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.