A short interlude

We left for a week in the UK today. The flight with Ryanair was, as usual, trouble free. Jill and Harry kindly met us at the airport, lent us their car, and we set off on our journey north to Yorkshire. The primary destination was Harrogate where my 81 years old mother lives. She left Italy when she was 22 and has lived in Harrogate ever since.
Whilst I lived in Harrogate for 21 years (it's the sort of place that I wanted to leave when I hit 21 but recognised as very attractive when I got to 40), I spent a lot of my early life in and out of Leeds. At school from age 11, and with my first job as a trainee quantity surveyor. Leeds was our first stop because we had to visit the best fish and chip shop in the world. I've been eating at Bryan's, (6, Weetwood Lane, Leeds, LS16 5LT, 0112 278 5679) for over 35 years and this visit is like revisiting the Holy Grail. I speak with some authority having eaten fish and chips all over England. According to Bill Bryson, the Magpie in Whitby makes the best fish and chips. Jan and I, who followed some of his trail in Notes from a Small Island, disagree. Forget Harry Ramsden, forget the Seashell in London and forget the Magpie. Bryan's is definitely the best. I had baby haddock, 3 fresh, moist, delicious pieces of haddock with chips, deep fried to perfection in beef dripping. None of your low fat, low cal nonsense here. Just pure, honest to goodness heart attack material with an exquisite taste. Recommended.

Who cares who the winner is?

At this time of the year I spray all the fruit trees, vines and the oleander bushes with Bouille Bordelaise (copper sulphate to you and me). This acts as a good fungicide and kills 99% of all known household germs (and anybody who eats the fruit - Ed.). It's used by all the vineyards around here to help prevent mildew. If it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me.

***

Jan has, by now, learnt not to ask me about recipes. Instead she uses her superb instincts and tries new and sometimes unusual combinations. Today was no exception because she served a Smoked Mackerel and Grapefruit salad. If she had told me about this beforehand, I'd have laughed my head off. It sounds awful but tastes delicious and she found the recipe here on the BBC food site.

***

To help with your cinema viewing, I am pleased to point you to this years winners of the Golden Raspberry Awards. Don't say you weren't warned.

Is that book interesting dear?

In need of something to feel righteous about, but in reality because the water had turned an olive green colour, I decided to clean the pool. It's amazing how 75 cubic metres of avocado soup can turn to an azure blue in such a short time. And yes, I did feel self righteous.

***

It was Woody Allen who once said, "Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go, it's a pretty good empty experience."

This reminds me about when I complained to a friend, that the woman I was with at that time, didn't seem to enjoy sex. Being a man he was immediately interested in my observation.

"How does she display this?" he asked.

"Well, she didn't stop reading her book," I said.

Being a kind friend and trying to cheer me up he said, "You can always tell whether she was enjoying it or not,"

"How?" I said.

"Did she turn the page?" he said.

Crestfallen, I remembered that she had in fact turned the page.

***

Following last night's dinner, we went this morning to Domaine de Baubiac to see if we could taste some wine. As Jan correctly observed, I was on a mission. The sign on the caveau door said open between 11.30 and 13.00. A strange opening time by French standards, but not so strange by another French standard, because there was no one there. Anyway, I made contact and arranged to return at 16.00. We met with Raul Philip, one of the two brothers, the other being Hervé, and he offered us 4 wines to try. They were so good and so very much to our taste, that it was difficult to chose. So we bought some of each. Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Being British

As an add-on to my rant about the Oscars, I am pleased to display the logo for the Golden Raspberry Awards. Please support this very worthy cause.

***

I quite often talk about insular French attitudes to 'things foreign' and laughed when I received this today.

"Being British is about speaking on a Finnish mobile phone whilst driving in a German car to an Irish pub for a Belgian beer and trying to pick up a Scandinavian girl, then travelling home, grabbing an Indian curry or a Turkish kebab on the way, to sit on Swedish furniture and watch American shows on a Japanese TV. And the most British thing of all? Suspicion of anything foreign ".

***

Driving into Nîmes today we saw yet another instance of the French police standing at the side of the road and pulling cars over. This wasn't as scary as the other night when one of the flics was standing with his rifle ready to shoot somebody, which reminds me of a time when we lived in Windsor. One night we saw several police cars, having rammed a car into the barriers, at a roundabout near where we lived. What was really scary, was to see a man, handcuffed and face down on the road and an armed policeman standing over him pointing a rifle at his head. His 'moll' was screaming and having to be restrained and a police dog was barking at her. If you'd seen it in a film you'd have thought that it was a gross exaggeration of reality. (No jokes please about how you paid his parking ticket - Ed.)

***

We headed off for a pizza tonight in Quissac, but found that our target was closed for a private function. The next choice, recommended by William, was busy but if we wanted to eat there we would have had to eat outside. Mnnnnn, it was warm but not that warm. So La Baraka it was. As you enter Quissac from the south, this place is just before the traffic lights on the right. Thank goodness we ended up there. It was one of the best meals (at the 19.90 euros price) that we have had for ages. We both had the terrine de cèpes et poireaux, Jan then had fish and I had magret de canard gratiné au pelardon. I wasn't bothered about the cheese but it was interesting. This was washed down with an excellent Domaine de Baubiac, Coteaux de Languedoc, 2000. One of the best reds at the price that we have ever had. We have previously tried to visit this domaine but it was shut. It's now high on the list for a visit because I've got to see if he's got any of the red left.

Get a grip

It's wind up time again. Wind up for me that is, because each morning on breakfast news, a considerable amount of time is given over to the forthcoming Oscars. I now know all about this worthless event. An event where so many people are so far up their own backsides. I have seen interviews with dress designers, providers of jewelry, one or two columnists from the LA Times, the guy who sweeps the carpet, chauffeurs and technicians. The only one that bore any semblance to normality was the guy that runs the alternative Oscar ceremony, "The Golden Raspberries". The BBC quite often mentions the phenomena of celebrity worship, but it is as guilty as anyone of fueling the media hype.

***

So what did we do last night? We watched Oceans 12, a film with so many "stars", it begs belief. Over time we have collected many DVDs, all still in their protective cellophane wrapping, for general winter viewing. Jan, who is partial to the odd drool over Brad Pitt and George Clooney, chose the film because we both quite enjoyed Oceans 11, but it was she who, for the first 30 minutes, kept asking me, "What's going on? Do you understand the plot?" Me, full of male bravado, told her not to worry (dearest) because all will be revealed in the fullness of time. At which point I fell asleep. I was trying so hard to understand what the hell was going on and straining so hard to hear the pathetic dialogue, that my brain gave up the ghost and I sank into a coma. It was awful. (Might have to agree with you on that one - Ed.) As if I need to prove my point, I typed Alternative Oscars into Google and look what I came up with.

How to avoid spam

The weather in February was quite good. Whilst we had to light a fire because it was cold at night, the average midday temperature for the second half of the month was 13 C. There were 23 days of sunshine and only 1 day of rain. Pretty good really. It's no wonder that the weeds are growing.

***

Having now tried it out for several months, I have to give a thumbs up to my Gmail account. Whilst my 'regular' email account gets lots of spam (just how do they know that I've got a small willy and need Viagra?), the inbuilt spam filters in Gmail catch everything. Google have decided to only open new accounts by referral from existing account holders, so if anyone wants one please email me. The other bit of software that I have tried recently, and like, is Mailwasher. Mailwasher acts as a buffer between you and your mail handler and allows you to delete spam before it reaches your inbox. It's neat and has the clear advantage of making you less visible to spammers. You can try the simple version for free. Recommended.

***

We had to nip out for a couple of things this afternoon, with the intention of popping into Domaine Arnal to see if their boxed white wine is ready yet. I've noticed that Jan is getting a bit twitchy, so I'm sure that a couple of boxes will help calm her down. Last year, this was our white wine of choice, and at 2 euros a litre it was an absolute bargain. First stop was Sommieres, where we parked outside the chocolatier Courtin, just outside the town walls. This place makes delicious handmade chocolates and you can watch them plying their trade at the back of the shop. I just had to buy a little present for Jan (and you - Ed.). On to Arnal to be told by Madame that they had only just put the wine into the cuve and it would be ready in a couple of days time. Not a bad guess from yours truly! Not to be outdone, we drove back towards Sommieres and called into Domaine de Christin to try their whites. Like Arnal, they had little white left (most vineyards attempt to make just enough white and rosé to last a year) but we tried and bought some Sauvignon and some boxed red to try at our leisure.

How to sex a bird

I have never been able to tell a male bird from a female, but it's easy when you know how! Click on the image to find out. (That's such a cheap shot, but what else would I expect from you? - Ed.)

***

Jan's art class restarted this morning, so I tackled a few jobs around the house. (Like reading the paper, surfing the net and making cups of coffee - Ed.).

***

Not usually being a fan of this sort of thing, I thought that the closing ceremony at the Winter Olympics was quite spectacular. It's difficult to imagine how the organisers for successive games come up with new and different ideas. Having said that, some of the displays were difficult to understand unless you had some kind of commentary. It was not easy to understand some of the symbolism. I presume that you get comfortable with some of the wackier ideas in design meetings after an explanation from the weirdo that thought them up, but in the cold light of day (or night) they should at least make obvious sense to the average Joe. I know I'm not the brightest bulb in the box but I can't be the only one.

Known French criminals

My idea of a dinner dance is one that involves a formal evening, black tie and possibly a band, but almost certainly a DJ and a very informal style of dancing. Not so in France. Last night Bob and Lynne very kindly took us to a war veterans annual dinner organised by FNACA. At a rough guess, this probably stands for (excuse the spelling) Federation Nationale de Ancient Combatants d'Algerie. What a wonderful evening, so different to anything that I have previously experienced. It was held in the salle polyvalente in downtown Sumène. A large multipurpose hall, which could in no way be described as cosy, being lit by modern 'old style' fluorescent lamps, regulation magnolia coloured paintwork and a toilet with the largest completely see through panoramic window imaginable. The four of us reduced the average age to somewhere around 75. This was a group of people with but two objectives, to dance and to enjoy themselves. These people could really dance. I have never seen such a large group of people all very capable of dancing to such a variety of formal styles and to such a high standard. It put my couple of minutes of shuffling to shame and frankly made me want to do better. The band (the trio actually) knew exactly what they were doing. There was one female singer, who kept nipping off stage to re-emerge in ever more fantastical outfits. The styles ranged from 'Folies Bergere' to 'Carmen Miranda', and with each change came an appropriate change of music and dance style. Brilliant! The other two band members were male and they interchanged instruments, ranging from the ever present synthesizer, to trumpet, to sax, accordion and clarinet. Excellent. At one point the accordionist came down off stage into the hall and led a series of 'old soldier', lets-kill-a-few-Algerians type songs and later some Corsican folk songs. Very, very, enjoyable. I can't remember any event in the UK that I have attended where participants were so serious about their dancing. The dance floor was full before, during and after the meal. Dancing is taken so seriously that dance clubs attend as well, in order to give their members the opportunity to practice in real-time and also to help raise money for 'old soldiers'. I remember with fondness the audience dancing to Strangers in the Night played on a trumpet and a Paso Doble played on accordion and castanets. They were still going strong at 01.30 when we left to relieve the dogs (don't you mean for the dogs to relieve themselves? - Ed.) A night of excellent, but simple pleasures and one I will remember for a long time.

***

I have mentioned random police checks before and I have been pleased to bore anyone who would listen about my theory that they only occurred between the very civilised hours of 14.00 (after lunch) and 17.00, before going home for dinner. Every single police roadblock that I had encountered has happened like this. NOT SO. There I was rather smugly driving home at 01.40 through the very sleepy little town of St Hippolyte du Fort when at the roundabout on the south of the town we were stopped by a small army of gendarmes. It was freezing cold, minus 3c, and naturally there were very few cars around. Miss Gendarme signaled for us to pull over and turn off the engine. She said something that I didn't understand and when I pointed out that I was English and could she repeat her request (instruction) she proceeded to ask me, in perfect English, for my driving licence. Not wanting to bowl her over with my breath (I'd been eating a lot of garlic) I decided not to enter into any deep meaningful conversation and nearly wet myself as she waived us on and wished me a very pleasant rest of the morning. Further round the roundabout another group of gendarmes, armed with rifles at the ready, presumably to pick off any recalcitrant motorists that decided not to stop, glowered as we drove past. Very scary.

The conversation naturally then centred on what the hell so many of them were doing there in freezing temperatures, at that unearthly hour. Jan helpfully suggested that perhaps they were on the look out for known French criminals and because I was neither known, nor French, I didn't exactly fit that profile. We shall never know, but it was a salutary lesson and I'm still shaking. One of my well known theories has been blown out of the water. Bum.

Forza Italia!

We took Max and Minnie to training this morning and Max was his usual 'difficult to control' self. Not difficult in an unpleasant way, but he pulls in different directions, depending on the smell, dog or person of the moment and he always wants to play with other dogs and people. He is a strong, powerful dog and it makes for tired muscles and sore hands trying to keep him in line. I'm considering stopping taking him because if I want him to change I'm going to have to get much tougher and that's not how I'd like to be with him. I like a dog to have spirit and have fun, so long as he is not dangerous, and I don't want to have to make him a quivering jelly. Max has a fou fou personality and he's not likely to change. We shall see.

***

France beat Italy at rugby this afternoon and it's fair to say that Italy were the better side for much of the match. Most sports pundits say that Italy are improving quickly and it's just a matter of time before they pull off a good win. The main problem, as I see it, is that they need to play better opposition more often. Forza Italia!

***

Bob and Lynne have invited us to a dinner dance in Sumène this evening. More about that tomorrow.

Which button to press

The Lloyds left yesterday morning and, as ever, we are sorry to see them go. Katie and Tom are good fun and we enjoy having them around. They'll be back in April so that's something to look forward to.

***

There was also a lot of hanging about yesterday, Jan, to let the electricity people read the meter at our house in the village (which they have to inspect personally once a year) and me to let the fridge repair man look at our sick fridge. In this day and age you don't expect a fridge to go wrong. When all is said and done there isn't much to go wrong, but this is the second time we have had it looked at in 3 years. Despite sitting around for 4 hours, the meter reader failed to show up and Jan was mightily pissed off. At least it wasn't with me this time.

***

This afternoon I went round to help our neighbours with their computer. They are both relative novices so it was all fairly straightforward. They have bought books and are becoming more proficient so my help involved minor issue like organising the toolbar and getting the sound to work on some games. It's easy to forget that we were all novices at one time. I didn't touch a computer until I reached 45 (yes, the new electric ones came in at about that time - Ed.) and I remember how unnerving it was. Hey ho.

Where to start?

We were very kindly given two invitations to the international wine trade exhibition called Vinisud, at the Exhibition Centre in Montpellier, today. This place is massive. There were exhibitors from France, Italy and Spain and I estimated that there were over 1850 wine and or spirit producers, which is a lot of tasting. Anyway, the first slight hurdle was that this was a show for professionals, but because I class Jan and I as professional drinkers, my conscience was clear. A little porky got us past the gestapo at the entrance to the exhibition halls, all 11 of them, and we let the fun begin. I've said it before but there are some seriously nice wines produced in Languedoc and I was a little ashamed to note that I recognised a lot of the names. A fun time.

***

I stomped around the house for about an hour this afternoon, irritated because I couldn't find my reading glasses. Jan took pity on me, assumed her bored mother (let's sort the silly child) attitude and helped me look for them. She even put me through a sort of regression therapy (when I discovered that I'd been an Egyptian prince in a previous life) but we still could not find them. After about an hour Jan asked what they looked like? I said, well a lot like the ones you are wearing............ I wouldn't have minded, but we have very different prescriptions. You'd have thought that her blurred vision would have been a bit of a clue!

***

The Lloyds leave tomorrow so we reciprocated their kindness from Sunday, with dinner. Jan prepared stuffed peppers (one type with tomatoes and anchovies and the other with meat) to start and then roast tenderloin stuffed with prunes, plums on the side and then meringues with either a sweet chestnut sauce, minted strawberry soup or mascarpone. See what I've got to put up with?

A surprise result

The dogs have started to wander out of the front gate. Despite it always being open, Max has rarely gone outside, because he was conditioned when he was a puppy. Neighbouring dogs would bark and frighten him and so he stayed inside. Minnie, on the other hand, is less fearful and likes to explore, so she now wanders outside and takes Max with her. Needing to keep the front gates permanently closed, our electrician was due to arrive to fix them. He showed up as agreed and started to fix a myriad of minor electrical problems around the house. He's a first class workman and deals with all the problems calmly and professionally. It's good to have him around.

***

It was football on the box tonight with Arsenal playing at Real Madrid in the Champions League. It was a mouthwatering prospect because Real Madrid have a very sexy lineup. Given their poor league form, Arsenal were not a good bet. The final score? Real Madrid 0 Arsenal 1. The Spanish all star team were no way near as good as the English club and it was an excellent result for Arsenal.

A little wild boar's head does you good

A visit to the doctor this morning, to renew my prescription, introduced a new doctor. Our regular doctor has bad health (Not exactly a good sign for a doctor - Ed.)) and his duties are being shared. Today I met a new sharer. She was very thorough and because she did not know me, asked lots of questions and spent some time reading my notes. All very comforting and laudable. She checks my BP and as it is a little higher than normal she says that if it hasn't reduced in 30 days she will prescribe medication. Bum. More to the point, she mentioned that all my problems would disappear if I lost weight. Twice bum. It doesn't look like I can hide from this one.

***

What we needed was a little retail therapy, to take our mind off things, so it was off to Ikea for 2 items. We went with the Lloyds, who are still furnishing their house. Half way through the store we had not bought the 2 target items but had managed to fill half a trolley. Not quite par for the course and a definite improvement on earlier trips. If we carry on like this Mr Ikea (his real name has not been used to protect the innocent) will go bust. However, by the end of the trip we had bought 1 target item and filled the rest of the trolley. Mr Ikea can sleep a little easier tonight.

***

Off to dinner with William and Christine tonight. The call came out of the blue and was most welcome. We really enjoy their company and we regard them as our closest French friends. The starter, which William said was made in the village, was tête de sanglier and the main course chilli con carne, French style. Both dishes new to us and both delicious.

Not quite strangers in the night

The more I thought about this article, the more stupid I thought it was. It sort of ties in with the piece the other day on common sense. Assuming that it is serious and well researched, I find it stupid, unrealistic and woolly academic thinking on several fronts.

1 How many people would want to work until they are 85? Even at my tender age, I can see myself slowing down and much less able to do the things I used to. I'll probably be a basket case by the time I reach 80. I wouldn't hire me at 65, never mind 85.
2 It's doubtful that Companies would want a work force of over 60 year olds. Younger is cheaper and more hours can be extracted.
3 Why talk of retirement when all you can reasonably expect is to work until you die?
4 Society needs to look after its older generation, not keep them out at work.
5 Society generally has to adapt and Mr Taljapurkar would better spend his time trying to establish more realistic solutions.

***

Tonight we were invited to our next door but one neighbours, the Lloyds, for dinner. We adore their children, Katie and Tom, who usually spend a lot of time with us when they are over. Anyway, we had a strange encounter on our way over to their house this evening. The back way to the Lloyds house takes us up a long, narrow, dark lane. I walked in front with the torch and about half way up the lane we could see a man, standing at the side of the lane, with his face to the wall. As we got nearer we could see that it was not a mugger but the village cantonnier, Thierry. Now Thierry is a nice person, but usually very pissed and with his broad local accent it is impossible to understand what he is saying. In 3 years I have never understood one word. Tonight was no exception. He muttered something and was using his phone to light up the hedge on the top of the wall. Because I had a torch, and despite the fact that I had no idea what I was doing, I helped him search. It took a few minutes, but he eventually found what he was looking for. It was a 5 litre box of wine that had been concealed in the shrubbery. He must have been really pissed off to be caught in the act but obviously either he or someone else had left the wine for him to pick up later. Anyway, he muttered his thanks and went wandering up the lane with his new found booty. He didn't even offer us a drink.