke loose and Debrah's tooth pain finally got beyond her pain threshold, although there had been signs earlier. It was a combination of finishing the course of antibiotics and no doubt the abcess just getting worse. An evening visit to the emergency unit at the Polyclinique Montreal, the local hospital, was the only way to try and get something a bit stronger to help Debrah sleep and get through the pain until she and I get to London to deal with it.

They were very helpful at the hospital but, because there was no dentist on duty, they wouldn't prescribe any more antibiotics. We could have gone back today but two hospital visits in two days would probably have tipped Debrah over the edge and I needed to get her back to the UK as calmly as possible.

This might all sound a bit extreme but phobias are not easy to understand because they are so unique to the individual - and we all have them, even if we don't admit it or don't yet know it!

All in all, the whole weekend was a bit stressful and very tiring - and I'm not the one with toothache, so I can't begin to think how Debrah feels - hopefully tomorrow we start the process of resolving the whole painful mess.

Rain and Reign

Debrah was supposed to go back to London yesterday but fate intervened.

The rain has continued here unabated for three days now and was probably a factor in the car battery being flat when I was supposed to be taking Debrah to the airport for her flight. It was certainly a factor in there being no taxis available immediately, and as we had left our departure until the last minute as ever, we had no room for manouevre.

We retreated back inside resigned to it all and lost a crucial fifteen minutes before I discovered that the flight was running 30 minutes late. I rushed upstairs to Denis' apartment and grabbed the garage keys and we rushed up to the airport in Denis' car. The plane was just landing as we got there, but it was all to no avail - as far as they were concerned we were late for the flight and they had closed the gate and they weren't going to let Debrah on the flight despite the fact she had checked in online and only had hand baggage and despite there being plenty of time for her to go through security and join the back of the queue at the gate (one plane, one gate, twenty metres from security to the gate, lots of people stood about doing nothing - but no go).

I don't know if it was Ryanair policy or Carcassonne airport policy or both but it wasn't a good advert for either of them. We accept that we were late but so was the flight coming in - seems that Ryanair are allowed to be late without consequence (I'm sure there was a good reason) but passengers get no leeway despite also having a good reason and despite it all being easily feasible for Debrah to have joined the flight in good time. Maybe they are only really interested in charging the £75 fee for re-booking than in actually getting people onto the flights they have already paid for.

Actually none of all that surprised me - I've always known that the whole system is geared towards the benefit of the provider of the service and not the person paying for the service - surely it should be the other way around.

The reason that all the above is relevant, and is not just a diatribe, is that we have been discussing the service that we provide here at 42rvh to our paying customers. The debate is centred around whether we give too much for too little cost or not - i.e. should we be going out of our way to provide the best possible experience at all times, no matter the inconvenience, for our guests or should we draw the line somewhere and downgrade what we do or charge extra for certain things.

I make it sound very black and white but it's nothing of the sort and not as extreme as the picture painted, but it is still difficult to decide how we move on next year in continuing to develop the business and the services we will provide and what cost we should charge for them, especially given the economic situation.

In it's barest form the equation is easy - we want to provide as good a service as possible at a price people can afford that also generates a profit. Can we do all three? I hope so.

In the meantime, the relentless wet weather, the unexpected bonus of Debrah being here longer than expected and no guests to worry about has resulted in us getting thoroughly absorbed in the BBC mini-series of the Tudors - all long leather boots, bare chests, loose morals, double dealing and intrigue - and a history lesson too, your grace, my lord, your majesty!

Dump?

It has been a long time since I was able go to sleep without having to worry about what time I had to get up to make a breakfast, but I was able to fully enjoy that pleasure this morning.

Both sets of guests left on Monday and we now have no bookings until Christmas. I am not sure how much of that is due to the credit crunch or whether this is just normal for November. Either way, it gives us time to take stock of things, catch up with accounts and tax returns, not worry about breakfasts and lounge about watching dvds in the evening on the big TV in the Studio - great.

The guests were a complete contrast. One couple came up on the train from Barcelona and had a very enjoyable weekend here. They were originally from Brazil via the USA and England via Amsterdam, so they are both well travelled.

The other couple, with their six month old son, were from the UK and looking to move abroad at some point in the future. They didn't seem to have such a nice time and complained about the street noise and Eliot's change of routine and just about everything. When she left she told me that she thought Carcassonne was a dump!

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course, but as I live here I thought her comments were extremely insensitive to say the least and obviously I don't agree with her. It makes me wonder what she was looking for - I hope she finds it whatever it is.

It poured down on Sunday, but yesterday was glorious sunshine all day. So after despatching the guests Debrah and I went out for a spot of lunch and it being sunny and us being English we elected to sit outside at the brasserie Saint Germain much to the bemusement, I'm sure, of the other diners and to our very amusing waiter (he spoke English very well after a spell working in Winchester).

It was lovely until the low sun passed behind the top of the adjacent buildings and then it began to get slightly chilly - but we had enjoyed a classic brasserie lunch of fish soup and sausage and lentils washed down with a glass of red - glorious.

Whilst walking off lunch immediately after, we came across the main town cemetary around the back of the barracks and decided to have a look inside. I am glad we did because the place was a riot of colour with all the chrysanthemums placed on the graves and tombs after 'toussaint' last Saturday.

Of course, predominately Catholic cemetaries are a glory of stone carved angels and jesuses and madonnas and elaborate mausoleums. One of the most moving tributes is a common one found on many tombs - 'mort pour la france' - which as always means a young man cut down in his prime during the great wars of the last century. Everyone should visit cemetaries now and again - I think they bring a great deal of perspective to life and make you realise the importance of your loved ones and your family.

After the cemetary, we wandered along the banks of the Aude, with the Cité up on the hill to our right and the trees in their many shades of Autumn colour and thought how beautiful is the dump that we live in!

Hurrah for live footie

After threatening all sorts of nonsense weather-wise for this weekend (according to all the forecasts), it turned out to be a lovely start to November and a good market day.

The 1st November is a national holiday in France (all saints or 'toussaint') and so the market wasn't as big as usual with several stallholders obviously taking the day off and many of the bars and cafes were also closed and a lot of the shops closed early too.

Despite all that we still managed an exciting market day. Today we went large on unusual and, in some cases, exotic fruit. We bought quinces and pomegranates and prickly pear and from a producer from Salleles d'Aude, near Narbonne, we bought feijoa, a brazilian cousin of the guava, and fuyu, a relative of the 'kaki' (persimmon, in English). Our plan is to make a very different but exotic fruit salad for dessert tomorrow with our vegan guest in mind.

We also bought a selection of the most fabulous wild mushrooms picked from the hills surrounding the Aude valley and had some of them this evening in a cream sauce with fillet steak and sauté potatoes and a rocket and watercress salad - it was absolutely delicious and all washed down with one of our favourite wines, La Falaise from Chateau de la Negly - if you can find it you should buy it.

The baby theme of the week continued during lunch at Saillan, where it was warm enough to sit outside and enjoy the sun. David's daughter and her husband and 6 month old grandchild were over for the weekend (came on the same flight as our guests from East Midlands apparently and stood behind them in the checkout queue!) and bizarrely David's ex, Anne, and his son Stefan, were also there - too many generations and ages to keep up with. Nonetheless, it was a very pleasant hour sat in the open air chatting about life.

Phil, the son-in-law, was bemoaning the fact that there was nowhere to watch Sky TV (the new Irish bar is probably still two weeks away from opening according to Patrick, whom we bumped into earlier).

Lo and behold, when I got home there was a message from Mr Sieff in London with a link to online live tv channels including live premiership football. How happy was I that I could watch some live football - in fact live football that most people in the UK can't watch (unless they have discovered this link, that is, or paid for subscription tv).

So I tested it out this afternoon and watched the Man U v Hull match and then sent the link to David so that Phil could watch Derby tomorrow and I will certainly be watching Bolton trying to extricate themselves from the bottom of the Premier League, without any hope that it will happen, sadly.

In between all that I repaired a window in the stairwell. On our way out to the market this morning Debrah noticed that one of the window panes in the window outside our internal front door was hanging on by a thread (the old putty had cracked and fallen out on three sides). So I lifted the glass out and cleaned up both the pane of glass and the window frame and siliconed it back in place - tomorrow I will put some new putty around it.

It's just as well Debrah spotted it because it could have been disastrous if it had fallen out. It is also another example of a job that will cost the owners next to nothing but which could have cost us all a couple of hundred euros under the old managing agents because they would have got a specialist glazier to do the job.

A couple of years ago I wouldn't really have known how to fix it, but now I knew immediately what needed to be done. I am proud of that - not just the knowledge, but also the confidence to just deal with it.

It is yet one more example of how this whole enterprise, renovation and business building, has been so very good for me.

Young and Old

Our suites here at 42rvh are very much geared towards couples - but, to keep our market as large as possible, we thought that babies under one year old could be accommodated too and we said so on our website.

Well, people have come and gone all year and not a baby in sight and then two come along in the space of a week. Cute Pippa has the honour of being first baby in residence and she left this morning with Doug and Anna as they continue their 3 month tour of France. Eliot arrived this morning from England with Paul and Caroline and immediately becomes our second baby visitor.

We finally resolved the cot problem - Debrah was a bit confused by the whole issue too and had the added problem of not being able to purchase anything that looked badly designed or was in ugly colours (which ruled out pretty much everything on offer). So we paid more than we might have done but it is totally in keeping with the 42rvh design ethos.

So old guests gone and new guests arrived in both suites and the usual round of domestic chores (room change, laundry and ironing). Debrah is still nursing her toothache with antibiotics and painkillers and I'm not feeling 100% either - we were both in bed asleep by ten last night and it won't be much later this evening.

Damn the years and the mileage.

Cot in two minds

It took some time to register, but I finally realised that it was my alarm and that it was time to get up and sort breakfasts - it felt as if I'd only gone to bed five minutes earlier.

My plans for a little afternoon nap to boost my energy levels came to nothing as well - just too much to do - so it will be an early night.

Lance and Ellie left this morning. When he asked me to find out how to get to Paris, I initially thought that they were going to stay a couple more days and go to Paris as planned at the weekend - alas for me, they just decided to go to Paris immediately and bin the rest of their tour up the west coast of France - oh well - I'm not complaining because they were good company, brought me a lovely bottle of wine, have promised to send me a bottle of the Absinthe they make back in California, wrote some lovely words in our visitors book and also promised to do the same on tripadvisor - I really couldn't ask for more.

I finally got the car going again - I had to walk up to the motor spares shop on Allee d'Iena for a new fuse for the charger and then wait for a couple of hours for the battery to charge. I was mobile again by mid-afternoon.

After a trip to the supermarket for essential supplies, I ventured into 'New Baby' and 'Baby 9' out of town stores to look for a cot. It must be 18 years since I was in a baby store - so it was all slightly wierd. The strange thing is that nothing seems to have changed - everything still looked the same (blue and pink!), except for the odd French design element.

Being a bit tired and a little bit overpowered by the shop assistants very fast explanations about the key differences of the different cots on offer, I failed to make any sort of decision and, am ashamed to say, I will need to go back again tomorrow with Debrah to come to a purchase conclusion. Meanwhile, I am assured that Pippa is very happy in her nest on the mezzanine of the studio. Bless.

It's all relative

What was to be a fairly relaxed but busyish day, working through various administrative and domestic chores before cooking dinner for my American guests, turned out to be slightly rushed and a bit fraught because of welcome but unexpected guests and a car that wouldn't start.

The text and phonecall with my new Australian guests this morning really concentrated the mind - their room wasn't ready and they had a six month old baby with them.

All year we have been meaning to get a cot of some sort - and strangely enough this coming weekend we have a couple booked who are bringing their infant child and so the purchase of a cot had become an imminent occurence before today's events.

So having said to Denis this morning that he didn't need to move his car, I now needed him to do just that - not to worry, I thought, I'll go to the market first and get the provisions for dinner and then I'll sort the room out - and sure enough, by the time I had finished that, Denis had come back from lunch and moved his car.

I just had enough time to pop out before the new guests were likely to arrive - how wrong I was. I bought a new battery for the Audi at the beginning of the year and since then I haven't had a problem with getting the car going - until today - battery flat - car not going anywhere. To add insult to injury, when I hooked it up to the charger there was no response - so it seems that the charger might need a new fuse or it's broken.

There was a certain irony to all this - the only place to buy a new charger, or a fuse for a charger or a new battery or, indeed, a travel cot is in the industrial and commercial zones (out of town stores). To reach said destinations a car is the ideal mode of transport. You see my predicament.

Added to that was the worst day of weather for about four months - no wonder the Aussies had abandoned their cycling week and sought refuge here.

So with the mattress from the fold-up bed and some sheets and blankets we made a little snug for young Pippa who was as good as gold as the rest of us tucked into a four course dinner this evening.

The conversation was amusing and diverse and as ever with Americans and Australians we ended up discussing roots and ancestry - Anna was proud to be directly descended from one of the first convicts exported to Australia which put her on a par with a descendant of the first settlers who landed in America on the 'Mayflower' - according to Lance from California. In the end we all agreed that we all had some element of Irish ancestry, which was a bit sad to admit - the Irish can't have populated the whole world surely? - we even wondered if Barack O'Bama had any Irish blood.

Ellie was born in Swaziland from parents who worked for the UN and so is American by default, as she didn't see the place until she was five years old, but African by birth and has an African middle name - aren't people's lives fascinating?

If we go back far enough, I guess we are all related.

Helpless

As always seems to happen when I go to London, I don't get around to putting anything on my blog. There was plenty to write about - just a bit slack on my part - sorry about that.

At least the weather here in Carcassonne last Wednesday prepared me - rain and wind and a distinct nip in the air. To be fair though, the weather in London wasn't that bad with spells of glorious sunshine either side of the torrential rain!

Actually, I felt much more relaxed this trip than I had done for many of my visits over the past two years - partly that was because I wasn't going back under pressure of work for a London job and partly because I was just going back to see Debrah and sort out some of our home administration that has been neglected over the last six months or so.

I spent all Thursday working on financial stuff relating to London and to Debrah's business and thinking about our second year here and the general economic outlook - then my head started to hurt from the immensity of it all and I had to sit down and watch the two football matches being shown on channel 5 in the evening.

That's not really true, because I didn't stop thinking about our business future and our financial future - in fact I think about it all the time. I was thinking about it so much on Sunday when we went to the West End that not only did I have to carefully balance my spending in relation to my debt position but I also had to manage my desire to kick-start the British economy and therefore prevent the seemingly inevitable spiral into recession.

So I bought a T-shirt for £8, thus spending within my means whilst also fueling the consumer boom needed to get us all back on track.

To be honest, Debrah did a far better job than me with her clothes purchases but also highlighted a sizeist issue according to country of origin of retailer. So in Zara, fabulously stylish Spanish clothes retailer, all the sizes seem to be at least three sizes too small from what you expect them to be, whereas in Banana Republic, newly opened cool American brand, on the old Dickens and Jones site, the small appears to be a large and an XL would appear to be a fifteen burger and twenty three coca-colas a day hulk who sits in front of the telly all day - shame on her.

A strange thing happened over the weekend, we had two new enquiries. Could this mean that people are in fact getting their confidence back and considering going away again or are they just thinking 'what the f***, it's so miserable here, let's go away'! Either way, it's encouraging.

Which brings me back to current guests. I had a bit of a rush today after getting back to Carcassonne, as I only had a couple of hours between (slightly late arrival) and new guests turning up. Thankfully, it all passed by seamlessly as it always does at 42 rvh and my new guests are lovely, grateful and very interesting Americans (he distills alcohol and she writes for travel books) - totally on brand!

Despite being back here in Carcassonne with guests to serve and more to come at the weekend, my mind is 100% in London where Debrah has a big toothache problem and and an even bigger dentist phobia - the poor love.

I feel really helpless here when she needs me there.

Pre-London shit

My impending trip to London has caused a couple of problems, one of them my own doing and one of them a result of people depending on me being here.

Lesa looks after a holiday let property for an American couple and last week asked me to handle a 'meet and greet' this Friday and check-out a week later because she has gone off to Australia for three weeks to see her folks. I agreed, because I expected to be here, and then Debrah and I got talking over the weekend, and my clients next week pushed back their arrival by two days, and it made complete sense for me to go to London this week. I have to admit that somebody else's client check-in completely slipped my mind in the intensity of discussions with Debrah about what needed to be done in London and how we are to resolve our living apart dilemma - understandable in the circumstances, I think, but embarrassing nonetheless.

So it is that I have to show Lesa's holiday stand-in, Christian, what is what tomorrow morning and send explaining emails to both owner and client with profuse apologies.

Then, this morning, Brigitte rang my bell to drop off the garage keys for Denis and tell me that the electrician was coming on Friday morning to sort out the outside light problem, fully expecting me to be here to deal with it as she is at work that day.

"Merde", she said, when I told her I had to go to London, thus confirming Debrah's view that for a sophisticated Parisienne she has quite a filthy mouth (see previous blog re 'con') For all her 'allo Peeteer' charm and fluttering eyelids when she wants something, I know where my priorities lie and they are in London this Friday.

We do however need the lights fixed and so I suggested that maybe Christine, who runs the beauty salon below, could give the electrician access to the fusebox, which actually is all that is needed. "Ah, bonne ideé", was the enlightened and non-blasphemous reply to my suggestion. Voila.

This evening I was just getting over the disappointment of finding out that there would be no showing of Champions League football on TF1 when Pierre shouted from the street that a game of boules was imminent and that I really should join them immediately at the grandly named Boulodrome at the top of the hill, conveniently located across the road from the Makhila bar.

So I left my dinner cooking slowly in the oven and went up the road to lose heavily at boules to Bob, who was in inspired form with his balls - and that probably hasn't happened very often. Naturally, we partook of some wine, courtesy of Bob, and Jos and Cathy bought some baguette and saucisse and camembert for an impropmtu picnic.

It's the taking part, apparently. My own boules and much practice will soon be in evidence, I'm sure, if my forced jollity on losing badly is to be sustained. I am English and, therefore, will be a gracious loser, but it doesn't mean I like the experience. Oh dear, I feel a new obsession coming on !

Imagine my frustration when I got back home to find that in the eight Champions League games this evening, 36 goals were scored including 5 by Arsenal, 3 by Man Utd and 5 by Lyon, who I would undoubtedly have been watching if there had been a game on French TV.

'Merde', is all I can say to that.

Dilemma

As this year has progressed and weekends have come and gone, a Monday when Debrah returns to the UK has become harder and harder for us both to deal with. We spent a good deal of this weekend talking about how to solve the problem of weekdays apart from each other without coming to any concrete solution.

I don't think that Debrah is ready to come and live full time in France - she enjoys London and her work (sometimes). She is scared that she will be cut-off from what is new and exciting because that is such an important part of her job. We also have Christian to settle somewhere in his new college life and an apartment whose value is dropping like a stone in common with everybody elses.

Likewise, I would have to start again from scratch if I moved back to London and all that we have achieved here at 42rvh would be lost - and after such a good first year too.

What a dilemma.

So it was that, yet again, I dropped Debrah at the airport in warm sunshine. She arrived in London, where it was raining and cold and the trains were running very slowly and consequently felt very depressed about the whole thing. I came back to an empty apartment here and no amount of sunshine made me feel any less alone again.

So, current guests check out tomorrow morning and then we have a break for 7 days until the next ones - so I am going to London on Wednesday, obviously to see Debrah and also to catch up on jobs and paperwork over there. Whatever needs doing here (and there is always plenty) can wait for once.

Wine, women, sun and sausages

I collected new guests from the airport last Thursday and then more guests and Debrah on Friday - roof down in the glorious Autumn sunshine that has since lasted all weekend - a perfect Languedoc Autumn weekend in fact.

Not only did the sun shine but the wine flowed. The 3rd 'Fête du Vin' kicked off on Thursday evening with a good dose of rock/dance music and local wine producers and restaurants teamed up together to bring, well, wine and food to the crowds gathered in the square, followed by a bangin' street party with DJ outside 'Le Conti' club on the rue Aigle D'or (Golden Eagle Street) just behind the main square. Much wine was consumed and many inhibitions shed, not by me of course - I'm far too sensible, but Lesa was dancing on a table in true uninhibited Aussie style and Brigitte was just dancing, with anyone and everyone, male and female - "I am a leetle bit drunk", she confided. 'Bien sûr', Madame La Presidente.

Chris had finished the work on Denis' apartment late on Monday night just before he left to go and shoot some wild animals in the USA. I hadn't had a chance to go in and clear up and so we went up on Friday afternoon because Denis' cousin was coming out the following day for the weekend. There was quite a bit of clearing up to do, which I expected, but I was disappointed to find one skirting board unpainted and one bathroom shelf without mastic - the result of Chris leaving it all until the last minute and running out of time. I shall have to explain to Denis when he comes out next Sunday.

Debrah and I went back into the fray of the Fête early on Friday evening and ate some deliciously sweet oysters and sampled more of the wines on offer before returning to chat to our new guests over canapes and cocktails. Bizzarely, both sets of guests come from Suffolk and live about 20 miles apart from each other - a couple of weeks ago it was Americans and Australians, this week all very close to home.

The Saturday market was a bit disjointed, what with all the wine tents and the music stage, but all the more fun for it too, with bandas playing their unique style of French brass band jollyness (not quite in time and not always the same tune but very evocative of a French town en fête). The lovely Autumn sunshine and the music and the wine seemed to bring out the warmth in everyone - it really couldn't have been a better advert for a weekend away in Carcassonne and I wish I could capture it's essence somehow to use in our own marketing and on our website.

Instead of my usual Saturday rendez-vous at Saillan, Debrah and I went out for a little drive up into the Minervois. I know I am over-playing the mellow Autumnness theme a bit, but it couldn't have been more perfect - there was virtually no breeze, the sun shone with deceptive warmth out of an azure sky, there was virtually nobody else on the road, the vines and trees were a patchwork of beautiful shades of yellow and red and brown and orange, there was the occasional whiff of woodsmoke in the air and the distinctive 'caw' of birds of prey circling above us in search of a kill.

We were on a mission to find, what Debrah had assumed, was an abandoned farm that we had passed about two months earlier on a previous drive through the area, because she wanted to take some photographs of the old iron gates. We found the farm and it's new owner, who, very kindly, not only let Debrah wander around taking photos but also showed her the old stables with the old horse names still above each stall and told us about the chateau next to the farm which was being renovated and was up for sale. Whilst Debrah was off doing her designer thing, he told me he was waiting for the local hunt to arrive for lunch - he had a fire going and everything ready for some serious butchery. He told me that last week the hunt had taken 8 wild boars and that they made sausages and stews and grills from the catch. I am actually quite sorry they didn't turn up whilst I was there - they might well have asked us to join them if their hospitality was anything like as lovely as his.

Saturday evening was a guest dinner and a bit of last minute stress about food because we were doing something untried and so timing was all a bit of guesswork. I'm the first to admit that I don't like 'winging it' when paying guests are involved and I would always like to be ready ahead of time and have everything totally planned and under control, whereas Debrah is much more a last minute sort of person, or even "I'll do it tomorrow", which of course wouldn't be any good for clients waiting for their dinner. There was a small falling out and a few harsh/cross words and a bit of a rush but as ever what was put in front of our guests was both delicious and beautiful and this morning both couples thanked us for a lovely dinner and very entertaining evening.

So we missed the last night of the Fête, but not to worry because today was the second day of the 'Ronde de Malepere', a two day wine festival in the wine region of that name to the south and west of Carcassonne, which this year was held in the village of Alairac. At the airport last week they had been handing out invitations including a voucher for a free glass (usually €5) which then entitled one to free tasting at all the producer stands. One hour and ten producers later we were a bit confused by the tastes and aromas we had sampled and desperately needed the plate of 'saucisse and frites' that we found at the grill run by local ladies, who fussed around us cleaning the table and bringing us bread and mustard and telling us about the duck fat that the chips were cooked in - bless them for their lovely hospitality.

We sat under the plane trees and sobered up with the protein and carbs before stroking the noses of the two horses that were tethered just outside and then heading back to Carca for an airport run and new guest check-in and an afternoon lie down.

We had forgotten that we were having sausage and potatoes for supper as well - but that didn't stop us wolfing them down too - sometimes it's just right.

Come on England

It's a rare night with no guests this evening and so I have been lording it in the studio suite watching the big telly.

Sadly I had to content myself with watching Belgium v Spain and then Portugal v Albania on a TV channel called Direct 8. Belarus v England would have been too much to hope for, especially since the Irish mafia at Setanta have taken over the rights to the away matches. We all hate Setanta, which I am sure wasn't in their business strategy when they decided to bid for the England games.

My support, though hidden. obviously helped and England did the business again with Rooney scoring twice - hurrah, hurrah.

It was another fabulous Autumn day here - not that I saw much of it. After breakfast I took the departing guests to the airport, then cleared out their room and got stuck into the ironing left over from the weekend guests. I resisted the lure of the square for lunch because we had so much good food here - and I so hate to throw stuff away.

This afternoon, I have to admit, I succumbed to an afternoon nap. Debrah has been slowly passing on to me the benefits of a little lie down - it has taken a long time for me to come round to it but I am now a fervent fan of a short afternoon siesta. I never really had the opportunity when I worked full time in London but now it makes complete sense - after a late night dinner and clearing up and an early breakfast and airport drop-off, a siesta is the perfect battery recharger.

It did get in the way of my plans for a beef casserole this evening - by the time I got around to getting it sorted it was far too late to be eaten tonight - not to worry, because it will be all the better tomorrow or even on Friday when Debrah returns.

As I passed through the square late this afternoon it was a hive of activity ahead of the 'Festival du Vin' which starts tomorrow evening. I missed the event last year so I am really looking forward to what is on offer this week as well as the music and the general party atmosphere in the town - my new guests couldn't have picked a better weekend to visit. Salut.

Looking Ahead

Today seemed to disappear in a blur without me knowing why or how - suddenly it was time to start prepping dinner for the guests and the day had gone.

But what a day - not a cloud in the sky and the temperature in the upper twenties - a perfect Autumn day in the Languedoc - which meant that I meandered about the market for maybe longer than I would have done normally and lingered for a coffee and watched the world go by for a bit and was then persuaded (not with any great difficulty) to return for lunch at Bar Felix.

It was the sort of day and the sort of lunch that was just going to be me but ended up being me and Richard and Janet and then Gary and Tom and Cathy and then Susan and then Patrick and another Tom, fresh off the Shannon flight. It was civilised and relaxed and lazy - we all lingered about an hour longer than we had intended, partly because it seemed to take that long to get the bill and pay it!

I wasn't looking forward to the dinner with guests this evening. I think that I am coming to the end of my season and I need a break from it too - so in a way, I am happy that we don't have any November bookings at the moment. I am feeling like it has been a long summer slog of entertaining and I think I will welcome a couple of weeks without it before we get to Christmas and New Year.

As ever though I gave my all for my guests this evening and they seem to have had a lovely stay here and enjoyed dinner tonight - hurrah for that. After dinner they wandered out to have a look at the Cité illuminated by it's lights and also, tonight, by a very bright and beautiful full moon. How sweet.

Looking ahead, our new website went live today and it looks fantastic - well done Debrah for another piece of inspired creative magic. The new site features more information and more fabulous photography and next years prices - hopefully everyone will have recovered from the banking/recession crisis soon and start booking up next years dates. Fingers crossed.

Problem solving

Debrah and Mel have returned to London and once again I am on my own here in France, well, except for the guests in the Apartment suite and Chris popping in for coffee as he finishes off the final bits of work in Denis' apartment upstairs.

Chris flies to the UK tomorrow and then on to the USA, so tonight is his last chance to finish the work and give back the keys to me - I know I will have to go up there and clear up and remove the tools and materials after he has gone - great, another cleaning job to do. This last minute rush could have been avoided, but that's Chris for you - the mastic will look fabulous when it's finally done though!

Ironically, given our falling out earlier in the year over the unnecessary removal of my internet connection, Chris will have to come and print out his flight information from this very computer because an electrician has clumsily disconnected the broadband in his apartment - I shouldn't laugh or feel smug about it, but I can't help it.

I forgot to mention that I can finally see what I am typing and reading - Debrah picked up some reading glasses for me at Boots at Stansted airport on her way over here and they are a revelation - and all for the extremely reasonable sum of £25. I have known for a couple of years that my eyesight was getting worse for close up stuff and especially in poor light - not any more - but I'm still getting used to having glasses on my nose.

With a heavy heart I took Debrah and Mel up to the airport this afternoon for their flight home and then who should I bump into but Gary, who was waiting for his nephew off the same flight that Debrah was due to leave on - so naturally I offered them a lift back to town and popped in to see Des too, as I hadn't seen him for well over a month. No change there really, except that Gary's fortune is now going to be made as a novelist rather than as an artist - always seeking the glory solution that boy - he just needs to get a job.

So there we are - it was a momentous day in the world of banking and the refurbishment of Denis' apartment has finally been completed - all of which is a massive relief - but whilst the macro and micro issues have been, hopefully, resolved, Debrah and I are spending another evening apart from each other - and for the moment we are no closer to finding a solution to that problem.

Wherefore art thou?

It has been a real pleasure having Mel here for the weekend - drinking partner, sous-chef, dishwasher and town excitement for a couple of days. Thank you enormously for all your help.

One thing that constantly puzzles and worries Debrah and me is why Mel is still single, considering that she is so lovely, and to that end Debrah has spent quite a bit of time today on Mel's 'dating direct' website vetting prospective candidates and sending out emails on her behalf - a veritable 'Cyrano de Bergerac' situation. As I type this they are monitoring responses with an inevitable mix of astonishment, hilarity, fear and potential possibility.

"I bet he's got a pierced knob", was just one of the many remarks I have been listening too this evening.

Whatever happens, Mel, don't lower your standards - there is someone just for you right around the corner.

Yesterday, Debrah went into one of her mad cooking Saturdays - pickled vegetables, fig jam, plum jam, chicken liver paté and poached pears were produced in an intense four hours of kitchen frenzy.

The paté and pears were consumed over a very entertaining dinner with our guests last night, where we discussed the success of current policing policy in the UK and whether the jury system needs to be amended for certain cases - heavy stuff indeed but actually extremely interesting to get their point of view on our legal system and, maybe surprising to some, they were on the whole totally in favour of and supportive of our whole judicial process.

They all left today and a new couple arrived and it rained a bit and was cloudy and windy and generally not very pleasant to go outside - so we stayed in and didn't visit the rice and apple fete at Aigues-Vives, which was a shame, but I don't think anybody really minded that much.

New girl in town

My early week guests departed on Wednesday and Thursday and a group of four arrived on Thursday morning, thankfully on separate flights, although two of them were on the late running Stansted flight that brought Debrah, and our very good friend Mel, here for the weekend. It was a bit of a squash in the car but we made it back safe and sound.

Mel's arrival has caused a bit of a stir in the local community. During canapés and cocktails with the new guests (who are all policemen and women!), Mel was the first to make an appearance and was assumed to be my wife until Debrah made her grand entrance ten minutes later, which caused some mildly amusing confusion.

Later last night, we wandered up to the Makhila, where Mel was greeted with enthusiasm by the usual crowd - in fact, their reaction to her was slightly astonishing to behold. David went very quiet before making his excuses and departing early to polish his boules, Bob was like an excited puppy dog who couldn't finish one sentence before starting the next, Chris had had a shower and a shave and Pierre went into full on 'Pepe le Peu / aah, cheri' mode whilst telling her about his two donkeys in the Ariege with soft noses whilst simultaneously stroking Mels nose with his forefinger. Blimey! - talk about causing a stir.

As a result we agreed to meet up this evening to play boules, but not before we had enjoyed a varied and lovely day in the Autumn sunshine. We went shopping in Les Halles for our supper and then clothes shopping for Mel (Debrah considers herself to be Mel's personal shopper) and then lunch at Felix in the square before some more shopping, back home for a short nap, some domestic work on the ironing board, trying out a couple of new cocktail mixes and finally our pre-arranged boules match.

I have been trying to meet up with the guys for a game of boules for some time and tonight I finally managed it. David had made some pasties (how very British) and others had bought some wine and sandwiches which we all consumed under the lights at the Boulodrome whilst we played two games well into the evening - and a lot of fun it was too, with everyone producing the odd brilliant shot amongst the fairly average play.

Meanwhile, the race to open the Irish bars continues at a hot pace. It looks like the old Irish bar will get there first, but Patrick and his team won't be far behind with the new bar, to be called The Celt, despite losing Chris and Declan to the USA next week. Personally I just wish they would both hurry up so that we can get some big screen TV sport watching back in town.

Missing my wife

I have just finished another client dinner, loaded the dishwasher and washed up the stuff that wouldn't fit - all except the glasses that is.

I was feeling a bit lonely this morning and really missing Debrah not being here - I couldn't get myself going on anything despite having a million things that I could do. I went to the market for the stuff for tonight's dinner and then mooched about a bit before finally shaking off the lethargy - in fact I suddenly went into overdrive.

Not sure where the energy or drive appeared from but I made a rapid supermarket trip and finished the email listing of previous enquirees and then went into baketastic cooking mode interspersed with an hours ironing and finally dinner preparation for this evening - phew!

So there is now a lemon cake and some biscuits for guests and me to nibble on and most of the ironing is up to date and the mailing list is ready for the relaunch of the website and the current guests have gone to bed replete after supper.

The supermarket trip was a bit disappointing though - the annual 'Foire des Vins' or wine fair had been taking place at Leclerc and they had some excellent wines on offer at excellent prices. Debrah and I tried some a couple of weeks ago and earmarked the ones that we would like to have again and again. Sadly, when I visited today the whole promotion was over and virtually all the wines that we had earmarked had sold out - bugger - oh well, there will always be next year and the wine festival is just around the corner next week - I don't suppose that we will go without the water of life.

I had emails this morning from both Amy and Isabel - amazing immediate responses to my email last evening - both are settled into their university years at Lancaster and Leicester - and with Christian now into his first week at Ravensbourne Art College, we have quite the grown up family. Good luck to them all on their first steps towards the scariness and responsibility that is adulthood and don't you dare mess up.

Lights out

It's been a day of many odd jobs, some of them successful, some of them not.

The outside lights in the courtyard and the archway have both failed at the same time, plunging the whole place into pitch black at night time, the only light being a faint glimmer from the doorbell.

For the last three weeks the lights have been on all day, even though we have had bright sunlight, which made me think that the sensor had failed - now that I have checked the circuit and the fuse and the connections, which all seem fine, a failed sensor seems to be the only logical conclusion. I think we need a new one.

My studio guests also reported that the remote control for the dvd player wasn't working. I changed the batteries to no effect - so we need a new one of those too.

Based on the (dubious) belief that these things come along in threes, I am hoping beyond hope that the third isn't something really expensive!

I did manage to get through half the ironing mountain and my guests have been extremely undemanding and both had relatively late breakfasts, allowing me to catch up on some sleep - another early night tonight I think.

With only 10 days to go before he disappears off to the USA, Chris has finally realised that he needs to finish the work in Denis' apartment - so this evening we dashed up to Tridome for a couple of final bits (cupboard door hinges and varnish for the worktops). We had a bonus with '10% off' vouchers courtesy of an English language newsletter called 'The Eleven' - that being the number of the Aude Department where I live.

I don't know how much money I have spent in Tridome over the last three years but it is well into the thousands - 10% off all that lot would have been very useful indeed - as it is we saved a massive three euros and sixty one centimes - well, every bit helps.

Talking of the French departments, I bet you can't name the ten departments beginning with the letter A that come before this one - one of them is only a one letter change - answers tomorrow or whenever I remember.

Bloggate

I seem to have caused a bit of a rumpus following my blog after last weekends birthday bash for Anna.

I used a comment that was made to me in private - I know, blatant plagiarism - and it appears that some people may have taken offence - well, that seems to be the implication but I haven't spoken with or heard from anybody directly so this is all rather second hand knowledge. Anna and Debrah have had a bit of a heated falling out and have now hopefully made up again - lordy.

That's the thing about writing a blog though - you hope people are going to read it and, ironically, more people seem to have read it this week than ever before. I put it out there so I have to expect that not everyone is going to agree with everything I write and there is of course a certain amount of exaggeration of situations or events for, hopefully, humourous effect.

So, lets get two things straight, with no exaggeration or attempted humour involved at all. Firstly, as I said at the beginning of the week, it was a thoroughly enjoyable weekend with a great mix of people, all of whose company I enjoyed. Secondly, I never meant to cause any offence and apologise to anyone who feels at all offended in any way whatsoever.

Hopefully, that is the end of the crisis, without the need for resignations, court cases or 'Hello' photo-shoots.

Meanwhile it has been one unbelievably busy full-on working weekend here with guests out on Friday and Saturday and new guests in on both days and both leaving today and two new sets of guests arriving. I have the most impressive washing and ironing mountain ever!

The weekend guests all arrived from the UK - two Australians came in on the plane from London and two Americans on the plane from Liverpool - to stay with an Englishman living in France. "Doesn't anyone live in their own country anymore", quipped one - well, apparently not.

There was an architect working on top class hotels and restaurants in London and a marketing man in charge of business partnerships for Liverpool FC - all of which meant that we talked about food and design and sport all night, over dinner and a wine tasting, which couldn't have been better to be honest.

You might ask "what does an American know about football?" - but he doesn't need to as long as he knows about marketing and business partnerships which he clearly does and I now know someone who can get hold of Liverpool tickets which I think is called a 'football result'.

I also know that a top top chef is opening a new restaurant but I don't know where because I wasn't told but I do know who but I'm not going to say because this blog seems to get me into enough trouble as it is - blumen hell!

Local trouble

I received a letter yesterday, by registered post, from M Sire, the owner of the vacant space on the ground floor where I temporarily dumped a load a debris during my renovation, demanding that I relocate the water supply to my apartments.

My water supply runs through this space of his and not in a particularly well thought out way - but then so does everybody elses water supply and indeed electricity supply too. As far as I can see they were all installed at the same time and all well before I bought my apartments.

I had a chat with Bridgitte about it and asked her opinion - she phoned the notaire that had handled my sale and was pointed in the direction of the rules and regulations governing the building which is now in her hands as Madame La Presidente. It turns out that all pipework not inside the proprietors own flat is the responsibility of the managing agents, i.e us as proprietors jointly.

That is good news - M Sire is the only proprietor that owes money and he now has to face all the owners rather than just try to bully me separately. It will be interesting to see if he turns up at the next meeting, which is imminent, to pursue his case.

I'd actually be very happy to see the pipe re-sited because M Sire has stated his intention to sell - mind you he wants €20,000 for an uninhabitable space with no bathroom or kitchen - he is clearly bonkers. Bridgitte referred to him as 'con', which my dictionary translates as bloody stupid but I am sure that it must have a much more colourful translation from the way that the phrase was delivered - I can certainly think of plenty of different words to use .

So the matter will go on the next agenda and Bridgitte will draft a reply to him and we will see what happens after that.

In the meantime, my Irish guests left to be replaced by London Aussies on a two day break without their kids - which means that I am all Aussied out in both suites - cripes mate. The new guests apparently hitch-hiked through here some 15 years ago and have vague memories of it all - isn't that sweet.

I have a bit of a weekend from hell actually - after a room change today and then another tomorrow, I have a double changeover on Sunday - which means a lot of cleaning, washing, ironing and airport drop-offs and pick-ups - not to mention dinner on Saturday evening. I don't normally accept one night bookings, but with Debrah in London this weekend on account of an early Monday departure on a photo-shoot trip to Turkey, and a dinner to do on Saturday night for the Aussies, I figured that I may as well fill the vacant night.

It should keep me out of trouble anyway.

Forward Planning

I've done something to my left shoulder - not sure what though. I think I must have slept on it in an awkward sort of way late last week and it's been getting worse ever since - as I try to compensate for it I think I am making it worse. It's rubbish having your wife in a different country half the time - no sympathy and no massage - but then it might not have been a sympathy and massage giving day anyway - you never can tell until you ask!

Debrah had some good news though - Christian has got a college place this year after all. He will have to work a bit to catch up because he is starting late and he better not let down all the people that have made this happen for him - but the opportunity is fantastic and I'm sure he'll make the most of it.

All of which might mean an opportunity for Debrah and I to spend a bit more time in the same country, same place, at the same time, together. It's all still a bit too soon to start celebrating as we need to work out a number of things to do with property (market dead) and Christian (fees and place to live to sort out), but at least it gives us something to work with and start planning ahead.

Talking of planning ahead, my lovely Irish guests who bought me the chocolates yesterday and for whom I cooked dinner this evening, have decided that they would like to book both the suites for Bastille Day in 2010 - next year is already booked, so they have gone for the year after!

We haven't quite got round to relaunching the website with next years prices (imminent) and I've only just set up all my booking sheets for next year, never mind the year after.

Still, it sounds good to say that we are booked out for Bastille Day until 2011.

Catching Up

I know, my blog writing has become very, very tardy of late. It's not that I'm not interested any more - in fact, far from it - but a number of things have changed over the course of this year that have made it more difficult to find the time or the subject matter.

My weeks have been filled with guest activity, such that some weeks I am either doing dinner or canapes and cocktails for guests most evenings. I have made the odd reference to guests in this blog but only in passing and never in any detail because I'm not sure it would be right - but if that is what has happened during the day and evening then there is not much else left to write about.

In addition, Debrah and I have been trying to spend as much time together as possible to reduce the impact of our separate London and Carcassonne working lives - and, as I started this blog as a way of communicating and, hopefully, amusing my wife when we were apart, it's 'raison d'etre' has been somewhat diminished.

So it is that the last week has gone by without so much as a peep from me. Well, here in summary is what has been happening.

We hosted dinner for our honeymoon couple last Wednesday evening and then I drove both sets of guests, somewhat squashed in the car, down to VinEcole and Domaine Gayda for a wine tasting and lunch, whilst at the same time Debrah boarded a first class French railway carriage on a train to Bordeaux that took 3 hours and cost her only €32 - remarkable - "like travelling in a Mercedes train" is how she described it. She was met by Anna and they proceeded to 'go shopping' in Bordeaux because it was Anna's 40th birthday.

I went to a meeting of gite and chambre d'hote owners which was organised by a chap who sends out a fortnightly newsletter called the Aude Flyer. The newsletter serves a good purpose and I applaud it but after an hour of the meeting I knew I wasn't going to get anything out of it and made a client excuse and left. A chap with a newish big silver Mitsubishi 4x4 had to move his car to let me get my battered 16 year old Audi out of it's parking spot. "Somebody must be doing all right", he said, looking at my roof down 'flashy' car as he got into his 'tank' that must have cost him at least 8 times what I paid for the Audi and, no doubt, consumes considerably more fuel. It's amazing that people with with no taste or ability judge people with flair and style entirely by appearances - and judge them incorrectly - he confirmed my need to distance myself very quickly from a bunch of run-of-the-mill gite owners. We are way out of their league.

At the weekend, for the very first time, I was going to leave guests in the suites whilst I went up to Bordeaux for two nights to join Debrah at Anna's birthday celebrations. Guests left Friday and Saturday and I turned both the suites round and greeted the first of my weekend guests on Saturday lunchtime before I left but I couldn't hang around for the second set and so roped in a friend to check them in during the afternoon and out again on Monday lunchtime. I'm very glad to say that the whole thing went very smoothly - guests were very happy - David, who helped me out was also happy and I think glad to be involved and keen to help again whenever needed. So that adds an extra dimension and possibility for Debrah and I to plan time away from the business next year, which is a good thing.

The weekend was a laugh, the weather was fantastic and the company was very entertaining. The chateau guests did rather split into two camps though - those without small children, either because they have none or they have grown up and aren't hanging about any more, and those with a crying, moaning little monster or two. The look-alike Stepford wife blondes bonded to talk about childcare and needing a bigger home whilst the happy-go-lucky brunettes on the other table got on with behaving badly. Obviously we were in the behaving badly group - top weekend.

Before I left, Anna kindly let me gather some flowers and herbs from her vegetable garden which prompted a couple of comments about French lifestyle advertising as I drove off with the roof down and the smell of dahlias and basil filling the air - everyone loves and is jealous of that Audi.

So that brings us up to date. I picked up new Irish guests today who are very lovely and ever so happy to be here. They have already bought me a box of chocolates and offered to buy some wine for dinner tomorrow night - stop it - you've already paid to come here!

Aren't some people lovely.