A wall of lights

We collected our dear friend Margaret from the Brussels Sud airport ie Charleroi. It was a suprise as we had supplied her with instructions about getting the shuttle bus to Brussels Midi train station and from there picking up a Eurostar to Lille, or at least that is what she thought she would be doing. When we looked at the map we realised it was only an hour away by car and that the route was straightforward. So we borrowed the diesel from mamanpapa and found our way there. It still intrigues me every time we cross over a european border in the Schengen area: only weeds and dirty windows, no border police and customs people. What a huge step forward for europe and its peoples, one that is taken for granted by some and probably not realised by many in the UK as it is not included in the Schengen area.

Margaret is a very special lady. She brings love, warmth, calm and learning with her. In the incredibly short week that she spent with us we managed to fit in two sessions of reflexology each, plus one for maman, learned all about emotional freedom techniques including tapping and EmoTrance (see Passion for Health) sprouted all the beans I could find that had been lurking in my impromptu larder ever since an overenthusiastic visit to Planet Organic, made fresh juices and nut butter, drank champagne, played cards and had a superb meal at Le Compostelle This is now our favourite restaurant closely followed by La Cave aux Fioles.

How we also managed to fit in the visit to Max's parents, a day in Bruges (only 45 minutes away from us), a stroll around the citadelle and a visit to Lille zoo - , plus a morning at Ikea, I shall never know.

She wanted to buy us something for the house and we were unsure about what would be - suitable until I remembered Natures et Découvertes a heavenly shop full of things you could buy for other people and indulgences for yourself. I narrowed it down to three things: a machine that produces a soothing array of background noises such as waves on a shore, the sound of spring rain, summer evening insects and also emits wafts of essential oils at the same time, then there was the salt crystal lamp, then the wrought iron screen holding 36 coloured glass tealight holders. Max made the final decision and the latter won. It is now standing in the corner of our sitting room next to the fireplace. When the candles are lit they give off a kind, warming light and shine magically.

All too soon 7 days had flown by and we were saying a slightly choked goodbye at Lille Europe as Margaret took the TGV to Paris CDG and thence to Leeds-Bradford. Come back soon!

Voting all over the place.

Last Friday we made a small but meaningful step in our transition when we registered to vote in Hellemmes-Lille. There are differences between us in that Max as a french national is entitled to vote in all elections whereas I am only able to vote in local and european polls. Equally I am entitled to register to vote in UK general elections though I need to find a fellow registered Brit to sign my form and it appears that UK democracy is held hostage to the post as voting forms are sent out anything between a week and 3-4 days before the election day. Quite how that equates with 3 days to get to France and 3 days to be received back in the UK I am not certain but ther seems to be a major chance of my vote not being allowed.

It is somewhat academic in any case as none of the main parties attracts currently. Blair will have quit and his replacement will probably be the - suddenly - jovial Mr Brown. I cannot take David Cameron seriously, not because he is younger than I, but because he appears to be attempting to bestride so many bandwagons at once he is in serious danger of doing himself a real mischief. He has been compared with a younger Blair attempting to inject some realism into Tory policies and thus making the Conservatives more electable yet there are two more powerful forces at work over which he has little say. Firstly Labour- or more accurately Blair - has stolen the middle ground and Conservative policy is no longer readily identifiable as different. Secondly, the more likey scenario, should the Tories regain power, is that the Labour government will have been rejected rather than the nice new caring Conservatives fully embraced as the torch carriers to the future.

As a person with much sympathy for the Liberal Democrats I cannot understand the election of the might Ming as leader. Their immediate positive appeal for me has all but disappeared and their chances of bettering their performance reduced unless they benefit from the anti-Labour vote. With three or four years to go before another general election it is more than likely that Mr Campbell will have been replaced by a more youthful and more appealing leader.

It is about leaders. The idea that we don't in truth have a quasi president is clearly wrong. The leader epitomises their party, giving it a face, a voice and a presence. Gerneral elections determine who our next leader is going to be as well as which flavour of government will govern.

This is where other systems differ. Here in France it is more than possible for a president of one political persuasion to preside over a government of a different hue. Interestingly the president appoints the Prime Minister. Currently the French Prime Minister, Dominique de Villepin, is not even an elected member of the French parliament.

As I am not enfranchised for the presidential elections I feel a sense of independence and thus allow myself , if not a platform, then at least the opportunity, to comment and perhaps to clarify events in the lead up to the election next May.

The key players are as yet unconfirmed yet fixed in the collective mind of the French nation. They are Ségolène Royal for the left (an untidy muddle of socialists whose elegant disagreements give the UK Labour party the air of a marriage made and conducted in heaven), and Nicolas Sarkozy for the right. Neither has yet been annointed though the latter is unchallenged apart from the unlikely event of Chirac's restanding or the aformentioned patrition and unpopular Prime Minister throwing his made-to- measure hat into the ring. I think the right are going to bite the bullet and back the man they have variously hated and feted to continue their current 2 terms in power.

The left is another story. Ségo, as she is called, is equally hated and equally feted though not in quite the same way as enjoyed by her putative presidential opponent. The dinosaurs are lining up to, increasingly less subtly, rubbish this charismatic woman who is so far ahead in the opinion polls that the other supposed contenders are but dots on the horizon. They don't seem to have understood, despite the rout back in 2002, that merely being around for a long time does not give you precedence for a bash at the presidency. This is especially true in today's France where agreement that the winds, if not the gales, of change need to blow and soon. Whether either party has adequate breath to maintain the changes is another matter.

Madame Royal is a woman. Obviously. This immediately makes gives her a disadvantage in a country where being a woman is still very much a lesser occupation than being a man. Whatever politically correct phrases are wafted about? I believe this to be true. Ironically her gender is in equal part an advantage. Her election as president would give the left and politics in France something new, something fresh. But will the behemoths of the Parti Socialiste (PS) make way for the people's favourite or will they patronise them again with a more correct candidate? The polls show that every other potential socialist candidate would suffer defeat by Monsieur Sarkozy; ignominious defeat too. Were they to ignore the popularity of Ségo then that would be a well-deserved defeat and, finally perhaps, the wake-up call that they so badly need.

What of the other socialist candidates? I can expound only on one though it is worth adding that a François Hollande is the partner of some 25 years of Royale. They are unmarried parents to 4 children. They have announced the possibility of a simple marriage but this has not yet happened so there is the potential for an unmarried mother as president with a senior member of her own party as the new belle Bernadette.

Although not officially declared, the big loser in the last presidential election, Lionel Jospin, has made it known that, if called upon, he would be willing to accept the burden of the highest office in the land. The sheer vanity , indeed hubris, of this man is evidence of the distance between the political elite and the electorate. He, along with the rest of his colleagues, lacks what Ségolène Royal has in spadesful ie the common touch.

Just as the British monarchy could not understand the appeal of a certain princess who had not been tested over long rigorous years in the correct way of being properly royal, just as they balked, horrified, against her contribution and assimilating her attempts to modernise the institution (excuse this long sentence), the PS risk alienating themselves and their chances. By doing "the right thing" the left may be left behind again.

The thrill of being right - but not always.

Today, very early, in fact over breakfast, I learned that I should have more faith in myself and my knowledge and abilities. I learned that there is little to be gained by not standing up for what I know to be correct. Indeed I realised that I had crossed a rubicon in my ability in speaking another language.

It all started on Friday evening when I checked in to the indispensable website and forum for Brits and English speakers in France, www.totalfrance.com A bit of a debate was rumbling on about how to request someone slow down their over-enthusiastic delivery so that they might be better understood. I volunteered voulez-vous parler un peu moins vite svp but was shot down in flames by the next contributor who told me point-blank that I was using the wrong verb. I attempted to explain and offered an example in English knowing from my training as a teacher of English as a second language that there is much confusion between can/could/would even for many native English speakers. They were having none of it and insisted that I was wrong.

I have always used vouloir to indicate a polite half imperative request eg if you would like someone to do something for you, rather than tell them to do it you ask if they would like to do it, thus voulez-vous fermer la porte? It seems that the everyday simplification of English has made its contribution here as pouvoir was favoured as in pouvez-vous fermer la porte? ie Can you close the door? Can, of course, questions the person's ability eg if their arms are full they may not be able to comply with this apparent request. Better by far is could you close the door and, by implication, for me, and even better, would you close the door for which the French voulez-vous fermer la porte although literally do you want to close the door is a better everyday translation.

So, Sunday morning I had almost forgotten about this minor linguistic spat when Max reminded me that I should speak to his aunt who, before retirement, was a French teacher. His parents asked why and as soon as we started to explain they both agreed, indeed vociferously, that vouloir is absolutely correct in this context.

I allowed myself a microsecond of smugness but am now basking in the warmth of knowing I can rely a little better on myself.

Moules moules moules

We have just experienced our first Braderie. The whole of the central part of Lille is filled with c ten thousand stalls selling bric-a-brac from "antiques" to car boot clutter and commercial wares. The city was rammed with the 2 million extra visitors expected to dawdle (the fastest walking speed achievable) along checking out the bargains.

We were able to share the weekend with good friends Tiff (of Paris semi-marathon fame in this blog) and Stuart who eurostarred over and took part in the Lille Semi Marathon on Saturday morning. Lending support to our two athletes was no easy task and we scuttled from one vantage point to another to wave and shout encouragement. They finished in just under and just over two hours which is a RESULT!!!! It was an incredible sight seeing something over 3000 runners set off on their 21.1 km course taking in much of central Lille but thankfully not too many of the cobbled streets. The results show that 3413 finished race.

Again, having visitors meant we got to see parts of the city we have never seen before. The old town is a veritable maze of street and I always go wrong somewhere.

It is traditional to eat moules frite at the Braderie so we duly queued outside Aux Moules and let them add our empty shells to the mounting pile outside. The idea is to have the biggest pile of shells of all the restaurants. I think it is obvious from the top picture that Aux Moules had a very good chance. Thankfully though the weather outdid all expectations and was occasionally really pleasant, it was never so hot as to give rise to a nasty old mussels smell. Certainly the heavy rain was nowhere to be seen and most restaurants made good use of the extra outdoor seating they had arranged.

Having seen Stu and Tiff off at Lille Europe we had a final wander around the stalls. I was disappointed, though not surprised, at the amount of litter and debris around. Inevitable I suppose when bins are at a premium and people are not always as considerate as they could be. The cleaners worked all night and by Monday morning everything was fresh and clean again.

It seems as if we won't be having a late cheap holiday as Max is not entitled to any paid leave at all for the rest of 2006. He is apparently earning it now and will have the grand total of 14 days to take throughout 2007. Just another area where the state interferes and lays down how many and how and when etc. It is just the way it is and now my incredulity has dissipated a little I can cope with it just as I am learning to cope with the ludicrous over-the-top and quadruplicated bureaucracy that is the norm in France. Bof!

Sitting on roofs, kicking off moss, and using rubber paint.

Just had one of those freaky moments when you feel as if you have been close to another dimension in time. I took a t-shirt out of the wardrobe in the bedroom and carried it across to where the dressing room will be, then it disappeared. There was no-where for it to have gone and I had taken it nowhere else. It just vanished into thin air. I looked in places I knew I hadn't gone and under things I had not picked up, down the side of things and even in another drawer. Either I imagined it, or I thought I had seen this particular garment and neglected to actually take it from the wardrobe, or it has slipped into another dimension. I am feeling a bit phased by the experience. On revisiting the site of this "paranormal" occurrence I obviously found said pice of apparel almost immediately. It had simply slipped off what I had temporarily placed it on and I hadn't remembered. Am I losing it?!

Feeling slightly agrophobic too. Guess my confidence is at a bit of a low ebb this afternoon, today, this week, recently. Exacerbated by the fact that I might have to speak in a language which is not my own, I am not drawn to going out on my own. It isn't that I cannot or do not, nor that I cannot communicated with success when I try but I think I am avoiding it.

Maybe I am just going a little mad?

More practically I had not realised what a range of products there was available to mend one's roof. I ventured out with Max to our local Castorama (it is a bit like B&Q) this morning. Our kitchen roof has sprung a leak and we think we have pinpointed the source to an existing repair where there is a crack in the cement and fibre corrugated panels. It isn't a very glamorous roof covering I have to admit. We settled on some rubberized paint stuff that sounds miraculous were one to believe the side of the tin. We shall be more than happy if it works and then gets us through the winter. Pic somewhere around here if the loading thing works. Scraped off a whole load of moss too, hence the title. addendum - it rained during the night and now the leak has moved along the panel - rats!!!

Well at least it hasn't rained today, yet. My mood is not improved by the weather which has been less than kind for the last two weeks I think. I ventured into the garden on our return with a new garden saw which, of course, I had to try out. Amazing, and only 3,99€ in Lidl. Several additional branches have literally bitten the dust in preparation for letting in the sunshine should it every return in any appreciable quantity.

Have done some "work" ie put some time and effort into getting paid work but my heart is not yet in it. I have been without any income for almost a year now and I have to do something about it. Waiting on the possibility of perhaps the prospect of maybe some occasional work or not with the tourist office in Lille. Should be doing some 1-2-1 english teaching with one and possibly two students both at "friends" rate. If I smoked it wouldn't be enough to keep me in fags for a week.

Of course one of the benefits of blogging this is that I have released it into the world and it is no longer wholly mine, but is shared by the handful of kindly - or misguided - souls who read this virtual diary of mostly nonsense and occasional lucidity.

Suggestions welcomed!

PS have switched to Blogger beta but the photo upload function is as dodgy as ever. Tried for the nth time and no luck.

What shall we bring?

Our guests invariably ask us what we would like brought from the UK and, just as invariably, I can't bring to mind anything that we really want. So, on our recent visit, prompted by the birth of niece, Savannah, I made a list of stuff we either cannot get in France, haven't yet sourced here or have found but appreciably more expensive. Quite an odd combination of things:

• walnut pieces - not halves, we can get those but, of course, they are pricey whereas the bits are much cheaper and mostly what I use
• vege-gel - or some kind of non-meat gelatine. I would probably avoid as anything like that has rarely worked for me and I have memories of gorgeous veggie terrines made with agar agar, which, when extracted from the mould would gracefully spread all over the plate.
• Marmite - the perennial favourite, of some, and although purchasable here it is about twice the price.
• Marmite biscuits - A&Ps fault as we had not come across them before, and they kindly brought some with them but, trust me, they are fantastic.
• Maldon salt - for Max's papa.
• Salad sprinkle - a mixture of sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds and pine nuts from Holland and Barrett.
• oat cakes - preferably rough and organic!
• porridge oats - Sainsbury Taste the Difference whole rolled ones
• soy sauce
• acqueous cream - great for general use and fab for feet.

I couldn't resist selecting the photo to accompany this post. Savannah is 2 weeks old today. Bon Anniversaire, chérie! We had an all-too-short time in the UK. Savannah was obviously the highlight but getting to see three nephews too was wonderful, as was seeing all the Grantham-based family, and, briefly, some good friends in London as we passed through yesterday afternoon.

PMA, quotations and a new niece.

We are in the UK over the next few days, primarily to see our new niece, Savannah. Looking at the weather forecast I see that we won't be escaping the coldwave that has locked itself into northern France. The temperatures during the day are less than they were during the night only a couple of weeks ago.

Flicking on the PMA* switch, that means that my window boxes and hanging basket won't die whilst we are away!

In our absence a few quotations.

When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago
- Friedrich Nietzsche.

Ain't that so? However well sorted we think we are, we are still the sum total of all our life experiences whether or not we have dealt with them.

There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy.
- Friedrich Nietzsche

Listen to it! And drink lots of water too!


The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect.
- Adam Osborne.

Some more PMA* needed for this. Takes a strong person to see through the moment and realise that even in the negative there is learning and development.


Life isn't a matter of milestones but of moments
- Rose F. Kennedy

Of course it is both milestones and moments but don't live only for the milestones because the moments are more easily attainable,enjoyable etc and sustain us as we move towards the milestones.

* Positive Mental Attitude!

Favourite flip-flops

I found an article about James Blunt (appropriately pronounced Bleughhhhhnt by the French) and emailed it to the wonderful Sir Christof of Rhythmshop - see link on right - who promptly namechecked me and started a bit of a survey to see what irks people.

My contribution was "Dave" Cameron if anyone is remotely interested.

Then I spoke to another very dear friend, and writer of the sublime Lemon Soul, about the best things in life being free. We had a brief chat and agree that actually that is not always true and I suppose it would be truer to say that it is the little things that make you happy, the things that you don't generally notice au quotidien.

Well, my Gap flipflops bought in the sale - the only time to buy Gap clothes which are otherwise extortionately priced - some 3 or 4 years ago, make me very happy. They are more substantial than the average flipflop- thong if you are from the english-speaking southern hemisphere - (Philippe Fauloppe if you are French)- more robust and more durable than your average pair which never seems to last beyond one summer.

Seldom do they wear out as such but the rubber either cracks around the hole through which the retaining bit goes or - as has happened to mine - the retainer thing has come off. I have repaired it three times. The first twice with superglue, which despite claims rarely seems to stick. Now I have reinforced the repair with a small nail to hold the glued pieces which had come adrift.

I am very happy to have them in working order again at least till next time when I may have to accept the inevitable and throw them away. I have spare pairs, though they are not of the same quality. I should have bought two pairs when I had the chance but then I had no idea at the time just how meaningful my footwear would become.

BTW one thing I do not like is to see men wearing flipflops around town. No idea why not but to me they look plain wrong. DON'T DO IT!!

Managed to get a photo under the wire for this posting! What the heck is wrong with the Add Image function at the moment?

Quarter past nine and still 30C!

The windows are open in an effort to persuade even the feeblest breeze to make a welcome detour through the house. The back doors are open wide inviting in whatever air might be passing however far from fresh it may be. For some reason today feels as if it should have been the hottest day so far during this period of exceptional weather and yet it fell short of the record set last week but a few degrees. Perhaps we have reached and gone beyond the point where our bodies can deal with this heat?

At least we don't have a hosepipe ban so every other day but only twice a week - I use a watering can when I feed the plants - I give the most recent plantings and the container plants a good soaking. Strangely I have not heard any other hoses being employed and I am wondering why.

The frogs were back to their full complement of 3 today and all were basking side by side alongside the pond. Just as I cannot imagine gnawing at one of the limbs of, for instance, a lamb, I can no more imagine devouring the back legs of a frog. I did once many years ago and it is true it does taste a bit like chicken. That said why don't people eat chicken instead? The plastic bags of frozen froggy legs - or cuisses as they are called - look pathetically sad in the deep freeze at Auchan. I can never stop myself from wondering if there are retirement homes for amputee frogs with little prosthetic back legs. So sad...

Fish gotta swim!

I seem to be on a bit of lyrical roll currently, but never fear, I am not going to wax, lyrically or otherwise, in this posting about any messages in Showboat. Today my thoughts are with patience and again I have been inspired by the garden or more specifically, by the pond.

There it lies all green and murky and not particularly inviting. We were told that fish lurked somewhere within though we had never seen any sign of anything pescatorial. It is the home to three very patient and diligent frogs. They sit either on a small ledge, or on the side, or with their heads just above the surface of the water and wait. They wait all day. They wait for the possibility of a fly who might chance by and whom they might, if they are quick enough, lasso with great dexterity with their incredibly long tongues.

One found its way into the house last week. It tried to press itself into the brickwork in corner of the hallway certain no doubt of its imminent demise at the hands of the giants towering over it - though more accurately Max was more a tremble at a safe distance. Scooped into a plastic containter and repatriated, it does not appear to have repeated the trek since.

A short while ago I concluded that the supposed fish(es) were a figment of the previous owners' imaginations as we had seen not a fin. I imagined that should they - or it - have shifted its domicile to the great pond in the sky, then its last mortal remains would have come floating to the surface. Then suddenly, last week, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the pond, darting in a very fish-like manner around close to the surface of the, admittedly, green water. It was a fish, just the one fish, but a fish nevertheless.
We anguished for hours as to whether the poor thing had come to the surface to seek the oxygen it no doubt could no longer find at the bottom of the pond. We even looked at pumps in the local DIY stores. But no, it seemed happy enough skimming along. We bought it some v expensive food and today, having not seen Monsieur Carp for a few days, he appeared and - to my enormous pleasure - was eating the food. He likes it! Look he's eating it! I could not have been more delighted had I been an Italian mamma whose family had wiped their dishes clean.

So patience did pay off as it does for the frogs who seem to get by on their occasional fly.

I also heard from LilleTourism today having waited only four months and still I have no firm appointment but at least I shall be seeing a director. Watch this space.

Friends we lost along the way

Bob Marley wrote and sang the evocative lyrics to the song "No woman, no cry", in other words, don't cry for the loss of a friend, and maybe rejoice in what is left behind to us from knowing them.

Of course one person's interpretation of the written word , be it creative or otherwise, is another person's claptrap , yet increasingly I wonder about people who have been in my life and are now no longer part of it. Instinctively I still sense loss and yet I also now realise that often the knowing of those people has left something behind, something valuable, their legacy perhaps woven into the template that is me.

Whether I thought their particular attributes positive or not, and at some time their positive traits would surely have outweighed the negatives, I wonder whether I have avoided befriending similar people since or maybe I just treat people differently now with a little of life's experience behind me: keeping a distance, arms length, kid gloves ...

I have an every growing list of friends who have disappeared into the mist. There are those who no longer walk this earth and those who, without my really knowing why they no longer can or want to be part of my life, have distanced themselves from me, and then of course those whose names I have actively chosen to delete from my address book and about whom I do not fret for lack of contact!

Emma and Stuart, Clare, Matthew Smith, Bill and Geoff, Derek, Liz, Charmayne and Mark etc etc. Where are you?

It is said that we have many friends for now, some for a while and a few for life, and whereas that is undoubtably true, the loss of a friend for whatever reason is not easy to bear. This is especially so for one for whom making friends was a difficult, if not painful, lesson to learn. Put another way it was learning the real value of friends myself and not as a received wisdom: as a child I put all my energies into a few friends, often one at a time, and did not surround myself with mates. Not being obsessed with football and other such activities meant I did not acquire vast cohorts of acquaintances: this was of concern to my late father who, on reflection, I realise was mirroring his own apparent failings.

So celebrate our friends, keep them close and cherish them. They may not be with you for the whole of the way.

Enjoy the memories and the words:

No, woman, no cry;No, woman, no cry;No, woman, no cry;No, woman, no cry.
Said - said - said: I remember when we used to sit In the government yard in trenchtown,
Oba - obaserving the ypocrites As they would mingle with the good people we meet.
Good friends we have, oh, good friends weve lost Along the way.
In this great future, you cant forget your past; So dry your tears, I seh.
No, woman, no cry;No, woman, no cry .ere, little darlin, dont shed no tears: No, woman, no cry. Said - said - said: I remember when-a we used to sit In the government yard in trenchtown. And then georgie would make the fire lights, As it was logwood burnin through the nights.
Then we would cook cornmeal porridge, Of which Ill share with you;
My feet is my only carriage, So Ive got to push on through.
But while Im gone, I mean: Everythings gonna be all right!Everythings gonna be all right! Everythings gonna be all right!Everythings gonna be all right! I said,
everythings gonna be all right-a!Everythings gonna be all right!
Everythings gonna be all right, now!Everythings gonna be all right! So, woman, no cry;
No - no, woman - woman, no cry. Woman, little sister, dont shed no tears;No, woman, no cry.

England 4 - Germany 1

Conscious of the fact that I have not blogged for a fortnight (zut alors!) here is an update on life in Lille. The header is not the score from a recent football match in a well-known tournament but our tally of visitors was augmented over the weekend by an impromptu visit from my cousin Marion from Germany. She drove from Lippstadt (where I was born) in around four and a half hours, underlining the ease with which people can get around on the continent. We don't have a car that would happily do the journey at the moment and getting there by train to return the visit is possible but rather pricey - or maybe it seems that way because we have become used to cheap air travel - at something over 100€ each.

We had a great weekend and were able to show Marion the town in it's best (sun) light and at a time when parts of the centre of Lille are temporarily pedestrianised for the summer. We had lunch on the pavement outside a restaurant in Old Lille (or the Old Lille as they will insist on calling it) and I was reminded how nice it would be to have another income and the ability to treat ourselves like that more often. Note to self - must get on with it! At home we ate outside at every meal starting with one of Max's famous risottos and followed by another outing for our old Delia fave, the warm lentil salad with goat's cheese and rocket.

The garden is looking lighter now that we have pruned back some of the trees and given the plants beneath them a chance. In addition to the three frogs who bask all day long in pond number one, this morning I espied for the very first time a fish! Just the one though, skimming the surface for food probably.

Our friendlier neighbour, Mamy, has given us a pot of jam made with our very own cherries - I printed off some labels using the computer to design a Bonne Mamy label - and also we couldn't get out of acquiring what must be the ugliest chair ever. We are hoping to offload it onto les parents who can then get rid if they find they too detest it!

I don't think I will be able to keep this image here permanently!!! Yuk.
We have covered it with a throw but it still lurks on the top landing and is not much improved.

Have added another link - see right - to Charles Bremner's Paris blog in the Times. Very interesting and well written, take a look.

Expecting 38C on Wednesday. This is le canicule that wiped out so many elderly french two years ago, stuck in their attic rooms unnoticed and forgotten. It was a real wake up call and now at the merest hint of a heatwave we are given information and asked to check on our neighbours. Ours of course just give us their old furniture!

Toujours le temps qui court..

So go the French lyrics to the music many english speakers will know as Could it be magic as variously interpreted by Barry Manilow, Donna Summer and Take That! It was in fact written by Manilow but based on Chopin's Prelude in C Minor, Opus 28, Number 20. Now, in the french version it tells of how time passes quickly and things change.

It could be the theme tune to my time thus far in France. In the course of almost 8 months I have lived in the countryside with one partner, 2 parents-in-law, 2 dogs, 4 hens and 2 canaries, found and bought a house in Lille, moved into it and am now living in the splendid isolation of being 20 minutes from the centre of a city of some 200000 people in a conurbation of some one million souls. I do not mean to be dramatic nor I intend to mean that I am lonely - far from it. It is early days and not having yet secured any clients for my coaching business means I spend at least half the day alone, though now I have both an internet connection and a phoneline and an office, things can only improve.

There was never any serious expectation in any case that everything would fall into our laps: the cost of alterations and improvements to the house would well exceed the budget we fancifully had, lack of amenities, motivation and communications have held me back from earning a crust, the grindingly slow way in which anything happens in France have given us some frustration, but all will be overcome. None is insurmountable. Some need to be rescheduled.

The possibility of planting lavender in the garden at 1630, looking forward to harvesting the cherries from our own tree, eating a crop of our own strawberries (make that the crop!) have added to the quality of our lives and helped reshape our approach and attitude to everyday living. I noticed on the plans we received yesterday in connection with recovering the kitchen roof, that we have perhaps the third largest garden in the area. Some responsibility!

We have welcomed guests to our humble abode such as it is set in a traditionally industrial quartier which has a good and honest feeling to it. There are troughs and hanging baskets of flowers in the centre of Hellemmes, unspoilt and unstolen. When I think back to the saplings snapped for the drunken fun of it along Wimbledon Broadway I know we have made an excellent choice.

Salad v Leaves, the joys and benefits of words.

This is the meal I have just eaten:

Dressed sliced avocado with tomato
Potato omelette
Mango with soft cream cheese

This is the meal I have just enjoyed:

Ripe slices of avocado and vine tomatoes dressed with lemon and extra virgin olive oil garnished with chives
Spanish tortilla made with red onion and organic eggs served with a salad of oak leaf leaves lightly dressed in a lemon and Dijon mustard vinaigrette and sprinkled with roasted seeds
Ripe mango pieces spooned with fromage blanc and finished with a sprinkling of demerera sugar and walnut halves

As they say in the USA, go figure!

Not just a bowl of cherries...

I started writing this post last week but was not pleased with the way it had turned out. It seemed a little preachy, a little proselytising, a bit too touchy feely, even for me. In the interim I have been devouring Alan Bennett's superb collection of recollections and diary excerpts - " Untold Stories", and his writing had given me a push in the right direction. His use of language eg not being afraid to use less than modern constructions, good grammar, anglo-saxon derivations (you know what I mean) when it makes sense to do so, fills me with admiration and is a joy to read. Most of all he writes in a very detailed and yet very economic way. He doesn't get carried away with flowery prose but uses words carefully and for their very specific meaning or specifically for their double entendre. Reading Bennett makes me proud to be an adequate user - of the English language that is - and encourages me to up my game.

So it was I determined to rewrite this piece and to make it less pretentious and more accessible.

Following my sojourn in London, one of the very first things I noticed on my return to Hellemmes, was something noticeably red, or rather obviously red things, half way down the garden. I hurried, indeed precipitated towards cherry tree where its fruit were almost fully ripened indeed some have already cascaded to the ground and lie like so much colourful punctuation in the grass. I found one that appeared to be ready to eat and enjoyed it, not so much for the flavour - OK but nothing fabulous - as the fact that it was from our our tree in our garden.

As I made my way back towards the house, I sensed a superb fragrance in the air the source of which soon became apparent: the honeysuckle had blossomed. I had wondered whether we would have the prolifically flowering kind or the less generously endowed yet more fragrant one. There was no doubt now that this was the latter. I looked around and took time to notice properly the burgeoning geraniums, the cherry tomato plants ladened with maturing fruit, the grace of the new olive tree and the beauty of the hanging basket crammed with petunias, fuchsias, and verbena. In my rush to get to the cherries I had missed these equally wonderful plants.

I wondered to myself how often in my rush to get to the cherries in my life I had managed to to bypass the equally intoxicating perfume of the honeysuckle, and the summer scent of tomato? I promised myself that I would give time to more than just the seemingly important, the most obviously "urgent", and to try to keep everything more in context, to give the positive at least equal billing with the negative.

Life is rarely, if ever, just bowl of cherries and even cherries have stones.

PS Having now spent time harvesting, not only is it really hard work and very difficult, but half of the fruit, despite looking lusciously dark are in fact beginning to rot. Appearances can deceive!

Summer in the city - a visitor in London.

I have recently returned from a few days in London preceded by a day in Brighton attending a family wedding. People seemed rather impressed that I had come "all the way from France" and were taken aback when they found that their journey was in fact longer and more complicated than mine. Total time taken including waiting time, four and a quarter hours. Actual travelling time just under three hours.

Brighton was as belle as I have ever seen it and the crowds not overly spoiling of the atmosphere on the Friday when I arrived. The sun blazed from a cloudless blue sky and I was enjoying myself. My lodgings were with friends close to the station - I was warmly welcomed into their very lovely flat, and the wedding took place amidst the splendours of the Royal Pavillion and then afterwards at the, less salubrious yet more than adequate, Old Ship Hotel.

London was perfect. I had lost much of my love for the capital with the passing years and the frustrations of working and paying the price of living there. Without those ties this glorious city regains its attractions and sees them enhanced when clement summer weather allows for looser, and less clothing and sitting outside eating and passing time with friends.

My grateful thanks to all who welcomed me, gave me shelter, food, drink, company, time, cards and presents - an iminent now passed birthday - and a very welcome plaster, during my sojourn in the city where I had spent the whole of my adult life until last year.

As the Eurostar sped me homewards to Lille I looked forward to getting back to my new reality and confirmed to myself that the reason I had enjoyed London in June so very much was simple: I didn't live there anymore.

Wishy Washy

Thanks to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross whose wonderful words were echoed back to me this week with the quotation:

“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within”

Now isn’t that so true and wonderfully put?

Perhaps the fact that Blogger is not accepting pictures at the moment brings me to another stained-glass window moment. Not having images to help me bring this piece alive I guess I shall have to work extra hard at making it sing from the page.

As I wait for the weather to break - as surely it must - and the humidity soars, I am reminded how we can find learning in everything if we look hard enough. Indeed, there are many lessons to be drawn from everyday life. For example, I feel there is something of a parallel to be drawn between washing machines and the way in which our lives seem to be set to the fastest possible speed or cycle where everything needs to be done now or sooner and the latest is passé before most of us have had an opportunity to try it out. We bought our new shiny machine some while before moving into the house as I could never imagine not having one, nor going to a laundrette, so, as with dishwashers we consider them to be an absolute necessity. Ours boasts AAA energy features that I don’t understand but imagine to be good for the environment, and a host of programmes that I will most likely never use proudly displayed on a little screen. We just missed out by one model on having a machine that speaks to you! I am rather glad of this though it is fun to imagine quite what it might say to you. Is it advice? Approbation? Information?

If like me you are not very interested in washing machines and only know that you must have one then you probably use the same basic programme nearly all the time and others very occasionally. How like life this is: we do the same things week in week out never making big changes nor learning new things.

I had always assumed the faster the spin setting, the better as it meant a shorter drying time. I was wrong and now I know that clothes need far less ironing when spun at lower speeds. Think “drip-dry” (not that is giving far too many clues to my age). This is a lesson to us all. Rather than take life at a breakneck speed perhaps we should just slow down, take our time and enjoy not developing so many wrinkles! How much nicer is washing and life when done more slowly.

Over to Kate Bush: -
Out of the corner of my eye
I think I see you standing outside
But it’s just your shirt
Hanging on the washing line
Waving its arm as the wind blows byAnd it looks so alive
Nice and whiteJust like its climbed right out
Of my washing machine Washing machine Washing machine

Go on, laugh! I have obviously had too much time away from the real world. However, we are back online with phone connection, TV till it is coming out of our ears – though I seem to have gone off it except for our fave Plus Belle La Vie http://plus-belle-la-vie.france3.fr/
We even managed to watch it on this very computer whilst eating pizza yesterday evening thus achieving my wish to always sit at table whilst eating but not missing the goings on at Le Mistral.

In the meantime...more nosh.

Heavens to Betsy a week has passed since my last post! Here I am back in Rumaucourt having escaped the house where I was playing a game of musical rooms (and chairs): it felt as if every time the music stopped there was less space for me to "be" in. The reason is mundane enough ie works continue but on a sporadic basis so it is not worth reinstalling rooms in between. Consequently there is plastic sheeting everywhere and even the garden was out of bounds as the rain continued to fall from a leaden sky.

So to the countryside where there is also an internet connection.

The news on the phone is getting better: we have a line, somewhere. It all seems potentially sooper dooper with access to different options via the internet and the promise of two boxes of jiggery pokery due to arrive any day. We even have a phone number which, interestingly, begins 0870 as it is one we could take anywhere in France were we to move and stay with the same telephony provider. Telephony, now there's an interesting word. I remember the good old days when we just had telephones!

Sadly I cannot share my photos - yet - as I do not have the right cable to download them onto the computer, but yesterday was another gourmet Sunday and this time we spent most of the afternoon outside. Papa was keen on a barbecue and indeed it was the right weather for it. Parasols and sunloungers seemed to fill the courtyard and everything looked very jolly. If you are semi veggie though, BBQs are not your best friend. Luckily I thought about giving a little colour to some large prawns still in their shells as a starter with a v tasty sauce craftily concocted from mayonnaise, cumin, turmeric and lemon juice. Papa was the only person profiting from the charcoal for his main course and sadly the first effort turned into carbon whilst we weren't looking and the second attempt fell on the floor. No idea what it was as meat hold no interest for me, but the dogs did well out of it! the other hand he had put together a most delicious mixture for our main dish which was cod en papillote. On top of the filets, or maybe they were cod loins (whatever they are) he had piled a mixture of soft goat cheese and creme fraiche, and surrounding the fish were diced tomatoes and a medley of different fresh herbs from the garden: thyme, parsley, chives and rosemary. It looked divine (picture to be inserted at a later date) and tasted heavenly. Which is were we came in, thank you Betsy.

Toodle pip for now.

Quick update 11 June - photos (when Blogger lets me) of the fish and the bulgar wheat salad (previously unmentioned and so delicious it was nearly all gone before I could take a photo!).

Fish 'n' cabbage

Today in France is Fête des Mères, Mothers' Day, interestingly shared only it appears with Sweden, the Dominican Republic and Haiti. Whilst having a day to fete mothers is a shared practice around the globe the date itself is not -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother for more info. The UK and Ireland are the only countries to link the celebration directly to the church calendar.

Max's mother, Renée, is even more deserving than usual this year as she is holding the fort at the village store whilst Jean-Michel convalesces after his back operation. So, Max took over shop duties this morning and I set to work in the kitchen. It has been the loveliest day in a while with only short periods of being overcast but otherwise the sun is shining and warming us beautifully. My mood was lifted and soon I was singing along to the radio and peeling and chopping away. On the menu was, a starter to be concocted, a choucroute aux fruits de mer, and an apple and date crumble.

I am very aware as I type this that I am once again treading on the toes of my great friend and creator of Lemon Soul - a blog not to be missed, see link to the right - but it cannot be helped as in France food is very much linked to everyday life so special events necessarily have added culinary importance.

What a joy it was to cook with gas again - we have those horrible halogen jobbies in the house, soon to be replaced - and it wasn't long before the crumble was in the oven and browning gently. The recipe came from the rather nice site called Chocolate and Zucchini, http://chocolateandzucchini.com/ where Clotilde's enthusiasm for food and cooking are more than compensation for her occasional lapse into american English. Snobbery intended! Call an aubergine an aubergine I say and not an egg plant! By the way, I think I would go for the rubbing in method to produce my crumble next time as it was more a big lump of dough than a crumble once I had whizzed it in the processor.

I wanted to keep the starter simple, not only because this was to be a lunch but also because the main course was going to be rather filling. We didn't manage to find any smoked haddock for the choucroute so cheated by adding some smoked salmon instead and so to four smallish unneeded offcuts I added some succulent slices of cantaloupe melon et voilà, almost instant starter. Melon goes well with Parma ham but for us non meat eaters it goes just as well with the strong taste of smoked fish, especially salmon.

So to the pièce de résistance. The recipe said it was "easy" and on reflection it was not difficult but rather fiddly trying to get everything ready to asssemble at the same time. I shan't go through every process as this is not a food blog, but suffice to say that the fruits de mer included cod fillet, salmon fillet, mussels, big juicy prawns and surprisingly inexpensive langoustines. The latter apparently can be translated as scampi or Dublin Bay prawns. Suffice to say they look spectacular but a good prawn will always get my vote.

The sauce was a concoction of much reduced riesling with the cooking juices from the mussels, cream and butter.

The resultant meal was a success. We contemplated eating outside but occasional cold gusts of wind meant we compromised and drank the rosé cava al fresco but ate inside. I could have done with a bigger dish on which to display the sauerkraut and its garnish in all its glory but it made quite a spectacle in any case.

I think this is going to be one of those halcyon days which you always think you will remember but probably don't. In the end it doesn't matter a lot as it is the enjoyment of the moment that really counts and today is replete with wonderful moments.

Back to the country and connections

A brief explanation of my apparent absence from the blog world. We have been in Lille doing house things and entertaining our first guests. The latter was a most enjoyable experience and we feel a sense of vindication of our decision given favourable feedback on the house and Lille. The weather was, for the most part, attrocious with strong winds and torrential rain.

Still no internet connection and "any day" has stretched into "any week". We have come back to Rumaucourt for a long weekend - today is a national holiday - and Mothers' Day on Sunday, as well as an internet connection.