Summer Fete Preparations

Yesterday evening was the planning meeting for the Village Fete.

I arrived at 8.30pm at the village hall along with 8 or 9 other villagers my head bursting with lots of ways in which we could raise money.

We sat around a large rectangular table and a large Ordnance Survey plan was placed in the middle of the table. Now I was confused, I was about to explain White Elephant stalls, coconut shy and the rat in the drainpipe… When I stopped my own confused thoughts, I caught the end of the conversation.. the 15km, or maybe 18km walk round the village would start at 7.30am and this would be followed by a four course lunch and then a small fete would follow. An 18km walk..7.30am..Sunday morning !!... What happened to sitting around under big trees eating ice creams and watching a tug of war !!!.. I had got this fete lark seriously wrong.

As I listened, I slowly began to understand. The summer fete was for the people of the village, for everyone to enjoy and participate. All the activities would be free and the only charge would be 6 euros for the midday meal. It was not about raising money at all.

Intergration

I have just returned from our local shop / café / bar / post office.

This village shop is run by a husband and wife, in their fifties who make am excellent team and have always welcomed us since we arrived 6 years ago.

After all my letters had been weighed and stamped, the lunchtime baguette purchased I settled myself at the bar with a small cup of deliciously hot strong coffee. Not long after, a woman breezed into the shop giving Joelle four kisses, quite normal practice for close friends and family, but her husband received just a nod of the head, which to me seemed a bit odd. The woman and Joelle chatted for a while and after she left I asked why Yannik had received such a cool reception. They both laughed, and Yannik replied ‘Although I have lived here for thirty years, I’m a foreigner like you… my grandmother isn’t buried in the village cemetery !!’

Fête du Travail

The Fête du Travail (Labour day), the first of the Official holidays in May. This public holiday celebrates the social and economic achievements of the labour movement.

On May 1st, 1561, King Charles IX of France received a lily of the valley as a lucky charm. He decided to offer a lily of the valley each year to the ladies of the court.

It has now become the tradition on May 1^st to give lily of the valley to your friends and family as a symbol of springtime and to wish them happiness. It is said that whoever finds a lily of the valley with 13 small bells will be particularly lucky !

It is the only day one can sell flowers on the streets without official authorization and without having to pay tax !!

Bridge Days

Wonderful things, bridge days.

In France, there are 11 official national holidays every year and 5 of these fall in May !

In the UK if a public holiday falls on a weekend then the public holiday is taken on the following Monday. Not in France. If a public holiday falls on a weekend then it is lost.

However, the French aren’t going to be cheated!, if a bank holiday falls on a Thursday or a Tuesday, they don’t believe that it is really worth going to work on the Friday or Monday so they ‘faire le pont’ (make the bridge) to make a long weekend !!

Back to 2008

My pre historic experience has now come to an end.

By the end of the week, I was getting into the rhythm of it all and thinking less about my huge pile of ironing !!. For three days I have been in a forest clearing surrounded by megaliths (standing stones) breathing in the heady scents of spring and learning about pre historic life. In essence, nothing was rushed, the end result is all important, whether you are lighting a fire by striking two rocks together, making a pottery pot or grinding the grain.

It has been a great experience..

A cow in the lounge

I have received the email from M.Martin.

Our lounge as it was fifty years ago, the home to a herd of cows !!

Pre historic Life.

Four kilometres away are the standing stones of Monteneuf. These megaliths (standing stones) are awesome, and have caught the imagination of hundreds and hundreds of people who travel huge distances to see them each year. Because of these stones and the curiosity we have for Neolithic life, the Centre les Landes was set up to provide information about this era, the legends and the mystery which surrounds life at this time. In addition, the Centre les Landes also runs courses on the environment, working with nature, the eco systems, sculpture and ecologically sound farming methods.

This week they are running a course ‘Pre Historic Life’. Centre les Landes run courses such as this, totally free of charge, throughout the year and as I have always been mildly interested in early civilisation, so I enrolled myself on the course for three days. Today was the first day. I arrived at 10.00 am and was given a goats skin to sit on. We sat ( of course !) cross legged on our animal skins in a circle and watched a demonstration on how early pots and pottery ‘mugs’ were made. We were then given a handful of clay ….

This afternoon, jewellery making. We were soon crafting pieces of slate just as they would have done thousands of years ago only using another stone and water to mould our ‘jewels’.

Tomorrow we are constructing a fire to ‘cook’ our pottery pots and we are making galettes (savoury pancakes) in the afternoon.

Shopping Shopping Shopping

Everytime I return to the UK a whole day ( at least !!) is set aside for shopping !.

A whole day from 10.00am until 6.00pm is spend in one of the huge shopping centres that are littered across the UK. Although I love rural France, and one of its charms is that it does not boast the copious amounts of commercialism that we have in the UK , one of my greatest pleasures when I return to the UK to enjoy this pure raw commercialism.

I have tried to explain the wonderful concept of a Shopping Centres to my French friends but they either look at me blankly and wonder why one would want to spend the whole day under cover shopping in the 300 or so shops on offer, or they shudder with obvious displeasure at the very thought !!

Architecture

I am in Sussex for five days visiting friends and family.

This time I have noticed more than ever before the differing styles of housing architecture, Victorian, the boxy 60's style, the modern estates and more than ever before the small housing developments that are springing up everywhere, all with less than twelve houses so that the developers comply with the regulations and do not have to provide social housing within their developments.

For the first time I am seeing and appreciating the diversity of the many different housing styles we have in the UK. The warmness of the brick, the bay windows, the taller two and now sometimes three storey houses and the thought that goes in to the design to ensure that they are pleasing to the eye. This is in complete contrast to French housing, the cool stone or rendered finish, where the majority of housing is single storey or with a bedroom or two in the loft and above all the housing is practical and functional.. the aesthetics are usually an afterthought and comprise of a couple of window boxes !!.

Disappearing Bread

I make three loaves of bread a week, use one immediately and freeze the other two. Yesterday evening I took a loaf out of the freezer and left it on the table to defrost overnight for breakfast this morning.

This morning… something has eaten my bread !.. and it wasn’t a mouse. Living in a stone house in the middle of the country we do get a few mice from time to time, but a mouse couldn’t climb a table leg.

When my husband came down to breakfast, I was armed with a huge roll of duct tape sealing every hole and crack. The small holes in the plasterboard around the water pipe and waste pipes leading to and from the sink, washing machine and dishwasher. The fridge was in the middle of the kitchen, perhaps the creature was hiding behind the fridge. It is possible !!.

Why are men much more relaxed about sharing their homes and their food with mice and OTHER creatures and yet the very thought sends women into a frantic frenzy ?

Just to be sure that we are not ‘invaded’ again and to satisfy my curiosity, I have this morning bought a humane trap, baited it with some more home made bread and I have put it next to the largest hole, which I have left untapped. Now we wait…..

Tombola Prize ... a Pig ?

The next village event looming on the village calendar is the Plant and Flower sale on 1^st May.

Yesterday evening there was a meeting at the village hall to discuss what plants should be bought, from where, who should collect them and who could ‘man’ the stalls etc etc.

The Plant and Flower sale was soon organised and the discussion then turned to the summer fete, a whole day event on 29^th June. Activities are being planned for the whole day with of course the traditional three course lunch in the middle of the day. The conversation soon turned to the Tombola prize, what should it be this year a pig or a lamb ?.. A heated debate continued about the merits of both animals..how many kilos would a lamb be in June ?..

Just imagine if you won a real pig, what would you do with it ?..obviously not a concern for these women, all of whom have rural backgrounds and who see this prize as a considerable draw for miles around.

I don’t think I’ll be putting my name on my tombola tickets this year !!

Monsieur Martin

A knock at the door. As I open the door a couple in their sixties beam at me.

‘Bonjour’, they say, ‘Are you the owner of this house?, the man continues, I used to come here every summer as a child, the house used to belong to my Uncle, Monsieur Martin. We live in Cannes now but we are holidaying in Brittany at the moment. I wonder, could I take a photo of the engraved stone fireplace..I remember it surrounded by cows when I was about 6 years old.’

I explain that we bought the house from Monsieur Martin about 10 years ago and at that time our whole house was a cow shed with earth floors, no electrics or water.

I usher them both into our lounge, where he takes a photo of the stone fireplace (minus the cows this time !!) and he promises to send me a copy of the photo of him and the cows next to the fireplace.

Ten minutes later they have gone but promise to return again next time they visit Brittany.

Art exhibition

Everyone in the village received a formal invitation to the ‘Animaux’ exhibition, which was held this morning at 11.00am at the Marie.

Before anyone could get a glimpse of the pictures being exhibited, there were of course the usual speeches from the mayor, the artist, and from someone important from Vannes. Forty minutes later we all filed up the stairs to a small room above the Marie. The pictures were actually very good and they allowed your imagination to see more than was actually painted. I did feel very sorry for the artist as the pictures were hung in a long narrow room lit with fluorescent tubes with a huge table taking up virtually the whole of the room so your face was virtually pressed against the picture you were looking at.

However, the artist was incredibly genuine and kind. She spent at least 30 minutes answering the children’s questions, why do you paint animals, how did you paint that unicorn ?, how long did it take to paint that picture and so on..

We then enjoyed a cider with cassis in the warm April sunshine.

Parties - Jelly and Ice cream ?

Yesterday, the day of my daughters’ birthday party.

I had spent the last two days preparing for the ‘big event’ !!.. wrapping pass the parcels, devising treasure hunt clues ( and then translating them into French !!), drawing a particularly wonky donkey (without a tail) on a huge board etc etc

Then, there was the cake… she had chosen a space ship balancing on a launch pad.

The picture looked so easy.. when I had finished my ship looked as if it had lost a space battle !!.. leaning very precariously on its launch pad !!..

2.00pm and 10 seven year olds descended. The mothers all arrived, came in, and looked expectantly. My friend, and mother of two of the children, whispered, ‘They are waiting for a coffee and a cake’… Panic must have spread all over my face.. I hadn’t prepared anything for them.. I thought of the bright blue battle damage space ship..and quickly dismissed the thought as even a possibility. My friend seeing my terror, said, shall we have the party and perhaps have coffee later ?

The seven mothers left and the party commenced. Four hours later, the seven mothers returned. Thankfully the ‘launch pad’ part of the cake was still intact so ‘voila’, my cake.. but the liquorice allsorts ‘supports’ did raise a few eyebrows !!..

Poisson d'Avril

It is believed that the observation of April Fool’s Day began in France, after Charles IX changed the calender in 1564, and New Years Day was changed to 1^st January.

People who still celebrated New Year’s Day on April 1^st became the ‘butt’ of many jokes. They were called ‘Poisson d’Avril’ (April Fish) because at that time of year the sun was in the zodiac sign of Pisces, the fish.

As in England, it has become customary to play tricks on family and friends. French children fool their friends by taping a paper fish to their friends back. When the ‘young fool’ discovers this trick, the prankster yells ‘Poisson d’Avril.

Building your own house.

Buying a new house in England is relatively simple. You arrive at your local Barratts development, decide on the house you would like. After a visit to the on site show room the kitchen, curtains, carpets and floor tiles are chosen and within three months the house is yours.

The process in France is not quite so straightforward (or as quick !!). Generally, housing developers do not build houses and then sell them after they are built, most houses are build on demand to your exact specification.

The first stop is the local Marie, where you can see a plan of all the available building land in the commune. Usually all the services ( water, mains drainage and electricity) will already be at the site. You then choose your plot, and pay somewhere between 15 and 20 euros per metre squared.

The next task is to decide on a building contractor. Some have 40 or so houses that have all be approved by the relevant planning authorities. This is the easiest and cheapest way to get a new build, but beware any changes you want to the ‘standard’ plan will cost you dear !.

Alternatively there are lots of other companies willing to design and build bespoke houses to your exact requirements.

New build houses take between 12 – 18 months to build, it must be fun to watch each stage of your house being built.

The amount of building land now available is increasing annually ( much to the delight of the local farmers who are seeing their practically worthless and now largely unused fields dramatically increasing in value !!) and these new build houses are springing up everywhere so this idea of building your own home has definitely caught on !.

Taking out the rubbish

A new bin has arrived in our small commune.

Until Friday, we had one green topped bin for general rubbish, and one yellow bin for recycling. All glass and paper waste (i.e. newspapers and magazines) must be taken to the dark green and blue recycling bins in the village.

A couple more houses are now being inhabited permanently so now we have an extra green topped bin !.

It does take a little getting used to, to remember to take the rubbish to the bins at the end of the road and then to sort it by the roadside.. and there are no secrets !!.. everyone know what breakfast cereal you eat !!.

But be careful..to ONLY put the recycling rubbish in the yellow topped bin. Dustbin men in France have huge powers to humiliate those who abuse the recycling rules !!. I once put a crème fraiche tub in the recycling bin and on the way back from taking the children to school is was taped with red and white hazard stripped masking tape to the top of the bin for all to see !!.. I screeched to a halt, hoping I was the first to see my error. I tore the crème fraiche tub from the bin and put it in the green topped bin..

Why can’t crème fraiche tubs be recycled anyway ?

The Easter Bells

You would not not have heard any bells in France over the Easter weekend, not even the midday bells have been heard.

As I understand it..all the bells have gone to Rome and they return on Easter Sunday. As they fly over the gardens on their way back to their rightful bell towers they drop Easter eggs and chocolate rabbits and chickens in all the gardens across France, ringing as they leave.

This is the signal for all the children to dash outside and to search for the hidden chocolate goodies !!

Let it hail !

I have just returned from the Post Office ( not a Bank Holiday in France today !!).

I remarked to the man behind me in the queue, that the weather is positively dreadful today, wind, hail and rain with the very occasional burst of sunshine. It is like deepest winter.

He looked at me, amused. ‘Mais, non.’ he replied. ‘ It never hails in the winter, when we have hail the seasons are changing, now it is Spring’.

I left the Post Office smiling with the wind in my face and said out loud ‘Let it hail !!’

Kettle on the table

A curious thing. I have over the years visited a dozen or so French families for a coffee, or as is often the case a cup of tea. I am presented with a teabag, because I am English and the English drink copious amounts of tea. In my case this is true, I do drink a lot of tea, and I must confess I do still import vast quantities of PGTips.

However, I have never had a cup of tea made for me. I place the teabag in the cup and the kettle is brought to the table with a small bowl and a jar of honey. It is quite strange to see a kettle on the table, but in fact it is extremely practical as no one bats an eyelid when I reach for my second cup !!

French Lessons

I’ve just had the most disastrous French lesson. I don’t think I’ll ever master this ridiculous language !!.

When we arrived in France we naively thought that with a few lessons and after chatting to a few people a couple of times we would become fluent..oh, no,no,no.

I have been having weekly one to one French lessons for five years, and I set aside half an hour a day to try and improve my grasp on impossibly difficult language but progress is painfully slow.

Yesterday, Francois, my incredibly patient French teacher just put his head in his hands and quite correctly summed up the situation..’You have a lot of things mixed up in your head…!

As he left two hours later, probably thinking I was a lost cause, I turned and thought..thank goodness, next Monday is Easter Monday, so no French lesson for two weeks !!..

An hour later, Francois called, ‘You need to work on the Grammar, the Pronom and Les Possessifs in conjunction with the Passe Compose, Imperfect and both Future tenses. This can’t wait two weeks, can you make a lesson next Tuesday ?

Meeting the Bank Manager

Last Friday, we had a meeting with the Bank Manager to ask for a mortgage to help finance our latest project.

At 9.30am, he arrived. A very smart grey haired spectacled man in his fifties with very shiny black shoes. He opened the door next to the cashier, and we past the counting machines, a large safe and went up the stairs to his very sparse office overlooking the town square.

Do you have your papers he asked ?

I produced our birth certificates, marriage certificate (which seem to be required for everything in France) and last years tax return.

In return he slid a piece of paper across the desk which showed the amount we had asked to borrow and the monthly repayment amounts. Are you happy with this ?, he asked.

It all seemed pretty reasonable..an interest rate of 4.8 % can’t be bad, so we both nodded and soon his printer was churning out the mortgage contract and we were signing the still warm papers.

Disappearing Trees

The most common form of heating in rural Brittany is still by wood burning stoves, although this is slowly changing as now modern houses have electric or oil fired central heating.

However, wood is now becoming somewhat of a scarce commodity and over the last few years the price per chord is increasing to reflect the dwindling supply.

This year has been the first time, that I have noticed trees in vast quantities disappearing from the roadside and in fields that used to provide the cows some shade in the summer months as farmers try to keep up with the demand for this valuable heating source.

Free Plastic Bags.

A big debate in the UK. Should shops stop giving away copious amounts of plastic bags ?

In France, the supermarkets have never given away free carrier bags which although can be incredibly frustrating when you have a trolley full of shopping and then discover that you have left all your shopping bags in the boot of the car !!, it is a lot better for the environment.

It took me several months to consistently remember to take my own bags into the supermarket and on many occasions I have left the bags in the car..so have had to put the ‘loose’ shopping back in the trolley after I have paid for it and then pack it all into bags when I got back to the car. I often see this double or even triple handling of groceries in supermarket car parks so I can’t be the only one who forgets the bags !!

School Dinners

9.15am. The school cook phones in sick.. could I make the desert and be at the canteen by 10.30 with another mother to help prepare the starter and the main meal.

Aaaah..my recollection of school dinners are spam fritters and very lumpy rice pudding.

By 10.30am I had made 80 profiteroles..thankfully our guests in the gite next door had left at 9.00 so I was able to use two ovens !!..so armed with my still very warm choux pastries, the chantilly cream and chocolate sauce I made my way to the canteen.

The canteen kitchen has just a fridge, oven and a dishwasher, there is not a microwave or chip fryer to be seen.

Quiches were made, vegetables prepared, Chicken Cordon Bleus assembled and the tables laid.

By 12.00 we were ready. I was amazed how much these children ate.. quiche to start, then chicken and vegetables, then a choice of brie camembert or emmental, then an apple or banana (compulsory) and then two profiteroles.

At 1.15 the children were putting on their coats to walk back to school.

Once again, I felt extremely pleased to be involved and in the thick of it all…I do hope the school cook is better tomorrow !!

Depot Vente

A Depot Vente is basically a second hand shop. They are organised car boot sales.

How it works. The Depot Vente is usually a big shop which is open normal shop opening hours. Anyone who has something to sell, large or small from a settee to a necklace can take to a Depot Vente and they will sell it for you at the agreed price. The purchaser has to give a small commission to the shop owner. But it gets interesting.. every week the price of all the stock goes down by an agreed percentage. Dare you play the waiting game and see the price of your desired object reduce or will it be sold to somebody else

I love these treasure troves..usually there is just a lot of overpriced rubbish, but occasionally I have unearthed a real find.

To the doctors...

My son woke this morning with an alarmingly red ear which appeared to be to be weeping with some yellow / clear liquid.

At 9.00am we were waiting in the Doctors waiting room. Until last year, the majority of GP doctors worked on a waiting system. You arrived and waited your turn. Of course you are always guaranteed to see a doctor, but it just takes time !!. Last year new legislation decreed that all GP’s must have some consultations as ‘by appointment’ only. This hasn’t gone down very well with the doctors !!.

Most GP’s work on their own, our GP has two rooms in our local town, a small waiting room, about 10ft square with 10 chairs around the edge of the room and her consulting room which is slightly bigger. There are no receptionists or nurses, no automatic doors and no fancy décor.

At 10.40 am it’s our turn. I explain the problem. The doctor carries out a very thorough examination, we pay the 25 euros consultation fee and we leave with a perscription. He has a ear and eye infection and to clear up this horrible infection we have a bag full of medication. Twenty little tubes of what appears to be sterilised water, but when they get into contact with the infected area the water fizzes and becomes like expanding foam !!, eye cream, antiseptic spray and antibiotics.

The cheese course

So many mistakes have been made, many due to my ignorance of the French culture and customs.

It has taken me a long time to get the cheese course right. Initially, when we served the cheese course it comprised of a selection of cheeses bought from the local supermarket, a few savoury biscuits and some grapes. I was always surprised when our cheese board was barely touched. The French are supposed to love cheese aren’t they ?

How much I have learnt. There is no comparison between the soapy supermarket brie and the real stuff bought from a dodgy van at the local market. The French never eat biscuits and grapes with their cheese, only a lightly dressed green salad and don’t try and sneak in any tomatoes, cucumbers or peppers. They will be left at the bottom of the bowl !!

Year End Tax Returns

The French financial year runs from 1st January until 31st December.

Over the last couple of weeks I have frantically getting all of our accounts ready for the accountant. Spreadsheet after spreadsheet has been compiled, the quarterly TVA (VAT) returns have been checked and double checked and finally a box of 6 lever arch files waits at the front door.

The day has arrived for my meeting with the accountant.

I drive for 45 minutes and arrive at their offices, a chateau (!!) with a sweeping gravel drive and immaculate lawns. I am ten minutes early. I try to look dignified as I struggle with the big bulky box whilst trying to open the incredibly wide front door.

As I wait, perched on a faded yellow velvet upholstered dining chair just inside the front door I start to panic about my French, will I cope with the technical terms.. The photocopiers whirls under the majestic staircase. At last I hear a clattering of heels on the black and white chequered tiled floor.

‘Bonjour’ says an immaculately dressed woman as she smiles at my box of files.

Thankfully she spoke very good English, and I was able to pull out all relevant depreciation, turnover and outgoings schedules.

I left two hours later feeling much more light hearted !

Loose wine

A neighbour has just had a delivery of loose wine. The lorry arrives about this time every year to deliver a box of the chosen wine. This year Arnauld has chosen a red Bordeaux wine. The box contains 40 bottles and Arnauld has spent all day cleaning the bottles, bottling the wine, corking it and then labelling it.. He was too embarrassed to allow me to take a photo of him at work, but I did manage to get a photo of the box !!..

Most houses still have a ‘cave’ (cellar) and Arnauld said rather sagely, as he stood back and admired his replenished cave, that a Frenchman is only worth his salt if he has at least 100 bottles of wine in his cave.

Suppositories

This is one subject that the French are quite relaxed about and the English conversely get very hot under the collar whenever suppositories are mentioned.

After a trip to the pharmacy I am convinced that there is a suppository for every ailment. Initially, I wanted some paracetamol and naturally I was given it in the suppository form. I asked if there was a tablet version.
‘But why’, the pharmacist asked,’ the suppositories work a lot quicker’.
This, I do not doubt, but could I please have paracetamol in a tablet form.

There is a farmer who lives on the outskirts of the village, whom I am told has never been ill and the reason for this is his daily garlic clove suppository !!

A baby is born

A baby has just been born. Quite an event in a village that records more deaths than births every year.

Today we received the announcement card. Wow, not a WHSmith pack of ten cards upon which you scribble the name and weight of the newborn for the French !.
This exquisite card slowly unfolds to reveal all the important details of this precious new life.

The cards are all hand made and are so well thought out, even the stamp is a photo of the tiny baby.

Crepes v Pancakes

I have often been asked to make some crepes for various village events. In the past I have always sidestepped this request and arrived with a cake or apple pie. The pressure to attempt to make one of the regional dishes has always been too great.

However, the time has come to master the crepe !.. I can make pancakes with ease, are they that different ?.

I buy a special crepe pan and then consult an elderly woman in the village who has the reputation of making the best crepes for miles !!. She kindly gives me the recipe and I am away, we have been eating crepes all week !!

Crepe Recipe

4 eggs
250g flour
¾ litre milk
75g sugar
sachet of vanilla sugar
2 soup spoons of oil.

Understanding Priorities

Yesterday evening, 19.45. We had just finished eating and everything plunged into darkness. I was not unduly alarmed as power cuts are not uncommon, but the weather hadn’t been at all windy. I stumbled outside to see if our neighbours were also in darkness, but no, their windows all shone brightly. We couldn’t even blame the dishwasher, as this is still being repaired !!..

Whilst I fumbled under the stairs desperately trying to find some candles, Mark examined the fuse box. The fuse box was fine, but there was no power entering the box. An EDF problem.

At 2 minutes to 8, we called the EDF breakdown number, not expecting anyone to answer. But someone did answer, he took all the details and within 15 minutes a blue EDF van was parked outside our house. How did they do that..we live 20 minutes from the nearest town.. incredible !!

The electrician soon detected the problem and in the pitch darkness was climbing up the telegraph pole to replace the defective cable. At 9.00pm power was restored.

This country never ceases to amaze me. Yesterday evening the speed and efficiency in which our power was restored was amazing, and I have noticed this before, in emergency situations the French move very rapidly and resolve problems with minimal fuss. However, the lesser important things in life (my dishwasher !!) take months to repair.

Maybe, they have got it right. We assume that everything should be treated as urgent and important, but that simply is not the case.

Worthless Guarantees

Our dishwasher has been complaining for several months now, refusing to work, shorting the whole electricity supply to the house and being generally temperamental. A month ago it just refused to wash another dish and took all of the electricity down with it.

Not to worry, I had the foresight to buy, something which I have never done before, an extended five year warranty. So whilst I set about, trying to find this warranty, Mark muttered that it probably wouldn’t be worth anything anyway.

Over the years we have bought lots of goods with guarantees from kettles and hairdryers to televisions and power tools to ride on mowers. Each time such a purchase was made we were proudly presented with the guarantee just in case anything should go wrong.

There have been several instances where things have gone wrong, so we have taken the item, the receipt and the guarantee back to the shop and in every case we have been told. ‘Yes, we will repair this, but you will have to pay for its carriage to some unknown town in Southern France, and it will take several weeks to repair’.

As you can imagine the carriage for a sit on mower was almost as much as the mower itself..so we just paid for the repair, and surprisingly the repair was complete after a couple of days !!.. Hence, Marks’ scepticism about my extended warranty.

The shop confirmed that my dishwasher was covered by the warranty and as I had paid extra for the extended warranty there were no carriage costs to pay BUT the repair would take several months as there is a backlog of repairs !!!..

New House

The paint is barely dry in La Maison Verte and we have, this evening signed the Compromise de Vente (Agreement to Buy document) for a new house.

This house has the usual problems no electrics, no heating, no drainage and minimal plumbing, but at least there is a floor !!. The main problem for me is that the house faces the wrong way, but Mark argues that this gives the house character, maybe he is right.

We arrived at the estate agents’ office at 6.30pm. A young woman, in her late 20’s started this agency a year or so ago and we have been very impressed with her enthusiasm and tenacious approach.

Her office is in a tiny village, so she benefits from very little passing traffic but with her positive and dynamic approach she seems to be doing well in spite of the sluggish market and I really hope that all her hard work pays off .

We sit on black leather chairs and I count 7 cats. Marks’ nose begins to twitch, he is terribly allergic to cats.

We painstakingly go through the 18 page document, ‘ Et voila’, she says triumphantly as we reach the last page.

‘We have a couple of clause suspensives’, I say

These are not often mentioned in the ‘Buying a House in France’ books, but over the years we have learnt that you can put reasonable clauses in the contract and if these aren’t complied with the purchaser can walk away from the sale with his 10% deposit. A very valuable weapon.

We are concerned about the soil quality, will it support a standard septic tank ?, and we want to ensure that there are no land registry problems. We have encountered both of these issues before !!

The Clause suspensives are inserted, we sign, we hand over the 10 % deposit.

We are then asked about our mortgage, ‘who do you bank with ?’

‘Credit Agricole’. I reply.

‘Ah’, the estate agent says as she writes, ‘I will call M. Dubois tomorrow to get the details, and the house insurance when the sale goes through, who will you use ?

‘MMA’, I reply

Not looking up, she continues ‘I’ll advise your broker, M.Pellac of the purchase’.

I smile, the Data Protection Act hasn’t reached us yet, and it is strangely comforting.

Mardi Gras

The day of the Carnival. All dressed up young and old, we met at the Marie at 4.00pm.
It rained and showed no sign of stopping so undeterred we began our tour of the village. The Marie led, with a cassette player held above his head playing some jolly music and we followed, carefully sidestepping the puddles. Thankfully our village is a small one and soon we arrived at the village hall, all very wet. The make up that had been carefully applied a couple of hours earlier was now running uncontrollably and the knight’s cardboard horse now very sodden was propped wearily against the wall.

Soon the rain was forgotten as we devoured the mountains of crepes that the were waiting for us.

Sunday Lunch.

We have, over the last four years made some very good French friends. This has taken a lot of hard work, but thankfully we are not reaching for the dictionary quite as much as we did in the early days !!.

Sunday lunch is a popular time for the French to meet with friends and family, so yesterday we meet one family for lunch. This always sends me into a blind panic as so much emphasis is placed on good food, what shall we eat, which Bordeaux year is OK and what cheese do you serve.

Lunch thankfully was a success with bread being used to wipe the plates..then the bombshell, 'Nicole, will you be godmother to our new baby ?'

Unexpected demolition

We have been advised that we can now connect to the mains drainage at La Maison Verte. Fantastic.. just the news we had been waiting for. Mark arranged for the man with the JCB to come and dig the various trenches to connect us to the commune’s drains. The day came and by 11.30..still no JCB. We were not unduly concerned as artisans often turn up one or two weeks later than when they agree too. However, we gave him a call.. ‘ I am at chez vous (your place)’, he replied, a little indignantly.

We looked around the garden..we couldn’t see a JCB.. ‘I’ve just knocked down the garage’ he continued.

He had rather efficiently demolished a new garage at our house in the next village…

Folded napkins

Once or twice a year our children have their lunch at the school canteen. Today is one of those days. Just as we are about to leave laden down with school bags, sport bags and library books, my 6 year old daughter asks..’Do we have napkins ?’.

‘Would a piece of kitchen roll be OK’, I ask hopefully.

She shuffles her feet. ‘ All the other children have napkins.’ She mutters.

I race to the linen cupboard and eventually emerge triumphantly with two napkins. She gives me a watery smile. ‘What’s wrong ?’ I ask.

‘Well, they aren’t ironed, all the other children have nice folded napkins, and some even have a wooden ring.’ I return, now feeling rather desperate to the linen cupboard. ‘ I am sure Grandma ironed some napkins when she was here’, she adds helpfully.

At last, right at the bottom of the cupboard I find two crisply ironed napkins.

My daughter looks relieved and I bundle them quickly in the car, before she asks if we have any wooden rings to go round the napkins !!..

Don't crash with your Partner !

Mark and I have crashed both of our cars today ..We crashed into each other !!. Tight bend, icy road and what a noise of crashing metal.

Photo’s were taken to the insurance brokers and we were told that only one car was covered as under French insurance law when a husband and wife are involved in the same accident only one car is covered.

So the moral of the story is don’t crash with your Partner !!

La Maison Verte

Out latest gite, La Maison Verte is now finished !!
Mark has transformed the dingy earth floored 'house' with no electricity and water into a lovely house. Yesterday evening I caught him looking browsing the internet for another wreck ..ah, he said, I've put an offer in on this one..what do you think !!

Beef Bourguignon

The next event on the Village calendar is the Boeuf Bourguignon evening. A meeting was held at the village hall yesterday evening to discuss practicalities.. the starter, eventually pate and beetroot was agreed upon, then the Beef Bourguignon, cheese of course and then a selection of cold deserts.

Cutlery seemed to cause the most discussion. Should guests be asked to bring their own knife and fork, thus reducing the amount of washing up ? A long debate followed and I’m not quite sure if a conclusion was reached.

Then, the thorny question.. what time should the starter be served ?. Again, two very different schools of thought emerged. One opinion was that aperitifs would be served from 7.30 until 8.00 and then everyone sits down and the meal starts at 8.00pm. One woman looked in horror at this proposal, ‘But all the guests may not have arrived by 8.00, and it is terribly rude to start eating before everyone is seated’.

We probably won’t start eating until 10.00pm and it could be a messy affair if there are no forks !!

Cups and wardrobes

If you look carefully in the corner of many, if not all, French restaurants you will see a large wardrobe. I’ve always been curious as to what could possibly be kept in these wardrobes, surely not clothes. Over the years, I have seen waitresses approach these wardrobes, and inside I now know is where they keep the cutlery and crockery. Mystery solved. I have visited several French homes and some kitchens also have wardrobes to store crockery, but it is more common for the French to store their mugs and plates in a chest of drawers. There are even specially adapted chests of drawers to house shoes and wellingtons. I am now wondering where they keep their clothes….

Galettes and Cider

A tradition. The mother with the oldest child in the school invites all the other mothers, that aren’t working, to her house one afternoon in January to share a Galette des Rois. This year was my first time to one of these events. Do I need to take anything, I asked a friend.. ‘We usually all take a bottle of cider, a sweet cider not a dry one’ she replied.

That afternoon was yesterday, and I along with ten other mothers arrived at Chez Veroniques’ at 1.30. We sat round the huge kitchen table that is present in every French kitchen, and then started my toughest test yet in the French language !!.. Ten women, all talking very rapidly recounting stories and gossip. Much concern was voiced about a little boy, whose family who have chickens living in their kitchen, who has been expelled from the school in the neighbouring village and he starts our school next week. Another mother, is having problems with her dog, who keeps taking her neighbours underwear from her washing line..unfortunately one of the women misheard and thought her husband was taking the underwear…

Three hours quickly passed, the Galette des Rois eaten, the cider drunk and once again I was grateful to experience a little more of the French culture and slowly, very slowly, I am being accepted.

Checking your ditches

7.30am. Darkness, complete darkness..there is no light at night only that given by the moon and stars, but this morning the cloud cover provided no such light. The rain and the wind have been unrelenting for three days now, many local rivers have burst their banks, roads are flooded and fields have become huge ponds. It must have been the wind banging the shutters. But no, again, there was a knock at the door, this time it was harder and louder.

It was Bernard, the commune gardener and his green tractor with its flashing yellow light. ‘Can I speak to your husband,’ he asks. Mark, gives his freshly laid poached eggs a backward glance and disappears into the rain, wind and darkness with Bernard.

Eventually they return, Coffee, I ask. Bernard declines..too busy he says. In this weather, I reply.

‘Why yes, these weather conditions are perfect for checking that all the ditches and drains are working properly’ he says as he smiles, waves and disappears in the green tractor with the yellow light flashing impatiently.

A Midday Lunch ?

The church bell rings at midday, and we all stop for lunch. Everyone stops for lunch at midday. There are no staggered lunch breaks. Offices and shops close for two hours at midday for lunch.

This part of the French culture has crept up on me over the last four years, and at first I struggled and even fought against having lunch at the same time as everyone else. I would make my husband a packed lunch, even though he worked only 20 minutes away, and I would sometimes eat my lunch at 11.30, and sometimes at 2.00pm but NEVER at midday. But slowly it has taken hold of me and now I positively enjoy our family lunches.

My husband now always comes home from work and our children from school at midday and when the church bell rings we, like everyone else have a proper hot meal. Now, I would feel cheated if I had to hurry my way through a Pret a Manger sandwich at my desk !!

Fascination for Fish

Having so enjoyed the fresh Oysters a couple of days ago, it has become increasingly apparent that fish is a very important part of the Breton diet.

The fish counters are usually stand alone and are regularly situated at the front of the supermarket, so as soon as you escape from the revolving doors you are propelled towards a marvellous array of fresh fish.

The salty smell of the sea is ever present and who can resist a kilo of large fresh prawns for 5 euros ?

Pick your own Oysters ....for free !!

Yesterday was fabulous day. Blue sky, bright sunshine and a slight breeze. A perfect day for a trip to the coast. We arrived just as the tide was going out..and the car park was almost full. Along with everyone else we changed into our wellies, put on coats, hats and scarves. I looked around..everyone had buckets and strange metal claw like tools. We had no such tools, but thankfully we did have buckets…so we followed the ever increasing throng of beachcombers with our buckets.

They were all heading for the emerging rock pools and as we watched the buckets soon became filled with oysters and mussels. The claw like tools were used to prise the mussels from the rocks. So we too filled our buckets with the lovely fresh oysters.

After a very enjoyable morning we were soon back home and having oysters for lunch !!

Is the Mayor really necessary ?

The village annual newsletter (La vie commumnal) has just been hand delivered by the Marie’s deputy. Each year we receive a newsletter (small book !!) which details everything that has been achieved by the commune (the Marie !!) and a summary of the commune’s expenditure, right down to how many envelopes have been purchased !!.

Our Marie is up for re-election in 2008, so this years’ newsletter is even longer and more upbeat than usual, but to be fair he has achieved a great deal in the last 4 years. It is a small commune, of 300 people, and this supports a Marie, two deputies, a secretary and a small school.

The Marie is very proactive, he has changed the circulation of a very major road which runs through the middle of the village, by introducing a huge roundabout which has successfully slowed down the traffic, introduced mains drainage to the houses in the centre of the village and released significant chunks of commune land for housing.

As well as organising and co-ordinating these major projects, the Marie is responsible for settling minor disagreements between rivalling families which have been rumbling on for generations, land disputes (of which there are numerous !!) and all other feuds that exist in a small community.

Not a job for the weak hearted and I hope that he is successful in becoming re-elected later this year.

A health book....for a dog ?

Tess, our dog has been to see the vet. The vetinary clinic is in a very smart modern building, not a place you feel comfortable taking a sick dog.. as I sit in the waiting room searching for some evidence of animal hair on the highly polished floor I caught myself wondering if I had a plastic bag, should Tess be sick.. and if she were, would she oblige and be sick in a bag…

I am being called to Consulting Room 3. The vet weighs Tess, looks at her teeth, all the usual things and then asks to see her Carnet de Sante (health book).

‘A health book for the dog’, I repeat incredulously.. ‘I have such books for my children but for the dog, No’.

‘Then, you must have one’ says the vet, and Tess now has her own Carnet de Sante !!..

Galette des Rois

The Galette des Rois (Kings cake) is one of my favourite French traditions. The Galette des Rois is a scrumptious cake of puff pastry stuffed with frangipane, where only refined almond powder is used.

Inside of the Galette is placed a small ‘feve’, the prize, which usually is a small ceramic figurine which I am amazed is still permitted as these could easily be swallowed or at the very least break a tooth !!..

The tradition.

1.Gather family and friends around a table.

2.The youngest person then crawls under the table.

3.The oldest (or the most honest !!) person then acts as distributor.

4.The distributor then cuts the galette into slices and the person under the table nominates who should be served each slice.

5.The person who finds the ‘feve’ is the King and wears the crown !!

Although traditionally this cake is eaten on 6th January, I usually start eating them on Boxing day!!.. Our local boulangerie has this year introduced a scheme, whereby if you buy 5 Galettes des Rois before 6th January you can have a free one, so I can't be the only one who adores these cakes !!