London calling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dinner for guests

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Music is the future ..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Such are the demands of being a concierge!

Back to work

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

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

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

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

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

Cheeky weekend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wine Discovery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still not bothered

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

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

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

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

Am I bothered

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TV/Radio rant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Long way home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amputation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastille and all that

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to reality

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

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

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

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

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

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

A week off

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotter than hot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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