French delicacies

In the land of haute cuisine you'd think that I'd be shovelling some beautiful French delicacy into my fat face at every opportunity. Not so mes braves, because the thing that I crave each Saturday morning, beyond everything else, is a kebab from the land of kebabs or, more to the point, 'the kebab shop' in the Place du Marche in Sommieres.


What a sublime delicacy, salad, tomato, onions (very healthy - Ed) and lamb with two shots of both 'white sauce' and harissa. Just hot enough to make your mouth tingle and as you finish that last mouthful, wiping left over sauce from around your mouth, you have to say, 'shit, that was good, I can't wait until next week.' Or words to that effect.


I bet your mouth is watering.

Long lost

A few of us, including baby Kate, went to the market in Sommieres this morning and some, not baby Kate, had oysters. We met up with long lost Tara and, despite meeting Peter H who was flogging magazines, we all returned in a happy mood.

Staying on a long lost theme, early this afternoon, our long lost electrician called to say he would pop round for payment on some work that he completed over 2 years ago. When I rant from time to time that some workmen are what you might call indolent, this is what I mean. The Anglo Saxon side of me says that this is no way to run a business, the Latin side says, mañana. In their own way both sides are right. Who lives longer and happier?

With the heating now working again, the pool hit 30C this afternoon, warm enough to tempt a softy like me in. So I did.

Beware the Ides of March

I didn't se leve tot this morning. In fact I didn't wake until 09.59. That's very unusual for me, but as it has happened a couple of time recently it made me wonder if it's age related. I thought that as you get older you sleep less but it looks like it may be the reverse for me. When you add to that, that I'm also now being treated for glaucoma, I'm starting to feel old. Bloody hell I'm falling to bits. It reminded me of this advert I saw a long time ago begging for money to help treat third world glaucoma. Bloody hell, now I'm a third world problem. I keep telling Jan that I'm not well, but does she listen? I usually mention this just before I want something fetching, but does she listen?

Anyway, it's Saturday so I dragged my crumbling body off to Sommieres to drown my sorrows. Bryan and Peter, as usual, were already there and doing a good job of drowning theirs. I joined them.

Peter, who has had a blood pressure problem recently, was whinging, as he supped his beer, that he was starting to put weight on after he had stopped smoking. Bryan, on the other hand, was complaining that nobody loved him until I pointed out that maybe it was because he was wearing a stupid hat. Me, I was the only one with genuine cause for concern.

***

This article about French students was interesting and more so because it was centred on university students down the road in Montpellier. Everything I have read or heard tells me that the French school system is good, old fashioned, concentrates on the 3 R's, like when I were a lad (when you were a lad you wrote on tablets of clay - Ed) and without being constantly messed about with as it seems to be in England. But if you look at university students I detect some similarity. Too many university students, on both sides of the Channel, choose soft options and may well be ill prepared for the real world. We shall see.

Wot no money?

It's on days like this that you remember why you're in France. The miday temperature was 16C, it was warm and sunny, there was no wind and everything felt right with the world. We had a few things to get so we popped over to Sommieres. The market was very quiet but we met up with the usual group at Elie's place under the arches and had a wee drink. Milton (he of the tennis) runs a spice stall in the market and when I mentioned that it seemed very quiet he said that most of the French around here wouldn't get paid until the 6th or 7th. Didn't know that.

Easy to swallow

I change the desktop on my PC to reflect the seasons, or my mood. This is a very nice one, and you can get it here. In case you don't speak Spanish, right click the picture and left click 'Set as Background'.

***

So there we were, Bob, Chris, Kevin and I all chewing the fat at Elie's bar in Sommieres, listening to Chris' adventures as a private chef to wealthy French and English families on the CdA. Kevin happens to mention that his PR company had pitched to the Mars consumer drinks division. Normally they only deal with business PR, so this was a little unusual. Someone said, let me understand, this is a Mars drink? It tastes like a Mars bar? Bob quick as a flash came up with the perfect tag line. 'Mars, the drink. If you're just too lazy to chew'. I'm still giggling.

It's humour like this that you can't buy. It comes from a bunch of guys sitting around shooting the breeze. Excellent.

***

It was late afternon and time to cool down in the pool. Unless the pool temperature is about 30 C, I sqeal like a schoolgirl as I get in. Kevin, who was already in, looks at me in disgust and spits, "If you lived in Reading, you'd find this tropical. In fact there are parts of Reading that don't have tap water as hot as this!" I got the impression that he wasn't too sympathetic.

Gypsy Jazz

It's not yet the middle of August and it can be quite cold at night. For the first time this summer, I slept under a cover last night. The weather is very strange. This time last year we had the portable air con unit blasting away noisily in the bedroom. We've hardly used it this year. I suppose there's still time but something inside says not. Whilst not a problem in the scale of things the evening entertainment for the wedding, where everything has been geared to heat, it's more likely to be igloo than boogaloo.

***

On a similar theme, my usual habit of scrubbing the pool algae from inside the pool has been put on hold. This morning the temperature was only 23C which, by my standards, is little short of brass monkeys. Whilst it kills my back, I scrubbed from pool-side.

***

We've got figs and plums. I had the first two figs this morning and then Jan and I picked a whole bunch of 'wild' plums. There are just too many fruit trees in the garden (that I haven't planted)to suggest that they are all wild. There are two different figs (black and green), plums, almonds and what looks like a huge pear tree. At some stage these must have been cultivated but it feels good to consider them as 'wild.'

***

We have two bands playing at the wedding and today I met with Claudio della Corte who leads a Stephane Grappelli type gypsy jazz band, to show him what was entailed with his session. Rather unusually the band will play in the temple before and after the wedding ceremony and then later during cocktails at the house. They're a good band that Jan first found playing at the market in Sommieres. They comprise two guitars, double bass and violin. Click on his name to listen to a few pieces. Excellent.

The second group that will be playing, later in the evening, are Lastimelie. Listen to them here.

Course Camarguaise

For the second trip of the day to Sommieres, several of us visited the arene in the late afternoon. I don't feel comfortable supporting the Spanish culture of bull fighting. But I have been to a corrida and it's difficult to defend it. At the end of the day it is the ritualised torture and death of the animal. The odds are stacked against the bull. The bull has no chance and will die.


Course camarguaise, on the other hand, is much more evenly balanced and the bull walks away, proud, unharmed but very out of breath. The choice between 'out of breath' and 'death' is much simpler. Jan, who has a sensitive nature, (except when she is pissed off with me) had initial reservations, but went with us and admitted afterwards that it was exciting and that she enjoyed it.


This article describes a course and pretty much reflects what we saw.

Dress down day, everyday

The question of what to wear each day is simple. Is it the beige shorts or the red, the white t-shirt or the striped and flip flops or flop flips? After wearing a suit and tie for far too many years, shorts are now the order of the day, and I love it. Jan despairs a little and would like me to dress a little less slovenly but she is also very understanding and is getting used to the new look.

***

Sommieres was heaving this morning and Elie tried to cope with the bar on his own. A big mistake. We had to wait ages for our beers and there were far too many tables not drinking. I'd love to take over the waiting on tables (and even gently suggested it) because I reckon I could double his profits, even allowing for all the beer that I would drink. At the moment it's not a very pleasant experience.

***

Glyn and Gill very kindly invited us round for aperos this evening, then all seventeen of us headed off to Le Castelas, the relais in Montmirat. How do they do it? A tasty four course meal for 11 euros. Having said that, I'm beginning to suspect a liberal use of msg because my ears were thumping in the middle of the night. Mmnnn, might need to watch that.

Two very pleasant evenings

J&P very kindly offered to buy dinner last night so we were lucky to get the last table at Le Fourneau de Clélia. Whilst mum cooks, Aubain runs the tables and, as the night wears on, the service can slow a little. We'd been there an hour, had our first course and the table that arrived just after us was being given the menus. My point being, get there early and be on time or prepare for an early morning finish. James chose the white, a Clos de Marie which I wasn't too keen on, given that it had a slight taste of petrol, so I chose my present favourite red, L'Enfer (Hell), from a cave cooperative near Corbiere (I think). "Mnnnn that's nice," said James, so I suspect that my son and heir is slowly getting used to the idea that his ol' man knows a little about wine (especially when it comes to drinking it - Ed.)

***

There's an argument that I should call this the Sommieres Journals. Anyway, it's Saturday so it's off to the market to get the remaining goodies for tonights feast. J&P cry off claiming work pressures and a dodgy foot but us oldies soldiered on regardless.

***

Dinner tonight was all about really nice people. (That was very tactful - Ed.) Carolina and Steve, with daughter Serena, we have known since we first moved to France 5 years ago and it has taken us all this time to invite them for dinner. Goodness knows why. Whilst I feel ashamed to admit this, I feel better in the knowledge that they have never invited us either. Probably something to do with not feeling comfortable with Jan. We'll never know. Tara and Jamie, on the other hand, we have known for a relatively short time and as they are about to move away, so for them this was a hello and goodbye party.

Jan pulled the stops out with a starter of hot and sour prawns and a recent favourite of mine, pan fried salmon on a bed of noodles and fennel with a lemon velouté sauce. Cheeses followed by home made peach ice cream with liqueur soaked fresh peaches on the side. Mnnnnnn, a good effort. (Is that it, a good effort? - Ed.)

The evening ended with Steve wrestling on the floor with our two very happy, but bemused, dogs. A good evening.

Sommieres

To celebrate a birthday, we all went out to Le Fourneau de Clelia, in Aigremont last night. The meal was, as usual, superb. This is the best restaurant within 30 minutes of us. Highly recommended.

***

Sommieres got a double hit today. This morning, to show our visitors the market and eat cheap oysters, and again during the evening to let them see an abrivado, eat out and then watch the 14th July fireworks. The bulls were a bit tame, there were one or two hairy moments which everyone enjoyed but the restaurant was poor. We paid 28 euros for a poor choice three course meal which everyone compared to the 33 euros, fantastic meal the night before.

These guys then continue drinking and laughing until 3.30 in the morning. Not for me though, I know I'm getting old and I like my sleep and, more to the point, have to get up early for the bread and croissants.

Pictures, from the top, the gardians parading before the bulls were released, AJ receiving the order of the prawn (don't ask) and AJ and I at the end of a boozy dinner.

Wise words

We took mum to Sommieres this morning. She loves oysters, so she ordered a dozen which, as a dutiful son, I delivered to her table. I still need to understand how anyone can sit and eat a huge plate of snot. Anyway, despite the snot eating it was a very productive trip. On her way to meet up with us at Elie's bar, Jan mentioned that she had just seen a jazz band. Four piece, two guitars, a violin and a double bass, playing gypsy jazz. I checked them out, bought a CD and, when we got home, told James and Pauline that I had sorted out their live music for the wedding in September. So far so good. Later that evening James called to say that he had offers from two other (different musical style) gypsy bands to play at the wedding. Listen to this. This could turn out to be a fun evening.

***

Jan went for a girls night out tonight, to a sumptuous restaurant nearby, whilst I had to endure a plate of my absolutely favourite, pasta al vongole. Thank god mum was visiting. What would I have done without her? Anyway, whilst she is cooking, I'm sitting at the PC writing this rubbish and mum creeps up behind me and says, "Alex, have you got the wine, I need some more for the sauce?" I passed her the bottle and she very wisely said, "if you continue drinking that, you'll get drunk." She's smart, my mum!

Festival de Cultures Medievales et Occitanes

Despite both of us being quite tired, we popped out for a soiree in the 'temple' last night. Jan said that she would probably fall asleep, so the immediate problem would be to see who could stay awake the longest in order to wake the other one up. Anyway, William had earlier reminded us that there was an evening of baroque music in the village and he could see that we were in desperate need of a little education. 'Ensemble Vocal et Instrumental', 'Amaryllis', entertained about 50 people in this ancient church for about 1.5 hours with a selection of choral singing and music from Schutz, Kuhnau, Lorenzani and Bach. The evening was entitled 'Motets pour le temps de Paques', sacred choral music for Easter time. It wasn't what you would call jolly. There was a 14 member choir and 7 musicians, some of whom played ancient musical instruments. Whilst I don't have a trained ear, I know a bum note when I hear one, so I would have to say that the singers were quite a bit more talented than the band (you are such an uncouth yob - Ed) but having said that, neither of us fell asleep. This may of course have had something (a lot) to do with the hard-on-your-bum ancient wooden pews. Look, I have to be honest, this wasn't exactly up my street but I have to admire the fact that our little village of 300 souls has events of this type and, with a few of my brain cells wired differently, I might have enjoyed it more myself.

***

Sommieres beckoned this morning. It was the first day of their annual medieval festival which always adds a different and amusing festive air to the market. As you can see from the pictures above we all got into the 'spirit' of things. From top to bottom:

1 Elie, the bar owner, whispering sweet nothings in Tara's ear

2, 3, 4 & 5 The parade

6 Peter on his way to the bar

7 Peter with Jan after we had cleaned him up and he had offered to buy her a drink

8 Yours truly and Jan with Bryan and Gill in the background.

Who will win?

Despite the weather, we headed off to Sommieres this morning. Thankfully, the atmosphere was so much more relaxed than last week. Being able to shoot the breeze, sitting outside in a convivial atmosphere, with a few mates, is a distinct pleasure. It's not something that I did in the UK.

***

Having lived here for nearly five years and having too much spare time on my hands, I've started to form some opinions about what's wrong with France. What's wrong in a political sense. Thanks to poor management from Jacques Chirac, the country is weak economically, has high unemployment and a lot of social unrest. In my opinion, the country is in need of change, strong leadership and a change of attitude.

When you look at the front runners and you listen to what they say, and you put the needs of the French people first, then the best of the bunch looks like Sarkozy. This thought will probably upset a lot of people because of his right wing leanings but a clear alternative isn't obvious to me. His major rival, Royal, has lost an excellent opportunity to win the election. All I seem to hear her say is France needs more of the same. 'The same' that has put France in the mess that it's now in? More nanny state intervention, and even higher taxes. That's just plain stupid. I know a chap who was paid 80% of his previous salary when he was made redundant. I couldn't understand why he didn't have a job until one day he said "why do I seriously want to look for work, when I have 2 years at this income?" Amongst other things, Royal wants to up the benefit to 90%. That's stupid, the country can't afford it, and there is no incentive to get back to work.

Bayrou's platform seems to be one of coalition, bringing together left and right but he also promotes increased state help for farmers. Farmers who are being paid to grow what nobody wants. The EU pays 40% of its budget for farm relief to 5% of the EU population. What kind of sense is that? The only thing that all the candidates seem to agree on is to scrap the mandatory 35 hour working week. This article is interesting.

The country goes to the polls on 22nd April and I for one will find the outcome fascinating.

Oysters in Sommieres

Ben, Paula and Ave (Paula's mum) arrived from Barcelona yesterday afternoon. They will spend the Easter weekend with us which will please Jan, because her eldest son and his extended family always bring fun to the house, and she won't be stuck with just me (yup - Ed.). Having said that, my head usually hurts after an evening listening to French. You can imagine what it's like listening to Spanish, which I barely understand, and loud Spanish to boot. B&P became Minnie's new best friends for the evening which can be more of a curse than a pleasure, especially as she tried, and succeeded, to sit across their laps at the table. At 37 kilos she is hardly a lap dog but we forgive her because she is still a puppy.

***

Our visitors love oysters, (yuk - I stopped eating snot when I was two), so it was off to Sommieres this morning to sample such delights, and to meet up with friends. Whilst we were shopping for squid ink, for the arroz negro tonight, we bumped into an old friend (pictured above in an old police photo) who had heard that they were offereing free wine at the cave in Sommieres. Trust him to be there. He claimed that he had popped down for his breakfast so that sounded about right. Anyway, when we got to the market it was absolutely heaving. Seats were at an absolute premium but some nice tourists (you know that they are tourists because the men wear shorts and the women summery dresses, whilst the locals are still in winter overcoats) offered us their seats as they were about to leave. Wasn't that nice? I might start to feel better about tourists after all?

A new hypnotic drug

I hate not finishing a book. But I have just given up on one, when exactly half way through. A book so tedious and difficult to read that I kept falling asleep. In fact what I suggest is that doctors stop prescribing sleeping pills and dish out this book instead. The major benefit being that you won't be stuffing yourself with chemicals, it would help prevent suicide attempts (although that's arguable) and it would save the health service a fortune. At £6.99 or $13 US it could be used over and over again. This book is such a powerful sleep inducer that I fell asleep on a plane recently whilst reading it. I never fall asleep on planes! OK, so what is this new miracle sleep cure? It's a book called 'Offside' by Manuel Valquez Montalban and translated from the Spanish by Ed Emery. Here's a sentence that caught my eye. 'Some of the journalists were beginning to show impatience with this process of onasmatic accretion............' What the hell does that mean? OK, I'm showing my ignorance (you do it all the time - Ed) but a 'poolside read' shouldn't need the aid of a dictionary in order to understand what's going on. If you have difficulty sleeping at night this the perfect solution. Pick it up, try to read a page and you will be asleep in no time. And, at 275 pages of small print it will last you a long time.

***

Feeling like a little drink, we went off to the market in Sommieres this morning. The usual suspects were settled outside under the arches at Les Delices du Liban and a jolly good time was had by all. Unfortunately, 'the jolly good time' pretty much wiped out the rest of the day!

Gli Azzurri

We didn't like the look of Max's stitches last night so we made a quick trip to the vet. The stitches were made from metal with twisted ends sticking out all over the place and, in some places, they didn't look like they were holding much together. I asked the vet why they used metal instead of any other type and she said is was to discourage the dog from licking the wound. Hmnnn, not sure about that one. It certainly didn't stop Max licking his! Anyway, she removed the stitches, albeit a few days early, and re-bandaged his leg. This time he was a big brave boy, much braver than I would have been under the circumstances.

***

It rained a lot over night and it was quite wet and gloomy when I woke, so a trip to Sommieres looked doubtful. Having said, that the sun came out at about 10.00 and Sommieres was back on the agenda. It was a good table with the usual misfits, all in good form, and all looking forward to the rugby this afternoon. The first match on was Scotland, who were at home to Italy. Italy, who played out of their olive coloured skins, were, within 7 (yes you read that right, 7) minutes, 21 points ahead, having scored three tries. From that point on they didn't look back. To top it all, Jan made me a celebratory apple cake. Does life get any better? Well, certainly not for England, who were second on, and who were comprehensively thumped by a rampant Irish team. OK, one out of two is still a result for me. France won the third game but I couldn't watch it all because I was suffering from a good dose of rugby fatigue.

Apple strudel?

I reckon that we have the only toilet in the western hemisphere that smells of apple strudel. I had reason to complain to Housekeeping the other day that the toilet smelt a little antiseptic. Nothing wrong with that you may say, but I didn't like it. Anyway, what do we have now, but an apricot potpourri and Sainsbury's Spiced Plum room spray? Suddenly, it's less toilet and more kitchen. Ah well, I should keep my mouth shut (agreed, and where the hell do you buy your apple strudel? - Ed.).

***

If it's Saturday, it must be headache time, with Peter from The Languedoc Page and Bryan, who isn't. My head hurt badly last week, mostly because I had to sit and listen to them going on about their Christmas and it also had something to do with the wine. Jan and I rarely if ever drink at lunch time, Saturday being the exception, because we tend to suffer for the rest of the day. Today was different, I still got a headache listening to Peter and Bryan, but no hangover, because I only had a couple of beers. The next stage in my rehabilitation is to stop listening to P&B.

A good year

Bryan, Peter, Jan and I were at our usual haunt in the Sommieres market yesterday morning. It was easy to tell who had had visitors for a long time over Christmas. They just couldn't stop talking. On the other hand, Jan and I had visitors on Christmas day and that was it. So we just sat and listened. (You have never sat and listened in all your life - Ed.) Unfortunately we probably sat, drank and listened a bit too long because I had a huge headache later in the afternoon.

***

The Lloyds got back from their six hour journey into Spain yesterday evening and then came round for dinner. Jan had cooked the hare that Michel gave us the other day and jolly good it was too. Non of us were big game eaters but it was a compliment to Jan that we cleared our plates. After I had jointed it (actually chopped it into pieces with a cleaver) Jan marinated it for about 30 hours in wine and vegetables and then casseroled it. It was tasty, succulent and moist. Good effort Jan, but game will never be our first choice. The next problem is to know what to do with all that's left. There are another two meals and I'm definitely not going to eat game for the next few days.

***

It's New Years Eve. As I reflect over the past year, I have only good memories. Jan and I had lots of fun and not too many problems. Our children are all settled and into their careers and we have two lovely grandchildren. Life is good, and our heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped make it pleasurable.

Armistice Day

It's Armistice Day, a public holiday, and along with 25 other people from the village we troop off to the War Memorial to mark the event. This is strange behaviour from us because it's not something we ever did in the UK. Anyway, the 'foreign' contingent accounted for about 25% of the the turnout (four English and two Dutch). The photo above shows the official party (William and his deputy) reading messages from the French War Veterans Association. I'd like to understand why we have changed and why we do this. Maybe it's because we have more time on our hands or maybe we have developed a greater sense of public spirit.

***

Talking about public spirit, we headed off to Sommieres for a wee drink and to meet up with Jill and Harry and Bryan and Gill. How come everyone's called Jill/Gill at the moment?

Q.E.D.

A couple of photos of our trip to the market in Sommieres on Saturday and lunch at Fourneau de Clelia on Sunday. From the top, Elie's daughter making our meat, cheese or spinach filled galettes, middle, the Lebanese sweet things on offer and bottom, Harold and Elizabeth listening intently to something very important that I was saying. (Give me patience - Ed.)

Harold and Elizabeth left this morning and we are sad to see them go. They are good fun and like to eat and drink, which is just as well, because that's all we seemed to do.

***

William, Peter and I started our tennis again this morning. It's the first time in several weeks since we last played. William played particularly well even though he was complaining about a cold. Every time he hit a good shot he said, "I wish I was feeling better!" Conman. With time constraints for all of us we didn't get a full session completed but we did have a good laugh and, more to the point, we got some exercise and the tennis just gets better.

***

Following my rant at the pope yesterday, here's another example of a poor 'religious leader'. All these guys need to start looking at themselves a little more closely, think about what they say more carefully and stop trying to teach others how to lead their lives when they are patently incapable of behaving correctly themselves.

***

Here's something that I have been wrestling with recently. You will note in the paragraph above that I wrote pope with a small 'p'. The other day I wrote God with a capital 'G'. I wrote pope with a small p because I believe that he needs to earn my respect but I feel two faced about writing God with a capital G because I'm an atheist. If I really don't believe in God, should I write the word with an upper case or lower case letter? I was raised a Catholic and was taught by Jesuits (there I go again) but now have little time for the church and do not believe in a God. I do however respect everyone's right to believe in their God and would never impose my will. Should I write god or God? Frankly I'm not sure. If I write god, then I'm honestly expressing my belief, but could start offending people. If I write God then I feel uncomfortable and two faced, but might be keeping him/Him happy just in case there is one/One. How would he/He expect me/Me (now there's another conundrum) to behave? See the things I've got to wrestle with?

***

In the past I have accused Jan of not listening to me. She naturally refutes this. Here's my proof. This morning I reminded her that I had to take the Jeep to Quissac for 11.00 because it is now nearly 4 years old and needs its first control technique. She even repeated back to me, "Oh, you're going to Quissac this morning!" So far so good. Later this morning I shortened our tennis session because I had to leave to go to Quissac. So far so good. After coffee I walked outside to find that Jan had taken the Jeep to her art class and could not be contacted. So far, not so good. Q.E.D.

***

Here's something else I don't understand (you've been thinking too much again - Ed.) There has been a lot of talk recently about 'Green' taxes. All shades of British political parties have joined this bandwagon. As I understand it, if you pollute you will pay a tax. OK, a simple proposal, but pray tell me, if I give Mr Tax Collector a fiver, because I polluted, what exactly will he do with my fiver to plug the ozone layer? Or maybe, just maybe, is this another means of revenue raising? I can't wait!!

***

Out for dinner at William and Christine's tonight. The other guests were Alain (artist) and Christiane his missus. A good evening, which was nice.