Minnie the minx

I went on a mushroom hunt today when we took the dogs out for a walk. Despite the fact that I carried my all new, huntin, shootin and fishin knife, I couldn't find any. Bum. Ah well, I managed to get the dogs to sit still for a couple of seconds and took the photo above. William had me in fits last night with tales of the last time he went to find mushrooms. They drove for miles, arrived before it was light, like an hour before, so had to head for a bar (with two committed drinkers) and then found nothing. They then moved on and drove for another 20 minutes and found a little. Like me he said that you can buy them relatively cheaply (when you take the man hours and petrol into consideration) at the local market. But, and this is the big but, they don't taste as good. Hmmm?

Whilst she is very soft and gentle with us, Minnie is very aggressive when she plays with Max and despite being slightly smaller than him, it already looks like she will rule the roost in a years time. Typical female (he said bitterly)!

***

We'd forgotten that I'd invited Christine round this morning to help her with her computer. We were both still in our pj's when she arrived. Anyway, her machine was in a right mess and when I checked the Windows Update site there were 61 patches to be downloaded. I started at 10.45 and didn't finish that bit until 15.00. Yuk. On top of that, the machine kept freezing and is very low on memory (256 Mb). I ordered some more from Crucial, which is my one stop shop for this type of thing. Recommended.

Q.E.D.

A couple of photos of our trip to the market in Sommieres on Saturday and lunch at Fourneau de Clelia on Sunday. From the top, Elie's daughter making our meat, cheese or spinach filled galettes, middle, the Lebanese sweet things on offer and bottom, Harold and Elizabeth listening intently to something very important that I was saying. (Give me patience - Ed.)

Harold and Elizabeth left this morning and we are sad to see them go. They are good fun and like to eat and drink, which is just as well, because that's all we seemed to do.

***

William, Peter and I started our tennis again this morning. It's the first time in several weeks since we last played. William played particularly well even though he was complaining about a cold. Every time he hit a good shot he said, "I wish I was feeling better!" Conman. With time constraints for all of us we didn't get a full session completed but we did have a good laugh and, more to the point, we got some exercise and the tennis just gets better.

***

Following my rant at the pope yesterday, here's another example of a poor 'religious leader'. All these guys need to start looking at themselves a little more closely, think about what they say more carefully and stop trying to teach others how to lead their lives when they are patently incapable of behaving correctly themselves.

***

Here's something that I have been wrestling with recently. You will note in the paragraph above that I wrote pope with a small 'p'. The other day I wrote God with a capital 'G'. I wrote pope with a small p because I believe that he needs to earn my respect but I feel two faced about writing God with a capital G because I'm an atheist. If I really don't believe in God, should I write the word with an upper case or lower case letter? I was raised a Catholic and was taught by Jesuits (there I go again) but now have little time for the church and do not believe in a God. I do however respect everyone's right to believe in their God and would never impose my will. Should I write god or God? Frankly I'm not sure. If I write god, then I'm honestly expressing my belief, but could start offending people. If I write God then I feel uncomfortable and two faced, but might be keeping him/Him happy just in case there is one/One. How would he/He expect me/Me (now there's another conundrum) to behave? See the things I've got to wrestle with?

***

In the past I have accused Jan of not listening to me. She naturally refutes this. Here's my proof. This morning I reminded her that I had to take the Jeep to Quissac for 11.00 because it is now nearly 4 years old and needs its first control technique. She even repeated back to me, "Oh, you're going to Quissac this morning!" So far so good. Later this morning I shortened our tennis session because I had to leave to go to Quissac. So far so good. After coffee I walked outside to find that Jan had taken the Jeep to her art class and could not be contacted. So far, not so good. Q.E.D.

***

Here's something else I don't understand (you've been thinking too much again - Ed.) There has been a lot of talk recently about 'Green' taxes. All shades of British political parties have joined this bandwagon. As I understand it, if you pollute you will pay a tax. OK, a simple proposal, but pray tell me, if I give Mr Tax Collector a fiver, because I polluted, what exactly will he do with my fiver to plug the ozone layer? Or maybe, just maybe, is this another means of revenue raising? I can't wait!!

***

Out for dinner at William and Christine's tonight. The other guests were Alain (artist) and Christiane his missus. A good evening, which was nice.

Sorry Ben, but it's all just a bit too late

Sorry Ben, but this is just a bit too late. Why has it taken you so long to say something? Why aren't you addressing all the poor unfortunates that have been abused? Why not say sorry? The list goes on.

And, to top it all, you could at least have congratulated Alexandra Rosenfeld a bonny lass from just down the road (Saint-Thibery), who is the current Miss Languedoc, the current Miss France and who has just been crowned Miss Europe. This young, blond, 19 years old beauty wants to travel the world, do good things for orphaned children and the children who have been abused by your priests. Or at least I think that's what she said in her tearful victory speech. Keep up!

***

This quote by Roger Law made me laugh, “I go to the theatre to be entertained. I don't want to see rape, sodomy, and drug addiction. I can get all that at home.”

***

Jan is slowly losing the ability to cook. H&E invited us for lunch, so we all headed for Le Fourneau de Clelia in Aigremomt. It's a 31 euros menu and always our restaurant of choice, especially if someone else is paying. I started with a terrine de foie gras with a chestnut velouté on the side, garnished with girolles mushrooms. For the main course we all had a filet mignon de porc with a honey based sauce and girolles and whole chestnuts on the side. Pudding was huge, and delicious. All this washed down with a Viognier 2005 from Domaine de Grand Chemin and a Mas Foulaquier Les Calades 2000. Highly recommended. I was stuffed for the rest of the day.

Changing flags

If you can't read this, click on the image to enlarge it.

***

The mood was a little quieter at the market this morning and given that we are all going out to the relais this evening for dinner, everyone decided to take it easy. Having said that we still got stuck into some wine and we all trooped off to buy bits for the pique nique which we ate under the arches. I bought a selection of galettes from the Lebanese stall, Bryan brought bread, wine and hummous and Harold bought some savoury tarts and a huge slab of brie de meaux. A great feast. Not to be outdone, the table of friendly French tourists from Alsace behind us chomped (or rather slurped) their way through a mountain of oysters and other goodies. They made us look like amateurs!

***

Eight of us headed off to the relais tonight for dinner. We paid 25 euros per couple for a four course meal with wine. Amazing.

Le Mas de Roux

A friend from Liverpool emailed this morning in a bit of a panic. He is coming to France, for a wedding, with his family next August and he needs at least 7 bedrooms. Everywhere he had tried was full so he turned to me to sort it all out. Within 3 hours I had him fixed up with excellent accommodation at nearby Mas de Roux that suited his needs perfectly. Don't you wish you had a friend like me? (Err, no - Ed.)

***

Because H&E like to eat and drink, and because we sort of like to as well (well blow me down - Ed.), we popped into Domaine de Baubiac at lunch time to pick up some of their delicious red. Nothing extraordinary about that, but when I asked him how much of his year 2000 (my favourite) he had left, he said not much. As an aside to myself I murmured that I'd better buy some more, when he helpfully suggested that he would put away as much as we needed. What a helluva offer. He mentioned a pallet which I think is about 600 bottles but I increased it to 2 because he hadn't counted on Jan! Our own private wine supply kept at the perfect temperature to buy whenever we want. Isn't that nice. Slurp.

***

Because we had dinner with H&E on our own last night, and I couldn't stand another, (just kidding) Jan invited Bryan and Gill over for dinner as well tonight. It was a big one, and the Baubiac went down a treat.

Saint Jan of Cannes

Check this out to see how many people in the US have your name. I checked and found that only one other person has my name. Jan has no one with her name. But then who would want to be called Saint Jan of Cannes.

***

I hate shaving, but having said that my attempt at designer stubble finally ended this morning. The crunch came when I noticed Jan looking at me, out of the corner of her eye, with undisguised contempt. I think it was the beard she was looking at! (Think again - Ed.) Anyway, Jan gleefully hacked at it with some electric sheep shears and despite spilling a little blood it was all off in ten minutes.

***

Harold and Elizabeth arrived for a few days this afternoon. They are friends from this village who moved away last year. I think it was something that Jan said, but I'm not sure!

There must be an easier way

***

Gill and Terry left for England this afternoon but not before we spent a great deal of time trying to get two outside doors open. The rain over the last few weeks had swollen the doors so much that they wouldn't budge. Terry and I sawed, levered and generally forced them open because we needed to get inside to be able to shut down their pool. I even broke a key in one of the locks (oooh, you're so big and strong - Ed.) but managed to fish out the remains with pliers. Fun and games, but eventually successful!

Canary Islands Date Palm

The sun came out again this morning and it's funny how much more positive I felt about getting off my backside. Yesterday, it was cloudy, drizzly and generally miserable. Just the sort of weather that we moved to France to avoid. Anyway, today, God is back in his heaven and all is right with the world.
Mid morning, Truffaut turned up at the agreed time to deliver a new palm Phoenix Canariensis for the terrace. Whilst we fiddle about with it and decide exactly where to put it, it will sit in a pot. In a few years time it should produce dates (but not until it grows 30 feet tall and you will be dead - Ed.).

***

Out with Gill and Terry tonight for a pizza. We expected to be able to eat in any one of three places in Sommieres, but the place was like a ghost town. There was only one restaurant open, in the middle of town, Les Caves de la Maison d'Avignon, 4 Place Jean Jaures, 0615 02 98 92. It was late and we didn't really have time to look further afield. There are two establishments side by side. One sells a large selection of very good local wine, and you can eat in the attractive grand salon next door. We have used it a few times on Saturday mornings in the past and have been impressed with the salads on offer and the quality of the wines. Their policy is simple, if you buy wine off the shelf in the cave for x, then you will pay 2 times x if you drink it sitting down in the restaurant. I would need to try it again, but the food was at best satisfactory and none of our party of six was very impressed with their meal. The wine on the other hand was excellent and I would go there again for the wine alone.

A dog breeders nightmare

This has been troubling me all day. If you bred a Bulldog and a Shitzu, would the offspring be called a Bullshit?

Otherwise, it was a quiet day.

I'm a pushover when it comes to mushrooms

First thing this morning we get a knock at the door. Look who's here? It's Vincent D with a basket of ceps (above) that he picked yesterday. He told us that he slept until 11.00 the other morning because he was exhausted and the ceps are his way of saying sorry. Isn't he a nice man. Guess who had ceps on toast for breakfast this morning? (And for the next few weeks by the look of it - Ed.)

***

The ground is very soft at the moment so we went out to plant some climbers on the main terrace this morning. I suspect that in a moment of boredom Minnie will be digging them up but we shall see. Whilst it was overcast today it was very warm, with rain forecast, so I plonked myself in front of the television and watched Man U v Liverpool this afternoon.

***

Gill, and her father Terry (our next door but one neighbours) arrived this morning for a couple of days and Jan invited them for dinner. Despite having to be at Liverpool airport at 04.00, they were in good shape when we sat down at 20.00 for dinner. However they faded fast as the night wore on. Jan's English Sunday roast did hit the spot.

Insurance companies are bad for your health

I had a run in with an insurance company not so long ago but I won't bother you with the details. Suffice to say that these people operate in the ice age. The latest incident with AXA caused me to get pissed off yet again. Here goes. When we sold the other house in the village, I wrote to the AXA agent to let them know that the house insurance was no longer needed. A month and a half later they replied to inform me that they wanted a copy of the Attestation given to us by the notaire confirming that the house had been sold. I went ballistic. Yet another piece of bureaucratic garbage. Why isn't my word good enough? Why do I have to prove what I say? Can I point out that I'm the client? I'm the one paying the bloody premium and if I say that the house has been sold then THE BLOODY HOUSE HAS BEEN SOLD, YOU BONEHEADS. If by some quirk, some mental aberration, I was lying, then you no longer have to provide cover. Not that you don't try and wriggle out of paying claims anyway, you pathetic incompetent shits! Don't tell me that there is a law, don't tell me that that's the way it is, take a look at yourselves, stop living in the past and join the rest of the human race. Drag yourselves out of the dark ages!
Rant over, but the funny thing is I don't feel much better. Thank God the sun is trying to come out.

***

In desperate need of someone to moan at, or better still to have a laugh with, we decide to go to Sommieres market. The usual suspects are already there but haven't yet ordered the wine. I soon put that right! Top you can see the accordionist who makes it all feel very French, but we are going to have to have a whip round to get him a new tracksuit. Below him is Bryan S. Now that I've posted his photo the police will have an easier job catching up with him. At least they now have a recent mugshot!

Not a mushroom in sight

I knew it was a mistake. I still have painful memories of getting up very early one morning to help Vincent prune his vines. The arrangement was made under the influence and needless to say he didn't turn up then, and he also didn't turn up this morning. Jan and I were up at 04.15 prior to our (the boys) trip up to Lozere to find ceps. At 05.00 there was a knock at the door and there was Alain on his own some. He explained that he had knocked at Vincent's house and phoned his mobile but still couldn't raise him. We waited about 20 minutes but still no sign so it was back to bed. More to the point, what am I going to do with my fancy new knife? I suppose I could try stabbing someone!

***

Eric the volet man turned up as agreed this morning to install two new volets on the garage. He's a very nice man and also fixed a couple of other minor problems for no charge. If you need new shutters or your old ones repairing then this is the man for you. Thanks Eric.

***

A storm caused quite a bit of mess last night and you can see where 'rivers' formed in the garden and moved a lot of gravel. It won't take much to get it back in order but it does remind you about the amount of rain that can fall in relatively short period of time and the effect that it can have. This morning, the stream at the edge of the property, which rarely has water in it, was 'roaring' with all the water that was flowing down the hill.

What's that lethal looking thing in your hand?

Today was a bit of a nothing day. It was blowing a storm and wasn't the sort of weather to go out in. Having said that, I had been told that for tomorrow's expedition I would need a knife, so off to Quissac I went. They like knives here, and I have always been impressed with the range on offer at the market in Sommieres. Now I had a genuine excuse to buy one and Jan couldn't argue. It must be the hunter in me, don't you know. The droguerie in Quissac had a good selection, mostly hunting type knives which would come in handy for skinning all the animals that I was going to catch! The hunting culture in France is very strong and they think nothing of selling lethal weapons. If I was to try to buy the same thing in England it would probably involve a lie detector test, confirmation of good standing from some child molesting priest, and a certificate from a psychiatrist (you've got one of those already - Ed.) Anyway, I settled on a lethal, olive wood handled, long, thin bladed jobbie, made by Opinel, with its own leather pouch and a tiny 'steel', which the middle aged lady shop assistant told me was essential to keep the knife sharp. The Museum of Modern Art in New York City has chosen to include Opinel Knives in its display of one of the 100 most beautiful objects in the world. I didn't have the heart to tell her that all I was going to do was pick a few mushrooms. OK, so now I'm a real hunter!

A sense of doom

I know that I have made a big, big mistake. I have a terrible sense of doom. Last night at around seven Alain popped round for two things. The first to remind Jan that she had offered to buy one of his paintings the other night, and the second to invite me to look for mushrooms, with Vincent, on Friday.

The last time I had this terrible sense of impending disaster was when Eric, the man who came to fix the shutter that Max had broken, was here. It has always concerned me that if there was a fire near the front door, which is where the electricity board is situated, this could disable all the shutters, which are are electrically controlled, and then how the hell would we get out? I mentioned this to Eric who looked at me with a certain disdain. He muttered something unintelligible in the local dialect which I took to mean, "When the flames are burning the hairs on your arse then I'm sure you will think of something. When all is said and done, your dog didn't find it too difficult and all he wanted to do was to get his leg over." Or something like that.

Anyway, if the weather is fine Alain, Vincent and I leave on Friday at 05.00. My fear wasn't diminshed when I protested at the unearthly hour and Alain mentioned that we would stop on route for a wee coffee. Now I know Alain and Vincent very well, they both like a drink, a big drink, at any hour day or night, on any day, in any week in any month. We would not stop for coffee, that's for sure!
Let me tell you about the last time we had a 'session' with them. A couple of years ago it was raining. Raining so hard and for such a long time that part of the garden was under water. Even the pool had got flood water in it. I had to do something quick and drastic. This involved digging a couple of big drainage ditches to let the water get away. Alain happened to come by early that morning, I can't remember why and, understanding the predicament, shot off to get Vincent who had a little tractopelle which would do the job. We finished at 11.30 and, very relieved and thankful, I invited them both in for coffee. I have subsequently learnt that at 11.30 these two do not drink coffee, in fact I suspect they never drink coffee. How naive! I cracked open the wine whilst Jan and I drank coffee. At 12.30 I whispered to Jan that I thought we should offer some lunch, at which point Jan and I started on the wine as well. By 14.00, with the party in full swing, I remembered that Vincent liked whisky. Jan and Alain continued with wine. By 15.00, when we are all having difficulty standing up, Vincent invites us down to his newly built cave, in the fields outside the village, to taste his first ever attempt at making his own wine. This was a BIG mistake, because we started sipping from huge, 6 metres high, tanks of several different wines. He had thousands of litres of this stuff and we were in no state to differentiate between water, petrol, wine or coconut juice. At 18.00 we are now in serious trouble. Jan, who never goes to the toilet in the countryside, staggers outside into the dark and promptly steps up to her knees in a big puddle. After sorting herself out she is pulling up her pants when a car comes into view and she falls into the full glare of the car lights. Bear in mind that we are in the pitch black depths of the countryside and no one has visited this place since we arrived. Bad luck or what? All I can say in our defence is that it was the early days of our life in the village and we have since moved on but if there two people that I steer clear of when it comes to party time, it's Vincent and Alain. Come Friday I am going to spend 12 hours with them. Is it any wonder that I have an impending sense of disaster?