A pleasant change

At long last, a warm, sunny day. January has been colder, windier and wetter than usual, in fact this winter has, so far, been pretty miserable. Today was a pleasant change and got us out into the garden for a bit of tidying up. In particular, I had to clean up the mess left after the wind blew some tiles off the kitchen terrace roof. Unusually the wind was blowing hard from the south east, and got under some edge tiles. I heard the bang from some distance away as the tiles hit the floor but luckily there was no one nearby or there could have been a nasty accident.

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There I am moaning about the weather, when I checked the snow conditions at Prat Peyrot, our local ski station, to find that it was inaccessible and closed down, presumably because of the recent snow. Bum, we'd just dusted down our ski stuff in anticipation of a visit next week, and mine still fits.

Domaine de la Prose

Today was all about taking James and Pauline back to the airport, but as nothing is simple in this house, we took a big detour to visit another vineyard. Domaine de la Prose is situated outside Pignan near the village of St George d'Orque just west of Montpellier. I first heard of this area when tasting (or rather drinking) an absolutely delicious red Domaine Henry from Pic Wines. Because James likes to try new wines and new terroirs, and because Jan and I have been known to do the same, we decided to make this little side-trip. We were pleased to be able to taste their wine, and were offered three whites and three reds to try by Alexandre de Mortillet, the owner. The enthusiasm and passion of all the wine makers we meet is so pleasing and this man was no exception.

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I received this today, which made me laugh:

A male patient is lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. A young, student nurse turns up and starts to give him a partial sponge bath.
"Nurse", he mumbles, from behind the mask. "Are my testicles black?"
Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, "I don't know, Sir, I'm only here to wash your upper body and feet.”
He struggles to ask again, "Nurse, are my testicles black?"
Concerned that he may elevate his blood pressure and heart rate from worry about his testicles, she overcomes her embarrassment and pulls back the covers. She raises his gown, holds his manhood in one hand and his testicles in the other. Then, she takes a close look and says, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with them, Sir!"
The man pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her and says very slowly, "Thank you so very much, you're very kind, but listen, can you tell me, are my test results back?"

Let's adopt a baby

There we were lying in bed, listening to an item about adoption on the breakfast news when I suggested to Jan that maybe we should adopt a child. Jan, an earth mother, purred contentedly. I mentioned that we have the time, we can demonstrate that we have been loving, responsible parents and we can provide a good home. She reacted calmly to this suggestion until I, probably unhelpfully, suggested that if we could get an olive skinned, raven haired, 18 years old with a 38 DD chest, I'd do a lot of the nurturing. She didn't like this idea! I was possibly a bit too specific about the colour of hair. Oh well, I'll know for next time.

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Happy New Year! It's the Chinese year of the dog or more formally bingxu. The dog is Jan's sign and I'm a pig, as you have already probably realised, but at least you won't have to sing Old Bloody Lang Syne. I wonder what the Chinese sing? (Ord rang sine - Ed.) Jan and I have always had great fun looking a our Chinese astrological signs, and in particular, how the dog and pig get on together. Hmnnnn.

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Jan loves to try new recipes and because James is vegetarian, she particularly loves the challenge. Tonight we started with a Tunisian aubergine salad, eaten with pitta bread, couscous with a vegetable tagine, followed by cheese, pineapple upside down cake and baci di ricotta (lightly fried ricotta cakes). Delicious. If I could remember anything about the wine I'd tell you about that too.

Wine, food and more wine

We had a strange combination this morning of heavy rain but with lots of snow on the ground. The rain did not appear to be melting the snow which felt strange, but there you go. (For goodness sake, not another weather report - Ed.)

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This was funny but Chirac took it in good humour.

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My son James arrived today and I was really looking forward to his visit. I didn't see either of my children over Christmas so this is the next best thing. James loves his wine, (it obviously runs in the family - Ed) so on the way back from the airport we stopped at Mas d'Espanet, situated deep in the countryside, near St Mamert-du-Gard. We were met by Agnès, an extremely nice lady, who let us try several of their wines. They are seriously good winemakers and I urge you to pay them a visit. Their website has tasting notes and prices.

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By way of a late birthday treat, James took us out for dinner. We had booked at Apicius in St Mathieu de Treviers 0467 55 37 97 where we had already stopped for lunch on a couple of occasions. As an aside, because a similarly named restaurant in Paris has objected, they will shortly change their name to Lennys. Anyway, this was our first visit for dinner, so we looked forward to it with anticipation. The meal was outstanding and the restaurant a real place for foodies. No steak and chips here, but amongst others, razor clams or a very different bouillabaisse for starters, a succulent pigeon or watercress soup with fish (St Pierre). My descriptions do not do the food justice. We all tried different dishes and the textures and tastes were sensational. The chef is a real artist and if you are interested in food this restaurant must be on your list. Situated right in the middle of Pic St Loup country, you can imagine that the wines were first class. Highly recommended.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

In anticipation of a trip to Paris in April, I booked tickets on the TGV. I have always wanted to take this train. Last time I drove directly to Paris, it took 7 hours and this journey takes about 3 hours. Because I booked ahead I got what I think is a good deal. For 2 of us, upper deck in first class, it came to 180 euros for the return journey. That's about £64 each. To drive would cost quite a bit more, involve twice the journey time and take a few years off my life. A no brainer really.

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When we woke this morning, it was snowing heavily. The dogs, who have never seen snow, were a bit bemused. It was lovely to see Minnie gamboling in the snow. By way of proof, as if proof were needed, the photo above is a shot of the countryside from our bedroom window.

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Chapter 2 of my book on understanding women will start with an in-depth study of the deeper meanings of the following encounter:

Jan: Why don't you choose a cheese that you like?

Alex: Ok, that's nice, I'll have that one.

Jan: No dearest, you can't have that one, it melts.

Alex: Oops sorry, I didn't realise that I only liked non-melting cheese.

Jan: Why are you so sarcastic?

You will note that the new improved me let Jan have the last word. I didn't swear or make any negative comment about consistent, rational or dictatorial behaviour. It's just as well that we have both got a good sense of humour.

When will they ever learn?

What is it with British politicians? I don't consider myself a political animal but I find politics interesting and love observing all its machinations. As long as I've been interested, it appears to me that a politician who blatantly lies about something ultimately gets caught out. Anyone who admits immediately to an indiscretion kills the story and can carry on with their lives. The latest fiasco with the Lib Dems in England is a case in point. First, their leader Charles Kennedy denies being alcoholic, when everyone knows that he has a drink problem, then Mark Oaten is exposed whilst pretending to be a happily married man, and then there's the latest fiasco with Simon Hughes, who I believed to be gay and thought nothing of it. He announced publicly that he wasn't, and I believed him, but now he admits to being gay after all. Whether he was gay or not didn't concern me one jot, but I minded being lied to. What a bunch of donkeys! Three leadership hopefuls all falling by the wayside because they were caught lying. Go back a few years to Paddy Ashdown, who immediately admitted that he'd had an affair, and the 'story' was dead in a matter of days. When will these people ever learn? The press invariably know the truth and will dig and dig, in the face of denial, until they get their scoop. Agree with them immediately and the story then runs out of steam. In the great scheme of things none of their problems were that serious but they made them more serious by public denial. In my opinion, the Lib Dems were becoming more and more electable and could have become a power in UK politics. Now I think they're dead in the water. Stupid.

***

It was a nice afternoon and we decided to stick the dogs in the car and take them for a short ride into the countryside so that they could wander in pastures new. After 10 minutes, we noticed a DFCI (a purpose built fire track) and started to climb up a hill. The views were spectacular and we also passed about 40 or so beehives half way up. What do bees do in winter? There was quite a lot of 'humming' in the surrounding bush but I'd have thought that it was too cold for them. I felt like a little Google and this is the answer. Isn't Google great!

OK, so where's your card?

I've always been pissed off that I have had to celebrate my birthday on Burns Night. Now I have nothing against Robert Burns personally, but have you ever tried to read his rubbish? Take a look here. I rest my case. Why is this man so celebrated in Scotland? Have the Scots no taste when it comes to poetry? Is this the best that they can produce? Having said that, when you consider that this is the land of the deep fried Mars Bar, it sort of explains it really. Any nation that can invent haggis, cover it in good whisky, set fire to it, play the bloody bagpipes to announce its arrival at dinner, wear skirts, and carry a huge chip on their shoulders, deserves Robert Burns as their favourite poet. Oh, and I forgot to mention that he also wrote Auld Lang Syne! Thank God they've got their independence, give them their own passport I say.

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Now then, back to my birthday. It was a very pleasant sunny day and it started with a nice lie in, when I got my birthday treats. (No details please - Ed.) Jan very kindly bought me a very expensive bottle of twice distilled Lagavulin, my favourite malt whisky, a box of Belgian chocolates and 2 books.
We had a slight scare when we 'lost' Max (Minnie was in the house), who had managed to get down onto the bottom road and gone for a little explore. This is only the second time that he has left the garden unaccompanied and we haven't yet figured out his escape route. Anyway, he was pleased as punch with himself when I let him back in through the gate, full of bouncy energy at his successful 'adventure'. Yet one more thing to look out for now.

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For dinner, Jan prepared her own version of duck with hoi sin sauce, followed by 5 hour slow cooked lamb and then 2 puddings, one an individual tiramisu and the other a pineapple upside down cake with a little mascarpone on the side. The perfect end to a lovely day. Thank you darling.

Lost in translation

After returning from an airport run yesterday, we had a surprise visit from Vincent Coste of Domaine Costeplane. Françoise and Vincent are such nice people and, time permitting, have always allowed our guests to visit their cave and see winemaking in progress. They are in the process of preparing a new brochure and want a French to English translation, so the rest of the afternoon and part of this morning was spent translating. It was an interesting exercise because quite often you knew exactly what was said in the French but had to avoid a direct translation because of the clumsy English that it would produce. (A bit like wot you write - Ed.) With a bit of imagination and some artistic licence, we managed to produce some readable English that stayed loyal to the spirit of the French. We had to scratch our heads a few times, particularly when trying to translate a technical term like argilo-calcaire marbre but Vincent seemed very pleased with the end result and we had a bit of fun. As an aside, their delicious, medal winning 2004 rosé was our pink of choice last year and their Plan de Savoulous is one of our favourite reds.

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It's Max's second birthday today so Jan gave him extra cuddles and treats. Both being males, Max and I celebrated with male type greetings so that he didn't get embarrassed and I didn't get branded a paedophile. You've gotta be careful nowadays!

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I popped in to see William this afternoon because I'd heard that he wasn't well, that he'd put his car in a ditch and had to get someone to pull him out. I thought that I'd tease him about French drunk drivers but it turns out it was nothing worse than getting stuck in deep mud next to some roadworks. I'll get him one day!

Wot, another dinner

Despite a request from my ailing body, the dogs had to be picked up by 08.30, so no lie in. Bum. The rest of the day was pretty easy though with a mid afternoon dog walk being the most strenuous activity.

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This evening we went over to Jill and Harry's for dinner (well, we haven't been out much recently), to meet their friends. A good evening.

Sur le pont

I'd visited Avignon with Jan some time ago and I remember it being a cold miserable day. All we did was visit the Palais des Papes (if memory serves me correctly, the Popes ruled from Avignon for 400 years or so) and then had a coffee in the main square. I didn't particularly enjoy the visit and my memory of the place was then formed. How wrong I was! (I bet you found that hard to type - Ed.). I really liked Avignon this time.
So last night the four intrepid travellers met up at CW's before the walk across the centre of the walled town to find our pool hall. Despite a breakneck speed I managed to get a very favourable impression of the shops and restaurants as they whizzed by. Jan's going to love this place I thought to myself. Anyway, we eventually found the pool hall, which, never ever having been inside a pool hall before, was exactly as I imagined it to be. We started to drink beer, play pool, tell jokes and generally talk a lot of nonsense. Bob and Steve were in full flow, talking about things very computer technical, when Chris (trainee chef) turned to me and said, "The sad thing is I understand what they're talking about." The quality of the pool, which was never very high, deteriorated in proportion to the amount of beer consumed but nonetheless we enjoyed ourselves. So came the time for a reverse yomp, across town, to Chris' restaurant of choice. La Vache a Carreaux, 14 rue de la Peyrolerie, 0490 80 09 05, was very interesting. Given the amount of beer I'd consumed by this time, I'd be lying if I said that I could remember everything, but here goes. I'd been told that this restaurant serves cheese with everything, and I mean everything, so I decided to start with what I thought would be a non cheese item, a plate of charcuterie. The meats were excellent but were served with a small piece of cheese on a salad in the middle of the plate. So I got that wrong then. My main course was duck breast served with a blue cheese sauce. Sounds strange, but tasted delicious. We then of course had a cheese platter, which Bob pronounced as the best cheese platter he had ever had (he normally eats Dairylea triangles) and to finish I had, wait for it, cheesecake. At the beginning of each course the wine expert gave his suggestion on what we should drink so thank goodness we only had four courses, that is until he dropped a bottle of pear schnapps on the table as a thankyou for consuming so much wine. Just what we needed. If the heart stopping cheeses weren't going to get us during the meal, we stood a fair chance of liver failure after. But such are boys' nights out. An excellent meal with lots of new, tasty ideas to think about. A good choice.

Ok, so what do we need now? Let's pop over to the cafe in the square (coincidently the first cafe that I had visited years before) for a warming nightcap. What could be better than a hot Irish coffee? As it happens, anything, because they had shut down the coffee machine but were prepared to serve us an ice filled cocktail. I tried to tell him in my best drunken Franglais that, it in case he hadn't noticed, it was bloody cold outside but could I melt his frozen Gallic heart? What do you think? An iced cocktail it was. Just what we needed. But such are boys' nights out. Anyway, back to Chris' for a nightcap (just in case we hadn't quite had enough) and he got out a half filled bottle of Spanish brandy. I was just about to tell him that I like that particular brandy, when he reminded me that I'd bought it for him some years ago. He doesn't drink a lot of Spanish brandy, our Chris. On pain of death we were told not to wake Chris' other half, who had to work the next morning, whereupon Chris walked into their bedroom and trod on the stereo control which turned it on full blast. I notice that he didn't offer to commit suicide! But such are boys' nights out.

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After Jan and Lynne turned up at lunchtime the next day, we headed for a tapas bar (a bit of a Spanish theme developing here - Ed.) but I forgot to get their card because I was concentrating on trying not to think too much or indeed at all. Nice tapas! The girls, with 3 very brave boys in tow, headed for the shops to buy essential things like a pair of tweezers to pull fish bones out of fillets of fish. How have we managed before, I hear you say?
As night fell, it was now Chris' turn to practise his new found culinary skills. Smoked salmon to start, with a delicious cheese sauce, pan fried langoustines and risotto with a sauce a l'americaine and the most delicious chocolate (with black forest overtones) pudding. Chris, I'm sorry if my descriptions fall short. 24 hours of non stop haute cuisine, sur le pont, and then back home, for a rest.

Oh no, not more fun!

What a hectic social life! Tonight is the 'Office Party'. Historically a bunch of guys who work (or not) on their own, have a get together, once a year, to celebrate with an office party. For various reasons we couldn't make it at Christmas time and today is the next best thing. Basically, it involves a bunch of middle aged men playing pool for a few hours, drinking lots of beer and then all sitting down in a restaurant to enjoy a nice meal. The venue this year has changed from Sete to Avignon and will be 'hosted' by CW, computer guru, blogger and more recently gourmet chef.
I will travel over to Avignon with BW another computer man, blogger and all round good egg. At least that's what he told me to say (by the way his last blog post was a long time ago and Harry is now about 103 years old). We'll meet up with 2 others, who I know less well, and start the process of trying to drink some poor (or rather lucky) establishment dry.

And the winner is?

I'm in grave danger of becoming a grumpy old man (What do you mean - becoming? - Ed.). I have never understood the amount of time and space given to the adulation of actors and films. This morning on Breakfast News they devoted a straight 40 minutes to the nominations, not the results but the nominations, no less, for the upcoming BAFTA Awards. What's going on? Why are we so fixated by this, or more to the point, why does the BBC think that this is so important? Why do actors and actressses get so much adulation? Why are they paid so much money? I find it all incomprehensible. Every second of every day millions of people around the world make absolute fortunes for their employers so why aren't they paid vast sums of money? In an interview with Kirsten Scott Thomas she mentioned that making a film is a team effort and all her co-workers are so much fun. BIG DEAL. Every job I have ever had involved teamwork and a lot of laughs. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good film or some good acting but for goodness sake, let's get a better balance. Rant over!

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Talking about co-workers that are fun, reminds me of the time when the American company that I worked for bought a small bank, based in Sunderland. This bank came under my direct control and was run, on a day to day basis, by work colleagues who, more importantly, were my good friends. One day I was visiting this business with the CEO of our parent company and during our visit we would receive a briefing on the business and projections about its future. We were each given a folder containing a lot of facts and figures. So there we were sitting around the board table with the senior managers of this bank reviewing statistics and other minutiae. Sitting next to our American visitors, I was turning the pages as we were led through the figures, when my next page consisted of a picture taken of Prince Charles and Diana on the day their engagement was announced. The interesting thing about the picture was that Diana was naked and Charles was standing behind her, holding her very ample breasts in his hands. I slammed my folder shut in shock, because this was a serious meeting, and I tried to catch the eye of any of the guys across the table. They refused to look up and left me to stew over whether our distinguished guest also had an adulterated copy of the figures.

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Jill and Harry came for dinner tonight. We started with a warm duck salad (had to do something with all the duck left over from Monday), red mullet on mixed rice with braised fennel, cheese and carpaccio of pineapple to finish.

The party's over

After a late and leisurely breakfast, the birthday party wandered into Nîmes for shopping and sightseeing. We had lunch high up overlooking the Maison Carré in the Carré D'Art Museum. The lunch was fine but not up to the feasts of the last few days, but the weather was good enough to have sat outside, which was a bonus. We then strolled down to the Coliseum and through the old part of town, looking at the shops, or more to the point trying to find a French team football shirt for an expectant little boy, back in England.
On the motorway back to Montpellier, for the flight home, we hit a huge traffic jam. Both the 2 inside lanes were filled with bumper to bumper trucks. It looked like a huge lorry park and made you realise how important that route is for Spanish, Italian, Hungarian, British, Dutch and German commerce. Whilst trying to find the radio, so that we could listen to road reports, we found some radio controls and speakers, but no on/off switch and no actual radio. We eventually found a remote control which when pointed at the dashboard, turned it on. Weird but fun! Anyway, we were only delayed 35 minutes and got to the airport in good time. After sad farewells we returned to pick up 2 very relieved pooches and to an empty house. A good fun 3 days.

A birthday meal

Happy birthday AJ. Notwithstanding the fact that we all felt a little fragile after last night and I had no recollection of some of the things we did, we started laughing over breakfast. AJ was in really good form and Jan had tears running down her face. The inability to remember things worries me a bit but I suppose it's a sign of a 'good' night! (More a sign that you can't take it any more - Ed.)

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At lunch time we headed out for a special birthday boy meal at Le Forneau in nearby Aigremont. They opened especially for us and Laure, the chef, did us proud. Given that we had some serious eaters around the table, the quality and balance of the menu together with the wine was a resounding success. Phew! If a bunch of people fly to France specifically for lunch, then it has to be right. 5 hours later, we waddled back home.

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The rest of the evening was spent playing Balderdash and Trivial Pursuit. If you've never played Balderdash I recommend to you. We have never found anybody who doesn't like it. TP was a return match, women against men (evidently we played it last night but I slept through most of it) and the ladies won again. We did try, honest.