Getting Christmassy

I have been trawling through my numerous cookbooks looking for Christmas inspiration and have only succeeded in confusing myself enormously. I must have earmarked about 200 different recipes to try but have still not decided on what to cook for our Christmas dinner - which this year will just be the two of us hiding at home, eating, drinking and watching movies!

My short trip out here neatly bisects the Saturday market and I will also head back to London before the Foire au Gras this weekend. The Tuesday market was a bit of a disappointment with very few stallholders braving the freezing weather and not much on offer in the meat and fish market either - I guess they are all saving up for next weeks stampede.

It was so cold that when I came back in my face was tingling for a good 15 minutes. I decided that I needed a hat of some sort so went back to town later and went completely overboard on a (fake) fur lined hat that comes right down over my ears - so much better - I have even taken to wearing it indoors but have drawn the line at keeping it on in bed.

The first Christmas cards arrived today - my Mum and Dad are always quick off the mark and spelled Debrah's name correctly for the first time in about 10 years - there was a card from Domaine Gayda, no doubt hoping I will continue to send guests their way next year - and finally one from the Anglican church in Limoux listing all the times of the Christmas services. I have never been there and I don't know how they got my name and address but top marks for effort in reminding us all what the forthcoming celebrations are really all about.

A completely unrelated celebration was the first anniversary of the opening of The Celt pub. It was the usual mix of Irish folk music, various games in which worthless prizes could be won and slightly too much alcohol. I came home, eventually, with the same amount of money that I started the night with because all the drinks, for me anyway, were on the house - which was nice.

A dull head and the chilly air would have kept me in bed this morning but I had arranged to meet Cecile for a coffee at ten.

This afternoon I went to look at another pile of stones in need of much loving care - this pile was near Moux which is about halfway between Carcassonne and Narbonne. It dates back to the 13th century but is now just four walls overgrown with ivy - no roof, no floor, no doors or windows. There is about 5000sqm of land with some syrah vines that could produce about 3000 litres of wine - but the aspect is wrong and the nearby railway and main road are the things that weren't shown or mentioned on the details. It's probably not for us.

There was plenty of snow on the Alairic mountains and the Montagne Noire and I presume on the Pyrenees too, but it was too cloudy to see that far. As it normally is, the weather was a bit better as I headed east towards the sea and I even saw some sunshine after the unrelenting grey cloud and cold wind of Carcassonne for the last three days.

Swine flu or H1N1 or 'la grippe' finally appears to have arrived in the town too since I was last here. Tom from the bar has had it and Louis, Cecile's son, was off school for a bit and two schools have been closed for ten days or so because of the number of cases. Vaccination seems to be progressing here as it is in the UK - just all keep out of my way please - the last thing I want is a holiday illness.

New Bar

The problem with the difficult tenant isn't resolved and is probably going to run and run.

Last night I accompanied Brigitte whilst she attempted to both smooth the ground and also to tell him what is and what isn't acceptable. He was extremely surly and very uncooperative throughout the entire conversation and nothing was resolved. To make matters worse, the owner of the apartment is so far removed from Carcassonne and the day to day reality that they can't form an opinion or take sides from a distance, which is to be expected I guess.

Sadly, we also found out that the studio that was for sale upstairs has been sold - thus scuppering our next move in the master plan of acquiring all the other apartments in the building. There may have to be a drastic re-think.

This evening I ventured down to the new Irish bar - Debrah didn't fancy it so stayed at home - and realised how much the town has been missing a good bar. It reminded me that a lot of the people I now know in this town I originally met in the old Irish bar or met through people I was introduced to at the bar - including Patrick, the new owner.

So, I chatted with Patrick and his lovely Mum and Dad and then with Dutch Rob, who owns a book shop in Montolieu (I haven't seen him for over a year) and with Brigitte and a girlfriend of hers (they drank Guinness with strawberry sirop - bizarre) and with Bob and David (but not Pierre because he was down in Narbonne with one of his girlfriends) and with Lesa (who I haven't seen for a month since she went back to Australia) and naturally with Susan who is now running the bar and with Gary who is manning the door.

I am very pleased for Patrick - it's a good bar and does what good bars do - brings people together - and of course I will have somewhere new to send our guests next year.