I know I'm British but even I get a bit tired of talking about the weather all the time - but what else is there to discuss at the moment. Having got back to the UK I was inundated with warnings and forecasts and news reports of stormy weather and torrential rain and more snow and flooding, of another storm warning in France, this time in the North, and the horrendous firestorms in Australia.
Being without a television in France it got me wondering as to whether the weather was indeed much more extreme than it ever was or whether it is the multitude of TV and radio channels and news outlets and the dramatic nature of their reporting in this day and age that makes it appear as though it is more extreme than ever as they all try to outdo each other with the impact of their coverage.
In truth, the only story really worth all the dramatic coverage was the terrible loss of life in the state of Victoria in Australia, especially as it appears that some of the fires had been started deliberately - that was both tragic and disgusting in equal measure. If the culprits can be, without doubt, positively identified then maybe a good old fashioned burning at the stake is what they deserve so that they will understand what they did to so many innocent people - but it isn't the solution as we all know, because someone would have to set fire to them and they would have to live with that for the rest of their life and the pain would just continue. It was tragic, nonetheless.
Whereas in Britain - it's winter, where it rains and it snows and it's cold - please stop making out that it's something out of the ordinary and just get on with it.
I had a busy couple of days in the UK - the usual mixture of helping Debrah out with some stuff and doing a few things for myself.
I got the car serviced and sorted out the MOT and managed to knock a couple of hundred quid off the insurance renewal, just by getting other quotes and phoning up the insurance company and asking them what they were going to do about it.
"They are all bastards", said Debrah - I quite agree, but you have to deal with the bastards because it's illegal to drive around without insurance. It's clear they were over-charging us and hoping we would just renew without thinking because .. well, because we couldn't be bothered to ask probably. But I did ask, and without argument they reduced the quote by a third - it's outrageous that they should even deign to ask for the original quote which is why the insurers should be lined up next to the bankers, just behind the arsonists, in line for the stake.
Apart from the problem of the ongoing guilt, my ultimate solution would also see the destruction of all the remaining trees and therefore the environment - so obviously I haven't thought that through very well. It's tricky this whole politics thing isn't it. I don't envy Mr Obama his new position at all but then we've got a one-eyed Scottish idiot in the UK and a hyperactive Hungarian dwarf in France so nothing to shout about over here in Europe either.
On a positive note I did manage to get a very acceptable haircut for the grand sum of £12 which I consider to be very reasonable compared to the cost of the congestion charge in London - the haircut will last me two months and for the same money I could have driven into the centre of London for precisely one and half days. (I know they are two totally uncomparable things but the point is one is much better value than the other - right!)
I also went for an eye test and found to my surprise that I have the eyes of a forty year old. It's a surprise because I will reach my half century later this year, so either someone gave me some new eyes when I was ten years old or my own ones have lasted exceptionally well. It's also a surprise because I have been finding it increasingly difficult to read stuff recently and especially in poor light or that really tiny print that my wife always insists upon using when she designs anything.
So, apparently my eyes are pretty good for an old buffer like me and they still function in unison which means I can get away with over the counter glasses - and my optician told me all this with a smile on his face, without trying to sell me anything and just asked me come back for another test in 18 months or so.
Insurers and bankers could learn a thing or two about that sort of approach - but don't get me started on that again.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Friday, 6 February 2009
Later than expected
It was a strange week. The cancelled flight on Monday threw all our plans out of the window. I had a list of things that I wanted to get done in London and I couldn't do them from France - so it was also frustrating.
I did quite a bit of work on my French accounts which was a good thing and we had two lovely lunches sat in the sunshine in the square and Chris and Patrick came over for supper on Wednesday evening - but actually we were a bit sad that we had missed all the snow in London.
We were a little bit apprehensive this morning that we would suffer the same fate again. There were reports of more overnight snow and the runway at Stansted was closed for a while - but the Ryanair website wasn't showing a cancellation so we shut up shop and headed to the airport.
Unsurprisingly, there was a delay - in fact the plane hadn't even left London - so we sat about in the sunshine and listened to the French rugby supporters singing their drinking songs as they too waited for the much delayed Dublin flight that would take them to the Six Nations match in Ireland.
Two hours late but at least the London flight came in first and finally we have arrived back home.
I did quite a bit of work on my French accounts which was a good thing and we had two lovely lunches sat in the sunshine in the square and Chris and Patrick came over for supper on Wednesday evening - but actually we were a bit sad that we had missed all the snow in London.
We were a little bit apprehensive this morning that we would suffer the same fate again. There were reports of more overnight snow and the runway at Stansted was closed for a while - but the Ryanair website wasn't showing a cancellation so we shut up shop and headed to the airport.
Unsurprisingly, there was a delay - in fact the plane hadn't even left London - so we sat about in the sunshine and listened to the French rugby supporters singing their drinking songs as they too waited for the much delayed Dublin flight that would take them to the Six Nations match in Ireland.
Two hours late but at least the London flight came in first and finally we have arrived back home.
Monday, 2 February 2009
No go to London
Once we had seen the bad weather forecast for the UK last evening, we were prepared for the inevitable cancellation of our flight today - and so it proved.
Of course we had to go through the motions of packing our bags and getting ready to close up the apartment. Until the flight was officially cancelled we couldn't re-schedule and still had to turn up at the airport on time and the official cancellation didn't happen until just after the scheduled departure time from Stansted.
As soon as I saw the cancellation notice on the website I jumped into the car and dashed up to the airport. I was given the option of Girona on Wednesday, Perpignan on Thursday or Carcassonne on Friday - the Wednesday flight having already been filled. I only got the Friday flight because two seats became available as I was waiting in line at the ticket desk, otherwise it would have been Sunday before we could have got back.
At least it is no hassle and no extra cost to stay a few extra days because we have our own apartment and fortunately Debrah did not have a hectic week of work planned in London. Poor Christian will be living on kebabs for another few days but he'll survive I'm sure.
Tickets sorted, water turned back on, shutters re-opened - there was nothing for it but to wander down to the square for a 'bavette frites' lunch in the sunshine at Felix.
As Brigitte said when she heard - 'Quelle chance'. What luck indeed.
Of course we had to go through the motions of packing our bags and getting ready to close up the apartment. Until the flight was officially cancelled we couldn't re-schedule and still had to turn up at the airport on time and the official cancellation didn't happen until just after the scheduled departure time from Stansted.
As soon as I saw the cancellation notice on the website I jumped into the car and dashed up to the airport. I was given the option of Girona on Wednesday, Perpignan on Thursday or Carcassonne on Friday - the Wednesday flight having already been filled. I only got the Friday flight because two seats became available as I was waiting in line at the ticket desk, otherwise it would have been Sunday before we could have got back.
At least it is no hassle and no extra cost to stay a few extra days because we have our own apartment and fortunately Debrah did not have a hectic week of work planned in London. Poor Christian will be living on kebabs for another few days but he'll survive I'm sure.
Tickets sorted, water turned back on, shutters re-opened - there was nothing for it but to wander down to the square for a 'bavette frites' lunch in the sunshine at Felix.
As Brigitte said when she heard - 'Quelle chance'. What luck indeed.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
A corner of a foreign field
The torrential rain was being blown by the wind directly into the windscreen and, consequently, visibility was next to zero, no matter how hard the wipers were working on my behalf. It was pitch black along the unlit roads of the Minervois. The headlights of the few oncoming cars gave me an indication of the route ahead but their glare made it even more likely that we would end up in the ditch on our right hand side after misjudging one of the bends and undulations.
It was with some relief that we arrived at Puicheric safely and after parking we dashed across the road under the feeble cover of my small black London umbrella and into the warmth and shelter of their vignerons house.
What a filthy night it was to be out and about. The last time we had seen Jo it had taken her an hour and a half to get home along snow covered and icy roads - there seems to be something about our meetings and bad weather!
David and Jo Cowderoy are winemakers and British to the core and had invited us over for some supper. Their winemakers house was warm and cosy and full of dogs and children. It was as if we were in the kitchen and dining room of an English country farmhouse, which felt slightly odd here in the Languedoc but at the same time was comforting and reassuring.
Their two border collies were as lovable as any farmhouse dogs and, as always, their owners were oblivious to their misbehaviour and misdemeanours - one purposefully 'goosed' Debrah within two minutes of our arrival and their hangdog looks when sent from the dining room would have melted anyone's heart.
And their teenage daughters and their friends were, like, very amiable and, like, very shy as girls of that age are and, like, reminded me of my own daughters a few years ago before they, like, suddenly became young adults. I probably didn't get that right but anyone with teenage daughters would like totally understand what I mean.
We had a delightful evening sat around their dining table, in front of a warming log fire, sampling their range of wines - chardonnay, sauvignon, carignan, mourvedre and late harvest - as well as a delicious supper.
It was a top night out and thankfully the rain had stopped by the time we drove home.
It was with some relief that we arrived at Puicheric safely and after parking we dashed across the road under the feeble cover of my small black London umbrella and into the warmth and shelter of their vignerons house.
What a filthy night it was to be out and about. The last time we had seen Jo it had taken her an hour and a half to get home along snow covered and icy roads - there seems to be something about our meetings and bad weather!
David and Jo Cowderoy are winemakers and British to the core and had invited us over for some supper. Their winemakers house was warm and cosy and full of dogs and children. It was as if we were in the kitchen and dining room of an English country farmhouse, which felt slightly odd here in the Languedoc but at the same time was comforting and reassuring.
Their two border collies were as lovable as any farmhouse dogs and, as always, their owners were oblivious to their misbehaviour and misdemeanours - one purposefully 'goosed' Debrah within two minutes of our arrival and their hangdog looks when sent from the dining room would have melted anyone's heart.
And their teenage daughters and their friends were, like, very amiable and, like, very shy as girls of that age are and, like, reminded me of my own daughters a few years ago before they, like, suddenly became young adults. I probably didn't get that right but anyone with teenage daughters would like totally understand what I mean.
We had a delightful evening sat around their dining table, in front of a warming log fire, sampling their range of wines - chardonnay, sauvignon, carignan, mourvedre and late harvest - as well as a delicious supper.
It was a top night out and thankfully the rain had stopped by the time we drove home.
Saturday, 31 January 2009
Recognition
I have sent many guests to several of the restaurants in town and you always hope that they will recognise in some way the value of the business sent their way.
The charming owner of La Roulotte gave us a lovely three bottle case of wine at Christmas for that very reason and so, last night, instead of sending guests to him we decided we would take ourselves out for a treat and as we don't get to eat out much just on our own these days, we both made a bit of an effort and got dressed up.
I had sent guests there last Friday and just assumed that the restaurant would be open yesterday too. I should have called. I should have called anyway because the French much prefer it if you do rather than just arrive unannounced. But I was lazy and didn't call and of course they were closed for a one week holiday.
Many of the restaurants in Carcassonne are closed at this time of year and so we were all dressed up with nowhere to go on a damp and chilly evening.
The other restaurant that we send lots of people to in winter is L'Ecurie. It is a restaurant in an old stable block and has plenty of charm. Debrah and I ate lunch there on the day that we completed the purchase of the apartments - very nearly four years ago (where does the time go?).
So L'Ecurie it was - hoping that they had a table available. We were greeted by Christophe and even though the place was quite busy we were given a table for four rather than one of the smaller tables for two, which was a nice start. However, as the evening passed and our various courses came and went we were feeling more and more underwhelmed by the experience and the food - it was good food but just not great food and for the price we expected a lot better.
It's a problem we encounter more and more and not just in France - it's the same in London too. If we feel that we could cook the same dish better at home then we feel a bit cheated. It's the middle ground restaurants where this occurs most. If you know you are going cheap and cheerful with a price to match it's ok (like the €7.50 lunch at 'Chez Felix' in the square) and if you go top end where they produce exquisite food that needs an army of chefs working all day on it then you are happy to pay because you know you couldn't reproduce it at home in a domestic kitchen (like the Michelin starred 'Le Parc').
So, to be honest we were disappointed and wondered if our guests were left feeling the same despite their many positive comments back to me in the past.
There was one final surprise to the evening though - the bill. It should have been close to €100 but when it came it was €0 - it was Christophe's way of saying thank you for all of last years clients sent to him - how marvellous.
It wasn't a great evening but it finished on a high - merci Christophe.
The charming owner of La Roulotte gave us a lovely three bottle case of wine at Christmas for that very reason and so, last night, instead of sending guests to him we decided we would take ourselves out for a treat and as we don't get to eat out much just on our own these days, we both made a bit of an effort and got dressed up.
I had sent guests there last Friday and just assumed that the restaurant would be open yesterday too. I should have called. I should have called anyway because the French much prefer it if you do rather than just arrive unannounced. But I was lazy and didn't call and of course they were closed for a one week holiday.
Many of the restaurants in Carcassonne are closed at this time of year and so we were all dressed up with nowhere to go on a damp and chilly evening.
The other restaurant that we send lots of people to in winter is L'Ecurie. It is a restaurant in an old stable block and has plenty of charm. Debrah and I ate lunch there on the day that we completed the purchase of the apartments - very nearly four years ago (where does the time go?).
So L'Ecurie it was - hoping that they had a table available. We were greeted by Christophe and even though the place was quite busy we were given a table for four rather than one of the smaller tables for two, which was a nice start. However, as the evening passed and our various courses came and went we were feeling more and more underwhelmed by the experience and the food - it was good food but just not great food and for the price we expected a lot better.
It's a problem we encounter more and more and not just in France - it's the same in London too. If we feel that we could cook the same dish better at home then we feel a bit cheated. It's the middle ground restaurants where this occurs most. If you know you are going cheap and cheerful with a price to match it's ok (like the €7.50 lunch at 'Chez Felix' in the square) and if you go top end where they produce exquisite food that needs an army of chefs working all day on it then you are happy to pay because you know you couldn't reproduce it at home in a domestic kitchen (like the Michelin starred 'Le Parc').
So, to be honest we were disappointed and wondered if our guests were left feeling the same despite their many positive comments back to me in the past.
There was one final surprise to the evening though - the bill. It should have been close to €100 but when it came it was €0 - it was Christophe's way of saying thank you for all of last years clients sent to him - how marvellous.
It wasn't a great evening but it finished on a high - merci Christophe.
Thursday, 29 January 2009
Happy days
My Scottish guests left yesterday on the same flight that brought Debrah out to Carcassonne. From March onwards they would have been able to fly direct from Edinburgh, rather than have to travel via Stansted, but I am grateful to them for coming here in January. The new Edinburgh flight opens up a whole new market for us, so very welcome it is too.
My guests managed to find their way to 'The Celt' Irish bar every night for a wee nightcap and were treated as regulars by the time they departed.
It's good to have a 'pub' back in town. In Winter most of the bars here are closed by 9.00pm so at last there is an all week option, which is good for my guests and for me. As I still haven't invested in any form of satellite TV it is also the place to go to watch any decent sport and good sport is always best watched in a crowd.
There are downsides though. The old Irish bar always kept terrible beer and so I always drank wine, which we all know is the cheapest drink available in France. The new bar keeps good beer and serves as good a pint of Guinness as I have drunk anywhere except Dublin. There are two problems with that. Firstly, as Debrah pointed out on arrival, I am re-establishing my Guinness belly, which I lost when I left London for France and secondly a pint here costs €6 which these days, with the exchange rate nonsense of the last three months, is the equivalent of £6 - about double the price it is in London. Clearly I need to ration the Guinness and get out on my bike more often for the sake of my bodily and financial health.
Actually having Debrah here will help no end because she's not that keen on pubs at the best of times.
There are no guests this weekend but the upside is that we have the place to ourselves with no client interference and breakfasts to do.
This morning we ventured down to the market seeking some inspiration for supper this evening. We eventually decided on some veal for a 'blanquette de veau', a dish I had never cooked before. Just before ordering I realised that I had left my wallet at home - doh - and so dashed back whilst Debrah put in the order. As with all good butchers anywhere we just had to mention what we wanted to cook and for how many and he immediately knew what and how much we needed and how to cut it up ready for us to use.
Not only that but he virtually castigated me for running home because as a regular customer he would happily have given me credit - I could have paid him tomorrow 'sans souci' (literally 'without worry' but best translated as 'no problem') which is a fantastic level of trust that you don't see very often these days and will of course mean that I am much more likely to go to him again. Actually I need no more incentive to visit M Campaci because his beef and veal is some of the best I have ever tasted and, as I have written before, it can be traced back to the very moment of it's birth - probably to it's conception! That is food scourcing at it's very best.
After a mad session of kitchen cleaning by me we decided to make the most of the fabulous afternoon sunshine by taking the Audi, roof down naturally, for a little pootle around the Malepere hills. I can still feel the tingling of the sun and wind on my face and Debrah has succumbed to the effects of the fresh air and a hot bath and is now having a little doze whilst I type this and the blanquette bubbles away in the casserole dish.
Happy times and time for me to go and finish things off and get the supper on the table.
My guests managed to find their way to 'The Celt' Irish bar every night for a wee nightcap and were treated as regulars by the time they departed.
It's good to have a 'pub' back in town. In Winter most of the bars here are closed by 9.00pm so at last there is an all week option, which is good for my guests and for me. As I still haven't invested in any form of satellite TV it is also the place to go to watch any decent sport and good sport is always best watched in a crowd.
There are downsides though. The old Irish bar always kept terrible beer and so I always drank wine, which we all know is the cheapest drink available in France. The new bar keeps good beer and serves as good a pint of Guinness as I have drunk anywhere except Dublin. There are two problems with that. Firstly, as Debrah pointed out on arrival, I am re-establishing my Guinness belly, which I lost when I left London for France and secondly a pint here costs €6 which these days, with the exchange rate nonsense of the last three months, is the equivalent of £6 - about double the price it is in London. Clearly I need to ration the Guinness and get out on my bike more often for the sake of my bodily and financial health.
Actually having Debrah here will help no end because she's not that keen on pubs at the best of times.
There are no guests this weekend but the upside is that we have the place to ourselves with no client interference and breakfasts to do.
This morning we ventured down to the market seeking some inspiration for supper this evening. We eventually decided on some veal for a 'blanquette de veau', a dish I had never cooked before. Just before ordering I realised that I had left my wallet at home - doh - and so dashed back whilst Debrah put in the order. As with all good butchers anywhere we just had to mention what we wanted to cook and for how many and he immediately knew what and how much we needed and how to cut it up ready for us to use.
Not only that but he virtually castigated me for running home because as a regular customer he would happily have given me credit - I could have paid him tomorrow 'sans souci' (literally 'without worry' but best translated as 'no problem') which is a fantastic level of trust that you don't see very often these days and will of course mean that I am much more likely to go to him again. Actually I need no more incentive to visit M Campaci because his beef and veal is some of the best I have ever tasted and, as I have written before, it can be traced back to the very moment of it's birth - probably to it's conception! That is food scourcing at it's very best.
After a mad session of kitchen cleaning by me we decided to make the most of the fabulous afternoon sunshine by taking the Audi, roof down naturally, for a little pootle around the Malepere hills. I can still feel the tingling of the sun and wind on my face and Debrah has succumbed to the effects of the fresh air and a hot bath and is now having a little doze whilst I type this and the blanquette bubbles away in the casserole dish.
Happy times and time for me to go and finish things off and get the supper on the table.
Monday, 26 January 2009
What time
You would never have believed from the weather on Sunday that there could have been so much devastation the day before - but the trees lying in the canal and alongside and across the roads told a very different story.
I think the decision from on high to order all businesses to close in order to keep people off the streets was probably a very sensible one. A consequence was that the supermarkets were allowed to open on Sunday morning until midday - which won't have pleased the Catholic church, who have a hard enough job getting people in through the doors these days.
I popped down to Monoprix because I was short of milk and was astounded by the number of people - the queue from the tills went nearly to the back of the shop. I've never seen so many people in Monoprix. I've never seen so many people on a Sunday - not in a shop anyway. I decided to go elsewhere for the milk.
My new guests arrival time kept changing by the hour as the train system gradually came back up to normal-ish service. They eventually pitched up at about 4.15pm, feeling weary, of course. I cooked dinner for them all last night which went on a bit, had 5 hours sleep after the clearing up and before breakfasts and prepping a picnic lunch for the late arrival guests to take to a friend who lives near Limoux.
Their catalogue of misfortune and error continued when they couldn't get hold of their friend, decided not to both go to Limoux only then to find that she was expecting them but her phone line was down so couldn't call. So they had separate lunches, one saw the friend but the other didn't and their picnic lunch was re-packed yet again and taken with them on the train to Bordeaux this evening. Quite remarkably for this day and age neither of them was carrying a mobile phone which didn't exactly help their communication.
At least their late Sunday afternoon arrival allowed me to take my other guests out to the truffle fair at Moussellens. Last year I bought a truffle and I noticed that the price had come down this year by 20% - even so, I kept my cash in my pocket - actually, I didn't have any cash in my pocket.
Beyond the donkey rides and the wine tasting, beyond the fallen trees and the clearing up operation, the snow-capped Pyrenees glistened in the sunlight and floated above the hazy skyline - magnificent in their glorious grandeur. Breathtaking.
Madness over for another weekend.
I think the decision from on high to order all businesses to close in order to keep people off the streets was probably a very sensible one. A consequence was that the supermarkets were allowed to open on Sunday morning until midday - which won't have pleased the Catholic church, who have a hard enough job getting people in through the doors these days.
I popped down to Monoprix because I was short of milk and was astounded by the number of people - the queue from the tills went nearly to the back of the shop. I've never seen so many people in Monoprix. I've never seen so many people on a Sunday - not in a shop anyway. I decided to go elsewhere for the milk.
My new guests arrival time kept changing by the hour as the train system gradually came back up to normal-ish service. They eventually pitched up at about 4.15pm, feeling weary, of course. I cooked dinner for them all last night which went on a bit, had 5 hours sleep after the clearing up and before breakfasts and prepping a picnic lunch for the late arrival guests to take to a friend who lives near Limoux.
Their catalogue of misfortune and error continued when they couldn't get hold of their friend, decided not to both go to Limoux only then to find that she was expecting them but her phone line was down so couldn't call. So they had separate lunches, one saw the friend but the other didn't and their picnic lunch was re-packed yet again and taken with them on the train to Bordeaux this evening. Quite remarkably for this day and age neither of them was carrying a mobile phone which didn't exactly help their communication.
At least their late Sunday afternoon arrival allowed me to take my other guests out to the truffle fair at Moussellens. Last year I bought a truffle and I noticed that the price had come down this year by 20% - even so, I kept my cash in my pocket - actually, I didn't have any cash in my pocket.
Beyond the donkey rides and the wine tasting, beyond the fallen trees and the clearing up operation, the snow-capped Pyrenees glistened in the sunlight and floated above the hazy skyline - magnificent in their glorious grandeur. Breathtaking.
Madness over for another weekend.
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