Spring 2010

It's 26 as I sit here, expected to be 29 here tomorrow, hottest place in France, "temperature estivale" as the weather woman puts it. But, it's going to break on Friday, and stay broken for a week or more. Suits me as I'm about to plant out marigolds, and go on holidays.

I'm still struggling with the garden, and the 4-week drought doesn't make it any easier, nor the fact that I injured my left elbow removing a headrest, resulting in "golfer's elbow" in someone who detests golf!

Yesterday, for the first time in a month, I went out on my bike to try out the partly-healed elbow. As I exited the town, I noticed, to my astonishment, two men carrying a cow along the side of a field. Strong men, the French, I thought, or very light cows. On closer observation, it was, of course, a replica, fabriqué en plastique, but looking, for all the world, like a Friesian. They make them right there, along with garden sheds etc. Didn't we have a herd (troupeau?) of these in Dublin a few years ago, before the graffiti merchants put paid to the experiment? Didn't they write something on one in Phoenix Park about it being better looking than the vache who was president at the time, Mary Robinson?? Am I making all this up?

Easter is big stuff in France. I go to church an odd time, and, usually, it's not difficult to find a seat. But, on Palm Sunday, or on Easter Sunday, unless you arrive a half hour early, no seats will be available. They all turn out, and they dress up like it was midnight Mass at Christmas in Ireland. Also, on Palm Sunday, they bring half the garden to church. None of your cypress rubbish, but enormous lumps of various kinds of shrubbery. The main one seems to be a version of privet, but, the "official party" carried date palm fronds ten feet high. In every town in France, as you enter it, there is a blue sign telling you what time Sunday Masses are at. (This is despite the fact that the church was one of the targets of the Revolution, and has, since then, been treated badly by the state). The only exception that I have ever seen is Bergerac. As you enter Bergerac from the Bordeaux side, there is a blue sign saying "Culte Protestante, 10:30 Place Cayla". This is protestant territory. (Imagine calling it a cult?!). The 100 years war featured strongly in this region, followed by the wars of religion, with many "events" between protestants and catholics, the outcome often determined by who was in charge in England, and the throne also rotated between the two "cults". There are many landmarks to this era, including the covered market, which was built on the ruins of a protestant church which the English forces destroyed. There is , also, at the south side of the older bridge in Bergerac, the foundations of a drawbridge, which the catholics used to pull up, to stop their north-side based protestants from crossing to murder them. I now live, in perfect safety and harmony, on the north side of the Dordogne!

One of the features of the church here is the music, which is terrible. And, to make sure you get full value, there is always a person at a microphone to direct affairs. It's usually a woman, and a few tough-looking cookies occupy this position, but, for Easter, a bald man was recruited. He arrived in jeans and shirt-sleeves, and set about it like a day's work. It took me a while to realise that he was the image of Christy Ring. (Cloyne? Cork? Hurling??). And, the little old prêtre was a cross between Willy Nelson and Padre Pio, with a funny little Jewish-looking skullcap. It takes all kinds, and we have most of them in Bergerac.

I need  haircut before my trip to Dublin. Should I ring NAMA?? How about a pension "top-up"? Only asking.

There's a big row here at the moment about polygamy. They've discovered a man, a muslim naturally, living in Nantes, with four wives and twelve children. What bothers the French most about this, is that he lives, in his two houses, entirely at the state's expense, and has never worked a day in his life. He gets "l'alloc" (short for "allocations familiales"), pretty much seen as a government premium for having twelve "gosses". And, by coincidence, they've just banned the "voile intégral" or burqua, in public, which makes all women look more or less the same. So, as long as only one wife "appears" at a time, nobody can tell that you have more than one! Anyone appearing with a covered-up face now faces an on-the-spot fine of 22 euro, the same as the amount that you pay to see a GP! (Except they've just increased that to 23!). So, he can't hide them away any more. Anyhow, the "victim" of this witch-hunt, who does not appear to be telling the whole truth, is called Monsieur Lies! It's like an april fool story. Some of the muslims interviewed wanted to know what was the difference between having a few wives and the other French custom (which I'm considering) of having a mistress or two!! C'est la vie!

Today, farmers are driving 1600 tractors into the centre of Paris to protest against low prices for their products. there are threats that they will dump "fumier" (a nice word for "dung") there, but no sign of that so far.

But, the vineyards are looking better, with a few leaves on each plant, and blossoms on the apple orchards. Summer flowers are in blooming in the garden, so things are looking up. Figs are formed on the figuier, and I might even get a few nectarines.

High Summer 2009

It's often so hot at night that we leave a window open in the bedroom, covered, of course, by a mosquito net. So, all kinds of noises come in during the night, including ambulances, trains and church bells. But there are also wildlife noises, including at least one owl, which the experts say is a tawny owl. One other sound puzzled me, for a few nights. Eventually, I realised that it was the frogs in the Dordogne river, about 100 metres distant, croaking away like the Frogs of Aristophanes. I first heard them when camping four years ago, just before we bought the hovel.

Early last summer, the French classes, with the English classes, had a lunch in a restaurant near Issigeac, and we sat with a Frenchman, Jean-Claude, who spoke a little English but a lot of French. After discussing the relative merits of the Irish and French economic models, I discovered that he was a cyclist, and that I had regularly traversed a road near to where he lived. Then, it dawned on both of us that we had met briefly on that road, about six months previously. He and a friend had come out from a side-road, and I had spoken briefly to Jean-Claude, before they disappeared down another side-road. So, I wrote down his phone number, so that I could phone him and arrange joint bike-rides. Naturally, I lost the piece of paper before I could use it. This year, just last month, the same criminal gang had another outing, a picnic in a big barn this time, and there was Jean-Claude again. This time I took his number, and he also took mine. I rang him a few days later and arranged to meet in St. Aubin on Sunday morning. After 20k or so, we met a cyclist going in the opposite direction, whom Jean-Claude stopped to speak to. He wanted to introduce him to me. I realised immediately that I already knew him better than I know Jean-Claude. He was Rene from my walking group. He is also the friend that was with Jean Claude when we met briefly a year and a half earlier! Even France is small. So, the three of us now go out regularly, once or twice a week. It's somewhat limited by the fact that Jean-Claude has a business in Pau, 220 km away, where he spends three days a week, usually driving up and down on the same day. They bring me on all kinds of routes, through farmyards, vineyards and along river and canal banks, roads that I would never have discovered on my own. Jean-Claude is determined to learn English, so half the ride is spent teaching him how to pronounce difficult phrases (for a Frenchman) like “daughter-in-law”. He says a sentence in French first, so I'll know what it's about, then in English and asks me to correct it, while speeding down a hill at 30 miles an hour! It does give me a chance to practice French conversation, as does the walking group.

The walking group meets every Tuesday morning at 08:30 (except for the trip to Bordeaux, when the time was 07:00), at a pre-announced venue, and we walk for about two and a half hours, over all kinds of terrain. This includes country lanes, roads, and forest trails, some of which can be rough and muddy, especially in winter. Walks proceed in all weathers, snow and thunder included. There are around 20 members, only 4 of whom are not native French speakers (one Irish, one Dutch, one English and one Belgian). So, all conversation is in French. Sometimes I have to stop some of them in mid-conversation, to find out what all the laughter is about. On one occasion, it was about some unfortunate who found himself with a sudden onset of the QSs, while riding a scooter. I was sorry I asked! They called it “une grosse betise”. But, I'm trying hard to understand spoken French, and it's not easy!

Last Monday, 13^th July, we had the father and mother of all thunderstorms. The temperature had been in the high 30s in the afternoon, which is often the signal for fireworks. For the whole night (the fun started about 11 at night) it was difficult to sleep, what with the heat, the thunder, the roar of the rain (about 3 inches fell) and the blinding flashes from many directions. It seemed very close at times, and it was. Five houses in Monbazillac, only a few miles away, were hit and burned. It made headlines on the national news on Tuesday. Of course, by lunch time on Tuesday, the weather had recovered, and we could hear them testing the sound system for the Bastille Day fireworks later in the evening. Sure enough, the fireworks went ahead, and were quite spectacular. They fire them from an island in the Dordogne, near the town centre, and begin at 10:30, just when it gets dark. Huge crowds turn up, dragging folding chairs, mistresses, picnic baskets, children, go-cars etc. etc. It's a national holiday here with everything closed. And, when it falls on Tuesday, many people and organisations take the Monday as well “pour faire le pont” (as Agnes would say). So, it's been a long weekend.

The temperature just now is 36, with serious thunder warnings for tonight, a repeat of Monday, when we had no such warnings. Pompiers are on standby throughout more than half of France!

Late winter 2008

I'm back here a week today, and still awaiting the first cloud. It's cold at night, ice on the pool this morning, but, in the afternoon,

it is warm enough to sit in the sun for several hours.

Two days ago, I got an email from Revenue, to say that the reason that I couldn't acess their ROS service for PAYE was that my employer had a fada in its name!

If you don't believe me, I'll forward the email. (Forfas does have a fada!).

Yesterday, I got a phone call to say that the problem had been solved.

My hovel in Dublin 15 is up for sale. Any offers? I hope to sell and buy an apartment for ease of maintenance from a distance. But, very traumatic all the same.

I brought my camper to the repair-man this afternoon, having waited 5 months for the German manufacturer to provide the necessary parts. No wonder they were runners-up in so

many world wars and world cups. The camper/caravan shop is a father and daughter outfit in a village called St. Nexans. I went there first in September, and he said he could do nothing before November, as he

was due to have one of his knees replaced! He appears to have survived this event.

A builder is arriving tomorrow morning to put "proper" doors on the garage. Doors that can be closed, and will keep out the draught, frost, heat, cats etc. It's not a garage any more,

and, maybe, has never been, so it could do with doors.

I sowed grass seed in late November, before repairing to Dublin for Christmas. It is not the recommended method of seedng a lawn, but there is grass sprouting now in the very place where the lawn is supposed to be. I also have some spring bulbs to look at, but, otherwise it's "wait for spring". But, I'm still planting shrubs. I find it hard to pass a garden centre without buying something.

November 2007

This time I include a link to some pictures, mostly taken this morning, to give a feel for Bergerac in a wintry setting. Every Wednesday and Saturday, from early morning, there is a steady stream of "oul wans" walking towards the centre, wheeling their empty trollies. They all converge on the market stalls, grouped mostly around the giant Notre Dame church which dominates the Bergerac streetscape. You can buy almost anything there, especially fruit and vegetables, much of which is exhibited by the actual growers. I spotted at least three vegetables this morning which I did not recognise; I wrote down the name of one of them for later dictionary perusal. Topinambour, that's what it's called! ( Helianthus tuberosus for the classicists!). Looks like ginger root on a bad day. I think it's known as the Jerusalem Artichoke, and makes great soup when mixed with potatoes. But, I never saw it before. Another one looked like a bunch of dandelion roots (known as pis-en-lits) and maybe that's what they were.

This area is full of fortified towns or "bastides", which were built in the 1300s mostly for easy defence. Part of the technique la in joining all the buildings together, so the enemy couldn't sneak up on you using a short-cut.  We visited one recently, about 20k from here, called Issigeac. You can look at the website (http://www.issigeac.fr/) where you will see that it's built in a circle. The strange contradiction is that, despite its shape, it doesn't have a centre! Anyhow, we had lunch there, and survived. It has two big buildings; one that used to house the bishop of Sarlat (was he that big?!). The other is the church of St. Felicen, and is the coldest building that I have ever set foot in.

I'm not sure if the bastides played a part in the wars between the Catholics and Protestants, which were big stuff in this area, at one time. Bergerac was a predominantly Protestant town. It is still the only French town that I have ever seen that has a sign for Protestant service at the speed limit "Ballybofey go mall slow" warning. All others have the Mass times, but here it says "Culte Protestant, Service Dimanche 10:30 Place Le Cayla". I'm not sure my friends in Donegal would like to be referred to as a "cult". Could be worse, of course. I understand that we live on the Protestant side of the river. At the other side of the old bridge (there is also a "new bridge") there is still the foundation of a fortification that was capable of being closed, to prevent the Protestants crossing the bridge and wiping out the Catholics!

Anyway, Christmas is coming. They have been erecting lights and trees for the past two months, but none of them have been turned on yet. I think Saturday is the day for the switch-on. There are daily announcements on radio (insofar as I can understand them!) of planned appearances by Pere Noel at various shopping centre venues. Already, some shops are offering all toys at half-price.

Yesterday, a chicken came into the garden. She clucked and scraped for a while, ate some of my grass seed, then flew up on to a wall, considered her options, and disappeared. I don't think any of the seven neighbours with whom I share a boundary keeps chickens. She must have come a distance, - "chicken on tour".

I have another French class tomorrow. The topic is OVNIs (UFOs to you and me!). She will read a story, a sentence at a time. We're expected to write it down, make sense of it, translate it, and repeat it back.

Early November 2007

The other morning I awoke early (09:00!) to alarming sounds of activity. I thought, at first, that it was the resumption of building work on a river-bank site about 150m away,

which had been stopped recently. However, when I emerged on a bicycle to go to the boulangerie, I discovered that it was much nearer home. Three men with high-viz hats, armed wth drills, had surrounded Mme Rumeau's house. It emerged that a termite attack had caused their visit. From the look of them it seemed to me to be an uneven battle; it was brown trousers time for the termites. The men were not, of course, drilling holes in Mme Rumeau, but in the walls of her house, a foot apart and a foot up from the ground. Termites will eat your house given a chance, particularly any part of it made of wood. They look like ants, but paler, and with one less body section. You cannot sell a house without a recent termite assessment. You can sell it with the termites, as long as it's declared, and the buyer is happy. Maybe keep them as pets! There are a dozen or more companies specialising in termite obliteration in  this area. This group spent two days on the job, and then departed, tired but happy. (And probably well paid. €2,000 or more).

We had the great feast of Toussaint the week before last, all saints to you. A bank holiday here, in a country that's officially anti-religion. The country is covered in chrysanthemums for a week or two. They are sold to be placed on graves, and graveyards are a mass of colour just now. Huge pots, some several feet across, are everywhere. Even places that open on Sunday were closed on Toussaint. But, the boulangerie was open!

I joined a French class, at last. Of course, it will never be as good as the one I left, but........

It's given by an older lady with very big teeth. But she's very helpful and competent.

Every second class is spent using a book "ASSIMIL Using French - Advanced Level". It's quite a small book with 70 2-3 page "lessons".

She reads a sentence from the book and picks on someone to repeat it as heard (this rotates). (The books are closed). She then asks for a translation. Then, in turn,

everybody else repeats the sentence. Finally, she writes it on the white-board for all to see, and explains a bit about it. There are short exercises in the book for each lesson as well.

As I have been to only one class, I don't know what the other class type is, but I understand that the most recent subject matter is "flying saucers"! There were six others in the class, five English and one Dutch. It costs €20 for the year, or €30 for a couple. Tres cher.

Still working on the garden which is coming along. Nothing died while I was away, but weeds thrived as well.

Second report from the Dordogne

My last visitors have gone; who will be next! My mother thought the house had too many windows, had a difficult staircase, and was altogether too far from Bordeaux. It's

also too far from Rome, Vienna, Barcelona, etc. etc. Anyhow, she got home alive. She couldn't understand how we had three rubbish collections per week while living so far from anywhere. (We live in the middle of a city of 27,000 people!). How do people in Gaway get their rubbish collected, as they're so far from Dublin??

The gates-and-pillars project should end tomorrow. The gates had to go away for a respray, due to a misunderstanding between the builder and the supplier (who both speak French), about who paints on the required colour. They all come originally in black. Noir to you.

I had my first cold call today. In Dublin, I would hang up after 10 seconds, but I hung on to see if I could figure out what it was about. At first I thought she was trying to sell me her body, but she asked a lot of questions about what I liked on television. I replied truthfully that, apart from football, my favourite programme was the weather forecast. I was tempted to tell her that I also watched live sex involving people of mixed race (and sex), preferably with a couple of cows thrown in! However, I didn't know enough French. She was selling cable television, the various Canal Plus stations, and I'm delighted that I understood that much. Eventually, she concluded that I might be interested "plus tard" but not today.

The gardening is going well, and none of the dozens of plants has died, despite being planted in a heatwave. This is due to assiduous "arrosage" on a daily basis. I have ceased for the moment, as I reckon the plants need a week of watering to survive in drought. Reading plant labels in a garden centre is like reading a foreign language. (Ian Rush (from Liverpool) said that living in Milan was like living in a foreign country). So, I use a big fat dictionary. But, I'm learning.

Keep working on the class visit.

First report from the Dordogne

First report from the Green Fields

I miss you all so much!

I'm here now about 12 weeks. I'm not sure if my French has improved much, but it does get easier to understand what they're saying, and less of them respond in English when I speak in French. Today, I asked for “fil de fer” (wire to you!) in Bricomarché today, and the man just said “la bas, a droite”.

Last week, I contracted a builder to build two pillars and put gates on them. Firstly, I had to describe how to get here, and that's difficult in English. He got here. I also beat him down on the price, and gave him a cheque for half the price. Yesterday, he delivered a load of gravel and blocks for two pillars.

So, what didn't work so well? Well, I needed a physio, and despite my best efforts, I ended up with an osteopath! It could have been a gynaecologist, or even a psychopath! Any way, he didn't kill me. I also managed to get my hair cut, in a proper barbers. The only word I needed was “court”. €11.

I went into the bank to ask them to send things to my French address instead of Dublin. When I gave my French address, the woman nearly jumped over the counter! She lives next door! Since then, we're best mates. And Therese is not even jealous.

Things happen slowly here. Even the supermarket check-out. Most people pay by personal cheque. And they forget where their cheque book is until they've gone through. Then, they have a conversation with the lady about their cat or dog or illness. And nobody says “hurry up”.

There is a big traffic jam at 12 noon every day. Everywhere closes 12-2 for lunch, and the employees go home. Almost nothing opens on Sunday.

I'm on my third set of visitors, my 85-year-old mother and my two sisters. The weather cleared up in time.

I'm planting a garden just now. Until last week it was impossible, hard as iron. Then four days rain softened it up, and I took advantage. Now it's back to hard as hell.

I hope the class can arrange a visit. You will be very welcome.