Fetes & Friends

Well, once again the best laid plans of men, mice and Eve have gone awry. There I was hoping to be able to do a daily diary, and it’s over a month since my last ‘confession’. Still, such is life. Now we’re back in the UK and I’m being bored at work, so perhaps I’ll be a little more industrious.

I must admit that sometimes I wonder why on earth I’m doing this – other than I was steamrolled into it by Ian Sorensen last year. Then I think about all the experiences we are having with our two-nation lifestyle, and how I don’t want to forget what it feels like to totally change your way of living, so I carry on. Hopefully my musings are also of interest to others, as are the articles each Saturday in the Telegraph (C'est La Folie) which were the original inspiration, but the key audience is me - I want to make sure I document our life and feelings.

Anyway, back to a quick summary of the rest of the summer before I totally forget.

Of family, friends and conges

One thing that is good about having a house abroad is that people tend to come and visit you for more than just an evening. The second good thing is that in showing them the area in which you live, you appreciate again the beauty of the region and the fun of the people.

This year our first visitation was John’s sister Alison, husband Bob and their two friends Pavlenka and Stephen. With two chefs in the house I should have been nervous of offering to cater each night so no-one would have to drink and drive, but luckily after the first bottle of wine I was fine (that’s theirs as well as mine). We did the usual coastal tour - Dieppe (street market), Pourville (Monet painting), Quiberville (fishermen’s stalls), St Aubin (nothing much but it’s the nearest beach), Veules le Roses (guardsmen bears, river, watercress beds etc, etc) and St Valery (port with metal pigeons) – and each time I show someone else these places, I see them again for the first time.

We then had my work colleage, Julie, over for the bank holiday weekend.  At this time the French school kids were due to go back to school, and Dieppe was virtually deserted - even with a funfair on the seafront.  Well, maybe not deserted, methinks I exaggerate a little - but the difference with just the week before was extraordinary.  Somehow Dieppe is even worse than most other seaside resorts for its on-off character - and it's not like I'm not used to the lights being switched off out of season, I was born and bred in Brighton after all.  OK, Brighton is a city now and is buzzing all year round, but back in the 60s it wasn't quite the same. 

She also was given the coastal tour, the local bar (where she made a big hit with Michel of the fishing competition blog post), and the chalk-and-cheese dining experiences of the restaurant at the campsite Mesnil and the Michelin starred restaurant next door to our house (L'Auberge).  And I think went away with a good idea of what life's like for us (though L'Auberge is only once or twice a year at their prices!!).

The one thing we couldn't show either sets of friends was the other staple of summer life in Seine Maritime, and that's the fetes.  Unlike the UK, where villages tend to have just 1 summer fete, the Cauchoise (name for the people from our area of Normandy) will use any excuse to get out the marquee and the barbecue.  I'm sure it's the same in the rest of France, but I can only talk of our area.

It starts on the last weekend of June, with the Méchoui - which is a North African whole lamb barbecue.  We all congregate in the barn of a nearby farm where a 3-course meal with as much wine/cider etc as you want is provided. Last year we won a whole jambon in the raffle (ham leg) which we didn't finish until the beginning of this year.

The following weekend we have the 3-day event of the Festival du Lin et de l'Aiguille.  (France is the world's leading grower of flax, and I think Seine Maritime is one of the most important areas.) which culminates in another barbecue meal but this time under the 'Chapiteau' on the green behind the bar.  This weekend is absolutely amazing - according to Wikepedia Le Bourg Dun has a population of 400+, but over this weekend it must swell by the odd thousand or so!

Just in case you get hungry and/or bored, there is then the
Horse Fair (Fete de Cheval) in Quiberville - no, not on the promenade you idiot, that's the only picture I could find of Quiberville!

I wrote about this in a previous blog, so enough said, except that I've now found another picture.  Apparently the lunch they do is superb as well, but we've never made that one.

Back before everyone had kitchens etc, most villagers used a communal oven for their cooking, whilst it was still warm after the baker had finished in the mornings.  Ours (i.e. Bourg Dun's) has been restored, and in August we have the Fete du Pain where they fire it up again and - yes you guessed it - we all get together for another 3 or 4 course barbecue lunch under the 'chapiteau'.  This year the weather running up to that weekend had been very wet, so parking in the field was 'interesting', especially when the car in front decided to stop just as we'd got into the most muddy of patches at the entrance. John obviously got stuck, and so had to back up to take a run at it a second time.  He wasn't going to get caught again, and almost broke the sound barrier as he accelerated into the field!

We had a great meal here with English and French friends, but had to leave early to dash into Dieppe to meet up with Alison and Bob et al of whom I have spoken earlier.

Unfortunately we missed the last fete in Bourg Dun  as we were away on holiday (yes, I know it all sounds like holiday, but I'm skipping over the 3 days a week I'm tied to the computer, and all the washing, ironing and cleaning that is required for the B&B). This is a 'Foire a tout' i.e. a car boot sale with the usual tat - but it's foreign tat so it's more exotic, combined with, yes you guessed it, another meal 'sous chapiteau' behind the bar.

That's where it ends, though. As we got back from our holiday in the second week of September, you could see the difference.  It had been our wedding anniversary (36 years!) on the return journey from the Gironde estuary, but we decided to celebrate it when we got back to Bourg Dun. We couldn't afford L'Auberge again, and anyway they keep the same menu and we'd been there too recently to go again.  How about Les Galets - that posh restaurant in Veules le Roses we've been meaning to go to for years?  Nope, closed for conges (summer holidays).  Oh, there's the Trou Normand in Pourville - hah, closed for conges and refurbishment.  How about L'Auberge de l'Etang at Mannerville - doesn't say its closed for conges, but there're no lights on.  Then there's the posh restaurant in St Valery - closed for conges....

Luckily we found somewhere and an excellent night was had, but talk about Blackpool on a wet Sunday!!

Police, horses and broken washing lines

Whilst driving down to the main commercial/retail park at Barentin (what great sightseeing trips we do), first of all we were stopped by the police. Not that we were doing anything wrong, it was one of those standard stop every third car type of thing. Usually they don't bother with foreign cars, but either they felt adventurous, or hadn't noticed the foreign plates and were now trying to bluff it out.

Of course, all they wanted to see was John's driving licence, which was the only document he didn't have with him - it was back at Bourg Dun in his English wallet. Luckily I don't think the policeman could face the paperwork, and just told us to get on. At first I thought it was lazy of John to talk to him in English, but then I realised this was most probably adding to his decision that life was too short to bother taking our lack of documentation any further. (Must remember to nag John about this whenever I can!)

About 10 minutes down the road, we were nearing our destination when we saw a sign for Pissy-Poville.  I would love to live there!

That was exciting Friday, Sunday was even better - we had a . . .

Ah, that's the problem with living life, there's no time left for recording how you lived it. The former was written on 5th August, it's now 20th, and I've only a vague idea what witticisms I was going to add except for the hints in the title and the tags I'd added before writing (what a good idea, must do that more often).

Saturday, I remember, we were going to see the Horse Fair in the next village, Quiberville, but it rained all day so we didn't.  Sunday wasn't so bad - damp but not raining hard, so we went to Quiberville. If you know this area, you know Quiberville is a small place but each year they have a massive horse fair.  There are all the usual side stalls selling pictures of horses, horsey paraphenalia etc but also a show-jumping competition for teenagers, and an obstacle course for horses with carts. Finally, we saw a group of men playing hunting horns - quite weird really, especially as the sound is so very directional from the horns that when we were sitting behind them it sounded awful.

.............

It's now 9th September and I'm still desperately trying to finish this entry! The last thing that happened was the rotary washing line bent under a load when the wind was high, so we had to replace it which meant digging out a new hole, trying to find the 'right' sort of cement when you don't know the technical terms in French (for some reason that isn't part of standard evening class vocabulary). Don't know why on earth I thought anyone would be interested in that aspect of our life here in France . . . still, this item's finished now and I can start to fill in the gaps of the 5 weeks since I started it.

Why I love France

Many people ask me why I want to live here in France rather than the UK. One element of the decision is obviously getting more house for your money here, but the other is the lifestyle.  Here are some instances which have happened over the last couple of days which illustrate exactly what I'm getting at.

1. It was a hot day in Dieppe last weekend and in the sidestreets everyone had their windows wide open. On the first floor, opposite the restaurant we were frequenting, a bare-chested rotund Frenchman was leaning out of his window chatting to his neighbour on the other side of the road. As they were laughing and joking, a man came along the road taking his dog for a walk and joined in on the conversation for about 5 mintues, then continued on his way.
2. We were in the local bar (Bar Doris - not a girl's name, but a type of boat) on Tuesday evening with the regulars when a young chap came in, shook hands with all the patrons, went to the cigarette counter to buy his cigarettes and then left. It was a good job there were only 6 of us, otherwise it would have taken all night! I doubt this would happen in the larger towns, obviously, but here in the country it is expected that you acknowledge everyone. Back home in Tonwell the locals would have a heart attack if a stranger came up and shook hands with them - you barely get a nod in acknowledgement from some of them and that's after 20+ years of living there.
3. That same night, there was a mobile Pizza van operating opposite the bar - with a wood-burning pizza oven even!  Patrick and his wife (the local painter and odd-job man) bought a pizza and brought it back into the bar and then promptly cut it up and gave us all a piece. Again, in Tonwell no way.  It is also the tradition that you buy each other drinks, and if you've spent enough in the bar, Daniel will buy you a drink. The only time Julian in the Robin Hood has bought us a drink was one New Year's Eve when we had a power cut until almost midnight so he couldn't cook the food we had come for. He was quite drunk at the time!
4. Sitting in the garden having lunch yesterday, a red squirrel ran into the garden, then departed before we could get a picture of it.

That is just one week here - so you can see why we like the lifestyle so much. Perhaps you could get it in the UK, but it is getting increasingly difficult to find.

Never ignore John's good ideas

We said goodbye to the Aussies this morning who were off to Dunkirque on their motorbikes - they were NICE people even though I was as jealous as hell with their 3-month European touring holiday. Then there was Stephen and his friend (only referring to her as that because I can't remember her name!) who were our first guests to try the Michelin star restaurant next door. It was a success, thankfully! I know it wouldn't have been my fault if they hadn't liked it, but you know how responsible you feel, especially when its so expensive. From the sounds of it we must have the lobster starter - Stephen eulogised (is that the right spelling?) over it.

Since we had no more bookings for a few days, I said to John not to bother making the rooms up - let's just have a bit of a holiday/rest/laze, says I. I'll just get the beds moved back into the correct room, says John, and of course I have to go up to help him for a couple of hours before the Grand Prix was due to start. So it all got done.  Then, after the Grand Prix there's a knock on the door and there stands a Brit who was scouting out a route and accommodation for a cycle ride he's doing with some friends from somewhere to Agincourt. Unfortunately it's the 3rd September and we'll be closed by then, but he and his friend book to stay the night. Thank you John, if you hadn't insisted that we make up the rooms we wouldn't have earned 45€ - though they want separate rooms so we have to give the twin-bedded room and the single room.  Still, it's money we hadn't expected. 

Then, as I'm hanging out the washing a Dutch couple turn up who want a room for 2 nights - the double room is fine for them and hey presto, there's another €100 in the coffers.

That's €145 John's earned us, but we do have to get up early tomorrow morning and do breakfasts, which is a bit of a bummer.

Went into Dieppe to try out a Turkish restaurant (L'Ankara) we had seen down one of the side streets which did a vegetarian menu, so we immediately thought of Yvonne Rowse.  We've been meaning to go there for several trips and never getting round to it so decided we really would this time, stopping off to get info on the Parc des Moutiers which the Dutch couple had shown an interest in.  Had a drink on the harbour, in the sun but also in a slightly cold wind, then a meal at the restaurant - and all of it 'free' given the unexpected income. Food wasn't bad, 'good value for money' is a good description - it was relatively cheap and hence relatively simple. I had moules farci (stuffed mussels) which were tasty, but the couscous stuffing somewhat drowned the flavour of the mussels. This was followed by lamb kebab, which was two lamb chops! Very tasty, but not exactly what I'd expected.  Still, the whole meal came to just of €40 for 3 courses, coffee and a bottle of wine, so you can't complain. (Well, you can, but you shouldn't.) We'll go again this trip and try the more expensive menu by way of comparison, and let Yvonne try the vegetarian option.

Hey ho, that early night seems somehow to have moved to nearly 11 p.m. 

Guests

Running a Chambres d'hotes can be hard work - all that changing of beds and ironing. Made especially bad when your guests arrive at almost 10 p.m. on a Friday night having booked the Green Room (double bed, shower & toilet ensuiste) to say they wanted twin beds!  John swears Stephen never mentioned that, but as they went out to try and find somewhere to eat (fat chance around here at that time of night!) we quickly swap the beds around. But that made us nervous for Saturday night, because we received a phone booking just before for the one night, and I'd said we only had the twin room left.  What if they wanted a twin, and now found themselves with a double? Hah, John spend the afternoon (after watching the qualifying for the Hungarian Grand Prix of course) tidying up the Rose room which he'd used as a depository for all his tools etc whilst rebuilding the bathroom, and we had a solution. If they needed separate beds, they could have separate rooms!

Phew, it's not an easy way to earn €100!

Still, it has its compensations...

It turned out that the new people were Aussies, as was the girl who had arrived with her Nigerian boyfriend (but with twin-beds, so I think the 'friend' part was literal) and we all had aperos in the garden. The fact that I got through almost a whole bottle of wine to myself may have clouded my judgement, but sitting there in the sun, with 4 strangers and exchanging views on everything from how crap Vodaphone mobiles are, through the political situation to whether or not the Aussies should still cling to the Queen's Birthday bank holiday when they want to be a republic, it all seemed worthwhile.  Mike & Georgie (the two Aussies) were on motorbike driving a meanering route from Portugal, via Spain and Andorra, to Folkestone.  They actually shipped their motorbikes from Brisbane out to the UK and will be shipping them back next week, when their 3 month holiday is over! I wish we had long-service leave.

An interesting factoid that came out of our discussions on Australia was that they too are increasing their retirement age. This can have nothing to do with saving money as we are all tempted to think is the root of the UK (and French) moves, because the Oz economy is absolutely booming. It really must just be a result of us all living longer.

I tell you something, if this life is what's in front of us for another 20-odd years, you won't hear me complaining - not until we get back to the UK and I have to start commuting into Picadilly again, anyway!

Yet more days in paradise. . .

Thursday, 28th July
Just a standard day today - got up and made breakfast for our guests - the Chiangs who hale from Malaysia, on the coast near Brunei.  We had been wondering where they came from because they speak such very good English, but still with an accent which shows they were not of UK origin. They've been in England for 10 years, hence the good English.  Didn't ask why they came over - silly of me.  It will be a mixture of relief and sadness when they go, their two boys (Ethan 6, Joshua 5) are very sweet, but incredibly tiring because they are so full of energy! Children are so full of enquiry, why this? why that? it is a reminder of how staid you can get as you get older, and sad because you can lose that enjoyment and 'sensa wonda'. We sit down with a huge sigh when they go off for the day and we can collapse.

Unfortunately this was a working day for me, so from 8.30 a.m. until 6.30 p.m. I was at the computer writing an exciting course on anti-money laundering regulations!  We did dive out at lunch time to the beach at St Aubin to see if we could buy some fish off the fishermen for a pie for dinner, but it was deserted. Igor hasn't been fishing for a couple of weeks because the motor on his boat died, but it looks like he's got a couple of brand spanking new outboards fitted now - I think that was his boat on the keyside anyway.  Now how did they manage to afford that I wonder - they were complaining about how very, very expensive it would be to replace the. I suppose they've got HP terms or something like that, because without the engines not only does he not earn any money, but also his mother, Beatrice, who works on the stall selling his catch for him. Jordan's stall was deserted too, so no luck there. In fact, it looked as though nothing had changed at all from the day before. Perhaps they're all off on holiday.

So we went to the next village, Quiberville, where there are more stalls, but they were all deserted too.  Of course, it was lunchtime, and here in rural France EVERYTHING stops for lunch!

So we eventually had to succumb to the supermarket which is a shame when there are so many local fishermen to support.

Back to the 'office' for the rest of the afternoon until we could have an apero out in the garden. Somehow we didn't then feel like getting on with the gardening, it being 7 p.m. and all, so we decided to leave the fish pie until tomorrow, and just have prawns dunked in garlic mayonnais for dinner. Now why can't I lose weight when we're over here?

Guests return, we have to watch Torchwood with the sound really low, then off to bed ready for another day in paradise tomorrow.

Every two (make that three) days ain't bad

The trouble with keeping a diary is that often you're so busy living life, there's no time left for writing about it.  Or else, it appears so boring when you put the words on the paper - what did I do yesterday? I did housework, gardening, worked on the computer, had apero in the garden, ate, watched tv.  Still, for posterity, and for that novel I may one day write (well if Jordan - sorry, Katie Price - can do it, I'm sure I can). 

So, Monday we had John and Mary round for a meal - they don't like eating late so were due round about 5 p.m., which foreshortened all the cleaning we had to do.  It's great having one of those large farm kitchen/diners, but the problem is they have to be clean and tidy for entertaining.  That's especially hard for us since the kitchen table is also the office (remember, I'm still putting in 21hrs a week on the computer) and repository for all the paperwork we must sort out 'real soon now', and the bag of John's cables etc which are of vital importance, and the empty wine bottles and cardboard boxes that we will recycle 'real soon now'. 



Anyway, a good time was had by all - aperos in the garden since the weather was good(ish), followed by too much food and too much wine. That's what I call life - which is why I'm so overweight, but hey, someone's got to make everyone else on a diet feel good about themselves.

Going back one day, on Sunday there was a fishing competition at the local lake - not that much more than a pond really in a local farm - and in the bar on Saturday night Michel had said we must come.  Sunday morning it absolutely chucked it down, so we thought we'd give it a miss, but by lunchtime it had cleared, so we had a small 'constitutional' walk round to see if anyone had turned up. You can tell we're not fishermen - of course they had turned up! Somehow, quite by coincidence, we managed to make it in time for lunch.


L'Etang

 

Not much fishing going on!



Michel - typical Frenchman with his 'Ricard' belly

We love to go to these types of occasion and see the French at their ease.  I suppose English fishing clubs would have similar days, but you never make the effort when it's at home.  But back to L'Etang du Peche. It's quite embarrassing at these sorts of occasions because we meet people we've seen in the bar perhaps once or twice, but have no idea what their names are. They all know us, because we're 'Les Anglais' with the house next to the traffic lights - or possibly, Les Anglais with the wife who speaks French. Either way, we stick out in a crowd, whereas your normal French person doesn't!

Just for completeness, and for our memories in several years when we look back on these blog entries to see what life was like, what more have we done? 

Tuesday was the end of my holiday so I was back 'in the office' all day. At lunchtime we had to dash round and get the two bedrooms ready for our guests, and John had to finish off the bathroom where he has replaced all the fittings. Our guests (two adults (Chinese) & two children from Kingston-on-Thames) arrived about 8.30 p.m. so it was down with the volume on the tv and tiptoeing around from then on so we didn't disturb them. When we buy our next house we are DEFINITELY going to make sure guest accommodation is not over/under our living accommodation.  Anyway, they seem really nice and don't want breakfast until 8 a.m. which is good - I hate early mornings.

Wednesday was another day in the office for me after sorting out the Chiangs' breakfast, and a stroll along the beach at St Aubin sur Mer (about 4-5 km from the house) before dinner, tv and bed.  What an exciting life we lead!



Eve in the French office



  

Don't know how much work John is doing,
given the computer program he's running.

It's now Thursday and the Chiang's have just left for the day, so we have 1 hr of peace and quiet before I start work - can't wait until someone buys our UK house and I can retire!







Oh well, the best of intentions

Hah, so much for keeping a diary - a 21-day diary (every 21 days, not every day for 21 . . . you know me!).  Well, you see, life got in the way and I must admit that after sitting at this computer for 7 hours a day Tues/Wed/Thur I tend not to sit here at the kitchen table in the evening as well.

Sounds like a good excuse to me.

But, at least I did finish the strimming of the 'lawn' (its green, but not with that much grass).

Life here in France just seems to go by without anyone noticing it.  We're almost halfway through our summer already.  So what have we done?  Looked after some guests, had a short holiday over in La Manche (Cherbourg peninsular) to see what the areas around there are like for potentially buying a new house. That's if we ever get our UK house sold. I don't think there have been any viewings since we came over here.  With the latest news from the US, it looks like it could be some time before we ever get it sold, so that makes it longer and longer that I will have to work to pay the mortgage.

Since I'm so far behind with this 'daily' diary I think I'll just start from here, and add the odd comment about the last 3 weeks as and when they seem appropriate.

So, what's a Sunday in Seine Maritime like?  Not that different from the UK actually - got up late, went to do some urgent shopping (almost out of milk) and had croissants.  That latter is not usual for the UK I hasten to add.  Visited an older English couple who live in the village - John and Mary - to invite them for dinner tomorrow night.  We've been very remiss and not been round much - not since the Repas Champetre which was held on the last day of the Festival du Lin at the beginning of the month. 

Now that's a good thing about rural France, there're lots of reasons to eat and drink with the neighbours over the summer period.  This part of the country is one of the leading producers of flax (Lin) and so the first festival of the season is the Festival du Lin on the first weekend.  The main river here is the Dun (hence the name of the village Le Bourg Dun - the town on the Dun) and all the main towns/villages along its route (all of 5 miles!) open the churches and halls to displays of linen, tapestries and other needlework. Here in Le Bourg Dun the population goes from about 100 to about 10,000 (well, maybe I exaggerate slightly, but that's what it feels like as they park outside our house, or up the road and walk down past our windows. On the Sunday there is a car boot sale in the village (Foire a tout) which is just like a UK one, full of tat, but it's French tat which makes it more interesting. At lunchtime we have the Repas Champetre on the green behind the bar which is where a couple of years ago I tried Adouillettes for the first and last time. There isn't much I don't like, but Andouillettes are at the top of the list - it's the way the intestines spring out of the centre of the sausage as you cut it, in a spiral. Not exactly appetising.

Since then I stick to the steak or sausage and chips, and of course the wine.  We usually meet lots of the locals there who all know us but we can't remember who they are. Well, there are more of them than us, if you see what I mean. It's quite sweet really, I am known as the Englishwoman who speaks French! Since there are several English families who have holiday homes in the village, it says something about how much we Brits take part in local life that the others don't figure at all. It's no wonder we get a bad reputation in areas like Brittany where there are lots of Brits who live in their own little world.

Other festivals due this year is a Kermesse 1st weekend in August (again an open-air meal but this time with tombola) followed by a Four a Pain the following weekend.  In the 'olden days' each village used to have either a communal brick oven, or the villagers would use the baker's oven when it was still warm. I think Bourg Dun had the former, and we still have the old oven in a field at the back of the village. Once a year they get it going again and have a fete - small stalls, games for the kids (free, mind you, this is rural France not England and so very child-friendly) and, you guessed, a barbecue. I remember being really embarrassed one year when a group of Brits who have a holiday house in the village turned up with their own food! Events like this help finance events around the village and it's just NOT DONE not to participate to the full.

So, back to today, we went round to invite John and Mary to dinner tomorrow night, before our next group of visitors arrive on Tuesday. Then got ready for an afternoon of tv - the German Grand Prix followed by the Tour de France. The Tour has been my saving grace over the last couple of weeks - it gave me something to do whilst I was doing all the ironing from the guest rooms. That's the one thing I hate about having guests(well, besides having to get up early to do breakfast for them) and that's ironing the bedding. I can understand why some B&B's charge a supplement for one-night stays.  Perhaps we might next year, it depends how desperate we are for money, and that totally depends on whether Incisive want to keep employing me if we can't sell the house.

That managed to keep us occupied until 6 p.m. when I thought I'd better get out and do some weeding in the garden. Oh, what a hard life we lead.

The first day

It's 12.17 p.m. or 11.17 a.m. depending on where you want to be, and I suppose it's about time I started work.  Well, today was going to be the end of the 'holiday' and the start of me getting organised.  That was the intention last night when I was going to bed at 10.30 p.m. to get a good night's sleep in readiness for 'getting on' with things today. I even had a list:

1. Finish strimming the 'lawn' which I left half-done 4 days ago
2. Finish cleaning the main guest bedroom and ensuite which I started 3 days ago
3. Clean the lounge, in particular the windows, which I was supposed to start 2 days ago

(hmm, methinks I espy a pattern here)

Anyway, that was before I dediced I'd just load the photo of me in the Mickey Mouse poncho onto Facebook, by which time there was a good program on tv which 'only' had 15 minutes to go, and then I had to play card on my PDA, then it was 12.15 a.m. and I was wide awake and just couldn't get to sleep.

We did wake up by 8.30 a.m. this morning, though, but that was before John decided to answer a query for the B&B and I had to play cards, and before we went down to the boulangerie for bread for breakfast, before making and eating breakfast and then I just had to play all the games on the computer.  Then I had this idea, you see.  Instead of trying to write really good stuff for this blog, and starting numerous pieces, but not finishing them before life overtook me, I'd write a diary.  So I just had to start it before I forgot.

So I'd better get out and do that strimming.  Oh, wait a minute, I think I just have to. . . . .

A Day at Queens

First there were two guys brushing the lawn, followed by another two with lawnmowers, close on whose heels cam the man repainting the white lines, culminating with the guy with giant hairdrying to dry off the lines. What fun for the first hour of our first ever trip to Queens. 

That's one of the upsides to moving away from England, one tends to do those things that you always say: "We must . . . ".  It didn't work on Saturday morning when jokingly John suggested a trip to the coast . . . we had too much work to do around the house/garden, though I was up for getting in the car immediately and going off.  Instead, after watching the men's tennis final at Roland Garros, I suggested we go to Queen's on Monday since we'd never been there before. 

Being organised, we pre-booked tickets, and woke up to pouring rain!  It was still raining slightly when we arrived at Baron's Court, but, luckily soon stopped.

We made a good choice of court - it truly reflected our current lifestyle.  The first match was between two Brits (Ward beat Cox for those of you who give a damn), followed by 2 francais.  So we didn't have to choose between our native and adopted countries (Arnaud Clement beat Benoit Paire)!

Being typically British weather, after the rain the sun came out and burnt us quite badly, then went away again and it got so cold we decided to leave.  Unfortunately, our plan to eat at Racine (a deluxe Bistro at South Kensington run by a chef we saw on Saturday Kitchen) was scuppered when we looked at the state of the restaurant (very posh) and the state of us (not posh at all), so we went home.  Why is it when there has been a stoppage on an underground line there are long gaps between trains?  If there are enough trains to run every 2-3 minutes, where do they all go after the stoppage?  There had been a broken down train at Oxford Circus, so we had to wait almost 20 minutes to get the tube we wanted.  Swings and roundabouts though, since we got to Tottenham Hale just 2 minutes before our train arrived rather than having to wait for 22 minutes!

To top and tail this anecdote, we also want to make sure we get to go to all the restaurants we have been meaning to for some time.  Since the Spanish restaurant was closed on a Monday, we were forced to have the meal out John had intended for my birthday but time had run out - the Lock Fyne Seafood Restaurant in Hertford. 

We also have decided NOT to count the money we spend on meals out until I don't have any work and we have to economise.  Unfortunately, my bathroom scales isn't into this not counting lark.  Oh well, there's Veeraswamy's on Wednesday too (if you don't know it, it was the first ever Indian restaurant in England).

Old friends

It has been a year so far for getting in touch with people we haven't seen for many, many years - or even never at all.  All thanks to the marvels of modern technology.

Starting at the end first, I took up a free trial on Ancestry.co.uk, and looked up my dad.  (Oh, must add that to the list of things I want to do when I retire - trace not only the UK side of the family, but also the German side if possible.  All I remember about the German side is mum saying they originally came from Prussia, and that she had a big photo/painting of her grandfather as a Hussar but she lost it on the 3-day ride of the back of a coal truck on the railway journey from Berlin to Kiel to escape the Russians who were going to be the first into Berlin).  Anyway, when I looked up my dad I found a family photo of him when he was a toddler, which I recognised as being in our family album (which my sister is now guardian of).  However it wasn't my sister that put it there - and hey presto, I find a relative I never knew I had.  Haven't worked out exactly what the relationship is yet, especially since I wasn't going to pay £100 for a membership to Ancestry and so can't access his first contact.

In addition, there was contact from an old friend from University - the only good thing that Linked-In has done in my view, and then a school friend via Friends ReUnited.  Finally, going to the 1st Thursday of the month pub meeting in London, who should be there but Dave Hodson, who we haven't seen for 20+ years!

So, there's contact after: 20 years, 35 years, 50+ years and never!  Not bad. 

In doing all the catching up with these people, it's made me think that it was time I wrote out my life story since no-one (apart from John and my sister) knows everything - so that will be my next entry.

Life Changing Experiences - Part 2

Just to be different and buck the normal trend, my second life-changing experience actually happened before the first.  Well, who wants to be predictable?

Back at the end of last November I had a little tumble.  I was just walking down the pathway by the side of the multi-storey car park in Welwyn Garden City having done some early Christmas shopping when my llife changed.  A bit dramatic you may say, but not from my point of view.  I tripped over the uneven pavement and most probably because my hands were full of shopping bags, I fell awkwardly and couldn't get up again.  My body just seemed to have stopped listening to me - especially my right arm.  I thought I was moving it to lever myself up, and it felt like I was, but nothing actually happened.  Yep, I'd broken my arm.  It was an incredibly weird experience, though, because my brain was telling my arm to move, and the muscles/nerves etc were doing their job and sending back a message to my brain to say 'Yes, the arm has been moved'.  However, when I used my eyes I could see nothing had happened.

This was a day for firsts - first time I've ever broken my arm, the first time I'd been the subject of a 999 call, the first time I'd taken that f*a*n*t*a*s*t*i*c gas and air mixture to dull the pain,the first time I've had to have my clothes cut off me and the first time I've been to the emergency ward of a hospital.  And after each of those 'first times' you can add 'and last' (apart from the gas, of course).

I'd broken my humerus - and as the kind ladies kept on saying as they were plastering me up "That's the worse bone in the body to break because gravity is constantly pulling it apart".  But at least I hadn't broken my shoulder.

After the first week they found that the bone was being moved sideways by the bottom plaster, so gave me just a small slab between my shoulder and elbow.  But that didn't work, the bone ends were still not meeting, so they took me into hospital for an operation to pin them together.  And this is where the life-changing experience really started.  I spent 4 days in hospital and they never did the operation.  Children and hips came before arm pinning, and though each night they put me on 'nil by mouth' in case there was a gap in the morning theatre schedule, everyone seemed to be breaking their hips that week.  The only day there was a gap, was the one day they'd moved me to another ward, and the new staff had given me breakfast so they couldn't operate.  That's life.  On a glass-half-empty note, I lost quite a lot of weight over those four days.

Anway, I spent three days in a general ward and that is an experience I would not recommend to anyone.  Since it was a trauma ward, it was mainly filled with old people who had had falls.  Firstly, I noticed that the majority were widows - I knew men had a shorter life expectancy, but this was physical proof.  All these lonely old women, and it would be even worse for me because we have no children.  I got very scared about being left on my own.  So, I made my first life-choices:

• I made John promise he wouldn't die before me.
• I promised myself I would not follow the usual south-of-England habit of being totally insular - wherever we eventually live in France you can bet we'll join all the clubs and societies we can and actually talk to the neighbours.

And then there were those patients who appeared to be suffering from Altzheimer's, and one patient definitely had some version of Tourette's.  This latter was a lady who would curse and swear as soon as any of the staff came anywhere near her, and her poor husband sat by her bed trying to placate her all day.  That scared me, I can tell you.  No way do I want John to have to suffer if that ever happens to me.  So I made him promise if I ever deteriorated in that way he'd put me in a home and get on with his life.  In fact, I'd rather commit suicide than end up like that. More than ever now, I wholeheartedly believe:

It's the quality not the quantity of life that matters

So from now on I'm going to make absolutely sure I get the quality right.  And that brings me full circle to my first post on life-choices.  All those things I have been meaning to do but not getting round to, and starting another chapter of my life over which I have total (virtually, not counting the lack of money!) control. 

So roll on tomorrow. . . life's going to be sooo good.

Life Changing Experiences - Part 1

Who is this suave man?

My first ever birthday cake

I'm 60 now - that's a life changing experience if ever there was one.  But not in a bad sense. I LOVE being 60, not least of all because it was a good excuse for a party, and a party important enough that many of my friends made the effort to come along, including ones I hadn't seen for 20+ years (yes, that's you Ann). 

What a great time we had.  It was slightly marred for me because I couldn't do my little 'turn' on the keyboards accompanied by John.  My broken arm just didn't heal quickly enough to allow me enough practice.  Still, it did get me back to playing again - there's always a silver lining.  And the band were as good as ever - even with Chris bashing away on the drums louder than ever!  He says you cannot change the volume with the drums, but he sure gets louder as the night wears on.

********

Unfortunately, due to the parsimonious government, turning 60 wasn't as lifechanging an occasion as I'd hoped. Thanks to sex equality (men and women should retire at the same age - and obviously not the lower age),  I don't actually get my pension until January 2012, so can't give up work until then, or we sell our UK house, whichever comes first.  Given the state of the property market I don't think we're going to be lucky enough to get a quick sale, so it looks like next year is the earliest I can retire.

However, since it's down to below 12 months, I can plan and that's most of the fun.  When everything slots in place it will be totally life-changing - we'll be living in France, and able to spend whole days 'pottering' around doing things we like and not feeling guilty.  My brother-in-law took early retirement and went on a course on how to prepare/cope.  The key thing I took from his description, was to make a list of all the things you want to do, but just don't have the time to do.  Then make sure you work your way through the list.  So far my list has been in my head, and several pages long, but now I'm actually going to put in down in black and white (and no doubt constantly add to it).  Here's a start as at 28 March 2011:

• Play the keyboards more proficiently
• Learn more about astronomy (possibly take a degree in it)
• Become more conversant with the formation of the universe - particularly the different theories about the Big Bang
• Actually read the books we have in the library
• Keep chickens and possibly pigs
• Definitely keep goats (think of all that goats cheese, and those goat curries!)
• Grow more food and herbs
• In particular, to have an orchard of English apples in France
• Make pickles & chutneys
• Grow olives and make up lots of flavoured olives
• Scan all my cooking recipes and put them into a database
• Scan all our photos
• Scan and save all the CDs
• Travel more in Europe

.... well, that's a start.  I think I'll continue at another time.

Going back to life-changing experiences, though, planning for a totally new life is really exciting, and I find myself just sitting in the chair grinning like a cheshire cat at time.  Just because we will have a blank sheet ready to write on anything we fancy.  Now that's EXCITING!