Sad news

During the course of the day I have received one facebook message, one phonecall and one email from different people in France, all giving me the same sad news. Gerard, the proprietor of the Makhila Bar was found by his son this morning - he had hanged himself.

It was common knowledge that in recent weeks he and his wife had split and that the Makhila was up for sale, which in itself was shock enough as they had appeared to be a very happy couple and were such a well known part of the Carcassonne social scene - but you never really know what lies under the surface.

Nevertheless, it is still a big shock and difficult to take in. I saw him only a few days ago, just last weekend - as usual we exchanged handshakes, smiles and 'ca va's'.

He was an instantly recognisable character - loud shirts, bald pate, big moustache, colourful reading glasses pushed up onto his forehead. He was larger than life, a gentle man but with fierce eyes that betrayed his Basque heritage and his love of rugby. He had no time at all for football.

Gerard was a patron of the Carcassonne rugby union team and the Makhila was their official watering hole. When the team won the celebrations went on well into the night. During the successful campaign for promotion from Pro D2 I was able to discern the result on a Sunday evening by opening my kitchen window and gauging the noise level and type of music coming from the Makhila at the top of the hill two hundred metres away.

The Makhila is a Basque Bar. It is brash and loud. It is a temple to bullfighting and rugby and food and drink. I have spent many an evening in there, although less so this year, often right to the end and sometimes beyond. When everyone started smoking inside it took me a couple of minutes to realise I was part of a lock-in.

The bar was full of big men with bigger moustaches and even bigger thirsts, but Gerard's wife, Francoise, was as much a part of the place as he was which is why the news of their split was such a surprise. I have eaten many a plate of tapas, drunk many a glass of pastis, many a glass of red wine and been handed as many 'on the house' too.

The Spanish Festival which took place last weekend was the Makhila's weekend. They always had the largest 'bodega' and the largest crowd and the loudest music containing all the usual French and basque drinking anthems. A couple of years ago an inordinate amount of rosé was consumed on this very day - 27th August - Debrah's birthday. There were some hangovers the day after that.

His empire had been growing. Last year he set his son up as the proprietor of a basque delicatessen based in 'Les Halles', the towns permanent meat and fish market. It specialised in basque products - wine, hams, cheeses, quince paste and everything chilli and pepper. There was always someone I knew sat at their bar with a coffee, or wine, or both, no matter what time of the day - usually some time in the morning. It was here last Saturday that I last saw Gerard.

If he was outside the Makhila when I drove past in the Audi he always gave me a wave. I shall miss that and I will miss his presense in town. I don't think I will be able to go into the Makhila ever again.

Whatever drove you to take your own life, Gerard, may you rest in peace.

Pain and Pleasure

I have had a toothache for a while now. I first noticed it just after our week away in the Quercy - a cold drink went straight through a tooth and let me know about it. Since then a dull pain has started to develop and then intensify, kept under control by the lovely codeine/paracetemol effervescent painkillers that you can buy over the counter in French pharmacists.

Back in London for this week, I finally managed to get into the dentist to find out what's what with my teeth and the bad news is that I have an abcess which needs root canal work. The pain begins at 3.30pm this afternoon. Then hopefully the pain stops too.

My 50th birthday now seems a long way past. It was last Saturday actually but I had no time to write about it because I was busy with friends and guests and Debrah all weekend and because when I got back to London there was no internet connection for two days here at home.

When you haven't got it you realise how dependent you have become on it. I couldn't check bank accounts, I couldn't check business enquiries, I couldn't blog, twitter, facebook or skype - it was very very frustrating.

After one day doing other things, against all my principles I resorted to visiting a Starbucks. I have never liked the place and have always thought it was expensive and the coffee rubbish but I always remember that they had free internet access. Well nothing has changed - the coffee is still like dishwater and the service appalling (wrong orders/dropped drinks/wrong change - just in the 45 minutes I was there) - except that the internet connection is no longer free. It seems they have pulled the plug on the one good thing they offered.

I had a fabulous birthday and a wonderful weekend from beginning to end. The highlights included being told by a neighbour to keep the noise down (the nerve) on Friday night, a delicious lunch on the terrace of restaurant Le Parc on Saturday, Tim acting as the most charming wine waiter on Saturday evening, dancing to a French disco in the early hours, Aib's Sunday hangover, pizza and grilled meat at Les Paillottes in Pradelles-en-Val followed by river swimming at Rebaute on Sunday afternoon and Sam throwing up into a wheelie bin on Monday on the way to the airport - classic.

This week, indeed month, of celebrations continues apace. It is my Mum's 80th on Sunday and Debrah's birthday today - so we should be raising a glass to her later on this evening - root canal surgery and local anaesthetic permitting!

Non Anniversary

My weekend wasn't really a weekend - they were work days and very busy ones too.

Two sets of guests left on Saturday (one airport drop-off and one at the train station). So two rooms to clean out and market shopping ahead of dinner in the evening for the remaining guests.

They left on Sunday (another airport run) and three sets of new guests all arrived - so all the rooms had to be prepped and ready for them. One airport pick-up, one arrival via the train station and my first ever Italian visitors arrived on a big BMW touring bike after a very hot 5 hour ride across Southern France dressed in leathers - sweaty. Canapes and drinks in the evening completed my working day.

Yesterday was in fact my wedding anniversary and a poignant reminder of how difficult this year has been for Debrah and me, living in different countries for most of the time, getting on with our jobs, trying to earn as much as we can, making the best of things, but finding it very lonely a lot of the time.

Denis insisted on us going out for supper again, but said that he was a poor wife stand-in and couldn't manage the heels! He is a lovely man and if I couldn't have supper with Debrah then I couldn't have wished for a better companion for the evening.

We followed my guests, at a discrete distance, to Brasserie Saint Germain, the only brasserie in town that appeared to be open on a Sunday evening in the middle of August, the day after a public holiday.

As you would expect it was doing a roaring trade - so much so that we had to sit inside because the outside terrace was packed. Not so bad a decision actually - my guests were all outside and the air-con was on inside.

We enjoyed a steak and chips each and a good bottle of red wine between us and chewed the fat and put the world to rights. Very pleasant it all was too but an anniversary dinner it was not.

Hot again

Phew! Hot again today. It has been the most glorious week - hardly a cloud in the sky.

I have put the bike back together but haven't had a chance to go out and anyway, it was too hot to cycle in the late afternoon which was the only time of day that I had an opportunity. It is four o'clock siesta weather, not four o'clock cycle weather.

Instead I was taken out to lunch by Denis and Grainne, who are over from Dublin for a few days. The occasion was my birthday, which in fact isn't until next weekend - but they will have left by then and they insisted, which was extremely lovely of them.

We went to Domaine Gayda and sat on the terrace and marvelled at the spectacular view - no matter how many times I have seen it, and it is many many times, it still takes my breath away.

It was all very civilised. I was driving because I had guests there who had been to a VinEcole tasting and I needed to bring them back to Carcassonne. So even with a birthday lunch there was still an element of work to be done.

There is a busy weekend ahead with changeovers for all three rooms so I better get some sleep - I'm not getting any younger you know.

Back in the groove

I am now well and truly back into the swing of things here in Carcassonne - guests in and out, ironing, cleaning, dinners, cycling and missing Debrah very much.

I had new guests on Sunday who left this morning. They were on a golfing holiday which is an unusual one because golf courses are few and far between in these parts - but they played the local course yesterday and said it was very good. Each to their own - they spent €50 each on green fees whereas I would spend the same on a fabulous lunch.

My other guests arrived yesterday with their 3 month old baby making his arrival known to everyone in the vicinity. I cooked dinner for them tonight - an enjoyable evening talking about London stuff and Languedoc stuff but they didn't overstay their welcome which is just as it should be. All the clearing up and washing up is done and dusted and my fabulous dishwasher is chuntering away as I type.

This morning I cleaned the stairwell and the courtyard outside. It was all looking a bit tatty and needed a bit of a sprucing. One of the drawbacks of firing the managing agents last year is that the weekly cleaner no longer comes to give the 'common parts' a bit of a tickle and a massage. The plan was that we would do it ourselves, between us, so to speak.

Well in reality that means me and the lovely Denis, on the very few times that he is here - today he vacuumed the second floor and I cleaned the first floor and entrance etc. Brigitte, La Presidente, is so sulky about the new chavvy rental neighbours next to her upstairs that she has given up altogether. She passed me today whilst I was cleaning the stairwell and said just a curt "Bonjour" - nothing more. Anyway, I can't be doing with moody women so I just ignored her too. She'll be back to her coquettish alter ego when she wants something.

I cycled both yesterday (on my own) and today (with Patrick). I have finally got a grip on the wind direction and now plan my route accordingly - out into the wind and back with it behind me.

My bike has had a lot of use this year and is well overdue a good service - it is filthy and the brakes need replacing and on the bone hard trails of the summer everything is being shaken apart. It was a bit Keystone Kops today with bits falling off every two kilometres or so - I finished the ride with the front mudguard strapped to the back of the bike. A trip to Decathlon looms tomorrow as I have guests at the weekend who want to use the bikes.

Debrah is working hard in London - too hard and too stressed as far as I can tell (was London ever any different) and for all my keeping myself busy here I would far rather be with Debrah - so roll on Thursday next week.

Alentejo Pork and Clams

Whilst I was in London last week I met Giovanna for some lunch at the Eyre Brothers restaurant in Shoreditch. It is a favourite London haunt because the food is good, the bar is good and David Eyre is a good friend. He and his then girlfriend, now fiancé, came out to Carcassonne last year for a weekend break and he ended up cooking for me the day after I had cooked for him - one of those daunting 'oh my God, a chef is coming to stay' experiences.

If you don't know who David Eyre is then you should. He is responsible for the whole gastropub revolution following the success of the Eagle on Farringdon Road in the 1990's.

Anyway, we had ordered some bar tapas last week which were fabulous as ever and then a couple of additional dishes arrived courtesy of the chef, which was nice of him. One of them was Alentejo Pork and Clams, which was absolutely delicious and I told David so - next minute he was sat at the bar with pencil and paper writing out the recipe for me to take away - how good is that?, a handwritten recipe from the master. I know I am being greedy but I wish he had written down the other six recipes he described to me, including a beetroot soup that sounded fabulous. By this time we were conducting a wine tasting too - hence my inability to remember all the details!

When I got back to Carcassonne last Thursday the dish was still very much on my mind and so I set out to find the ingredients and put it to the test.

The beauty of recipes being handed on from person to person is that they evolve and develop. I have David's Eagle cookbook and the Alentejo recipe is in it and it's quite different from the one he wrote out for me - and the one I cooked this weekend was different again because I didn't have exactly the ingredients, although all the key elements were there.

I was determined to try it and imagined that I would be cooking it for myself, so I was delighted to find that Denis is over from Dublin and that he had a free evening - it is so much better to cook for other people.

The result? - Denis gave it a good thumbs up and ate the lot, although being Irish he seemed more intent on polishing off the boiled potatoes. In my usual understated and modest way I thought it was brilliant and I can't wait to cook it again, for Debrah next time and maybe the crew coming down to Carcassonne for my birthday in a couple of weeks time.

Obsessed?

So much for yesterday's full on thirty degree plus heat as I got off the plane - this morning dawned grey and cool(er).

In fact, perfect for cycling - so off I went for my morning gym session so to speak. This time I correctly worked out the prevailing wind direction and so cycled into the breeze through Pennautier and Ventenac-Cabardes and on to Villesquelande before turning back towards Carcassonne through Caux and Greves. It was just under 30kms in total and I was back by 10.00am and feeling energised and alert.

I am actually becoming a bit of a cycling junkie. Each day I am thinking when can I get out on the bike and I am pushing myself more week by week. I now have a 'bike computer' which records my trip distance and time and average speed and all the rest and I religiously look at the results and vow to go further or faster next time. I know all about obsessions and am very conscious that this could easily become another one if I am not careful - so I need to keep it in perspective.

Why am I cycling?

What am I trying to achieve or prove ?

I started (once again) because I had put weight on over the winter and I wasn't doing any exercise. It was a struggle at first, as it had been when I first bought the bike for the very same reasons four years ago - but soon, as I forced myself to go out and did so more often, I started to enjoy it and started to push myself further and further, harder and harder.

Maybe my impending 50th birthday has something to do with it. Maybe Debrah's sudden gym obsession has something to do with it (I am slightly worried that her personal trainer has taught her how to punch properly!).

There is no doubt that I feel much better for it. I have lost a lot of weight but have no idea how much exactly as we don't have any scales here - that's not really that important though is it? I feel much more alert and alive, which has to be a good thing.

Obsession has to be better than addiction and for that reason I am content with it.

Painful days

I travelled back to France today after a five day sojourn in London. It was a sad journey. I couldn't help feeling that I shouldn't have been making the trip at all, that I should have been staying in London to support Debrah, who is not having a great time in her new-ish job. The Apartment here in Carcassonne feels large and empty here on my own and after five days together I am missing Debrah very much.

As always I enjoyed London and then again I didn't - some things just really annoy me about the place nowadays, probably the same things that annoy everyone else that lives there but they are still in their 'that's the way it is' mindset, as I was for many years myself, whilst now they just depress or annoy me. It's nothing major, just obvious stuff like transport and people and mess and noise.

Debrah often complains about the noise in Carcassonne, especially the kids on their mopeds (I totally agree with that) but I think it is just as noisy if not noisier in London. You get used to different sorts of noise, I guess, so one always notices what's new or different.

Don't get me wrong, I love London but just get very irritated by certain aspects of it these days.

On Monday I went down to Sussex to see my Mum and Dad. Mum is recovering from another operation but she was in good spirits and seemed a lot brighter than the last time I saw her - in fact they both did which was great to see. It is my Mum's 80th birthday at the end of the month so I spent some time discussing and planning events for that, taking her down to the local event hire place to look at crockery and cutlery and glasses etc and telling her I was going to do all the cooking for the event and none of this bought in ready prepared nonsense that others in my family were veering towards. It's her 80th and she has been my father's full time carer for 15 years now and she deserves a fabulous birthday.

The hardest part of being in London was that as soon as the initial euphoria of being together again had subsided thoughts immediately went back to the impending, imminent departure date, which means that we didn't really get to enjoy the last couple of days together. I find that really difficult because I want to treasure and value every hour that we do have together, not spend them looking forward to the next separation.

Oh well, it's not done deliberately but is just an outpouring of emotions. Two more months and then I will be back in London for the winter and we will make our plans for next year (the plans are made but they change every week or so depending on the current mood) and one thing is certain, whatever the plans are they will either be both of us together full time in London or both of us together full time in France - no more weeks apart.

To that end a couple of good conversations happened in the last few days that should result in some new opportunities for me in the next few months that will tie in well with finishing off the season here and finding something to do when I return to the big city.

Life no longer stands still - which is very exciting.