It was a disappointingly grey morning as it had been yesterday, when the hazy cloud didn't really clear and the breeze was just a bit too persistent and, as a result, the temperature didn't quite get as high as it should have done - it wasn't cold, but it wasn't hot either.
Debrah had so wanted a glorious blue sky market day, as it had been last Saturday, but it wasn't to be - so having done our breakfast and shopping guest chores, we jumped in the car and headed for the coast where, I assured Debrah, there would be sunshine.
We could have bought oysters from Bouzigues in the market in Carcassonne and eaten them here, but it's not the same as eating oysters looking out over the 'etang' where the oysters lived until plucked from their briny home and served up on a platter. Besides, we had never been to Bouzigues before and we like an exploration and an adventure.
It was a lovely day trip. The fields of poppies and wildflowers still look resplendent, the countryside is a lush green and the vines are vigourously reaching out in all directions. As we rushed past Narbonne and headed towards Beziers we found the sun, the roof came down on the Audi and the sun started to find us.
Bouzigues is a delightful old fishing village perched on the banks of the 'etang de thau', looking across to the hill and port of Sete. Stretched out across the etang between the two are the oyster beds - like tables set out in an exam room - symmetrically line by line, row by row. Of course, every other house along the quay in Bouzigues has a seafood, or more specifically, oyster restaurant attached to it and why not? - you can't really get much closer to the source of the food you are eating than this.
We had a lovely lunch - 24 oysters, 12 mussels, 12 escargots, 6 palourdes, 2 tielles and a bottle of the local wine, picpoul de pinet, made just a few kilometres away.
To complete the seafood theme for the day, by the time we got home we were both looking a bit lobsterish in the face and arm area - the unprepared no sun cream roof down on the Audi driving had caught up with us both. Oh well.
This evening we had drinks with guests - the guests who took over our bikes yesterday and cycled to Marseillette and back, which is a pretty good effort, and who wanted the bikes again today but had to hire from elsewhere because the other guests had already reserved them.
After months of sitting in their 'cave' home, the bikes have never been so popular or well used. I went out four times this week and then guests for the next two days.
My sudden rush of enthusiasm took its toll though. After my last ride on Thursday, my right knee developed a pain that intensified as the day went on such that by yesterday morning I was unable to manage any stairs or bending without an acute sharp pain just below my kneecap.
I know Thursday was a public holiday here (Ascension) and that the locals have been known to treat the Friday as an extension of said holiday to make a long weekend - 'faire le pont' as they call it, literally means to make a bridge between the holiday and the weekend.
I have never known a knee to join in this practice and I have never known a knee to suddenly turn French and declare itself a 'genou' for the day. It was meant to be working but it wasn't. Also, when was it allowed that one 'genou' declared itself unilateral from the other knee - they are supposed to be a pair, working together for the common good of getting me around the place.
Not surprisingly it feels a bit better today and I suspect that by Monday it will be working as normal!
Saturday 23 May 2009
Tuesday 19 May 2009
Bureaucracy, what bureaucracy
Today I went to see my accountant here in France. His name is M. Fraysse, which means that I always think of him as Mr Strawberry - I know, it would be spelled differently but it does sound the same. I have a French accountant because he understands the system and the rules and the law and I went to see him today to complete my first ever tax return for the business here - my return for 2008.
I am registered as a micro-enterprise. This form of business was introduced to simplify the tax regime for small operators like myself - below the TVA threshold, employing no staff etc.
I have always been told that French bureaucracy is a nightmare, but setting up the business couldn't have been easier - just two letters from M.Fraysse at the beginning of last year - one to the Mairie and one to the tax office.
Well the tax return was even easier - name, address, date of birth, UK address, type of business, turnover, signature - done - blimey. Did I need an accountant to do that? I guess so, I wouldn't have known that was all I needed to do without him.
So that meeting only took half an hour to do, and that included the ten minute formal introductory handshaking and the ten minute formal departure ritual of thanking and kissing everyone who happened to be passing through the office at the time plus the receptionists of course who had made the whole thing possible it seems - weird country. I just imagine everyone is so polite and then you walk out of the office and they all turn to each other and say 'What a wanker', or some such French equivalent, as soon as you have gone. Or am I being paranoid?
No matter - the tax return is done and we await to see what the damage is for payment in September. Not much is what I am hoping and am indeed led to believe - fingers crossed.
Apart from that it was a fairly usual sort of a day. One breakfast delivered at 8am to a very happy and grateful client who wanted to know where she could buy the fabulous fruit compote and granola (home made, so you can't, I'm afraid). One suite cleaned and prepped for new clients tomorrow. One visit to the market for fruit and a slice of calves liver for my supper (for the first time in two months I didn't buy any asparagus - I may have peaked on asparagus consumption for this year). One bike ride and sit-ups in a vain attempt to recover a figure that was last seen about 25 years ago. One set of sheets and towels ironed and aired in readiness for a room change tomorrow and finally, two games of boules in the evening sunshine - one won and one not won (lost, in fact).
I am registered as a micro-enterprise. This form of business was introduced to simplify the tax regime for small operators like myself - below the TVA threshold, employing no staff etc.
I have always been told that French bureaucracy is a nightmare, but setting up the business couldn't have been easier - just two letters from M.Fraysse at the beginning of last year - one to the Mairie and one to the tax office.
Well the tax return was even easier - name, address, date of birth, UK address, type of business, turnover, signature - done - blimey. Did I need an accountant to do that? I guess so, I wouldn't have known that was all I needed to do without him.
So that meeting only took half an hour to do, and that included the ten minute formal introductory handshaking and the ten minute formal departure ritual of thanking and kissing everyone who happened to be passing through the office at the time plus the receptionists of course who had made the whole thing possible it seems - weird country. I just imagine everyone is so polite and then you walk out of the office and they all turn to each other and say 'What a wanker', or some such French equivalent, as soon as you have gone. Or am I being paranoid?
No matter - the tax return is done and we await to see what the damage is for payment in September. Not much is what I am hoping and am indeed led to believe - fingers crossed.
Apart from that it was a fairly usual sort of a day. One breakfast delivered at 8am to a very happy and grateful client who wanted to know where she could buy the fabulous fruit compote and granola (home made, so you can't, I'm afraid). One suite cleaned and prepped for new clients tomorrow. One visit to the market for fruit and a slice of calves liver for my supper (for the first time in two months I didn't buy any asparagus - I may have peaked on asparagus consumption for this year). One bike ride and sit-ups in a vain attempt to recover a figure that was last seen about 25 years ago. One set of sheets and towels ironed and aired in readiness for a room change tomorrow and finally, two games of boules in the evening sunshine - one won and one not won (lost, in fact).
Monday 18 May 2009
Swifts
I have been watching the antics of the swifts. There appear to be far more of them this year than previous years. All day they chase each other about swooping low over the rooftops and down inside the courtyard - all at incredible speed - hence the name I guess. Sometimes they fly right up against the corner by my bedroom window before virtually stopping in mid-flight, turning around on the spot and setting off again around the tree. They seem to do this repeatedly for hours, but mostly at dawn and dusk.
Apparently it is all part of their Spring mating ritual and unless they are actually incubating eggs of feeding young they spend all their time in continuous flight - they mate in flight and they sleep in flight, soaring higher and higher throughout the night.
I know all this because Debrah's Book of British Birds is on the coffee table and I looked it up, which shows one isn't too old to learn something. I thought it was so interesting I'd thought I'd share it with you.
I expect someone in the Mairie will be hatching a plot to get rid of them - just as they do with the starlings every Autumn.
There seems to be quite a lot of nature going on at the moment. The fields and verges are resplendent in their banks of bright red poppies and wildflowers and the riverbank and streams are full of the happy quacking of new born ducklings in their fluffy brown and yellow coats.
As for me, I'm not quite sure what is going on all of a sudden. I seem to be acting totally out of character. Today I went out on the bike for a good 45 minutes of hard cycling and even did some sit-ups when I got back, I ate a salad for lunch and dinner and I have been drinking coca-cola or water instead of wine. I think I must have been replaced by an alien during the night. After supper tonight I went out for a walk which didn't involve stopping to sit down on a bar stool.
Debrah will no doubt be thinking 'it won't last' and she is probably right. Once the alien leaves me alone I'll no doubt revert to type.
On the business front the Aussies left yesterday and are now in Avignon and I had a new arrival today - a lady travelling on her own who came down to complete a house purchase and is spending a couple of days here to look at the Cité before going home.
Apparently it is all part of their Spring mating ritual and unless they are actually incubating eggs of feeding young they spend all their time in continuous flight - they mate in flight and they sleep in flight, soaring higher and higher throughout the night.
I know all this because Debrah's Book of British Birds is on the coffee table and I looked it up, which shows one isn't too old to learn something. I thought it was so interesting I'd thought I'd share it with you.
I expect someone in the Mairie will be hatching a plot to get rid of them - just as they do with the starlings every Autumn.
There seems to be quite a lot of nature going on at the moment. The fields and verges are resplendent in their banks of bright red poppies and wildflowers and the riverbank and streams are full of the happy quacking of new born ducklings in their fluffy brown and yellow coats.
As for me, I'm not quite sure what is going on all of a sudden. I seem to be acting totally out of character. Today I went out on the bike for a good 45 minutes of hard cycling and even did some sit-ups when I got back, I ate a salad for lunch and dinner and I have been drinking coca-cola or water instead of wine. I think I must have been replaced by an alien during the night. After supper tonight I went out for a walk which didn't involve stopping to sit down on a bar stool.
Debrah will no doubt be thinking 'it won't last' and she is probably right. Once the alien leaves me alone I'll no doubt revert to type.
On the business front the Aussies left yesterday and are now in Avignon and I had a new arrival today - a lady travelling on her own who came down to complete a house purchase and is spending a couple of days here to look at the Cité before going home.
Friday 15 May 2009
Wine Tasting
Lots has happened this week - most of which I can't tell you about because it hasn't and won't come to fruition for a long time yet and now is not the time to talk about it. All very exciting though and all filling our heads on an hourly basis. Oh - what a tease!
A group of four new guests arrived from Australia on Wednesday. Two of them stayed here last year with their children, so it was great to welcome them back - especially as they have come all the way from Adelaide.
One of the reasons they are here is a brother who works in the wine trade here in the Languedoc. They have also invited friends from the UK to visit at the same time - so it was that I hosted a wine tasting for seven last night and will host a dinner for seven tomorrow night.
It's fine to host a wine tasting with guests who have no idea what you are talking about and believe every word you say - it's slightly more intimidating when there is a wine professional involved too. I don't claim to be a Master of Wine or any sort of guru on the subject but I do know a fair bit after years of extensive personal research at the expense, no doubt, of the health of my liver. So I was mildly relieved and greatly reassured of my knowledge when it turned out that I was as well informed about this great region's wines as my wine making friend was - it just goes to show that nobody can ever know everything about wine - ever.
The wines that took my wine making friend by surprise were a Sauvignon Blanc from Rieux-Minervois and a late harvest sweet wine made by an English winemaker, also in the Minervois.
This whole vast region is known predominately for it's red wine - from Minervois to Corbieres to Fitou to St Chinian to Faugeres. Yet, it is the white wines that I taste that most astound me with their quality.
The reds all seem to be made to a pattern or formula that you expect and there are plenty of them so differentiating between them is more difficult - don't get me wrong, there are some delicious exceptional reds here and the average bottle is both extremely affordable and very drinkable.
The whites take me by surprise though - because I don't expect the quality and finesse that I constantly find - maybe I should stop being surprised.
Last night we had a Sauvignon Blanc from Domaine Saint Francois that was delicious in every respect - floral, aromatic bouquet and a mouth full of fresh peachy, apricoty flavours and just a hint of the oak barrels it had been in for 12 months. It was sublime in every respect and a total bonus as I had just picked it up that day in trying to find something different. The Aussies thought it had to be a Chardonnay but they were wrong and the winemaker vowed to visit the domaine as soon as possible.
The last wine we tasted was a sweet wine - Late Harvest from Domaine La Bouscade. The whole process of making a late harvest wine is an act of faith and as much of a gamble as buying a lottery ticket - the odds really are that bad that the right weather conditions will occur at the right time and the grapes will react in the right way. I think that running a holiday business is a gamble - winemakers make me look positively conservative.
Needless to say, everybody adored the wine and the winemaker actually clapped his hands in appreciation of a top class well-made product. He knows what's involved. My compliments to David and Jo Cowderoy out in Puicheric for turning out the best dessert wine I have ever tasted.
It's a job - but it's a good job.
A group of four new guests arrived from Australia on Wednesday. Two of them stayed here last year with their children, so it was great to welcome them back - especially as they have come all the way from Adelaide.
One of the reasons they are here is a brother who works in the wine trade here in the Languedoc. They have also invited friends from the UK to visit at the same time - so it was that I hosted a wine tasting for seven last night and will host a dinner for seven tomorrow night.
It's fine to host a wine tasting with guests who have no idea what you are talking about and believe every word you say - it's slightly more intimidating when there is a wine professional involved too. I don't claim to be a Master of Wine or any sort of guru on the subject but I do know a fair bit after years of extensive personal research at the expense, no doubt, of the health of my liver. So I was mildly relieved and greatly reassured of my knowledge when it turned out that I was as well informed about this great region's wines as my wine making friend was - it just goes to show that nobody can ever know everything about wine - ever.
The wines that took my wine making friend by surprise were a Sauvignon Blanc from Rieux-Minervois and a late harvest sweet wine made by an English winemaker, also in the Minervois.
This whole vast region is known predominately for it's red wine - from Minervois to Corbieres to Fitou to St Chinian to Faugeres. Yet, it is the white wines that I taste that most astound me with their quality.
The reds all seem to be made to a pattern or formula that you expect and there are plenty of them so differentiating between them is more difficult - don't get me wrong, there are some delicious exceptional reds here and the average bottle is both extremely affordable and very drinkable.
The whites take me by surprise though - because I don't expect the quality and finesse that I constantly find - maybe I should stop being surprised.
Last night we had a Sauvignon Blanc from Domaine Saint Francois that was delicious in every respect - floral, aromatic bouquet and a mouth full of fresh peachy, apricoty flavours and just a hint of the oak barrels it had been in for 12 months. It was sublime in every respect and a total bonus as I had just picked it up that day in trying to find something different. The Aussies thought it had to be a Chardonnay but they were wrong and the winemaker vowed to visit the domaine as soon as possible.
The last wine we tasted was a sweet wine - Late Harvest from Domaine La Bouscade. The whole process of making a late harvest wine is an act of faith and as much of a gamble as buying a lottery ticket - the odds really are that bad that the right weather conditions will occur at the right time and the grapes will react in the right way. I think that running a holiday business is a gamble - winemakers make me look positively conservative.
Needless to say, everybody adored the wine and the winemaker actually clapped his hands in appreciation of a top class well-made product. He knows what's involved. My compliments to David and Jo Cowderoy out in Puicheric for turning out the best dessert wine I have ever tasted.
It's a job - but it's a good job.
Monday 11 May 2009
Visits over
My Mum and Dad went home yesterday, which allowed Debrah, who came out on Saturday, and me to have a couple of days to ourselves at last - guests left on Sunday afternoon too and no new ones until Wednesday.
Before they went back to the UK, my parents took us all out for an expensive dinner at the Michelin starred 'La Barbacane' at the Hotel de la Cité. It was certainly expensive, and too expensive in my opinion for the standard of the food. I know I am being picky here, but although La Barbacane is excellent, it isn't exceptional and for the prices they are charging it needs to be exceptional.
I would far rather spend my money (or my Dad's money) in Le Parc - more entertaining, surprising and exciting. That comment would really rankle with my friend, Xavier, the general manager of the Hotel de la Cite, because the chef at Le Parc used to be the chef at La Barbacane and I believe there was no love lost when he departed to set up his own establishment.
Still, that's just my opinion and not everyone would agree. I'm not sure my parents would agree - I think they would feel safer in the four star international hotel surroundings of La Barbacane than in the fun and slightly flippant avant-garde surroundings of Le Parc.
No matter - they had a good week despite the problems for my Dad of getting in and out of the apartment. There are people that would say I shouldn't have made them stay here because of the difficulty of the stairs, but these are the same people that would probably stop my Dad going out at all or doing anything. It was tiring for him I know but so is everyday life at home. It was a change of scene for them both and a good rest for my Mum, which is equally if not more important. My Dad does have a way of dominating the proceedings - he gets all the attention - but my Mum needs just as much help and support because she has been looking after him for these past fifteen years of his reduced mobility.
I am worried about my Mum. She is 80 this August and has lost a lot of weight in the past year - she looks so frail suddenly - partly because of mild diabetes that she has recently had diagnosed and, of course, the strain of looking after my Dad all these recent years. She is stubborn and headstrong and opinionated (oh - that sounds like me) but I would never want her to lose her independence which is why I would never want them both to just stay 'at home'.
After they had left Debrah and I enjoyed 48 hours of lovely isolation with each other - talking and planning what we are going to do next and how quickly we can make those plans happen so that we are not sitting in different countries half the time.
How did we get ourselves in this stupid position? - oh yes, that was my fault. Damn me and my stubborn, headstrong, opinionated attitudes.
Before they went back to the UK, my parents took us all out for an expensive dinner at the Michelin starred 'La Barbacane' at the Hotel de la Cité. It was certainly expensive, and too expensive in my opinion for the standard of the food. I know I am being picky here, but although La Barbacane is excellent, it isn't exceptional and for the prices they are charging it needs to be exceptional.
I would far rather spend my money (or my Dad's money) in Le Parc - more entertaining, surprising and exciting. That comment would really rankle with my friend, Xavier, the general manager of the Hotel de la Cite, because the chef at Le Parc used to be the chef at La Barbacane and I believe there was no love lost when he departed to set up his own establishment.
Still, that's just my opinion and not everyone would agree. I'm not sure my parents would agree - I think they would feel safer in the four star international hotel surroundings of La Barbacane than in the fun and slightly flippant avant-garde surroundings of Le Parc.
No matter - they had a good week despite the problems for my Dad of getting in and out of the apartment. There are people that would say I shouldn't have made them stay here because of the difficulty of the stairs, but these are the same people that would probably stop my Dad going out at all or doing anything. It was tiring for him I know but so is everyday life at home. It was a change of scene for them both and a good rest for my Mum, which is equally if not more important. My Dad does have a way of dominating the proceedings - he gets all the attention - but my Mum needs just as much help and support because she has been looking after him for these past fifteen years of his reduced mobility.
I am worried about my Mum. She is 80 this August and has lost a lot of weight in the past year - she looks so frail suddenly - partly because of mild diabetes that she has recently had diagnosed and, of course, the strain of looking after my Dad all these recent years. She is stubborn and headstrong and opinionated (oh - that sounds like me) but I would never want her to lose her independence which is why I would never want them both to just stay 'at home'.
After they had left Debrah and I enjoyed 48 hours of lovely isolation with each other - talking and planning what we are going to do next and how quickly we can make those plans happen so that we are not sitting in different countries half the time.
How did we get ourselves in this stupid position? - oh yes, that was my fault. Damn me and my stubborn, headstrong, opinionated attitudes.
Thursday 7 May 2009
Parents in town
My parents arrived on Tuesday - their second visit to Carcassonne and the first staying here at 42rvh. When they last came we were still in the middle of the renovation and the thinking was that it would be better for my Dad in his wheelchair if they stayed close by in a hotel with proper disabled facilities.
The so called disabled facilities at Domaine D'Auriac proved to be anything but, so this time they stayed with me, even though we are on the first floor - once inside everything would be easy with all on one level, huge rooms and double opening doors everywhere.
He can walk a little bit but getting him up the grand staircase was still going to be a problem and so much depends on how he is feeling as to whether he has the strength to make it easy or difficult. And that's how it has been. Arrival on day 1 was easy as was going out on day 2 - coming back on day 2 was a bit more difficult but going out day 3 was ok - coming back on day 3 was very hard because he was tired and hot. We are restricted to one trip out per day - it would be much too much otherwise.
They do appear to be having a great time though and it is a much needed change of scenery and a rest for my Mum and, of course, they get to see me.
We didn't do much on Tuesday when they got here as travelling always takes it out of them and they like to get settled in. Besides, they hadn't seen the finished apartments and I'd had two sets of guests leave just that morning and needed to change those rooms over immediately, so Mum nosed about having a good look into every space and then 'helped' me with the room changes.
"I'll just take this towel through", said Mum
"There are more towels here to take", I said
"I'll come back for another", she replied
'Are you sure you aren't French', I thought to myself - talk about job creation.
Likewise on Wednesday morning - guests out and an immediate room change for new arrivals later in the day. Once that was done we ventured out together for the first time, just down to the Place Carnot for lunch outside at La Roulotte, where we were looked after very well as always and the food was superb and fantastic value at €15 each for three courses. I still don't know how a restaurant offering food that good and that well prepared can survive on those prices. Mum then checked out every shoe shop in town, and there are quite a few, before we ambled home.
Yesterday we went to one of VinEcole's excellent wine tastings and then had lunch on the restaurant terrace at Domaine Gayda. I've done the wine course several times so was very grateful that Matthew changed the wines - it was all new for my parents so they loved it all and I discovered some new wines that I hadn't had before - excellent. It was one of those glorious blue sky Languedoc days and with snow still on the peaks of the Pyrenees the view was outstanding and certainly took my parents breath away. We could see the weather starting to change as we sat and ate and the clouds started to pour over the peaks from Spain.
It was hot yesterday and that's why it was a problem, by the time we got home, for my father to get back up the stairs. Once he was in I knew that he would have a quiet evening and would need a good rest and sleep. As a result, we didn't do much and there was a grave danger of the evening developing into parental sitting (everyone sits in silence staring at each other), so I asked Mum if she'd like to go for an evening stroll around the town - a sort of 'passegiata', if we had been in Italy - which she was more than happy to do. I think she has had enough of sitting with my Dad.
Whilst we were out she asked me if I had noticed any changes in them. I said that I didn't think Dad's mobility had deteriorated at all during the last two years or so but that both of them are more frail generally now and their hearing and memory seems to be a lot worse. Ten minutes later she asked me the same question which just confirmed my concerns.
I postponed plans for today until I knew what the weather would bring and how my dad was feeling once he'd got up. It was grey and cloudy but that also meant cooler temperature wise, so after a very lazy start - by me too it must be said, the first morning for over a week that I didn't have a guest breakfast to do and I slept until 9am instead of usual 7am alarm call - we decided to head for the coast as Mum wanted to see the Mediterranean.
I booked a table at L'Hospitalet, a wine estate situated on the top of the 'Montagne de la Clape', the mountain that separates Narbonne from Narbonne Plage. It was exactly the sort of place that my Mum and Dad love. I don't actually think that the food in the restaurant is all that good, certainly not as good as Gayda the day before, but the staff were excellent and the whole place is extremely wheelchair friendly and my Mum bought herself a watercolour from the resident artist and Dad bought me a dozen bottles of wine from the 'caveau', which was extremely decent of him.
After that we drove down to the beach at Gruissan Plage and I took my Mum for a short stroll on the sand and then drove back slowly via Bages and Peyriac and then across country to Lagrasse and Carcassonne. Despite the overcast weather the whole region is looking fabulous at the moment with poppies everywhere and gorse and hawthorn and all the trees and shrubs on the hills looking all soft and fluffy with their new growth. Sorry, went a bit gay there.
I am pretty sure that I have sold them the whole idea of them moving to the Languedoc - a drier climate will be better for my Dad, a sunnier climate will be better for my Mum, the Mediterranean diet will be better for them both and a change from the routine they have had for 10 years would definitely benefit them - but they will probably find every reason why they shouldn't and not do anything, rather than embracing the positive benefits of such a change. What can you do?
The so called disabled facilities at Domaine D'Auriac proved to be anything but, so this time they stayed with me, even though we are on the first floor - once inside everything would be easy with all on one level, huge rooms and double opening doors everywhere.
He can walk a little bit but getting him up the grand staircase was still going to be a problem and so much depends on how he is feeling as to whether he has the strength to make it easy or difficult. And that's how it has been. Arrival on day 1 was easy as was going out on day 2 - coming back on day 2 was a bit more difficult but going out day 3 was ok - coming back on day 3 was very hard because he was tired and hot. We are restricted to one trip out per day - it would be much too much otherwise.
They do appear to be having a great time though and it is a much needed change of scenery and a rest for my Mum and, of course, they get to see me.
We didn't do much on Tuesday when they got here as travelling always takes it out of them and they like to get settled in. Besides, they hadn't seen the finished apartments and I'd had two sets of guests leave just that morning and needed to change those rooms over immediately, so Mum nosed about having a good look into every space and then 'helped' me with the room changes.
"I'll just take this towel through", said Mum
"There are more towels here to take", I said
"I'll come back for another", she replied
'Are you sure you aren't French', I thought to myself - talk about job creation.
Likewise on Wednesday morning - guests out and an immediate room change for new arrivals later in the day. Once that was done we ventured out together for the first time, just down to the Place Carnot for lunch outside at La Roulotte, where we were looked after very well as always and the food was superb and fantastic value at €15 each for three courses. I still don't know how a restaurant offering food that good and that well prepared can survive on those prices. Mum then checked out every shoe shop in town, and there are quite a few, before we ambled home.
Yesterday we went to one of VinEcole's excellent wine tastings and then had lunch on the restaurant terrace at Domaine Gayda. I've done the wine course several times so was very grateful that Matthew changed the wines - it was all new for my parents so they loved it all and I discovered some new wines that I hadn't had before - excellent. It was one of those glorious blue sky Languedoc days and with snow still on the peaks of the Pyrenees the view was outstanding and certainly took my parents breath away. We could see the weather starting to change as we sat and ate and the clouds started to pour over the peaks from Spain.
It was hot yesterday and that's why it was a problem, by the time we got home, for my father to get back up the stairs. Once he was in I knew that he would have a quiet evening and would need a good rest and sleep. As a result, we didn't do much and there was a grave danger of the evening developing into parental sitting (everyone sits in silence staring at each other), so I asked Mum if she'd like to go for an evening stroll around the town - a sort of 'passegiata', if we had been in Italy - which she was more than happy to do. I think she has had enough of sitting with my Dad.
Whilst we were out she asked me if I had noticed any changes in them. I said that I didn't think Dad's mobility had deteriorated at all during the last two years or so but that both of them are more frail generally now and their hearing and memory seems to be a lot worse. Ten minutes later she asked me the same question which just confirmed my concerns.
I postponed plans for today until I knew what the weather would bring and how my dad was feeling once he'd got up. It was grey and cloudy but that also meant cooler temperature wise, so after a very lazy start - by me too it must be said, the first morning for over a week that I didn't have a guest breakfast to do and I slept until 9am instead of usual 7am alarm call - we decided to head for the coast as Mum wanted to see the Mediterranean.
I booked a table at L'Hospitalet, a wine estate situated on the top of the 'Montagne de la Clape', the mountain that separates Narbonne from Narbonne Plage. It was exactly the sort of place that my Mum and Dad love. I don't actually think that the food in the restaurant is all that good, certainly not as good as Gayda the day before, but the staff were excellent and the whole place is extremely wheelchair friendly and my Mum bought herself a watercolour from the resident artist and Dad bought me a dozen bottles of wine from the 'caveau', which was extremely decent of him.
After that we drove down to the beach at Gruissan Plage and I took my Mum for a short stroll on the sand and then drove back slowly via Bages and Peyriac and then across country to Lagrasse and Carcassonne. Despite the overcast weather the whole region is looking fabulous at the moment with poppies everywhere and gorse and hawthorn and all the trees and shrubs on the hills looking all soft and fluffy with their new growth. Sorry, went a bit gay there.
I am pretty sure that I have sold them the whole idea of them moving to the Languedoc - a drier climate will be better for my Dad, a sunnier climate will be better for my Mum, the Mediterranean diet will be better for them both and a change from the routine they have had for 10 years would definitely benefit them - but they will probably find every reason why they shouldn't and not do anything, rather than embracing the positive benefits of such a change. What can you do?
Monday 4 May 2009
Upset Guests
It has been an interesting weekend as I have slowly retreated from the gloriousness of my vast apartment into the confines of the kitchen and spare bedroom. Nothing wrong with either of them at all, but it's all relative to what you are used to and it suddenly seems very restrictive compared to my usual grandiose living accommodation.
This evening is actually a first - the first time that I have three sets of paying guests staying here at the same time. I collected new guests from the airport at lunchtime, roof down, naturally, on the Audi.
Lo and behold, two hours later it all went black and I just got out in time to put the roof back up before the sudden deluge - not forecast, not planned, not expected - sort of like real life!
I cooked dinner for them all last night which seemed to go as well as usual - two vegetarians and two confit de canard eaters. It was just winding down about midnight when one of the guests fetched a litre bottle of 10 year old tawny port from their room and insisted that it was drunk, which naturally led on to tales of love and drink and drugs and broken marriages and medical conditions and trauma and heartache - and I didn't even join in the conversation!
The important thing is that the guests currently occupying my bedroom (using my shower, sleeping in my bed and generally lording it about in my apartment) are having a lovely time - they are having a lovely time because they told me so.
Until this evening that is, when apparently on their way back from dinner some kids, from a passing car, threw a bucketful of garlic water all over them - presumably as a prank because they thought it was funny and clever. But it wasn't at all, of course, because it went in their eyes and it stung and they thought in their panic that maybe it was acid or some sort of cleaning product or whatever and it ruined their night and maybe their whole weekend.
How dreadful. What a bunch of little shits. I will report the incident to the local police tomorrow because it's a nasty thing to happen to anyone and it needs to be stopped.
When things like that happen, words really do fail me.
This evening is actually a first - the first time that I have three sets of paying guests staying here at the same time. I collected new guests from the airport at lunchtime, roof down, naturally, on the Audi.
Lo and behold, two hours later it all went black and I just got out in time to put the roof back up before the sudden deluge - not forecast, not planned, not expected - sort of like real life!
I cooked dinner for them all last night which seemed to go as well as usual - two vegetarians and two confit de canard eaters. It was just winding down about midnight when one of the guests fetched a litre bottle of 10 year old tawny port from their room and insisted that it was drunk, which naturally led on to tales of love and drink and drugs and broken marriages and medical conditions and trauma and heartache - and I didn't even join in the conversation!
The important thing is that the guests currently occupying my bedroom (using my shower, sleeping in my bed and generally lording it about in my apartment) are having a lovely time - they are having a lovely time because they told me so.
Until this evening that is, when apparently on their way back from dinner some kids, from a passing car, threw a bucketful of garlic water all over them - presumably as a prank because they thought it was funny and clever. But it wasn't at all, of course, because it went in their eyes and it stung and they thought in their panic that maybe it was acid or some sort of cleaning product or whatever and it ruined their night and maybe their whole weekend.
How dreadful. What a bunch of little shits. I will report the incident to the local police tomorrow because it's a nasty thing to happen to anyone and it needs to be stopped.
When things like that happen, words really do fail me.
Saturday 2 May 2009
Stupid
What an idiot I am to give myself a dose of food poisoning.
After a long day continuing to get the new Master suite ready and changing the Apartment suite, also for new guests today, I decided i was going to have a quiet night in, a bit of supper and early to bed. Today was going to be busy with market and new guests and some cooking that I was planning to do.
It was all going to plan until I awoke in the middle of the night with excruciating stomach pain and I'm sure I don't need to spell out the rest. It was all going to plan until I used the wrong pot of cream in my dinner - the one that was a bit old and had been open for a while. Idiot.
It's a good lesson about throwing away old stuff and regularly checking the fridges and thank God it was just me that was affected and not the guests. In fact that wouldn't happen with the guests because all their food is fresh and it's me that hates to throw away the leftovers and always tries to use them up - there is a limit though as I found out last night.
I felt drained first thing and felt worse as the morning went on. I didn't get everything I needed from the market because I kept having to come home ! After the Spanish guests checked out I collapsed for an hour of sleep before an airport run to collect one set of new guests and fortunately the other guests arrived soon afterwards.
I had eaten nothing, had a splitting headache from dehydration and couldn't even drink water - I retreated back to bed for the afternoon which is when I should have been making some new batches of strawberry compote and granola and trying out a new onion compote recipe that I recently came across. The strawberries are starting to go off - I hope they can hang on until the morning or else they will also be thrown away.
This evening I made canapés for the guests and we had a chat over a glass of wine - they had a glass of wine. Nobody commented that I wasn't eating or drinking - I wonder if they actually noticed.
Finally they departed to their chosen restaurants for dinner and I am back in bed - feeling a bit more stable but aching and tired. Fingers crossed that all will be back to normal by morning because I have to cook dinner for them all tomorrow evening.
Lesson learned.
After a long day continuing to get the new Master suite ready and changing the Apartment suite, also for new guests today, I decided i was going to have a quiet night in, a bit of supper and early to bed. Today was going to be busy with market and new guests and some cooking that I was planning to do.
It was all going to plan until I awoke in the middle of the night with excruciating stomach pain and I'm sure I don't need to spell out the rest. It was all going to plan until I used the wrong pot of cream in my dinner - the one that was a bit old and had been open for a while. Idiot.
It's a good lesson about throwing away old stuff and regularly checking the fridges and thank God it was just me that was affected and not the guests. In fact that wouldn't happen with the guests because all their food is fresh and it's me that hates to throw away the leftovers and always tries to use them up - there is a limit though as I found out last night.
I felt drained first thing and felt worse as the morning went on. I didn't get everything I needed from the market because I kept having to come home ! After the Spanish guests checked out I collapsed for an hour of sleep before an airport run to collect one set of new guests and fortunately the other guests arrived soon afterwards.
I had eaten nothing, had a splitting headache from dehydration and couldn't even drink water - I retreated back to bed for the afternoon which is when I should have been making some new batches of strawberry compote and granola and trying out a new onion compote recipe that I recently came across. The strawberries are starting to go off - I hope they can hang on until the morning or else they will also be thrown away.
This evening I made canapés for the guests and we had a chat over a glass of wine - they had a glass of wine. Nobody commented that I wasn't eating or drinking - I wonder if they actually noticed.
Finally they departed to their chosen restaurants for dinner and I am back in bed - feeling a bit more stable but aching and tired. Fingers crossed that all will be back to normal by morning because I have to cook dinner for them all tomorrow evening.
Lesson learned.
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