Part three of my belated birthday treat was a trip to Corrigan's restaurant on Upper Grosvenor Street in London's Mayfair for a masterclass with the man himself, Mr Richard Corrigan.
I have attended one other cooking masterclass in my life, a day with Jean-Christophe Novelli, which was a gift from my colleagues when I left advertising some four years ago. That day was much more of a cookery demonstration - lots of techniques, lots of tasting but no real hands on time and it took place at his home in Hertfordshire, not in his restaurant.
Saturday's class took place in the kitchens of the restaurant - fifteen of us split into groups working with the restaurant chefs and Corrigan flitting between to make sure we all got a piece of him. It was very much a hands-on experience in a professional kitchen, which is what made it all the better. We were also cooking our own lunch - well up to a point obviously.
My group started with the first course, which appropriately enough for someone with a holiday business in the Languedoc, was a chicken liver and foie gras terrine with caramelised mustard fruits - and yes I will be replicating it when I get back there. We moved onto the fish course - dover sole on a curried pumpkin broth - where I got the chance to do some fish filleting although there was nothing they could teach me about cooking with pumpkin and we finished on the bakery section where we completed the christmas pudding souffle mix for dessert and put together the petit fours.
Despite my flippant comment about the pumpkin - I learned an enormous amount. Just watching the chefs operate was an education - the head chef was on top of at least fifteen different things that were going on whilst simultaneously giving his time to the group of four 'tourists' in his care.
Everything was also done on a scale that I had never witnessed or contemplated before. My largest pan at home was small compared to anything in that kitchen. The ovens and fridges and machines were all awesome to behold and there was very little space to operate in, even allowing for the people that wouldn't normally have been there.
Sadly, we only managed three rotations and didn't get onto the meat course, which was a pity and with such a large group it was inevitable that we couldn't all get to do everything - but that is exactly what I wanted to do. I would happily have stayed in the kitchen all day and helped to produce every aspect of every dish if I could.
As it was we were ushered out to the private dining room where a six course lunch with wines was lavished upon us. What a shame that Debrah hadn't booked to join me for the lunch because lots of other partners did come along.
It was what I would call a proper lunch which didn't wind up until about five o'clock, by which time the front of house staff were in full flow in the restaurant and all the chefs had retreated to the kitchen to prepare for the 160 covers they were expecting that evening.
It was a great experience but actually it so very nearly didn't happen. I had called to confirm at the start of last week only to be told that they hadn't received the booking form and that the course was full. You can imagine my disappointment and Debrah's anger. Then out of the blue on Friday, they called to say that I could go because another participant had dropped out due to illness - hurrah.
Sat talking to my fellow food enthusiasts over lunch it became clear that the event management company employed by Corrigans was less than organised and that we weren't the only ones that suffered, including the restaurant themselves - there were after all 17 attendees when the maximum should have been 15.
Thankfully, I got there by the skin of my teeth and am very very glad that I did.
This is what we helped to make and ate for lunch afterwards
Chicken Liver Parfait & Mustard Fruits
2007 Etna Bianco di Casale, Sicily
Clare Island Smoked Salmon, Mozzarella, capers & golden raisins
2007 Assyntiko cuvée 15, Santorini, Greece
Steamed fillet of Dover Sole, Pumpkin & Ginger Velouté
2005 Riesling Wein Von Steirm, Neumayer, Austria
Butter Poached Bronze Turkey & Roast Leg with bread sauce
2006 Savigney-les-Beaune, Jean Feiny
Christmas Pudding Soufflé
2005 Riesling Auslese, Hans Lang, Germany
Stilton soaked in Banyuls with Irish Soda Bread
2001 Chateau Filhot, Sauternes
Monday 30 November 2009
Monday 23 November 2009
Pleasures and Disappointments
Last Saturday Debrah and I had lunch at the two Michelin star restaurant Hibiscus in the West End of London. This was the second part of my 50th birthday present and we both agreed it was one of the best restaurant experiences we have had for years.
Hibiscus opened in Ludlow originally but transferred to London a year or so ago. The room was very calm and welcoming, the ambience just right, the staff knowledgeable and friendly and the service excellent - and the food and wine was outstanding.
We chose the six course tasting menu and left it to the chef to excite, surprise and delight us. We also left it to the sommellier to choose the right wines to go with each course. Both succeeded wonderfully. The polenta with truffle was a particular highlight but each course was in itself a glorious tribute to the chef's talent.
While the chef is French and the food very much based in the best traditions of his homeland, it made a welcome change to have wines that were not, well not all of them anyway. I adore French wine but one of the pleasures of eating in London is being able to drink wines from all over the world - in the Michelin starred restaurants I have visited in France the choice is usually local French wine or French wine.
The choice of wine is not the only culinary pleasure of being back in London - in the last few days I have also had two excellent curries, from opposite ends of the price scale.
On Friday I met my good friend Kieron, who wanted to pick my brain about a new business idea, which he did whilst entertaining me to a five star Indian lunch at Moti Mahal - a modern Indian restaurant based in Covent Garden.
Then on Saturday evening, we treated Christian to a takeaway curry at home. At first I wasn't sure I could eat any more after our lunch but once it was here we all tucked in with gusto - especially Christian who was back home for the first time since he went off to Uni at Falmouth - back home to be fed and washed, poor boy.
I am also very lucky that Debrah works near to Borough Market. It's a lot more commercial (and expensive) than Carcassonne market but it does give me my market fix. Last Friday I caught a butchery and cookery demonstration about game and watched fascinated whilst a deer was skinned and then cut up into it's constituent parts ready for cooking.
I also had a fix of Languedoc wines last Thursday when I was able to attend, courtesy of Louise Hurren, a tasting of organic wines from the region which was held at the Maison du Region de Languedoc-Roussillon in Cavendish Square - just behind John Lewis on Oxford Street, so a great central location for this regional outpost that does so much to promote the products of my part of the South of France.
It hasn't all been good though. I met some former work colleagues at a converted pub restaurant called the Bountiful Cow in Holborn and was completely underwhelmed by a fairly ordinary steak and chips that wasn't at all cheap.
On the same day I searched for ages for an internet zone - for some reason I thought that in a big international city, a worldwide business hub even, there would be many more free or pay as you go locations where anyone could turn up and just log on - alas that isn't the case. I ended up in the coffee shop of the Aveda salon and No, I don't want any face cream thank you.
And of course it has been lashing down with rain on a daily basis with massive windy squalls that make umbrellas useless - it doesn't help that I know it has been abnormally warm and dry back in Carcassonne - isn't the weather weird?
Here is the full lunch line up from Hibiscus
Oeuf en Cocotte, Ras al Hanout, Palm Heart Velouté
Cornish Red Mullet, sprout leaves & onion salad, bone marrow & onion toast
2007 Chablis 1er Cru, Côte de Léchet, Laurent Tribut
Creamy Polenta, Fresh Hazelnut, Umbrian White Truffle
2007 Riesling Qba, Scharzhof Egon Muller, Germany
Roast Mortimer Forest Venison, Pear confit in red wine, Savoy Cabbage purée
2006 Capoposto, Negroamaro, Alberto Longo, Puglia
Selection of British and French cheeses
NV Ratafia de Champagne, Henry Giraud, Ay, France
Iced Nougat parfait of Candied roots, Physalis coulis
2007 Tokaji Furmini Late Harvest, Disznóko, Hungary
Hibiscus opened in Ludlow originally but transferred to London a year or so ago. The room was very calm and welcoming, the ambience just right, the staff knowledgeable and friendly and the service excellent - and the food and wine was outstanding.
We chose the six course tasting menu and left it to the chef to excite, surprise and delight us. We also left it to the sommellier to choose the right wines to go with each course. Both succeeded wonderfully. The polenta with truffle was a particular highlight but each course was in itself a glorious tribute to the chef's talent.
While the chef is French and the food very much based in the best traditions of his homeland, it made a welcome change to have wines that were not, well not all of them anyway. I adore French wine but one of the pleasures of eating in London is being able to drink wines from all over the world - in the Michelin starred restaurants I have visited in France the choice is usually local French wine or French wine.
The choice of wine is not the only culinary pleasure of being back in London - in the last few days I have also had two excellent curries, from opposite ends of the price scale.
On Friday I met my good friend Kieron, who wanted to pick my brain about a new business idea, which he did whilst entertaining me to a five star Indian lunch at Moti Mahal - a modern Indian restaurant based in Covent Garden.
Then on Saturday evening, we treated Christian to a takeaway curry at home. At first I wasn't sure I could eat any more after our lunch but once it was here we all tucked in with gusto - especially Christian who was back home for the first time since he went off to Uni at Falmouth - back home to be fed and washed, poor boy.
I am also very lucky that Debrah works near to Borough Market. It's a lot more commercial (and expensive) than Carcassonne market but it does give me my market fix. Last Friday I caught a butchery and cookery demonstration about game and watched fascinated whilst a deer was skinned and then cut up into it's constituent parts ready for cooking.
I also had a fix of Languedoc wines last Thursday when I was able to attend, courtesy of Louise Hurren, a tasting of organic wines from the region which was held at the Maison du Region de Languedoc-Roussillon in Cavendish Square - just behind John Lewis on Oxford Street, so a great central location for this regional outpost that does so much to promote the products of my part of the South of France.
It hasn't all been good though. I met some former work colleagues at a converted pub restaurant called the Bountiful Cow in Holborn and was completely underwhelmed by a fairly ordinary steak and chips that wasn't at all cheap.
On the same day I searched for ages for an internet zone - for some reason I thought that in a big international city, a worldwide business hub even, there would be many more free or pay as you go locations where anyone could turn up and just log on - alas that isn't the case. I ended up in the coffee shop of the Aveda salon and No, I don't want any face cream thank you.
And of course it has been lashing down with rain on a daily basis with massive windy squalls that make umbrellas useless - it doesn't help that I know it has been abnormally warm and dry back in Carcassonne - isn't the weather weird?
Here is the full lunch line up from Hibiscus
Oeuf en Cocotte, Ras al Hanout, Palm Heart Velouté
Cornish Red Mullet, sprout leaves & onion salad, bone marrow & onion toast
2007 Chablis 1er Cru, Côte de Léchet, Laurent Tribut
Creamy Polenta, Fresh Hazelnut, Umbrian White Truffle
2007 Riesling Qba, Scharzhof Egon Muller, Germany
Roast Mortimer Forest Venison, Pear confit in red wine, Savoy Cabbage purée
2006 Capoposto, Negroamaro, Alberto Longo, Puglia
Selection of British and French cheeses
NV Ratafia de Champagne, Henry Giraud, Ay, France
Iced Nougat parfait of Candied roots, Physalis coulis
2007 Tokaji Furmini Late Harvest, Disznóko, Hungary
Tuesday 17 November 2009
London Life
After the initial excitement of getting back to London - being re-united with Debrah, seeing Amy and attending the butchery course - life has settled down again.
It's a bit weird sitting in a small, modern two bed apartment in North London rather than the vast, spacious, eigtheenth century apartment we have in Carcassonne. The open plan living room with kitchenette at one end is the same size as the kitchen in France, which naturally makes cooking here a very different proposition and the ceiling height is halved - two metres not four. I miss my office and the feeling of space but I don't miss being on my own.
The on-site gym has replaced my bike as my means of exercise - less cardio-vascular and more weights - which makes a welcome change.
I also have the good old BBC and British television although I find myself watching it just because it's there, which is a good argument for not having it in France. I still don't have any satellite or pay per view but I also don't have a local bar that I want to visit so have missed all the rugby internationals and the football of the last week. Did I really miss anything? - no, not at all.
I have been excited by the new Waitrose in Crouch End and totally pissed off with the Tesco Express down the road. I have been buying from Borough Market, which is conveniently close to Debrah's office, trying to emulate my shopping habits in France. It's very difficult to do that here in London because there isn't an excellent fresh fruit and vegetable market three times a week just two minutes away from the apartment - but because I have the time and flexibility to shop around and to cook it has been possible to buy fresh and British, if not exactly local, and the chicken and pork and beef that we have bought have sustained us through at least two dinners each.
Debrah has been extremely busy at work and very stressed by it all. I am relieved that I was back here when an ongoing issue with a contractor finally came to a head - thankfully it is all now resolved, but she still has weekly deadlines on other projects in rapid succession. I am happy to be able to take all other day to day stuff away from her so she can concentrate on just getting through this very busy period for her.
After the Friday evening explosion it was a relief that Debrah didn't have to work at the weekend and with Christian away at college and Amy having returned home to Lincolnshire, we had a self-indulgent weekend to ourselves.
On Saturday we went to Brent Cross shopping centre. I was surprised that the Christmas decorations, which I had expected to see, were quite muted and understated rather than garish and gaudy - perhaps the credit crunch has affected the usual brash excess that marks this time of year. I can't remember the last time I was in a shopping mall and apparently, according to Debrah, I wandered around with a slightly dazed expression - a bit like a child in a toyshop for the first time.
On Sunday we took my new boots for a walk across Hampstead Heath - how terribly North London Sunday is that? After the gales and rain of Saturday it was much quieter and dry and the view from the top of Parliament Hill was very dramatic across the whole of the London basin as far as the North Downs some 20 miles south of the river.
It's good to be back in London for a bit and it's great to be living with Debrah again and the plans for next year are slowly crystallising.
It's a bit weird sitting in a small, modern two bed apartment in North London rather than the vast, spacious, eigtheenth century apartment we have in Carcassonne. The open plan living room with kitchenette at one end is the same size as the kitchen in France, which naturally makes cooking here a very different proposition and the ceiling height is halved - two metres not four. I miss my office and the feeling of space but I don't miss being on my own.
The on-site gym has replaced my bike as my means of exercise - less cardio-vascular and more weights - which makes a welcome change.
I also have the good old BBC and British television although I find myself watching it just because it's there, which is a good argument for not having it in France. I still don't have any satellite or pay per view but I also don't have a local bar that I want to visit so have missed all the rugby internationals and the football of the last week. Did I really miss anything? - no, not at all.
I have been excited by the new Waitrose in Crouch End and totally pissed off with the Tesco Express down the road. I have been buying from Borough Market, which is conveniently close to Debrah's office, trying to emulate my shopping habits in France. It's very difficult to do that here in London because there isn't an excellent fresh fruit and vegetable market three times a week just two minutes away from the apartment - but because I have the time and flexibility to shop around and to cook it has been possible to buy fresh and British, if not exactly local, and the chicken and pork and beef that we have bought have sustained us through at least two dinners each.
Debrah has been extremely busy at work and very stressed by it all. I am relieved that I was back here when an ongoing issue with a contractor finally came to a head - thankfully it is all now resolved, but she still has weekly deadlines on other projects in rapid succession. I am happy to be able to take all other day to day stuff away from her so she can concentrate on just getting through this very busy period for her.
After the Friday evening explosion it was a relief that Debrah didn't have to work at the weekend and with Christian away at college and Amy having returned home to Lincolnshire, we had a self-indulgent weekend to ourselves.
On Saturday we went to Brent Cross shopping centre. I was surprised that the Christmas decorations, which I had expected to see, were quite muted and understated rather than garish and gaudy - perhaps the credit crunch has affected the usual brash excess that marks this time of year. I can't remember the last time I was in a shopping mall and apparently, according to Debrah, I wandered around with a slightly dazed expression - a bit like a child in a toyshop for the first time.
On Sunday we took my new boots for a walk across Hampstead Heath - how terribly North London Sunday is that? After the gales and rain of Saturday it was much quieter and dry and the view from the top of Parliament Hill was very dramatic across the whole of the London basin as far as the North Downs some 20 miles south of the river.
It's good to be back in London for a bit and it's great to be living with Debrah again and the plans for next year are slowly crystallising.
Tuesday 10 November 2009
Cutting up a Pig
My 50th birthday was over two months ago but now that the season has finished for me down in Carcassonne, I can finally get around to enjoying the fabulous birthday present that Debrah put together for me.
The first leg of my food and wine extravaganza was an evening butchery course at The Ginger Pig in Marylebone. The Ginger Pig started with a shop in Borough Market eight years ago and now has four London shops supplied by their four North Yorkshire farms. All their meat is free range and they also make a fabulous array of pies and terrines. We ate some of their wonderful chipolatas just last Sunday morning.
They run four butchery courses - pork, beef, lamb and sausage making. My chosen course was pork and I, and the other six participants, duly turned up at the Marylebone shop at 6.30pm on Monday evening, where Barry and Borat - no, not that one - were our hosts for the evening.
We were kitted out in white coats and Borat started with an introduction about the history of the company, what free range actually means, how the pigs and other animals are raised, how to spot stressed meat and the difference between the traditional breeds that they raise on their farms.
Then it was immediately hands on (after washing them of course). There were no introductions and none of that "tell me why you are here and what you'd like to get from the course" type nonsense. There was no time and it wasn't important - I couldn't tell you the name of any of the other attendees.
Barry slapped half a pig on the board and we were off straight away. In fact Barry seemed to rather enjoy slapping the meat and picking it up and slapping it back down again and encouraged us all to do the same thing whenever possible.
Half a pig is very heavy and to prove it we each had to pick it up and then try and hold it out in our arms for as long as possible - I managed about 10 seconds but it was a major effort.
We were shown how to use the knives (the sharpest knives I have ever used in my life) and the saw as we took off the leg and then the shoulder, which was then halved, and separated the loin from the belly. Each joint was explained in terms of it's meat and fat and what it would be used for, how many different cuts it could make and how to cook each one.
Barry was pretty frightening with the big chopping knife in his hand and never took more than two chops to get through anything and mostly just one - hitting the exact spot he aimed for with incredible precision whilst the rest of us hacked away like Anne Boleyn's executioner making a right old mess of the job but got there in the end. Unlike poor Anne, at least this pig was already dead - but only just, because it was slaughtered last Friday - apparently you don't hang pigs to mature like other meat because they just go off.
Finally, we had to put together the joint that each of us would be taking home - in this case a boned and rolled loin. We removed the skin and scored and salted it. We boned it, seasoned it, rolled it and then tied it up with the skin back in place on top - I can now tie a butchers slip knot, well sort of.
We rounded the evening off with a glass of wine and delicious plate of roast pork, potatoes and carrots. We ate standing around the butchers blocks, improvised as dining tables by the addition of a plastic cover, because there were no chairs which was all rather weird but all part of the no-frills, it's all about the meat, experience.
I highly recommend it to anyone interested in cooking. It gives you a wonderful grounding in the connection between the cut of meat in front of you and the animal it came from and a healthy respect for the skill, knowledge and passion of a good butcher.
When I got home I proudly pulled my own work of culinary art from it's bag to show it off to Debrah, only to find that one of my knots had fallen apart. Damn - more practice needed on those knots then.
The first leg of my food and wine extravaganza was an evening butchery course at The Ginger Pig in Marylebone. The Ginger Pig started with a shop in Borough Market eight years ago and now has four London shops supplied by their four North Yorkshire farms. All their meat is free range and they also make a fabulous array of pies and terrines. We ate some of their wonderful chipolatas just last Sunday morning.
They run four butchery courses - pork, beef, lamb and sausage making. My chosen course was pork and I, and the other six participants, duly turned up at the Marylebone shop at 6.30pm on Monday evening, where Barry and Borat - no, not that one - were our hosts for the evening.
We were kitted out in white coats and Borat started with an introduction about the history of the company, what free range actually means, how the pigs and other animals are raised, how to spot stressed meat and the difference between the traditional breeds that they raise on their farms.
Then it was immediately hands on (after washing them of course). There were no introductions and none of that "tell me why you are here and what you'd like to get from the course" type nonsense. There was no time and it wasn't important - I couldn't tell you the name of any of the other attendees.
Barry slapped half a pig on the board and we were off straight away. In fact Barry seemed to rather enjoy slapping the meat and picking it up and slapping it back down again and encouraged us all to do the same thing whenever possible.
Half a pig is very heavy and to prove it we each had to pick it up and then try and hold it out in our arms for as long as possible - I managed about 10 seconds but it was a major effort.
We were shown how to use the knives (the sharpest knives I have ever used in my life) and the saw as we took off the leg and then the shoulder, which was then halved, and separated the loin from the belly. Each joint was explained in terms of it's meat and fat and what it would be used for, how many different cuts it could make and how to cook each one.
Barry was pretty frightening with the big chopping knife in his hand and never took more than two chops to get through anything and mostly just one - hitting the exact spot he aimed for with incredible precision whilst the rest of us hacked away like Anne Boleyn's executioner making a right old mess of the job but got there in the end. Unlike poor Anne, at least this pig was already dead - but only just, because it was slaughtered last Friday - apparently you don't hang pigs to mature like other meat because they just go off.
Finally, we had to put together the joint that each of us would be taking home - in this case a boned and rolled loin. We removed the skin and scored and salted it. We boned it, seasoned it, rolled it and then tied it up with the skin back in place on top - I can now tie a butchers slip knot, well sort of.
We rounded the evening off with a glass of wine and delicious plate of roast pork, potatoes and carrots. We ate standing around the butchers blocks, improvised as dining tables by the addition of a plastic cover, because there were no chairs which was all rather weird but all part of the no-frills, it's all about the meat, experience.
I highly recommend it to anyone interested in cooking. It gives you a wonderful grounding in the connection between the cut of meat in front of you and the animal it came from and a healthy respect for the skill, knowledge and passion of a good butcher.
When I got home I proudly pulled my own work of culinary art from it's bag to show it off to Debrah, only to find that one of my knots had fallen apart. Damn - more practice needed on those knots then.
Friday 6 November 2009
Guy Fawkes Night
I arrived in London the day before 'Guy Fawkes Day'. Obviously bonfire night means nothing to the French, although the ex-pat community can always be relied upon to keep up the tradition. So the fortunate timing of my return to the UK meant that I was looking forward to a great display of fireworks over the London night sky.
It was a great evening for fireworks - dry, not too cold and a clear moonlit sky - well it was in London anyway. But, sadly, I was disappointed, despite being out and about for most of the evening. There was the odd bang and the occasional burst of light. I know that most of the organised displays will probably be at the weekend but I still expected a lot of activity out of back gardens. There used to be ten years ago when my own children were younger - we sent up fireworks from the smallest restricted spaces and so did all our neighbours and my memories of my own childhood were of huge glowing bonfires, mugs of soup, sparklers, parkin and catherine wheels.
I wonder if the fact that all firework displays seem to be organised these days, which is a factor of the draconian health and safety regime now prevalent in the UK, has killed the spontaneity of bonfire night. How very very sad.
Whilst health and safety is taken very seriously in France, there is still a sense of personal responsibility for ones own actions. A wander around the outer walls of the Cité in Carcassonne is a prime example - not a warning sign or barrier or handrail in sight but plenty of unguarded large drops in evidence. Faced with that people automatically take more care about what they are doing.
The demise of bonfire night is made all the more obvious by the incessant rise of the Halloween nonsense. It didn't exist at all when I was a kid but now it seems that today's children are far more excited about the crass and gross Americanism that is halloween than an old British tradition of burning a guy on top of a bonfire and all that that signifies historically.
That's life I guess, it constantly changes and evolves - such a shame not to have the night sky filled with rockets coming up from all directions and the morning after mist with the unmistakable smell of smoke and gunpowder - at least I used to think of it as gunpowder when I was a kid.
It was a great evening for fireworks - dry, not too cold and a clear moonlit sky - well it was in London anyway. But, sadly, I was disappointed, despite being out and about for most of the evening. There was the odd bang and the occasional burst of light. I know that most of the organised displays will probably be at the weekend but I still expected a lot of activity out of back gardens. There used to be ten years ago when my own children were younger - we sent up fireworks from the smallest restricted spaces and so did all our neighbours and my memories of my own childhood were of huge glowing bonfires, mugs of soup, sparklers, parkin and catherine wheels.
I wonder if the fact that all firework displays seem to be organised these days, which is a factor of the draconian health and safety regime now prevalent in the UK, has killed the spontaneity of bonfire night. How very very sad.
Whilst health and safety is taken very seriously in France, there is still a sense of personal responsibility for ones own actions. A wander around the outer walls of the Cité in Carcassonne is a prime example - not a warning sign or barrier or handrail in sight but plenty of unguarded large drops in evidence. Faced with that people automatically take more care about what they are doing.
The demise of bonfire night is made all the more obvious by the incessant rise of the Halloween nonsense. It didn't exist at all when I was a kid but now it seems that today's children are far more excited about the crass and gross Americanism that is halloween than an old British tradition of burning a guy on top of a bonfire and all that that signifies historically.
That's life I guess, it constantly changes and evolves - such a shame not to have the night sky filled with rockets coming up from all directions and the morning after mist with the unmistakable smell of smoke and gunpowder - at least I used to think of it as gunpowder when I was a kid.
Tuesday 3 November 2009
All over for 2009
My final guests of the year departed yesterday morning on the East Midlands flight. I cooked my last client dinner of 2009 on Sunday evening, delivered the last breakfast yesterday morning and the last airport drop-off soon afterwards.
I have cleaned and prepped both suites and all the laundry is done - just one set of sheets still to iron, which will be done first thing tomorrow before I head off to London.
There was a sense of relief when I said goodbye to the last clients at the 'kiss and fly' drop off point at Carcassonne airport. The season is long and intense and relentless and although I love my work and get far more job satisfaction than I ever did in my past working life, there is no real let up from April onwards until the end of October - now to be precise. I am glad of the break.
I headed off to Lagrasse late afternoon for dinner with Michael and Nicole knowing that they were cooking dinner for me and that I could stay over because I didn't have to worry about a breakfast. I relished the thought that I could stay in bed as long as I liked.
As it happened I was awake quite early - force of habit I guess - and just dozed and surfed the internet whilst the wind and rain battered the shutters. It wasn't a very pleasant morning.
Whatever the weather the drive through the valley between Carcassonne and Lagrasse is always stunning. At this time of year the colours are magnificent with every shade of red, yellow and brown and a patchwork of different coloured vineyards backed by the garrigue and rugged hills - just beautiful.
My mind has now turned to other things though and I am very excited about getting back to London, not only to see Debrah but also because my eldest daughter, Amy, is staying with us for a few days too. She is down in the big city from Lincolnshire on a work placement with a PR company which she is hoping will turn into something permanent - but if not there then we will do our best to find her something else from the contacts we have. Even so, it will be just nice to see her - first time since July.
So the clients have gone and I'm heading back to London to see my ladies. I should just be happy and excited, but strangely I also feel an element of sadness.
Maybe it's just the uncertainty of this time of year - bookings are over and we are changing the way we are running the business next year, which really means starting from scratch and losing the goodwill we have built over the last two years. When you have no bookings it always fills you with fear.
Maybe it's the closing down of the apartments, unplugging everything, emptying the fridge, closing the shutters up, turning the water off, locking the doors.
Maybe it's just the Autumn melancholy.
However, I can't but help feel that this is the end of something - the end of an idea that Debrah and I formed three years ago which has gone better than we could have hoped and has in it's turn caused us more difficulties than we could have imagined.
C'est la vie. We just have to make what comes next even better.
I have cleaned and prepped both suites and all the laundry is done - just one set of sheets still to iron, which will be done first thing tomorrow before I head off to London.
There was a sense of relief when I said goodbye to the last clients at the 'kiss and fly' drop off point at Carcassonne airport. The season is long and intense and relentless and although I love my work and get far more job satisfaction than I ever did in my past working life, there is no real let up from April onwards until the end of October - now to be precise. I am glad of the break.
I headed off to Lagrasse late afternoon for dinner with Michael and Nicole knowing that they were cooking dinner for me and that I could stay over because I didn't have to worry about a breakfast. I relished the thought that I could stay in bed as long as I liked.
As it happened I was awake quite early - force of habit I guess - and just dozed and surfed the internet whilst the wind and rain battered the shutters. It wasn't a very pleasant morning.
Whatever the weather the drive through the valley between Carcassonne and Lagrasse is always stunning. At this time of year the colours are magnificent with every shade of red, yellow and brown and a patchwork of different coloured vineyards backed by the garrigue and rugged hills - just beautiful.
My mind has now turned to other things though and I am very excited about getting back to London, not only to see Debrah but also because my eldest daughter, Amy, is staying with us for a few days too. She is down in the big city from Lincolnshire on a work placement with a PR company which she is hoping will turn into something permanent - but if not there then we will do our best to find her something else from the contacts we have. Even so, it will be just nice to see her - first time since July.
So the clients have gone and I'm heading back to London to see my ladies. I should just be happy and excited, but strangely I also feel an element of sadness.
Maybe it's just the uncertainty of this time of year - bookings are over and we are changing the way we are running the business next year, which really means starting from scratch and losing the goodwill we have built over the last two years. When you have no bookings it always fills you with fear.
Maybe it's the closing down of the apartments, unplugging everything, emptying the fridge, closing the shutters up, turning the water off, locking the doors.
Maybe it's just the Autumn melancholy.
However, I can't but help feel that this is the end of something - the end of an idea that Debrah and I formed three years ago which has gone better than we could have hoped and has in it's turn caused us more difficulties than we could have imagined.
C'est la vie. We just have to make what comes next even better.
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