Feel the burn, smell the smoke

After yesterday's triathlon - cooking, eating and drinking - I was in much need of some healthier living and exercise today.

So a fruit breakfast, an hours ironing, some avocado and tomato as an early and pre-cycle lunch and a two and a half hour bike ride was what followed - and picking up my newest, and possibly last guests of the year, from the airport.

I am constantly apologising to new guests for the battered state of my 17 year old Audi and the fact that I have to use a screwdriver to get the seat to tip forward so that one of them can get in the back seat - but everyone waves my apologies away and tells me what a fabulous car it is and what a pleasure it is to be picked up at the airport in an open top car.

Today both guests decided to sit in the back so I felt even more like a chauffeur and they more like visiting royalty. It helps too that it was 20 degrees (at 10.30am) under an azure blue sky at the end of October.

We cooked two casseroles yesterday but only ate one of them. It had been suggested that my cooking guests might try the second for lunch today but when I checked with them at 1.00pm they were still not hungry and also trying to save some room for dinner at La Barbacane this evening. I so totally understood.

With no lunch to prep for them I was straight out on my bike for the afternoon and today I set two new records for myself - a 50km ride and over a 100kms for the week (132km to be exact - smashed that limit). I went out through Pennautier and uphill towards Aragon before doubling back to Ventenac, then Pezens, Villesquelande, down the canal for a bit towards Bram then up across the valley to Arzens, Alairac, Lavalette and finally back into town.

I had to take a detour around the river Aude and back under the Cité before heading home because I was determined to break the 50km mark and the direct route would have left me about 3km short.

I don't feel too bad - but I am sure my legs will feel a bit heavy tomorrow.

The Autumn countryside looked fabulous - the vines and trees all vivid reds, yellows, oranges and browns and the smell of wood fires was an ever present reminder of the season as farmers and gardeners burn off their cuttings and leaves.

The low sun caused quite a problem, especially in and out of the trees and along the canal - at times you are completely blinded, usually just as you hit a large prominent tree root on the towpath - a very painful reminder of the very narrow bicycle seat beneath.

Then, when I wandered down to town late afternoon with the sole purpose of just buying a ficelle to make toasts for the new guest's canapes, I bumped into my cooking clients sat outside Bar Felix enjoying a beer and the last of the sunshine. They insisted that I join them and I was well chuffed to hear them discussing the dishes from the previous day and how and when they were going to put them into practice - he is especially keen to try the chocolate fondants and can envisage having to try them many many times to perfect the timing !!

Happy guests - gives one a warm contented glow - as does a plateful of the second casserole which I tucked into this evening. I'm going to need another bike ride.

In the kitchen

The dishwasher has just gone on for the second time this evening and finally all the debris from the client cooking day has been cleared.

The two clients and I have been on our feet since 9.45am this morning when we set off for the market and apart from one brief half hour break at about 2.00pm, we have been shopping, cooking or eating ever since.

I think they had a good time and I hope that they have learned something from the day. We certainly covered a lot of ground and cooked a lot of dishes and have eaten far too much.

Three delicious but easy to make soups, pumpkin, leek and potato and pea, two simple pan cooked fish recipes, sardines with a Mediterranean sauce and 'merlan' with a cream sauce, a piquant fennel salad, a chicken liver salad, a 'daube' of beef, a 'blanquette de veau, potatoes boulangere, 'petit pois a la francaise', sauteed blette, strawberry compote, a thin crust apple tart and hot chocolate fondants.

As ever it was the chocolate puddings at the end of the day, just when you would have thought we couldn't eat any more, that caused the most excitement - they always get the most amazing reactions.

We didn't eat it all of course - that would have been ridiculous - it just feels like that right now. I need to go and lie down.

You looking at me?

When the alarm went off at 6.30am this morning I could have sworn that I'd only just finished the washing up from the previous night's client dinner. Why do guests on holiday want breakfast at 8.00am? - they should be lazing about taking the opportunity not to get up at the crack of dawn as they most surely must do in their normal working lives.

Never mind. I am here to serve and breakfasts were duly delivered bang on time as always.

Sadly there were no figs on the trays. I scoured the market last Saturday but not a fig in sight - and yes I could give a fig about it - I adore them. I think the cold snap a week ago has finally done for them.

They aren't the only things that have departed for another season - the evening boules sessions are also over now that the clocks have gone back. It is dark before Bob and Pierre can get away from their work, although, to be honest, I am not sure that they do a great deal of work so I might suggest an afternoon game because one thing that hasn't gone away is the sun, now thankfully restored with heat and a warm wind.

It was well up into the twenties this afternoon and my face is once again tingly from a touch of sunburn after my bike ride. The contrast with a week ago is remarkable - then we had frost on the ground and everyone switching their heating on - now we are back in short sleeves and flinging open the windows - quite bizarre.

Today's cycling took me to new heights, quite literally. I have never cycled up so many hills in one day ever before and my legs are feeling the strain of it and the previous two days - over 80kms so far this week. It doesn't seem to be getting rid of my gut though which is rather depressing.

I chose a new route today that took me up behind the Cité, through Palaja and on to Lac du Cavayere (or Carcassonne Plage as it is also known). It has been quite a while since I was up at the lake, and I drove there the last time about two years ago. There have been a lot of changes and I was quite impressed, which says a lot for a cynical old git like me, with all the facilities available, especially for families and children.

It was also extremely handsome in the sunshine and it's Autumn colours - the lake is set in a bowl on top of a hill surrounded by dense woodland - hence the many hills to ride today. There is a path that winds around the lake which must be at least three kilometres from beginning to end - it was such a shame that Debrah was stuck in London because it would have been a lovely walk together with hardly another soul about.

You can also cycle all round, apart from one set of steps where you have to carry your bike, and apart from the numerous short steep slopes where the path negotiates the woodland around the edge of the lake. I have to admit that I had to dismount twice as the slope and my heavy legs took their toll on my climbing ability.

I hadn't realised that there was a large chateau close to the lake set in the woods just to the north - the upper floors must have a magnificent view but I guess the owners might be slightly annoyed that their perfect view of the wilderness has been compromised by the lake being turned into the French chav playground of Summer Carcassonne.

It was a classic 19th century turreted twiddly grey chateau and was quite majestic set amongst the woodland that surrounded it. I consulted my map and negotiated a couple of woodland tracks, noting the 'propriete prive' signs at every turn, until I found myself outside the front door - i.e enormous iron gates about a kilometre from the house itself.

There was a side road and a sign for a gite which I was about to explore when I noticed the very large doberman that was looking at me - well silently staring and unmoving.

I have come across many a dog on my cycles and the majority bark a great deal and run back and forwards in their excitement and jump up and down a bit but mostly they have wagging tails and are just happy to see you - the bark is worse than the bite so to speak.

I absolutely did not get that impression from this dog - I thought he would quite like to bite me if I came any closer. So I decided to abandon the exploration of Chateau Gaja and beat an initially slow and then furiously fast retreat - funny how fear can get your legs moving - that and the barely audible deep growl coming from his direction.

Unfortunately I also backed myself into a corner as the lane took me downhill but only to the dual carriageway, with no crossing in evidence. I could go down the dual carriageway for a couple of kilometres to the next roundabout before then heading back to Carcassonne or I could turn around and go back uphill and back past gnasher waiting up there for me.

Obviously I took the long way back - tired legs or not.

It's a scandal - letting dogs like that loose on private property, although to give the dog some credit, he seemed to know that as I was on the road I wasn't technically trespassing. I could just imagine him thinking "Go on, step on the grass, I dare you". He's probably a soft sweetie that likes his tummy being tickled.!

Hippie shit

The busy busy client weekend became a little easier mid-afternoon today when Liverpool beat Manchester United. I was supposed to be in the middle of a client dinner right now but that victory combined with the celebratory drinks and the promise of the chance to sing in front of a load of strangers at the Celt (open mic night this evening) proved too much to resist for my client.

Personally I have never understood the desire to stand up and sing but maybe that's because I can't. Whatever, I'm not bothered really and tomorrow is just as good a night to host dinner - in fact after my weekend I'm not at all unhappy about it.

This weekend has been very full on with client activity and it comes swiftly after a hectic week of burning the candle at both ends and the disappointment of the barn and Debrah going back to London and just not feeling 100% on top of my game. It was all a bit of a vicious circle and I am glad of the break.

I always suspect that everything's getting a bit too much when I get a cold sore out of nowhere - and I don't just do cold sores like everyone else of course. I get them on my nose or on my ear and my sinuses swell up and inflame and make my whole face look odd - it's very uncomfortable rather than painful but no less welcome. Horse face, according to Debrah - she likes horses a lot but it stops her wanting to kiss me so I don't see the funny side at all.

I don't know what causes it and it hasn't happened since the Spring - maybe the sudden cold snap that caught us all unawares, maybe the frustration at missing the barn and the subsequent soul searching about what to do next that ensued, maybe the dinners out and dinners for clients of which there have been many over the last two weeks or maybe a combination of all those things. I just don't know but it doesn't half piss me off.

At least today I managed to get out on my bike for an hour which I haven't done for over a week. It felt like it too as I headed out to the west of town into the wind but ultimately I felt so much better for the exercise. It's so easy to make excuses not to go out (it looks like rain, it's a bit chilly, I'm not sure what time the clients are due to turn up) but as with everything it's so easy to convince yourself not to do something when you so should just get on with it.

Five kilometres into the ride I was struggling but when I turned sideways onto the wind it became a bit easier and the whole dramatic landscape of the black mountains opened up in front of me. It was moody alright with big black clouds being thrust along by the wind but patches of sunlight were highlighting the browns and reds and oranges of the autumn vines.

Suddenly the ride became easier and the clean air filled my lungs and the joy of being out of town in the midst of the most glorious dramatic landscape became all consuming. I wish I'd had my camera with me but then again I probably wouldn't have stopped because I was on a cycling mission. I will try and go out again every day this week if I can.

I was so tired yesterday that I was early to bed last night and hope to do the same this evening. I was so tired yesterday that I was tucking myself away not long after I had done my canapes and cocktails duty with my new arrivals. Not that I got a peaceful night's sleep - it was all a bit noisy outside and I was still sleeping in the spare bedroom which overlooks the street because 42rvh was fully booked including the Masters Room (my bedroom when there are no clients here).

There was a very large happening in Carcassonne yesterday which probably contributed to the late night noise. There was a 'manifestation Occitan' - basically a celebration of the Occitan language and culture which a great many people here want to protect for future generations - well at least the 15-20,000 thousand people that turned up.

I am all in favour of tradition and celebrating our history and our past but I think it has to be in perspective to our current lives - to modern France in this case. The movement wants Occitan to be tought as the second language in schools here, much in the way that Gaelic is compulsory in Ireland and Welsh in Wales. I sort of agree as long a place can be found for it in the curriculum without it holding back the prospects of the children in school making the most of their lives - teach Occitan sure, but, as well as, not in place of English or German or Spanish.

Good branding though and masses of red and yellow Occitan flags made the march and parade from town up to the Cité extremely spectacular. Clients that departed this morning said that they had followed the march and been very moved by a sermon and rendition of the Occitan anthem in the Basilica and a fabulous view of the massed throng with banners and flags raised backed by the setting sun was only ruined because they had left their camera back at 42rvh!

Spectacular as it was I couldn't help thinking that it was a bit of a lost cause too. I am an ardent reader of history and am fascinated by who we are today and the all the twists and turns that have led us to this point in our political, economic and social development - so dressing like a mental art student, blowing into a recorder, banging a drum and dancing in barefeet as if every step is on on a bed of red hot coals seems a bit hippie if you ask me, and not a good reason to embrace Occitan as a movement for the future.

Still, I got a nice free map of Occitania with the local paper yesterday - I like maps and have already spent a good couple of hours looking at it. No chance of putting it up anywhere of course - the design guru would have a fit.

Which just goes to prove, it's all out of date and it's time to move on

Wine therapy

If anything could pull me out of my depression about the lost barn then a wine tasting at VinEcole would be a pretty good bet.

I had booked my place at 'The rising stars of the Languedoc' tasting some weeks ago. As a result of a recommendation from Matthew Stubbs, owner of VinEcole, I found myself chauffeuring two Irish guests there as well - I can't complain, without the referral they wouldn't have been staying here at 42rvh and I was driving there anyway so two extra people in the car made no difference.

There were two of the featured winemakers present, which made the tasting of their wines more interesting and a large diverse group covering eight different nationalities.

As I am increasingly finding from these tastings and my own exploration of the wine of the region, there are a great number of very very exciting and delicious white wines being made here in the region.

I was totally stunned by the four whites that I tasted tonight - one from an estate whose red wines I have admired for a long time (Mas du Soleilla), one from Saint Chinian (Mas Champart), a fabulous red wine region but not the first great white I have had from there, one from Collioure (Domaine de la Rectorie), which by chance I had also served at dinner with Daniel and Cecile last Saturday and one from Limoux (Domaine de Mouscaillo), a beautifully balanced and clean chardonnay and I had the pleasure of sitting next to the winemaker for the night.

Equally, I was disappointed by the red wines on offer. The Languedoc produces a massive amount of fruity, spicy, delicious red wine and the standard is improving all the time too. As a result, I think that many producers are starting to try and produce something a little bit different - to try and make it stand out and be recognised and yet, what they should be doing, in my mind, is just making the best example of the best wines of this region because there is nothing wrong with them if they get it right and they market them properly.

Rant, rant - I'm in that sort of mood.

Tonight I sampled a 100% cabernet franc (Domaine Gayda), which had a fragrant fruity nose but was strong and powerful and dry - there is a reason that this grape is used in blends, a Corbieres that was 95% mourvedre (Ch La Baronne) that was so tannic that it sucked all the moisture and feeling from my mouth - ditto the comment re blending, a 100% carignan from the Roussillon (Clot de l'Oum) which blew my head off with it's intensity - ditto blending encore, and a 90% syrah (Ch Canet) which was the only red of the four that I really liked.

I adore all those grapes but I think I might prefer them in a classic Minervois or Corbieres GSM blend rather than as an 'almost' single cepage wine. Interestingly, Syrah can be quite an obnoxious wine on it's own - just think of Aussie Shiraz - same thing, more jazzy antipodean name but this syrah was a stand-out wine.

Maybe it helped having Floris, the Dutch owner of the estate, there to explain it all. He even bought along a bottle of the just pressed 2009 wine so that we could compare it to the 2007 we were tasting - how fantastic was that - these grapes had been harvested over the last few weeks and just pressed and this was the initial result.

This is what wine buyers taste to assess the quality of the vintage and to make their expert opinions as to whether it will be great or not. Well I can tell you that 2009 will be a great vintage in the Languedoc - the summer drought has reduced quantity but the quality is great. The Ch Canet 2009 tasted of raw red fruit but it was already a better wine than many other finished products I have tasted and it won't be ready for consumption or sale for another year.

The 2007 was as soft and round and fruity as a lovingly prepared Syrah could ever be - joy.

So what's my point? Well just that wine constantly and consistently surprises and amuses me - and that's the beauty of it - always a lovely, exciting and new discovery to be made, always a new winemaker to meet and get to know, always a new taste experience. I love it.

On the other hand, just don't mention barns to me.

Second best

It has been the most disappointing and frustrating weekend imaginable. It was fabulous to have Debrah here in France for the weekend of course but events beyond our control meant that rather than spending the time excitedly planning a new project together for 2010, we are back to square one and resigned to plan B.

Last Wednesday, the day before Debrah flew out, I had a call from the agent - I assumed the call was to confirm the appointment for the second viewing of the barn that I first looked at a couple of weeks ago - but no, it was to inform me that an asking price offer had been accepted.

Naturally we still went to look at it, directly from the airport on arrival. Naturally it was everything Debrah expected and naturally, it could have been everything that she has envisaged it would be. Our annoyance, frustration and depression could not have been greater.

We called the agent again. "Is there any chance of a counter offer?", we pleaded. In true French agent fashion they kept us waiting over the weekend - stringing out the agony before, eventually, we got the dreaded news that a 'compromis de vente' had been signed and that was pretty much that.

At the same time, in expectation of us moving to France permanently, I had put our UK apartment up for sale. Despite the poor housing market there, we have received an offer. It's not quite enough but it was encouraging.

So, over the weekend we went through plan after plan and scenario after scenario, different options, different incomes, good and bad points of each, searched our hearts and our heads and finally decided that it would have to be back to the initial thinking for 2010.

The one thing that absolutely isn't going to happen for 2010 is that Debrah and I will spend most of the year living and working in different countries - as we have for most of the last four years.

So, the London apartment will come back off the market and I will go back to London at the end of the month when the last of my current bookings has departed. Unless by some miracle the barn comes back or a similar one appears from nowhere, we will spend next year in the UK and the apartments here will be let out on a self-catering only basis, which will work very well no doubt because of their excellent location and design.

There is nothing wrong with plan B - it just isn't plan A.

Good dinner

Sometimes I really get to enjoy my job - like evenings when I have to prepare and share dinner with an interesting and diverse group of intelligent and likeable people from all walks of life and from all over the world.

Tonight was one such occasion and all thanks to the inability to find a decent restaurant for guests to go to on a Monday night slightly out of season in France - well in Carcassonne anyway, but I suspect it applies to a wider group of similar small provincial towns across the country.

Now that we are into October, all of the restaurants that I recommend for guests who are looking for something slightly better than a basic brasserie, are closed on a Sunday and Monday night - actually some of them are always closed on those days even in the height of the Summer tourist season.

So my Mexican guests who arrived late yesterday were asking me this morning about dinner tonight and I was struggling to advise them. "Can you do dinner for us?, asked Antonieta. I couldn't say no in the same way I couldn't resist her original email asking "I want stay your luxury hotel". I'm not criticizing her English at all, it was sweet. My Spanish is rubbish.

My Australian guests arrived late this afternoon after a long drive across country from Tours. I could tell that they were weary and needed looking after - I offered and they jumped at the chance to have dinner at home so to speak.

When I woke up this morning I was going to be eating on my own tonight - finishing off the coq au vin that I prepared yesterday - by 6pm I was cooking a dinner for five.

They were all young - by which I mean under 40 and probably well under 40 - a corporate lawyer with his own firm employing 30 or so qualified staff, a specialist in pacemaker surgery and defibrillators who recently won a 'clinitian of the year' award, a graphic designer turned art therapist and a architect turned health care worker. Both women had designed their own homes - both men built what they were told to build - that sounds horribly familiar but very successful as a formula.

Naturally with Australians in the house the conversation turned to Skippy the kangaroo!

Naturally with Mexicans in the house the conversation turned to swine flu ( we all agreed that it wasn't their fault) and the new trend for premium grade sipping tequila.

We also discussed at some length why Central America celebrates Columbus Day (it was today by the way) as a national holiday when he bought the misery of European invasion onto the indigineous peoples of the region. Funnily enough, they hadn't really thought of it like that. I guess they focus on the positive benefits - whatever they may be.

Well you get the gist of it all - it was varied and intelligent and serious and light hearted - and the very essence of a good get together around the dinner table.

I just have the washing up to finish off.

Late or early?

When the booking form came back I didn't notice the anomaly and filed it away with the others. It was only when I looked at it again a couple of days ago that I realised there might be a problem. The arrival date stated Monday 12th October but the travel details said 'arrive by car on Sunday afternoon'. Hmmm.

The clients in question are a couple from Mexico - my first from Central America - and their whole booking was a little bit strange with an initial confusion over dates and then a double payment in the wrong currency, which left me owing them some money - thankfully not the other way round.

Bizarrely and as it turned out fortunately, I had no bookings this weekend and I had taken the precaution of making sure their suite was prepared just in case they did turn up on Sunday afternoon.

I have no idea why I had no bookings for the weekend. I had clients in all three suites up until Friday night and have clients all next week. In all honesty, the weekend was a bit dull here on my own but I did get the chance to have a lie in this morning (until ten, don't you know - can't remember the last time that happened, weekend or no weekend) and I did drive out to have another look at the barn.

Well nobody turned up in the afternoon and nobody called. It looked like it was just a typing error on the form and they were coming tomorrow - that is, until the phone rang at 10.30pm. It was my Mexicans, they were in Carcassonne but couldn't find me and didn't know where to park the car.

What can you do or say in such circumstances? Nothing really. I went out to get them, showed them where to park the car, helped them with their luggage and got them settled into their apartment. They seem a very nice couple.

I am just glad I'd prepared for the eventuality and that I wasn't already in my pyjamas.

Changeable

After a month of waking up, looking out of the window, and thinking 'blue sky and 30 degrees again', we had quite a lot of weather today.

It rained all through last night and was still drizzling this morning when I went out to the boulangerie for breakfast supplies. I even dug out a rainproof jacket especially for the occasion.

By the time I had prepped and delivered the three breakfast trays the rain had eased and a mean and moody sky was glowering over the town as I completed my market shopping for this evenings client dinner. It was steamy and humid but by no means cold - despite the locals being wrapped up in coats and scarves!

I dragged myself out on my bike (it's been about 10 days since my last outing) and pedalled off out into the Minervois. I can't remember seeing the landscape look so dramatic. There was low cloud hanging around the top of the Alaric mountains but the longer I was out the more the sky cleared until patches of blue emerged and the sun started to shine through.

Instantly the temperature shot up and steam started rising off the tarmac as the sun dried the damp roads. The contrast between the sun and the slate grey clouds was breathtakingly beautiful.

I was so distracted by this loveliness that I found myself in Marseillette after an hour of cycling and realised that it was of course the same distance back again. Ease myself back in to it I had thought - 40kms and two hours by the time I got back - and not a little weary from the effort. Today's ride took my total distance covered to over 500kms since I bought my bike computer back in late July - bloody hell, that's quite a long way.

When I met Cecile for a coffee in the square the sky was cloudless and the temperature was back up in the mid twenties - it was a glorious sunny afternoon. All my guests came back to change their clothes, having gone out prepared for a cool and damp day - which to be honest is what it looked like at 9.00am this morning. A rainy day in the Languedoc = an hour of rain and lots of sun either side of it.

Dinner for two sets of guests this evening was accompanied by the biggest, longest, loudest, brightest, noisiest, wettest, thunderstorm I can ever remember. Just as the guests arrived I detected the faintest distant rumble and mentioned that we might have a storm - understatement or what.

Ten minutes later the lightning was flashing across the sky every 60 seconds, the rain was lashing down the street and the thunder was drowning out all attempts at conversation. I picked a good night to not send them out to a restaurant.

It's all calm again now - the sky is quiet, the dinner is over, the guests have gone to bed and the washing up has been done (or is still doing in the dishwasher) and I have reached the limit of today's personal energy allowance - I'm pooped.

Food is for sharing

It's all smelling a bit fishy in the kitchen as a result of my impulse market buying this morning. Having made a casserole at the weekend in London, I went shopping with that in mind but somehow came back with mackerel for lunch and a kilo of mussels for supper.

I'm not really sure what happened but it seems my head rejected the idea of red meat and craved a bit of omega 3 - and once I was over by the fish counter my brain started trawling through it's store of fishy recipes and pan cooked mackerel with shallot, tomato and capers and moules mariniere is what came out.

I guess I have to be happy with that - it's the very essence of Mediterranean market shopping - looking at what looks good on the day and buying accordingly. So I was very interested to read recently that McDonalds in France is one of their biggest markets outside the USA (bigger than the UK and growing faster) and that Picard, purveyors of gourmet ready frozen meals, is by no means suffering during the economic downturn. So much for the myth of the French pulling up some vegetables from the garden for their supper.

Despite the outward socialist demeanour, capitalism is hard at work here.

I have noticed, however, that even when the French are eating sandwiches or takeaway food they still find a place to sit down and eat together either as a family or with work colleagues or with friends - the conviviality of sharing food survives and that is a very good thing.

I ate both my lunch and my supper on my own at home. I love my food and I love cooking and eating but there are days when I find it hard to put in the effort to prepare a good meal just for myself.

I did today, twice. Mind you, I had enough for two, if not three, this evening.

A kilo of mussels doesn't look that much especially when they are small ones and take up less room in your bag. When I got back from the market I made a pond for them in the sink and let them swim about a bit whilst I got on with my jobs. When it came to cleaning them this evening I realised how many were there - either that or they multiply like rabbits when your back is turned. It took a good half hour or more to clean them and with only me eating it took a good half hour or more to pick each one out of it's shell and devour the sweet little delicious morsels.

It's impossible to read while eating mussels because you have to concentrate on what you are doing - and with no-one to talk to, it ends up being a bit of a chore. It's the sort of food where you need to be able to talk to someone without looking at them or if you must look at them, they won't mind you waving a mussel shell, the one you use for picking out the other mussels from their shells, in your face. Oh for someone to say "You had more than me" or "That's not a very big mussel" type innuendo. I even gave up on spooning the residual winey buttery juice into my mouth and picked my bowl up and drank it down in one go - now that's very French.

Moules Mariniere is a wonderful, fabulous, delicious, evocative, French classic - just don't eat it, or anything else if you can help it, on your own.

Into the light

When I left London this morning it was grey and damp and drizzly stood on the platform at Tottenham Hale station. It didn't help that I was dressed for the South of France - short sleeved polo shirt, linen jacket, jeans, loafers and no socks. I can't remember the last time I wore socks without it being a special occasion (my Mum's birthday lunch I think).

Back in Carcassonne it was blue sky, breezy and warm - not as warm as it has been but still warm - warm enough to put my shorts on again and not to bother with socks.

Fortunately for me, this morning was the only bad day during my five day London trip, so I really can't complain at all. I flew back last Wednesday immediately after checking out guests and went straight into London sorting mode - there was lots to do.

I had my toothache attended to on Thursday morning followed by my unruly hair and the car key problem fixed on Friday, which took all morning and entailed me sitting about in London traffic going nowhere very fast for a good three hours - what a waste of time.

Then over the weekend we got to work getting Christian's recently vacated room back into shape. Rubbish disposed of, dust and sundry shit hoovered up from every nook and cranny and all the walls repainted - it looks quite nice now, although there is still a lingering smell of teenage boy about the space - which isn't pleasant. I also painted the hallway and generally started the preparation for putting the appartment on the market.

Well that's the plan anyway. Sell in London, buy again in France and live together in peace and love in exile. It's a good plan.

Irrespective of all that, the highlight of the last week was just spending five days with Debrah - eating, talking, drinking, planning, painting, watching TV - whatever we did we were able to do together and that makes for a very pleasant change. I now just have to see out the October bookings and then I can go back to put the plan into action and we will never have to spend so much time apart again - hurrah for that.

I did some cooking for Debrah too whilst I was there - roast belly pork, roast chicken, a pea and ham risotto and a cow face casserole (ox cheek to be exact). It's all credit to Debrah that she didn't bat an eyelid when I said that I had bought ox cheek instead of stewing steak - most men and women I know would have run a mile before eating it, which would have been their enormous loss. It was delicious, marinated in red wine and herbs and then cooked very very slowly with onion, lardons. carrots, turnips, mushrooms and thyme. Debrah has three portions left over to soften the blow of my absence until she comes out here next week.

It felt really strange just cooking for myself again this evening. I have three sets of new guests on Wednesday and a dinner to host on Thursday, which will keep me busy, but just isn't the same.