An apology

I need to put the record straight. The galettes that I thought were free yesterday had in fact been paid for by Bob and Lynne. I apologise unreservedly for this mistake. (You creep. You'll do anything to curry favour - Ed.).

***

I took a look a the automatic watering today. Half of it appears to be ok but, with water shooting into the air, I'm going to have to repair a section that Minnie has been chewing. The main problem that I foresaw, was that the hard water around here would have blocked some of the bleed holes, but everything seemed to be working fine. So now I'm officially lucky (as well as ugly - Ed.).

La Fête Médiévale - Sommieres

It was La Fête Médiévale in Sommieres today. As usual it was good fun. Basically it's the normal Saturday market, in the morning, but with the stallholders wearing medieval costumes. After the morning market has packed up and gone home another one sets up selling things with a medieval flavour. We met up with the usual Saturday crowd at the new bar opening outside the old Bar Partropi. The new owner, the chap that runs the Lebanese food stall, was offering his delicious galettes for free and needless to say I had two. We didn't leave until 14.30 because Peter H kept pestering me for a drink. That's it now, he won't get anymore this year.

As if proof was needed

A few images from yesterday's trip to St Maries. In no particular order, Bob, Lynne and me standing outside Chez Ju Ju (just to prove that we got there), Bob practising his Gallic shrug and me listening intently to some of Bob's bullshit. A quick look at my face tells you what I think about what he is saying.

***

William and Christine came round for dinner tonight and Jan decided to cook 'Italian'. We started with salad caprese, then a little pasta with a mushroom sauce, veal escallops with spinach, a selection of Italian cheeses and to finish an apple and polenta cake.

Chez JuJu

What an excellent day! It all started by agreeing to meet Bob and Lynne in Saintes Maries de la Mer, with the dogs, for a romp on the beach (for the dogs that is). It was a beautiful sunny day and it was Minnie's first real trip out. B&L's dog Harry is an old friend of Max but I was slightly concerned whether they would remember each other after a seven month gap. No problem, the three of them took off and rolled and fought in the sand and in the water. It was excellent to see them having such a good time. A very enlightened council have allocated a small section of the beach for dogs and whilst there were several families on the beach they did not cause any problem (the dogs that is) and a good time was had by all. Having said that, why a family with small children would want to sit on the beach specifically earmarked for dogs, beats me. We all, at various times, had to clear up puke or shit and I wouldn't have taken young children there, but what do I know?

***

Anyway the next bit of good news was that B&L had booked at their favourite resto on the beach. The Tahiti Plage serves simply and freshly cooked seafood, without messing about with the fish, which is quite unusual in this part of France. Additionally, you can book a sun bed and reserve a table, all at reasonable prices, if you fancy a day by the sea. Excellent. We started with tellines and then I had my current favourite, dorade. All this washed down with an excellent Pic Poul. This is the life. We will definitely go back.

***

And the final bit of good news? After mentioning to William this morning that we were going to the seaside (yes, I did beat him and restored some English pride), he mentioned that there is a good restaurant in that area and proceeded to tell me roughly where it was. If you have seen Rick Stein's television programme about his culinary trip down the Canal du Midi, he mentions a great restaurant that he ate at, in the Camargue, near the end of his journey. He also refers to the restaurant in his cookbook of the journey (page 89, and the book incorrectly calls it Jou Jou) but always refuses to say where it is. He makes it sound very exotic by mentioning that it is favoured by film stars but that it is in the middle of nowhere and difficult to find. Mission on, mystery to be solved. B&L, foodies themselves, had also heard about this place so we set off in convoy to find it.
The journey turned out to be a real trek. The town that William mentioned proved to be inaccessible, and, just before we were going to head out to sea, Bob pithily said, "We've just made an executive decision, that no matter how good the food is, we won't be eating there anyway." We had already been forewarned by Lynne that she'd seen a sign for the resto a few miles back but ignored her advice. We ploughed on to see what we could find, when we came across flocks of flamingoes in full flight. A little treasure round every corner.
We retraced our steps and found the sign. Thank you Lynne. 'Resto JuJu' is indeed in the middle of nowhere and it was only Lynne's eagle eyes that spotted the name, within the sign for another establishment. God only knows how 'film stars' would get there. You're talking helicopters here! Anyway, we know where it is, and we even have a telephone number. The phone number is available at huge cost to anyone that's interested and, at even huger cost, we will sell you directions as well. That was the good news, the bad news, according to the sign pinned to the gatepost, is that it is closed Wednesday night and all day Thursday. YESTERDAY WAS A BLOODY THURSDAY! We will probably book to go next week, all being well.

Two Jags

For some time now, because of his over indulgence with his personal transport, the left wing, pugnacious Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott has been affectionately known as 'two Jags' . Jan told me today that the revelation of a 2 year affair with his secretary has now earned him the nickname of 'two shags'. You can trust the English tabloid press to get it in one.

***

I noticed that the price of diesel has risen to 1.11 euros today. When we first arrived here in July 2002 it was about 0.70 euros a litre. That's a 58% increase in 4 years, which is crazy in such a very short space of time. Is it the same everywhere?

Toad in the hole in the ground

William and I have started tennis again and at the moment he's 3 - 0 up. For various reasons we didn't play much over winter and I am definitely out of shape. Yesterday he was complaining that he wasn't serving well, and he wasn't, but as the score at the time was 4 games to 2, to him, I didn't feel too sympathetic, and told him so.

***

Our next door neighbour's house is empty most of the time because it is used, on and off, as a summer home and consequently their pool, which is not covered, has turned into a slimy pond by this time of the year. That in itself doesn't affect us, but the noise that comes from it does. The croaking from the toads makes it sound like there is a wild life park next door. Anyway, out of the blue Willi turned up this evening and told me that he was going to get them out of the pool/pond tomorrow. Jan, not the greatest lover of toads and frogs (she seems to like you - Ed.), was very pleased when I told her. It's just as well that I don't tell her what I fish out of ours! As an aside, the French for toad is crapaud but the French for toad-in-the-hole is, morceaux de saucisse cuit au four dans la pâte à crêpe. Just trips off the tongue!

***

It was hot today, over 28C at one point, so it's just as well that I'm giving our pool some attention. Jan is eager to get in and as long as the weather stays fair she will get her wish by the end of the month. Not me guv, it's still way too parky!

Masterchef

You'll be pleased to know that I now have another signature dish. Last night, ably assisted by my sous chef (er Jan), I cooked linguine with asparagus, pancetta and lemon. It was good for Jan to be with me in the kitchen so that I could pass on some of my culinary secrets. I decided a long time ago that I would not keep all my kitchen knowledge to myself and I encourage Jan to be near me, in the kitchen, at all times (anymore rubbish like this and they'll take you away - Ed.).

***

Jan has threatened to burn my old tee shirt (yesterday's post) just in case I retrieve it from the dustbin. What she doesn't know (until she reads this) is that I've found another one, and it's even older. Nobody tells me what to do!

***

I fixed the pool alarm to the side of the pool this afternoon, with a view to 'installing' it in a day or two. 'Installing it' means completing various tests that I am not yet prepared for. One of the tests is to drop a 6 kilo dummy into the pool to simulate a young child falling in. I asked a neighbour if I could borrow her child but she was very rude in declining, so I now need to go to the supermarket and buy 4 1.5 litre bottles of something and tape them together. The more I think about the practical implications of this law the more stupid it becomes. It was introduced to prevent injury to children up to 5 years old. We may get a visit from a 5 year old, or under, once a year. What about the thousands of families that are never visited by children? Talk about using a sledge hammer to crack a nut. France loves its laws and regulations and this is yet another example of bureaucratic meddling. The State insists that you protect your pool from infants (or is it the other way round?) to prevent a handful of deaths but can't implement a law forbidding smoking in public to prevent thousands of deaths. They're not likely to have riots and strikes over their pool laws but you try and stop people smoking.

***

As a final note, you may remember that one of my football teams was playing yesterday. Well, against the odds; West Ham beat Middlesborough and have made it to the final of the FA Cup. Well done lads!

RIP

It's with great sadness that I announce the demise of my favorite tee shirt. Jan gets particularly upset when I wear it, mainly because there are more holes than cloth. I think that I bought the tee shirt in June 1996, so at a little under 10 years old, you (men readers) will understand my attachment to this ancient relic. This tee shirt has witnessed 2 general elections, a major international conflict and my divorce. Frankly, there wasn't much difference between the last 2 events. Anyway, please raise your glass (BUT DO NOT SING AULD LANG SYNE) and wish my old friend a happy and peaceful retirement.

A close call

Yesterday, in a moment verging on insanity, I offered to cook a pasta dish that took my fancy in the Sainsbury's Magazine. As an aside, Jan has only 2 publications sent from England, the first is Sainsbury's Magazine and the second Private Eye. I'm not sure what it says about her, but there you go. Anyway, after I had made my offer I got a reality check when I established that there was an important football match, featuring Chelsea and Liverpool on television that was going to seriously overlap with food preparation. So there I was, only minutes after gaining a whole load of brownie points, having to renege. Bum. Anyway, Jan being the lovely soul that she is, offered to take over and I offered to cook on Sunday instead. Phew, that was close!

The Great Escape

It's the Queen's 80th birthday today and inevitably Jan and I got round to discussing the monarchy. Jan, an avowed republican, opposes rule through an accident of birth. It's very difficult, if not impossible, to argue with that opinion, but generally I'm in favour of the monarchy because I think the Queen does a good job. She's been doing the job for over 50 years and is probably set to continue for another 20. That's pretty impressive. The alternative would be some kind of presidency and thinking about it, I can't think of too many presidents, past or present, anywhere in the world, that have impressed me too much. Charles may change all that but that remains to be seen.

***

Cats disturbed Max again last night and, after he had burrowed his way out of the garden, we had to disappear into the night to find him. Find him we did, but he was so excited that he wouldn't obey commands (not that he does anyway) and so it was a question of leaving gates and doors open so that he could get back home (I suppose expecting him to retrace his steps would be asking too much). Anyway, we spent a large part of this morning trying to figure out how he'd managed to get out and then plugging even more holes. In the normal course of events Max is a home loving dog, but let a cat anywhere near him and he goes potty.

I thought 'irony' was getting the creases out of clothes

Jan bought me this tee shirt the other day and she seemed to find it very amusing. She kept pointing her finger and sniggering. I'm probably a bit thick (for once we agree on something - Ed.), but would somebody explain what all the fuss is about please?

***

For some time now Jan has been putting a horrible orange/brown coloured towel in one of the downstairs toilets, which was painted white. I hated the towel because it looked so out of place. In order to solve the problem she has now completely repainted the room in a colour that now contrasts with the offending towel. It strikes me that buying a couple of new white towels would have been a whole lot cheaper and less effort than a full paint job. But then I'm a bloke and what do I know?

***

Max and Min are in escape mode again. To be fair it's a local tom that is caterwauling and is driving Max mad. This morning he opened the gate into the tennis court, by opening the latch on the far side of the gate with his paw, something that he has never done before, to get closer to his object of hate. They then escaped into the garden next door through holes in the neighbour's fence that we thought were adequately blocked off. This is starting to get irritating. We made them serve a short stretch in the 'pen' to cool off.

Mutton dressed as mutton

We have both had a hacking cough for the last couple of weeks now and the same thing has happened for three years in a row. The first time in January, the second in March and this time in April. I wondered whether it was some French bug that surfaces at this time of the year and to which we had not acquired immunity. Knowing how long it went on the first time, about a month, we both went to see different doctors (I hope there's more to this story - Ed.) and what was interesting was that they both treated the problem differently. Jan's gave her antibiotics and mine gave me four different medications and thought that it might be an allergy. I wonder if we are in some secret medical study for this complaint? Who will get better first? Is one doctor curing the problem and one curing the symptoms? The answer to this and other medical matters will be published here or in the British Medical Journal (you're an idiot - Ed.).

***

Whilst Jan has been wearing shorts around the garden for a couple of weeks now, I've only just let my legs out into the wild. Normally I lead on the shorts front but this year the roles are reversed. It's just possible that I'm going native. When you're out and about and you see a man with shorts he screams 'tourist' at you. Locals will wear trousers up to 45C and beyond that they die so it doesn't matter. Only grockles wear shorts.

***

Talking about not looking the part, have you seen Paul McCartney's hair recently? I can't take my eyes off it. He dyes it a dark shade of brown which makes him look like he's wearing a rug. He and Heather were fronting a serious programme on television tonight and I just couldn't take him seriously. At the risk of offending somebody here, would you trust a man who dyes his hair? A bit of a case of mutton dressed as mutton. Having said that, if I was a squillionaire I probably wouldn't give a shit either.

Think yourself lucky

I seem to spend a lot of time at the moment spraying the weeds. It's not very gratifying work because you know that you will have missed some, you can just see lots of new growth starting to show, and you just know that you'll be out there again in a months time. Great! Anyway, just before she left for a slap-up lunch with the girls, Jan made me a small, plain sandwich and left me in sole charge of the dogs, so I suppose I should be grateful!

Is it Pepsi or is it Coke?

Ok, so this is the last photo from Saturday night. Ben, as you can see is struggling to blow out his one candle (a candle that plays happy birthday). Paula his wife, sitting behind him was once the face of Pepsi for television adverts in Spain. When she ordered a Coke the other day, in Sommieres, I said "I thought that you would prefer Pepsi." "Can't stand the stuff," she said. So much for brand loyalty!

***

The house has returned to peace and quiet and Jan is forced to talk to me again (she has my sympathy - Ed.) It's another glorious day so we head for the garden. After a few hours of general maintenance and a dog walk, Jan makes a scrummy lamb curry for dinner. Now that's a good use of leftovers.