Bastille Day

It's Bastille Day today, a national holiday. Bastille Day marks the storming of the former Bastille prison in Paris by angry crowds on 14 July 1789, sparking the revolution that signalled the end of the French monarchy and the start of self rule, a sort of Independence Day.
(OK, that's enough of the history lesson - Ed.).
We, and the rest of the village, are invited for aperos at the foyer, village hall, at midday. Jan drags herself along, never turning her nose up at a free drink. It's amazing how many people we know. At a rough guess, we recognise at least half the people there and we chat to lots. We are now starting to feel a real part of the village and this makes us feel good.
During his relaxed speech, sitting on the bar counter, William, the mayor, made reference to an edict by Jacques Chirac, that France should observe a minute's silence to respect those killed last Thursday in London. We were very touched by that and I suppose this means that I should have a 'be nice to Jacques' period. I'll see how long I can keep it up.

One of life's little pleasures

OK, so it's a little pleasure, but we do enjoy watching the hundreds of Swifts and House Martins in their spectacular, ritualistic evening 'dance'. At times they fill the sky, turning this way and that, presumably feeding on insects as they go. If you are in the pool, you can expect to be dive bombed as they scoop up water. Missing your head by inches, as they dare you to enter their domain. It's all quite entertaining, with the exception of having to clean the droppings from the pool later. Talking of pools, I spend the morning cleaning ours and also ensuring that our neighbours' new pool is filled to the right level. They arrive on Sunday so it will be a nice surprise for them, because they have not seen it yet.

***

Whilst she feels better in herself, Jan's leg is still very, very painful. So we pop to the doctor who is quite concerned and who puts her back on antibiotics, telling her to continue the injections for another 10 days and to get the nurse to start dressing her leg. Poor old thing. (Not so much of the old - Jan)

Pic St Loup

Travel for 30 minutes to the east (you come to Pic St Loup), or 30 minutes to the south of Cannes and you will find a host of seriously good wine producers. I can't believe the number. Travel even further east and you will find hundreds, travel further south and you will get very wet (sorry, you're in the Med.). Languedoc is seriously good wine producing country. I love it. I love 'discovering' the wines nearly as much as I enjoy drinking them. Prior to moving to France, neither Jan (above - doing what she does best) nor I drank any French wine. Our tastes were almost exclusively reserved for 'new world wines'. This area has been a real eye opener. I'm afraid that our view of French wine was based upon the inflated prices and overrated quality of both Bordeaux and Burgundian wines. These areas still have a lot of catching up to do and they certainly need to stop feeling so superior. The world is marching on and they are stuck in a rut. I realise that they have very strict laws governing their production, but they will only get into further problems if they don't change quickly. Just a thought, but maybe Jacques could argue for an increase in his farm subsidy! Anyway, the Languedoc region is far less rigidly controlled and the vignerons have more opportunity to experiment and change age old habits. They are doing an excellent job.

***

James leaves today, so yet another trip to Montpellier. Yippee. It's a pity that Jan was so poorly for his stay, however he helped enormously with the cooking early on and with exercising Max, whom he adores. Thanks, James.

***

I've just realised that last Friday, July 8th, was the third anniversary of our move to France. I remember driving towards the village hoping that we would be accepted. Cannes has about 400 inhabitants and we subsequently learnt that there were 4 permanent English families in residence and another 2 holiday homes. The eight Brits amount to 2% of the population, an extraordinary figure given the location and size of the place. Two families are however moving on (it must be something that Jan has said), thereby reducing the impact of my call for an English mayor and representation on the local council. Hey ho.

Nurses, wine tasting and a bizarre sight.

One of the first things the doctor requested, when Jan visited her with her recent health problem, was that a nurse should visit the house daily to administer an injection. The doctor even made the call to the nursing practice to make the arrangements. The injection is being given to prevent a potential thrombosis and by default to let the nurse give additional help and advice. The nurse did in fact change the medicine, after consultation with the doctor. We have to say that the medical care, and the nursing care in particular, has been excellent.

***

Jan suggests that we venture out for a change, so she is definitely feeling better, and we decide to visit some domains for a little wine tasting. Pic St Loup is a well respected wine producing area, about 30 minutes away, so we head first for Chateau l'Euziere in Fontanes. We try a white and two reds and as usual end up buying two boxes of the most expensive at 11.50 euros per bottle. Absolutely delicious. Next is Chateau La Roque, where we try six wines, two whites, a rose, and three reds. They are all so nice that we buy some of each. This is turning into an interesting, expensive and very enjoyable afternoon.
But the smiles get much wider. We are on our way back, when we are flashed by cars coming in the opposite direction. This usually means that there are police ahead, so we dutifully slow down. It's not the police, but an accident. One car is totally blocking the road, another has flipped onto its side and there are several people milling around. I spot what I now suspect is the cause of the accident. An elderly man, with some kind of elaborate decoration in his hair, is standing by the side of the road surveying the scene. I know he is elderly by the size and quantity of the veins running up the back of his legs and over his backside. He is also very wrinkly. How do I see the veins running up his legs, how do I know he is wrinkly? Because he is virtually naked. He is wearing absolutely nothing but a thong and wooden 'platform' clogs. He also has dreadlocks half way down his back. I very much doubted that he was a passenger in one of the cars, my best guess being, based upon the deep brown colour of his skin, that he walks around like this. We have never seen anything so bizarre or funny and I'd say that at least one of the drivers was so distracted (as indeed we were) that he lost concentration and crashed. Oh that we had a camera! The rest of the day was boring in comparison.

Getting back to normal again

The road to the house finally opens late yesterday afternoon and they leave a gap that allows cars to pass with inches to spare on either side. It's so tight that you have to pull the door mirrors in. This is not a space to attack with reckless abandon. Thank you EDF (Electricite de France) for spicing up our lives.

***

Notices everywhere predict road closures for the Tour de France on July 15th. Checking the TdF website, I note that it will pass through Quissac (10 minutes away) at around 15.00. I now understand why Quissac is holding an early fete this year, from 13th to 17th July, which of course includes the public holiday Bastille Day on 14th. I'm tempted to go and watch the race, but with no action replay, and with the lead group passing in a matter of one or two seconds, I think that it's better watched on television. We shall see.

***

Martin and Jenny leave today for their next stop in Beaujolais country. Their brief visit has rekindled many memories of Jan's distant past, memories of her time in Vienna with two young children. We are sad to see them go. The rest of the day is spent lazing, trying to catch up on sleep.

To sweat or not to sweat

Jan gets a little better every day and she can now walk short distances but she has to sit and rest after about 30 metres. No Olympics for her then! The leg still looks very angry and whatever bacteria it was, it has really attacked the flesh. Anyway she is well enough to have a go at me over some minor indiscretion so she must be getting better! As James said over lunch, "it's good to have you back in the kitchen".

***

With the temperature hovering at around 30C most of the time, even the smallest chores mean that we inevitably get covered in sweat. (Do we really need to know this? - Ed.) I'm in the bakers, feeling a little dishevelled, buying bread for lunch, and it is 29C outside. Feeling hot and uncomfortable, I can't help but notice that the woman in front of me is wearing several layers and, to top it all off, a raincoat. How come she feels cold, I think, but then what does she do? She buys an ice cream. Strange.

***

I take James to the honey farm in Clairan, my role being chauffeur and personal bank. It's all a bit like the queen really, she gets driven everywhere and never carries money. Not much changes, even with older children!

***

We eat at Pousaranque tonight, between Quissac and Sauve. It's our fallback restaurant for when Le Fourneau is busy. The menu has changed quite a bit and they now offer a 19 euros and 24 euros formula. I had the 19 euro meal and very good it was too. The wine is generally all local and well priced. Highly recommended.

Rural charm or a pain in the arse

We have never failed to be impressed about the state of roads in France and in particular the speedy, pragmatic way they dealt with repairing, major breaks in the roads after the floods in 2002. The other day a man knocked on the door to say that, from the next day, our road would be closed between 8.00 am and 4.30 pm, because they are digging trenches to bury the overhead power cables. This same tale was told to the other 3 families that would be affected. Not a problem we all thought and some of us dutifully moved our cars "to higher ground". It has now been three days and because of the huge holes in the road, it has been totally impassable at any time. Only because I couldn't be bothered to move the car before 8.00 am, I arranged to leave it somewhere else. Lucky me. A couple of other families are now stranded, unable to get out to the shops or anywhere else, under their own steam.

***

Jenny and Martin arrive for a two night stay on their way back from Spain to the UK. They have known Jan from her time (two years) in Vienna and have therefore been friends for over 30 years. After a glass or two of our favourite fizz we eat out at Mas de Roux which manages to satisfy even vegetarian James.

Mystery solved

I'm walking in the garden with a friend, showing him my agrarian labours. Max, as usual, is excited and bounding around. The next thing I see is Max flying through the air, grabbing an apple, and the branch that it is growing on, from the puny apple tree, and running off to play ball with the apple. Whilst we all know that we should eat more fruit, I'd rather we all had the same choice, at the same time, and particularly when the fruit is ripe. I'd been wondering for a while why there was so much fruit on the floor which was not yet ripe, and now I know. This would appear to be his new game. He has tired of jumping up at the clothes line, grabbing Jan's knickers and running around with them on his head.

***

Sitting here in the south of France, without any of our children in or near London, you can't help but feel very lucky. You feel even luckier when No 1 daughter emails to say that her planned business trip into London had been postponed until the afternoon and that three of her colleagues were on one of the trains that were bombed.

Thank you very much

Thanks to one and all for your kind messages of support for Jan, but I'm a bit surprised that no one has written to offer me any moral support in my hour of need.
(They know you too well - Ed.)

I plough on regardless, getting breakfast for everyone and generally making myself useful. This morning, I played an hour of tennis, worked on the pool, put in a load of washing, unloaded the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher, hung out the laundry, weeded in the garden, played with Max, and tended to all Jan's needs. And just in case anyone is listening, I like my rewards now, not in heaven!

***

Floyd calls this afternoon, from the UK, on Skype. We sit and chat for ages all for free. It's a good programme and since we have been using it our phone bills have been decimated. Take a look here if you are interested. Anyway, we chat about his forthcoming trips in August and September.

***

Jan is still laid up, so James and I go looking for new sources of wine (as if we really need to find more). We head off to Domaine Arnal in Langlade, about 20 minutes away. We sample all their whites and their two expensive, 12 euros, reds. This place could turn out to be a serious find. But more to the point there must be hundreds of boutique domains like this in Languedoc all producing excellent wine. I need a bit more time to sample their goodies under a variety of conditions but I suspect that this is a good find. What I am particularly interested in, is a 10 litre bag-in-box Grenache, Roussanne blend at 2 euros a litre. They appear to use Roussanne a lot in their whites and very nice it is too. Watch this space.

Who cares for the carers?

My No 1 son arrives today (No 1 daughter left last week), so after trying to get Jan to eat something for the first time in over two days, it's off to Montpellier. I'm a little concerned that, because she is not eating, she will start to lose more weight than me. We shall see. Anyway, the plane was on time which was a bit of a BA first for me of late. I also called into the 'Chateau Puech Haut' shop at the airport and pretended to be interested in their wine, when in fact I know it well, and sampled some of their delicious White Tete de Cuvee, a Roussanne, Marsanne mixture, and their Red Tete de Cuvee, a Syrah, Grenache assemblage. This cheers me up, and is my little reward to myself for all my selfless airport runs.

***

Jan appears to be little better (the nurse turned up and injected as promised) but she still finds it very painful to walk. The antibiotics should start to kick in soon and she has started to look a little brighter already. Whatever it was, it was very, very nasty and will take a few days yet to clear.

***

I noticed this today and found myself agreeing with most of it. For anyone thinking of moving to France it will make interesting reading.

***

James cooks a fresh tomato and basil sauce for dinner, to go with the fresh gnocci that we bought today at Intermarche. We also drink a bottle of the White 2003 Tete de Cuvee that I couldn't resist this morning. You can tell that Jan is still not well when she refuses a glass.

A very poorly lady

Jan is still not well, but I have an appointment that has already been rearranged once, so I have to leave her in Max's capable paws.

***

When I get back, I play doctors and examine a recent nasty swelling on her leg. Because she ached so badly yesterday she did not associate her leg with her other aches and pains. At a rough guess, having had one myself in the past, I guess that she has an infected bite, so I take her for medical help. After an almost two hour wait, we get to see a doctor who states that she has an infection from either an insect bite or possibly a plant. She is prescribed lots of medicine and she also has to have injections for the next ten days. The doctor arranges for a nurse to visit the house to deliver the injections into her stomach. I feel ill just thinking about it. My poor darling, but at least I now know that she is not faking it!

Get well soon

Jan was not well this morning. She ached and shivered all over, which I think are the classic signs of alcoholic poisoning. Anyway, she decided to stay in bed, so I needed a crash course in finding all the breakfast stuff, like milk, spoons , bowls etc. She kindly drew me maps and diagrams and I single handedly got my own breakfast. I bet she won't show any gratitude. I also secretly hoped that she would get better by lunchtime or it could turn out to be a really disastrous day. If I let her make me some lunch, it will be on the strict understanding that she doesn't pass on any germs. How can I look after her if I'm ill as well?
The day got worse! I had to get both lunch and dinner. My culinary skills were sorely tested but as the song says, "I will survive."

***

The men's final at Wimbledon showed Federer at his awesome best. It's difficult to see anyone challenge his No 1 position and assuming he keeps healthy he is likely to hold that position for some time to come.

If it's Saturday it must be?

OK, so we like Sommieres market. This market just seems to get better and better. However, Jan is always complaining that she only ever gets the chance to buy her clothes from a market stall, and I say, what's wrong with a blue and red striped shirt with a No 10 and Ronaldo printed on the back?
(Because he now plays for Real Madrid and the shirt should at least be white - Ed.)
We need some fruit and a couple of bits so off we go. Shopping done, we sit down at Bar Partropi for a bit of refreshment. After the first bottle of Viognier, from the local cave cooperative, we are joined by Bob and Lynne, and pooch Harry, and Peter H. Another bottle it is then. I really don't like drinking at lunchtime, it's when I make all my worst decisions, however, a good decision was for B & L to come back for lunch so that Harry and Max could play for a while. Jan rustles up a delicious avocado and bacon salad, I rustle up some more wine, Harry and Max played for three hours solid and a hazy afternoon was had by all. Mine was particularly hazy, and when I woke at 7.00 pm, I was just in time to watch Venus Williams picking up her Wimbledon trophy. She must have played well!

***

Another application for wasp stings, as supplied by Will, is to use toothpaste. I asume this helps relieve the pain as well as whiten the area.

Not just a goddess but also a psychic?

I have mentioned before that Jan can guess the average temperature, for the month, to within half a degree. Well, this is even more bizarre. Earlier last month (June), I can't remember which day but about a week before the end of the month, I asked Jan to PREDICT the average temperature for the month. Now bearing in mind that the average for the first half was 27.0C and that the average for the second half was 32.1C, there were some wide variations in temperature. "OK, smart ass", I said, "tell me what you think it WILL be this month?" She paused, wrinkled her pretty little nose, and said "about 30C". Bloody hell, how does she do it? The answer turned out to be 29.6C (hotter than any month last year). I may have a prophetess on my hands which will come in very useful for the new religion that I keep thinking about starting.

***

It's dental check up time, so off to Quissac to see da man. The dentist appears to be very efficient. He notices a small hole, he drills and fills, all with a lot less fuss than I was used to back in the UK. I'm intrigued as to which way is more competent. Hole filled and teeth scraped clean, it's back to the ranch to start making them dirty again. (Do we really need to know this? - Ed.)

***

Tim contacts me because he wants to know what has happened about the other wasp nest. Not a lot really. I assume that they're still building and I'm biding my time (OK, waiting until I'm pissed enough to have enough courage) before I tackle them. I'm sure it will be any day now.