Well, Alleluia...praise the Lord, and pass the biscuits! I'm back online. I have a serious problem with computers. I think it's something to do with my aura (goes into hippy mode here!). Either that or I should just stop fiddling with technology and stick to basics.
So were were we when I took my enforced sabbatical from cyber-world?
Ah...the Rugby World Cup. Well the less said about that the better. It was just a pity France and England weren't able to be up against each other in the final,but hey.....the Six Nations is about to start( or should that be are...the absence of daily writing has sent my grammar awol!)
Christmas has come and gone. Apart from the shops being full to bursting with foie gras, chocolate, sea food and champagne the festive season is nowhere near as festive as in the UK. The official holiday is just Christmas Day, and as the French indulge in their eating orgy on Christmas Eve (traditionally after Mass, but how many of them actually go to Mass in the 21st century?) Christmas Day is as hung-over as Boxing Day in the UK. All very hushed and with an overwhelming feeling of bloatedness.
I do really miss the Christmas build-up. OK I can, and do, thankfully give up the mass hysteria that overtakes the average UK High Street but I would like just a smidgen more atmosphere. The local Christmas markets are quite a good source of pressies, but oh how I yearn for a brass band or even some buskers playing carols while I'm there.
But there was some snow on the mountains, and if we had ventured into Tarbes or Toulouse there would have been ice rinks and chestnut sellers. I guess we don't want to travel for our festive fix. A sign of old age, no doubt !
France, being a republic I suppose, has definite lines of de-markation between church and state, therefore priests are not allowed in state -run schools. This is fine as far as it goes...no sinister infiltration of young and susceptible minds...faith coming only from the family etc...all very upright and worthy but it also means that there are no nativity plays in the village church, no Carol services (candle lit or otherwise), no Christingle (well, not here at any rate) e.g ...no community feel about Christmas.
Oh well, moan over! It's 2008 so time to look on the positive side.
Umm...let's think...
a) we haven't had any snow down here in the village, but a nice lot fell early in the Pyrenees, so that will cheer up the ski stations no end. They had such a bad year last winter they deserve some luck.
b) the french government has re-thought it's position in health care for immigrants. Not too sure what the new measures are but there was such an outcry from the Brit expats in particular that
people power seems to have had some clout. It was all very complicated and involved immigrants having to provide their own top-up care under the national health scheme, where as previously they were able to claim various benefits after their initial cover by the British Government expired (after 2 years I think) Anyone thinking of re-locating to France should go onto www.totalfrance.com . It's all discussed at length there on the forum, and they know a lot more about it than me.
c) the daffodils John planted in the lawn are coming up a treat, as are the miniature tulips and the crocus. the primula have been out since early January, and the nights are really pulling out...sunset 6.02 pm I see from the Meteo.Can spring be far behind? Well maybe...we've still got February to come, and although lots of friends down here have said February is their favourite month I've yet to actually witness it. I'll stick with October as my favourite.
Yes, all in all,positivity has returned.....roll on the Spring
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Sunday, October 14, 2007
A Really Great Weekend
I woke up this morning with a slight hangover which soon disappeared. Why? Because the sun was shining (yes it was that late!), and I discovered ,when I came downstairs to make myself a cup of green tea, that my laptop,which I feared was gone to that great 'puter' never-never-land had returned from that place and was actually working, That would normally be enough to put me on cloud nine for the rest of the week,but the real buzz was the fact that England was through to the final of the Rugby World Cup. It really doesn't get much better than that.
The only downside was that England were playing France.
Hmmm....could have been a better draw. Well, for me anyway. Who should I be cheering for? The country of my birth, or the adopted country that I've committed myself to?
Last weekend it was smiles all round. After all, Les Bleues and Les Blancs had sent the antipodeans back to where they belonged with their tails firmly between their legs! How the mighty were fallen! Yip a dee doo!
But now it was going to be a battle with "the Old Enemy"
Oh dear, there was going to have to be a victor and a vanquished. Law of logic......50% of the players were going to be elated, 50% deflated.
We had some friends round(English, of course) to watch the match. They came armed and ready with beers and wine.
At nine o'clock you could have heard a pin drop in the village. Even the dogs were silent.
And then an hour and a half later it was all over......the neanderthal Chabal was crouching on the pitch in tears, the rest of the blues had got a distinct attack of them ! England was generous in victory, the old rivals parted friends, even though the nation was numb with disappointment. And in Paris the party had only just begun. The proprietor of the Frog and Rosbif bar which had become the unofficial HQ of the England supporters must have thought he'd won the lottery...and he'll be serving up full English breakfasts and pints all over again next weekend.
A few cars drove quietly back from town, having watched the match on big screens in the two cafes in the main square.
A week is a long time in world cup matches......there were no honking horns, no 'Marseilles' being sung from open car windows this Saturday night.......just a sad acceptance that once again France had failed to win the 'Tournament Mondial'.
They had been warned though. There had been a midday interview with the French mascot....the noble cockerel who had witnessed 48 French matches. Well, the interview was actually with the chook's owner...chickens aren't good subjects for profound pre-match statements. So M'sieu Le Coq stared balefully at the camera whilst his owner mournfully confessed that if 'Le coq chant( sings) ' France always won. Unfortunately he hadn't obliged so far !
I have a feeling he might have been the main ingredient for a Sunday coq au vin today. I just hope they started the casserole in good time. Looking at him I think he might have needed several hours on a low simmer.
So England (to pinch a word from the 'Marseilles') marchon to the final...and meet either Argentina or South Africa. By 10.30 tonight we shall know........Swing low, sweet chariot. But win or loose next week they can't take away this great Sunday in SW France.
The only downside was that England were playing France.
Hmmm....could have been a better draw. Well, for me anyway. Who should I be cheering for? The country of my birth, or the adopted country that I've committed myself to?
Last weekend it was smiles all round. After all, Les Bleues and Les Blancs had sent the antipodeans back to where they belonged with their tails firmly between their legs! How the mighty were fallen! Yip a dee doo!
But now it was going to be a battle with "the Old Enemy"
Oh dear, there was going to have to be a victor and a vanquished. Law of logic......50% of the players were going to be elated, 50% deflated.
We had some friends round(English, of course) to watch the match. They came armed and ready with beers and wine.
At nine o'clock you could have heard a pin drop in the village. Even the dogs were silent.
And then an hour and a half later it was all over......the neanderthal Chabal was crouching on the pitch in tears, the rest of the blues had got a distinct attack of them ! England was generous in victory, the old rivals parted friends, even though the nation was numb with disappointment. And in Paris the party had only just begun. The proprietor of the Frog and Rosbif bar which had become the unofficial HQ of the England supporters must have thought he'd won the lottery...and he'll be serving up full English breakfasts and pints all over again next weekend.
A few cars drove quietly back from town, having watched the match on big screens in the two cafes in the main square.
A week is a long time in world cup matches......there were no honking horns, no 'Marseilles' being sung from open car windows this Saturday night.......just a sad acceptance that once again France had failed to win the 'Tournament Mondial'.
They had been warned though. There had been a midday interview with the French mascot....the noble cockerel who had witnessed 48 French matches. Well, the interview was actually with the chook's owner...chickens aren't good subjects for profound pre-match statements. So M'sieu Le Coq stared balefully at the camera whilst his owner mournfully confessed that if 'Le coq chant( sings) ' France always won. Unfortunately he hadn't obliged so far !
I have a feeling he might have been the main ingredient for a Sunday coq au vin today. I just hope they started the casserole in good time. Looking at him I think he might have needed several hours on a low simmer.
So England (to pinch a word from the 'Marseilles') marchon to the final...and meet either Argentina or South Africa. By 10.30 tonight we shall know........Swing low, sweet chariot. But win or loose next week they can't take away this great Sunday in SW France.
Monday, October 1, 2007
I found these postcards at the annual cattle show in Boulogne sur Gesse last weekend. They have been printed by the Chambre d'Agriculture of the Haute Garonne.
I thought they were rather nice and are a good advert for the Haute Garonne producers.
The cattle show was awesome. There were rather a lot of bulls about for me, I still don't really trust being that close to a tonne or more of grumpy testosterone on the hoof.
But it was a great day out for the producers who treat it all very seriously. And the cows and calves looked nice. The sight of a whole cow being roasted in a wood fired spit was a bit off-putting, and what it's friends and relatives though I really don 't know, but I seemed to be the only one who thought it strange.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Snow! I don't believe it!
Arrrgh! When we woke up yesterday morning there was snow on the Pic de Midi. And when we went into town and could see more of the other mountains it was even worse! It must have been down to 1,000 feet, and it's only the end of September. What is it with the weather this year? After Christmas, which is the best time for skiing in the Pyrenees there was hardly anything to even toboggan on. The saving grace for the ski stations was a good covering for the February half term holidays, but that only amounted to about a month of serious skiing. And now this !
Well I just hope it goes away and comes back when it should.....the middle of November. I want a nice warm, golden autumn like we always have, or I'm going to demand my money back !
Well I just hope it goes away and comes back when it should.....the middle of November. I want a nice warm, golden autumn like we always have, or I'm going to demand my money back !
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Figs and things
This week on the market: figs, quinces,a few mushrooms.
Yes, looks like Autumn is here.
So with all these lovely purple figs overflowing from the stalls, what's to be done with them besides just putting them in the fruit bowl for a quick snack?
How about Fig Tart with Orange Custard?
you will need:
1 packet ready-made short crust pastry large enough to line a 9inch flan tin (unless you’re a domestic goddess with legendary pastry making skills.)
12 to 16 figs as perfect as possible.
1 large egg yolk
1 tablesp light brown sugar
150ml crème fraiche
Juice and zest of 1 large orange.
Line a 9 inch flan case with the pastry, prick the base all over with a fork, and bake blind at 220C for 20 mins. De-stalk figs, wipe over with a damp cloth and slice in half. Make a custard by whisking the egg yolk, crème fraiche, sugar, orange juice and zest until a smooth emulsion has been obtained. Remove case from the oven, allow to cool, then layer ¾ of the figs on the bottom and pour the custard over gently. Add the remaining figs and bake, on a large baking sheet to avoid spillage disasters, for 30 mins at 200C or until the custard has set. Serve slightly warm, with single cream.
Figs are just made for savoury use too. Sliced, and arranged attractively on a platter of thinly sliced Bayonne ham, saucisson sec, and smoked duck breast, you have a quick and easy starter for a supper party. And a nice change from the ubiquitous melon with Parma ham.
For an unusual warm starter, try slitting 2 figs per person crossways about ¾ of the way down, stuff with your favourite blue cheese, and wrap each fig in a thin slice of streaky bacon and bake at 200C for 5 to 10 mins. Serve warm on a bed of mixed salad leaves
A soft juicy fig, eaten with blue cheese, is a marriage made in heaven. Particularly with Roquefort, the slight saltiness of the cheese is tempered by the sweetness of the fruit. Lining the cheese platter beforehand with well washed fig leaves really shows cheeses off. Use a good combination of soft and hard to suit your own personal preferences. Toss some salad leaves in mild vinaigrette, hurl into a big salad bowl, add some crusty bread and your cheese course is ready to be served…… before the pudding à la Francaise
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Our House
"Our house......in the middle of our street" Well,I hope it's not quite the same house as Suggs sang about but its a nice house all the same, and yes it is in the middle of our street.
Its a distinguished looking house, taller than its neighbours, with a balcony on the top floor which gives you a great view of the Pic de Midi. Its' not for those who suffer from vertigo but for the rest of us its like being in an eerie.......looking over the surrounding roof tops, up and down the road, over to the river and the weir. There's the church spire one street over to the left, and if you lean out far enough(heaven forbid) you can just see the 'Vival' sign outside Stephan's epicerie to your right, and the tabac sign of the little bar and depot de pain is a few yards to your left. The boucherie of Paul Fontan is ten yards away in the Place Julien Olie, where the mairie has its home. So life in 'Le Village' is compact.
We have neighbours on a come- and- go basis. Because the village is so scenically attractive there are quite a few holiday homes right in the centre. The French laws of succession ( otherwise known as the Code Napoleonic) make it highly unattractive to sell the family home when parents have finally made the short, steep journey up to the village cemetery. The proceeds of the parental home must be equally divided between all the siblings....a recipe for family feuding if you ask me.
And then of course there is the thorny question of inheritance tax. So....the end result is either houses which fall into decay, or on a more positive side they are retained and used as holiday homes for all the family.
This isn 't a bad option. Especially here. There is trout fishing in the river, designated walks in the surrounding hills, and the ski stations of Super Bagneres, and Le Mongie when the winter snows arrive.
In August all the previously empty houses open up and the village population expands by at least a third.
Now they've left us, to return with the half term holidays, Christmas and the ski season....which is at it's best from January onwards. The Pyrenees may be slower to accumulate a good covering of snow but when it does arrive the ski staions are family friendly with good runs for all abilities and you don't get ripped off for a 'vin chaud' and a croque monsieur.
Its a distinguished looking house, taller than its neighbours, with a balcony on the top floor which gives you a great view of the Pic de Midi. Its' not for those who suffer from vertigo but for the rest of us its like being in an eerie.......looking over the surrounding roof tops, up and down the road, over to the river and the weir. There's the church spire one street over to the left, and if you lean out far enough(heaven forbid) you can just see the 'Vival' sign outside Stephan's epicerie to your right, and the tabac sign of the little bar and depot de pain is a few yards to your left. The boucherie of Paul Fontan is ten yards away in the Place Julien Olie, where the mairie has its home. So life in 'Le Village' is compact.
We have neighbours on a come- and- go basis. Because the village is so scenically attractive there are quite a few holiday homes right in the centre. The French laws of succession ( otherwise known as the Code Napoleonic) make it highly unattractive to sell the family home when parents have finally made the short, steep journey up to the village cemetery. The proceeds of the parental home must be equally divided between all the siblings....a recipe for family feuding if you ask me.
And then of course there is the thorny question of inheritance tax. So....the end result is either houses which fall into decay, or on a more positive side they are retained and used as holiday homes for all the family.
This isn 't a bad option. Especially here. There is trout fishing in the river, designated walks in the surrounding hills, and the ski stations of Super Bagneres, and Le Mongie when the winter snows arrive.
In August all the previously empty houses open up and the village population expands by at least a third.
Now they've left us, to return with the half term holidays, Christmas and the ski season....which is at it's best from January onwards. The Pyrenees may be slower to accumulate a good covering of snow but when it does arrive the ski staions are family friendly with good runs for all abilities and you don't get ripped off for a 'vin chaud' and a croque monsieur.
This Month's Village Event
September is a delightfully mellow time in the Haute Garonne. School's back...otherwise known as L'rentree and the Pyrenees are looking their best. No snow as yet and not expected until late November.
Now's the time for the villages and towns to chill out and organise events an smaller scale.
Classic and vintage cars are a bit of a passion down here. There' s a very active club in St Gaudens and there's nothing they like better than a warm weekend and a few quiet roads to let the old girls out for a run.
Our village is a regular watering hole for lunch, and last Sunday they arrived with a cacophonous tooting of horns and a fair bit of smoke. They parked on the mairie square and let the elderly vehicles cool of. The less sleepy inhabitants ( the French are late risers on Sunday mornings) wandered up to have a look, some in dressing gowns, but without a trace of embarrassment.More cars coughed and spluttered up during the course of the morning, then retired to the butchers who had obviously been expecting them, and partook of aperos and a long lunch.
They departed three hours later with an even louder tooting of horns.
What perfect day out.
Now's the time for the villages and towns to chill out and organise events an smaller scale.
Classic and vintage cars are a bit of a passion down here. There' s a very active club in St Gaudens and there's nothing they like better than a warm weekend and a few quiet roads to let the old girls out for a run.
Our village is a regular watering hole for lunch, and last Sunday they arrived with a cacophonous tooting of horns and a fair bit of smoke. They parked on the mairie square and let the elderly vehicles cool of. The less sleepy inhabitants ( the French are late risers on Sunday mornings) wandered up to have a look, some in dressing gowns, but without a trace of embarrassment.More cars coughed and spluttered up during the course of the morning, then retired to the butchers who had obviously been expecting them, and partook of aperos and a long lunch.
They departed three hours later with an even louder tooting of horns.
What perfect day out.
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