Arsonists and nutritionists

Jan and I went our separate ways this morning, me to Nimes to meet Floyd and two young tennis professionals, and Jan to Montpellier to meet her cousin Gill and husband Mike. Another full house this weekend!

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Today's joke:

Did you hear about the man who didn't know the difference between incest and arson?

He went and set fire to his sister.

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Ok, it was nutritionist time this afternoon, so it's off to Montpellier to see the lovely Dr K. I was not looking forward to the visit, and as it turns out, quite rightly so. I have put back on 1.5 kilos. I had to listen to a telling off which lasted several minutes. It's probably just as well that I don't understand half of what she says. Anyway, I sat there looking glum and very contrite, nodding in what I thought were all the right places, and promised to be better. It's worse than being married! If I didn't fancy her so much, I'd stop going now!

On the blink

My mobile phone is starting to play up. Despite practising good battery management (letting it run down fully before recharging it) the battery now dies after one or two days. I asked about the cost of a replacement battery but found that it costs just about as much to completely replace the phone. Welcome to the modern world.

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It feels strange (and even stranger to say it) but there is something missing with no cricket on television. I have never been a big cricket fan and tried to 'get into it' when I lived near Headingly, Leeds. Headingly is the home of Yorkshire cricket and in those days Yorkshire were a kick ass team. So there I am, sitting with a few mates trying to watch this sporting event which is taking place so far from the spectators that the players are nothing but dots on the horizon. We sit, and I strain to see anything, when I was momentarily distracted, and the only significant event to happen that day, happened as I turned away. Remember there were no large tv screens, no action replays, just a reliance on trying to fathom out what was happening on, what seemed like, the other side of the moon. I have never been to a cricket match since. The world has moved on a lot since then, but I'm afraid it lost me as a spectator. Until just recently that is. It's strange how these things work out.

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Apart from looking forward to some Champions League football on television tonight, the day was mostly spent with household maintenance and shopping for our next visitors, who arrive tomorrow.

OK, so what are the Ashes?

Another hit this morning at 8.00 am, though I must say I struggled to get out of bed. It was much cooler during the night so it was on with an extra layer before venturing out this morning. The forecast is good for the rest of the week so hopefully it's not time for the thermals just yet. I spent a little time trying to explain to William (he's French) a little about cricket, but we both gave up when his eyes glazed over and we decided to concentrate on our tennis instead.

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It's funny how email viruses appear periodically. I use Norton Antivirus and so far it has protected me well. Viruses have started to appear again and I'm now getting 3 or 4 per day. I suspect that someone I know has been infected, but how to tell?

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It's the final day of the cricket (is that a sigh of relief I can hear?) and it continues to excite. England must hang on and get as many runs as possible because this Aussie side is no pushover and they must not be given an inch. It's nail biting to the end. If England win, it's a result that they haven't achieved for 18 years.

***

Stop Press: England have retained the Ashes. Good effort to the team. Both sides were good value for money and instead of doing jobs around the house I spent most of the day in front of the television. A good effort from them and a poor effort from me.

It won't stand up in court

In the last few days Damien (one of the tennis group) has told some funny stories, like the time he called into work sick, and asked his boss's secretary to say that he wouldn't be in to work that day because he was suffering from priapism. A little perplexed, she repeated this message to his boss.

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The boys (Damien, Floyd, John and Richard) leave today, but this time from Nîmes, the airport that they should have arrived at three days ago. They were an amiable, intelligent, fun loving group who play tennis to a high standard and it was a pleasure to hit with them. Thank you guys.

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The cricket is proving to be exciting yet again. One minute Australia were building a solid score and were looking good for the chance of a win when, inexplicably, they collapse to an English onslaught and England are back in the driving seat. I'm not sure that you can call a draw 'in the driving seat', but it's exciting nonetheless.

Tennis, cricket and more food

I joined the tennis workout this morning for a bit of exercise and felt much better at the end of it. I'll try and do the same tomorrow. With another visit to the nutritionist looming, I need to lose a few pounds and at least appear that I'm making an effort. Unfortunately I don't have the self control necessary when we have visitors. It's so much easier when there's just Jan and I. Hey ho.

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There are still two days to go and Australia are piling up the runs, but they are still some way behind and I suspect it is all a little too slow. (If this totally incomprehensible, then please move onto the next paragraph) They need to have a good lead by mid afternoon on Sunday in order to allow enough time to bowl England out. This could be another close finish.

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It's the boys' last night and we barbecue lamb, which has been marinating in oil, lemon juice, garlic and rosemary, for over 24 hours. We start with stuffed peppers and with the meat we have roasted vegetables and dauphinoise potatoes. Cheese and a home made lemon sorbet to finish. Yum.

Where the hell have you been for the last 24 hours?

The horrendous weather problems in Languedoc made headline news last night and Nîmes featured heavily, although Jan said that they didn't mention me. Strange!

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First thing this morning, Floyd rang to confirm that they were all on the coach and on their way. The driver had kindly agreed to drop them at the peage at junction 27 on the A9, in order to avoid me having to drive into Nîmes and having to deal with any problems that might occur in that area. Nice one driver - thank you. All goes to plan for a change and, after a very nice lunch, the boys are on court at 15.00 doing what they should have been doing 24 hours earlier. The rest of the afternoon and evening was a blur of tennis, pool, gin and tonics and Jan's famous barbecued spare ribs. We all slept well.

Oh no, not more rain!

Ooh er missus, we have heavy rain again today. Jan, who is normally the voice of doom and gloom as soon as there is any change in the weather, is taking it all in her stride. Whereas I get pissed off because I have to keep going out to empty the pool, and get soaking wet in the process. On top of that, Floyd and some friends are supposed to arrive this afternoon for a few days tennis and I know that I'm going to get blamed for the weather.

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I don't normally mix the words 'cricket' and 'interesting' in the same sentence unless I want to say something like: "I find cricket as interesting as knowing that orthotetrachidecahedrons describes the shape of a bubble in beer foam." However, England and Australia are playing cricket at the moment and the current match decides who wins the series (best of five). The matches so far have been exciting, (I realise that a non cricket fan will find this incomprehensible) with some nail biting finishes. England are currently in the lead at 2 matches to 1, for the first time in a thousand years or so, and about to win back the Ashes (don't ask) and knock the so called best side in the world (the Aussies) off their self satisfied pedestals (sorry, Phil). We shall see.

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What an afternoon! I set off at 14.00 to pick up the boys from the airport and little did I know what was in store. It was pouring down as I approached Nîmes and the first sign of potential problems was flood water, a metre deep, on the outskirts. Added to this minor skirmish, a car had broken down in the deep water and had been abandoned. The rest of the journey was very, very wet, with poor visibility, but fairly uneventful. I got to the airport, and it was still pouring down, but I could see no plane. As I was running late, I reckoned that this was not a good sign. I subsequently learned that, having made two aborted attempts at landing at Nîmes, the plane had been diverted to Perpignan (Montpellier, which was closer, had been shut down due to the poor weather), where it managed to get down at the second attempt. Scary. OK, inconvenient but not the end of the world. The boys are then put on a bus and driven up the A9 motorway to safety. Not so. When they get to Beziers they find that the motorway is blocked by flood water and accidents. All this time, I sit at the airport because it is easier to wait there than negotiate my way home and back. To make matters worse the cellphone network starts to play up and it is impossible to get a line, so I have to resort to calling Jan at home, from a payphone, who relays messages to Floyd by landline, to find out what's happening. Eventually I realise that they will not make it to Nîmes so I start to wend my weary way back home. I should have guessed that there was fun ahead because the entrance to the motorway had been blocked off. Bum. I set off into Nîmes by the back roads only to find that road after road had been blocked and I was in the middle of a traffic gridlock. There was no way back and no way forward. I won't bore you with any more, but suffice to say that I eventually got home at 21.20, seven and half hours after first setting off. Jan, bless her, had made a nice curry and had a chilled bottle of wine waiting for her little intrepid traveller. I slept well last night.
(At least you don't live in New Orleans - Ed.)

Where is Inondable?

Somebody once said to me: "Where is this place Inondable?" When I asked what they meant they mentioned that a lot of roads around here appear to lead to Inondable. It always makes me laugh when I think about it. (It doesn't take much to make you laugh - Ed.) The photo above is particularly appropriate.

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When I checked the pool water chemistry this morning, the monitoring system warned me that the Ph level was particularly low at 6.5. The Ph level (the acidity/alkalinity balance) in the pool is maintained automatically at about 7.0. This is the correct setting for a 'salt system' pool, and because the pool is filled and replenished with very hard (alkaline) water, an acid is used to reduce the Ph to an acceptable level. The inescapable conclusion therefore was that all the rain that fell in the pool yesterday must have been quite acidic. Hmm. (Don't you know anything? The Ph of rain is about 5.5 - Ed.)

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With more rain forecast for tomorrow, there's not much point in clearing up outside, so Jan and I have a lazy morning and spend the afternoon preparing for the next tennis group that arrives tomorrow. For a change, Floyd is coming out with three men and no women. At least it will keep Jan happy!

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Talking about keeping Jan happy, she gets an hours free French conversation with Christine (she's French and speaks very good English) this afternoon and, in exchange, I give Christine a tennis lesson. Somebody has got the raw end of the deal here but I'll let you know when I've figured it out.

Now that's what I call rain

What a downpour last night! I can only imagine what monsoon rain is like but this must have been pretty close. The storm kept us both awake for large parts of the night. Even Max, who rarely shows that he is disturbed by thunder and lightening, started to make his discomfort felt. We had already battened down the hatches the day before, so we did not expect to find too many problems, but the first thing that I noticed was that the pool had filled right to the top. I conservatively estimate that the pool took on 4 cubic metres of water and was getting close to overflowing. My first job was to check to see if the land drainage that we put in at the beginning of the year was working, and it was. Water was flowing at full bore through all three 10 cm pipes and whilst there was some minor flooding at the top of the garden, where water was pouring down the embankment in small water falls, there was no dangerous flooding. Maybe I should have been a hydraulics engineer. (A trench digging labourer is nearer the mark – Ed.) The pool house had only 3 cms of water in it, so the drainage for that was working well too. So far, so good. The next job was to lower the water level in the pool because there was no sign of the rain abating, a job that I did twice during the morning. The duration and intensity of the rain reminded us of the rains in September 2002, just after we moved here, that caused huge flooding and loss of life.
The rain finally stopped at 2.00 pm and we went for a drive to survey the damage. As you can see above, the nearby Vidourle was very high. What you can't see is a bridge which is about 3 metres below the water level.

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As if reading my mind about wanting a decent curry, we receive an offer from Ryanair for free seats (pay only the taxes) during the coming months. We had looked last night and decided the prices were just too high. Because of this offer, we changed our minds about driving to the UK at the beginning of December and book two flights from Nimes to Luton and back for 91 euros (approx £30 each), good eh? We'll travel light and load up with Christmas goodies, especially Tesco's deep filled mince pies. Good, heart stopping, fare.

Quick it's raining, into the pool

It rained this morning, great, and rain is forecast for the next four days. The upside is that it will make our visitors from Scotland feel at home. For me, the rain is a welcome relief and will provide some natural irrigation for the garden. The tennis court is the only green thing around here at the moment, everything else being some shade of brown, and that includes Jan and I. Despite the rain, which ceased temporarily, Robert and the children went into the pool, which was still warm at 28c, for one last dip.

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After the trip to the airport, we popped into Truffaut for some food for Max, then onto the Asian supermarket for Jan to stock up with things oriental. It's more a warehouse than a shop, and the smell of spices hits you in the guts as soon as you walk in. It brings back memories of many a happy curry meal. So much so, that we looked at Ryanair to see if it was feasible to fly to the UK for a curry night!

What a load of bull

Robert very kindly invites us for lunch at Mas de Roux which we take outside, on the terrace, with spectacular views of the hills and vines. The menu is, as ever, very good value with reasonably priced local wines. It is Sunday lunch and the place is packed. Even the children eat well which is a good sign. Recommended, if you are ever near Bragassargues.

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The year end Festival of Manades took place this afternoon in Montagnac, a small village 10 minutes away. Several manades, got together for a very big abrivado. An abrivado is a tradition left over from pre-truck days when gardians (the French version of cowboys) would round up the bulls grazing the wetland plains of the Camargue. I can't think why the above picture (left) took my fancy but alongside 40 horsemen there are a fair number of ladies who match the men at displaying their horsemanship. Basically, bulls are released from a holding truck at one end of a huge meadow and the gardians show their skills by controlling the bulls at full speed across the meadow (above right), through a huge crowd of foolhardy bystanders (note the man in blue), through the narrow streets of the village and into a waiting truck at the other end. The fun comes when the bulls break free, charge the crowd, which scatter in all directions, and disappear into the vineyards. Charging the crowds is quite a regular occurrence and certainly gives you an adrenalin rush. We have seen quite a few of these now and the one at Montagnac is probably the best.

You and whose army?

First stop today is Domaine Arnal for a couple of ten litre boxes of my delicious everyday drinking white, at 2 euros a litre. We also buy some boxed red to try later. The vendage is in full swing so we (Robert, Ella, Michael and myself) look into the cave and watch them pressing cinsault for their rosé. A very nice caviste is busy but takes the time to show us what he is doing. We find that if you show a genuine interest in their work then one and all are pleased to take the time to show you what they do.

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Next stop Sommieres, where we buy a few bits and meet up with Peter Hornby. Peter runs this website and I am pleased to say that I am one of its regular visitors. He now has every excuse not to buy me a drink because the man that was running Bar Partropi has done a moonlight. So we now have a big hole in our lives until he can find a new tenant. How will we all survive?
On leaving the market we bump into William (my tennis partner) and Christine. He is full of the joys of spring because he has just bought himself a pair of Nike tennis shoes and a new tennis racquet. The man in the shop had told him that with this new equipment he will kick my ass. Mnnn - only if he teams up with Roger Federer!

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Our new visitors, who arrived tonight, are Desmond, Jean and James Hammerton. Desmond is Jan's cousin but they have not met for at least 15 years. Jan seems to have this effect on people! They have a little problem finding us, but notwithstanding their late arrival, we have a nice meal on the terrace under the stars and crawl into bed at 1.00 am.

That's a joke?

A mid morning hit with Paul and Jane before they leave, which was just what I needed. If I can keep this up I'll become waiflike! Paul and Jane came out with the tennis group last week and because they liked it so much they decided to stay for a few more days. They are a nice couple and we hope they come back.

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Jan's joke of the day:

"I was asked to run a marathon today, but I said, "no way."
They said 'come on, please, it's for spastics and blind children.'
So I thought, fuck it, I could win this."

Do exactly as I say

So Robert takes his two young children, Ella (8) and Michael (5), to the beach. A good time was being had by all when Michael says: "Daddy, I want to go to the toilet."
Robert says: "That's no problem Michael, go into the sea and do it."
Michael looks puzzled, because this is the first time that he has been given such an instruction.
"OK daddy." Michael walks down to the water's edge, pauses, and standing in two inches of water, pulls his willy out and lets fly.

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It's the 1st September and it seems like only yesterday that we were looking forward to summer. But we can't complain, it's 31c in the shade today and the next few days are also looking very good. The pool gets up to 28c most afternoons, the perfect temperature, so we spend a little more time than usual sitting and swimming. Good eh?

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Back to Michael again. There he is messing about in the pool when he shrieks because he has been bitten on his tummy. The only thing that we can see that could have been involved was a waterboatman swimming nearby. I was certain that waterboatmen are harmless, so I Googled it and my supposition was confirmed. But there at the bottom of the article it said waterboatmen are easily confused with backswimmers. I had never heard of a backswimmer so I Googled it and there it was. They can give a painful bite. Isn't Google a wonderful tool?