Spring in Bergerac!

They mentioned congère on the radio this morning! I was still in bed. Congère means snowdrift! Ten days ago (or so) the television news made a big fuss about the arrival of spring. Almost the way we would have if we had got one sunny day in Donegal in the good old days. They interviewed people on various beaches, children building sandcastles etc. None of these people were in bikinis; they were all in overcoats and hats! But, nice weather had arrived, although not unusual for the date. (It reached 22 degrees here in February a few years ago). Now, all of a sudden, they're talking about snowdrifts on the news headlines. The northern quarter of France has been hit by winter, and it's serious. 40,000 people without electricity, airports closed, the channel tunnel closed. And, it's moving southwards, reaching here on Friday. We expect to survive!

I went on a walk with the walking group this morning, and the main topic of conversation was also the weather in Normandy. This was because two of our members, Réné and Jocelyne had moved there last year. Much to the delight of all present, Normandy has about two feet of snow. Several of them had rung Réné to remind him that it was still spring down here! Nobody understands why they moved up there, even though they are natives of Normandy. Most of the other members are also “blow-ins”, from places like Lille and Paris, and they have no intention of going back.

The lunchtime news is featuring chateaux this week, and they started yesterday by looking at the hill-top chateau of Beynac, which some of us have visited. Interestingly, the interior turns out to be quite spectacular, and probably worth visiting. Usually, the interiors are disappointing. Even a chateau as spectacular as Chenonceaux (the one that straddles the river Cher) in the Loire is very tame on the inside. People of average height have to duck to get through the doorways, as it must have been built for dwarfs. But, Beynac looks big and spacious.

Yesterday, I arrived back from shopping and stopped in the lane-way to empty my mailbox of junk mail, invoices, cheques, marriage proposals etc. I noticed a gaggle of women outside Mme Rumeau's gate, with Christiane among them. The latter broke the world record for 20 metres advancing on me in some haste, apparently to warn me about these women. But, she started by kissing me on both cheeks, - twice! She then announced in terms of desperation that they had “escaped” towards my hovel! When I got there, they had already got Therese out of her migraine-infested bed, and were regaling her on the doorstep with tales of religion, backed up by a document which they were presenting to her. I asked them if they were “perdu” and they replied in the negative, before leaving. They turned out, predictably enough, to be the local battalion of Jehovah's witnesses. Therese had no idea who they were, despite listening carefully to their story, and had never heard of the “Watchtower” label, which was on the document. It has now been recycled.

The news at lunchtime announced that the snow in Normandy etc. is now a “crise”. The 40 minute bulletin consisted of 35 minutes of snow reporting and five minutes on the new pope. (There is no new pope yet!). A minister was wheeled out from a Crisis Committee meeting to be grilled on the crisis. He was asked predictable questions such as “seeing that the snow was widely and accurately forecast, how come all the services were taken by surprise?”. Familiar?? His answer was that everyone is doing his best to cope with the worst storm in 40 years! But, it is serious. Thousands of people marooned in vehicles. Miles-long lines of trucks abandoned on motorways. Many roads and motorways are closed. People sleeping on trapped buses and trains. It is still snowing, and -10 is expected tonight. Snowdrifts are up to six feet high. Almost the entire RER system in Paris is shut down. And, it will continue until the weekend at least. TF1 tonight had reports from about 20 locations, from intrepid reporters dressed up like Nanook of the North. Little Jessica Lederman reported from the Gare du Nord, looking for all the world like a snowman. And, it's heading south!

Have you ever heard of bitter cress? It's a small weed, with a tiny white flower, not easy to see. Normally, it's not a problem, as it's too small to compete with flowers, shrubs or vegetables. But, thousands of bitter cress plants is a different matter. And, that's what I have now in the garden. There is an epidemic of bitter cress. It's not confined to my garden. It's the same on roadsides, public spaces etc. Some conditions have come together to allow every bitter cress seed in France to germinate at approximately the same time. The real problem is to eliminate them before they manage to seed again. The bitter cress system of dispersing its seeds is possibly the best in the plant world. The tiny white flowers fade and become small green tubes, facing upwards. These eventually turn black. That's when they're ready to go. If you touch the black tubes, seeds fly up and hit you on the face! So, one plant can scatter hundreds of seeds over a wide area, ensuring several more crops! But, eliminating them is easier said than done. Many of them are too small to see. Once the flowers go, they're almost all impossible to see. If you know what to do, please don't keep it to yourself.

I enclose a photo of my little nectarine tree, one of the few bright sparks in the garden just now.

Letter from the Dordogne

What a difference two weeks make! Two weeks ago the Saturday market was deserted, both by vendors and customers, particularly the latter. It almost looked as if the plague had descended on the region and greatly reduced the population. This morning I went off to the market expecting a similar scene. Nothing of the sort! It's like high summer there, with crowds of people milling in all directions, and the gaps in the stands all filled up. It's a cold morning, about 1 degree, but the sky is blue and the sun is shining. Maybe that's the difference, but it's still only mid-February. It will get up to 12 degrees in the afternoon, like it did yesterday, when it felt like spring in the garden, with robins and tits singing to beat the band.

A recent big story here has been the “mariage pour tous”; a change in the law to allow gay people to marry. It required 110 hours of debate in the assembly before it became law last Tuesday. Huge demonstrations against it were organised, particularly in Paris. The big “hero(ine)” of the affair is Christiane Taubira, the minister for justice. She's a low-set, slightly tubby woman, of African descent, around 50, with tight dreadlocks, who gave as good as she got during the debate. She never got upset, despite some biting attacks, but delivered withering put-downs with a smile, usually to applause from all sides.

The “demission” of the Pope also caused headlines, in an officially secular country, with much speculation about whether he was pushed, who are the favourites to succeed him, and what is it all about. It was like watching RTE apart from the language. They wheeled out a lot of “experts” to pontificate on the situation. All they were missing was Kevin O'Kelly. Much was made of the last “resignation” of a Pope, in 1415. What they didn't mention was that, on that occasion, he really was pushed. (There were two Pope at the times, one in Avignon, one in Rome, and an “antipope” - the first John XXIII).

Of course the horseburgers made the news as well. At first, it was just a curiosity, as horse meat is not a problem for the French. (I have been often asked why Les Anglais have a problem with horse meat). However, it became a big story when it became clear that there was probably criminal activity involved. Passing horse meat off as beef is a highly profitable pass-time, as beef costs four times as much. The Italian mafia have been mentioned as a likely component of the incredibly complex supply chain. (They were found to be involved in a meat scandal 10 years ago). But, they eventually settled on a company in Castlenaudary, near the Pyrenees, Spanghero. If you follow rugby, you will remember the name. Walter and Claude both played for France; the former was one of the best number 8 forwards in the world. The Spangheros, however, sold the business some years ago. The department of health have withdrawn their licence, which effectively has shut the plant, which employs 300 people. Spanghero says it bought beef from a company in Romania and sold it on, as they received it, to other meat processors. It was labelled “beef” by the Romanians, but was actually horse. The authorities here don't believe Spanghero, and the enquiry goes on. The Shergar jokes are beginning to get tedious at this stage!

There have been two celebrated U-turns here recently. The first is on the warning signs for radar speed traps. Over a year ago, most of them were removed amid much hand-wringing. Some of them were replace by displays of your actual speed. Now, they're all being put back up. The second is on the breathalyser kits. From March last year everyone had to carry a breathalyser in their vehicle, but the date after which it would become an offense not to have a kit was the 1^st September, later moved out to 1^st November. It was impossible to find a breathalyser in that time due to shortage of supply, and, as November approached, it was announced that the 1^st of March was the new date. It was also announced that a study had been commissioned to determine if there was anything to be gained in proceeding with the project. Now, it's been cancelled, and the hundreds of people engaged in manufacturing the breathalysers are about to be laid off.

I went on a bike ride through the vineyards this afternoon, in the rather cool sunshine. The fact that I needed sun glasses reminded me a little of summer. Vineyards look quite dead in February. The only activity is pruning, surely the toughest job in wine-making. The weather is usually freezing, cold hands, cold feet, cold everything! And, unlike carrying sacks of potatoes, pruning is not an activity to warm up the pruner. They regularly work alone; at best in pairs, so it's not a social activity, unlike grape picking. At least in pairs thay can break the monotony by talking about women, religion or even politics! The vineyards of Saussignac had all been pruned, with the single surviving shoot tied neatly, parallel to the ground, to the lowest wire. Further on, at Gageac, many vineyards hadn't seen a secateurs; others had been pruned but not tied in. This was repeated all the way to Monbazillac. In some cases, the pruners had left two shoots instead of one. Being a non-drinker, I have no idea why this is so.

I passe through the tiny village of Cunege, where I was once bitten by the smallest dog in France, I still can't work out how a dog so small could bite my ankle while I was cycling past. His owner, a middle aged woman in a navy blue pinafore, just looked on “not saying nothing”, as John Wayne would put it.

Not much grew while I was in Dublin for Christmas. The exception to this is, of course, weeds. I now have a world class centre for the study of two weeds, bitter cress and ragwort.

I'm also annoyed that my lone camellia hasn't blossomed. It's covered in big fat flower heads which show no sign of opening. My neighbour's giant version of the same plant has flowered long ago. Answers on a postcard, please.

Another headline maker here for several days was the famous Courbet painting. “L'origine du monde”, which has been on permanent display in the Musee d'Orsay for the last eighteen years. The television stations took great delight in showing it in close-up as background to the story. The painting shows a woman's nether regions in some detail. As you all know, Gustave Courbet painted it as a commission for an Egyptian collector of erotic art, who fell on lean times and sold it to pay his ESB bill. A long time later it came into the possession of the Musee d'Orsay. When they first hung it, they put plate glass and an armed guard in front of it, to prevent I'm not sure what?! However, that's not the story. A French man, a few years ago, bought a painting of a woman's head from a dealer. The dealer wanted 1600 euro, but he beat him down to 1400. He suspected that it was a Courbet, and eventually persuaded the world's top expert on Courbet to examine it. The expert spent two years doing all kinds of tests, and announced that not only was it a Courbet, but it was originally part of “L'origine du monde”! They suspect that Courbet cut off the woman's head to save her reputation. She was Whistler's partner, and Courbet's girlfriend, and she was Irish, Joanna Hiffernan. But, the real story is that the 1400 euro painting is now worth 35 million!

January 2013 in Bergerac

After a French class reunion, a family wedding, Christmas, a severe dose of a “flu-like virus” and several adventures, we eventually headed back to Bergerac, by Aer Lingus to Bordeaux. The flight was on time and landed early. The navettes to the station go every 45 minutes, and we expected to get the 5:30, but made the 4:45; very unusual. This meant we could make the 6pm train rather than 7 or even 8. We managed that as well, and arrived in Bergerac at 7:28. The rest should be easy, but France (and Bergerac) is different. This is where it gets difficult, within walking distance of home! There are no taxis. Therese's knees seize up during 2-hour flights, so walking is difficult. So we ring, first on my mobile. I get a message “active call barrings”. Then we try her mobile. We get a message “ active call barrings”! (We discover later that there is a dispute between Vodafone and SFR, so we should select Orange in the meantime. Who would know that?). The nearest call box refuses to take my nice new debit card, but accepts Visa. I phone the taxi; he says “no problem, sit tight, a few minutes”. We sit (stand) tight for 20 minutes, - no taxi. I call again (each call costs €2.50!), he says “have patience, sit tight”. After 10 more minutes, we decide to walk, knees or no knees. Those of you who have visited Bergerac will know that the footpaths are not one of the highlights, and are completely unsuitable for dragging suitcases. (I did offer to go and get the car, but this was turned down!). However, we made it in one (two!) piece(s). As we walked up Rue Catherine (famous for a certain patisserie), we found it blocked by two cherry-picker cranes supporting men who were (on January 29^th) taking down the Christmas lights! The world here moves at a slow(er) pace.

The first thing we noticed is that it is warmer here. Quelle surprise! Between us we have three missed calls from our neighbour, Christiane. But, she's been here anyhow, having deposited milk, butter, eggs, steak, potatoes, onions, sweet potatoes and cheese in the kitchen/fridge, as well as leaving the post on the table.

First thing next morning (Wednesday) it's off to the market to buy fruit. But, the market has almost disappeared! Even since November. I had forgotten how much it thins out in winter. And, very few customers as well, despite the mild morning. My cheese-woman Valerie is still there in the covered market, and she has recommendations for me, with offers to taste. I stick with the 18-month Comté.

Wednesday afternoon there is a pre-arranged French conversation in Annemie's house, my Dutch friend. She has arranged for their neighbours Alain and Michelle to join her and Robert and me for a 2-hour language session. They're trying to learn English, and we're trying to learn French. We haven't quite found the formula for getting the most out of the two hours, but we have another session in two weeks. I arrive home to find that Christiane has arrived to regale us with stories of her sick husband, the state of Mme Rumeau (our other neighbour), and the latest burglaries (and murders) in the area. Not to mention the need to beware of gypsies who will come and kill you while you sleep.

First thing on Thursday, it's off to the barber. Except on Saturday, he cuts by appointment only, so I took the precaution of phoning him before I left Dublin. For the first time ever, I understood a conversation between the barber (Jean Louis) and the previous client. It was about the over-supply of apartments in Bergerac. Apparently, there are 1900 empty, but some of them are run-down (“vetuste”) and not habitable. It's surprising, as rented accommodation here doesn't seem to be particularly cheap.

Next thing, having had my hair pruned, I headed off on a bike ride, my first since November. 40 km in an hour and a half. Great to get back on a bike. The farms and vineyards look pretty desolate just now, as does my garden. The only thing in bloom is a row of pansies, and they looked better two months ago than they do now. But, there are plenty of weeds in bloom, including ragwort with seed heads.

Then, in the afternoon (is this a very boring story?) I had my “normal” French class. Some of them seemed genuinely pleased to see me. At the conversation session, later on, they really pleased to see me, due to the fact that they need at least one English speaker for the class, and there is only one other regular, an English woman called Gillian. Gillian has been building a new house for ages and has had to miss classes to manage various crises. She has not found French tradesmen very reliable, a common theme among the “blow-ins” around here. They don't arrive when they say they will, they take longer than expected to do the work, shrug their shoulders a lot, and they charge more than initially estimated. A familiar story?? In fact, it's not my experience. We have had five “jobs” done here, by three different men/firms, and all of them started on time and finished on time. Maybe we were lucky.

It's now Saturday, and I've been to the market. It's also very small and deserted. I don't remember it being this small other winters, and this is my sixth. Spring will be along shortly!

First visit of French class!

At last, four intrepid travellers arrived in Bergerac. They flew Dublin Bordeaux, then we made our way to St. Emilion, in hot sunshine. This visit included walking up steep streets, sight-seeing, drinking champagne, eating panini, shopping etc.

Later they checked into a small hotel in Bergerac, and went to the Gallen hovel for introduction to wife, drinks, and dinner. This lasted until well after midnight, when it was required to go to bed to prepare for the exertions of the next day.

The hot sun didn't return, but a tour was taken which took in Beynac, La Roque Gageac and Domme. Beynac was explored in some detail, but the rain commenced and shortened the exploration of the latter two. However, we found lunch in Domme, dry and warm.

The next step was to see two "bastide" towns, Monpazier and Beaumont. These were found to be dry (as was Bergerac - all day) and Monpazier was interesting, and is regarded as one of the best looking bastides. Beaumont is also nice but less spectacular.

We also passed through Couze, famous, autrefois, for the manufacture of paper. It still has a paper museum, and a fine restaurant, Au Fil de l'Eau. The Couze river joins the Dordogne here, forming a weir in the process. Our restaurant for the evening was "Lou Brageirac", very French!

The third day was for exploring Bergerac, starting with the markets, the clothes market, the fruit and vegetable market and the covered market, with it's classy delicatessen and cheese shop. We also explored the squares, the statues of Cyrano, the traditional  (and very old) buildings. Mary photographed everything! We encountered two bird-watchers, one of whom lives 100 metres from chez Gallen (Claude Subirat); the other lives in a house that is part 14th century, part 17th century.

We also met a woman (Helène) out of my conversation class.

The sun came out, allowing us to walk along the river to the lunch venue, chez Gallen.

Later, we visited the Chateau Monbazillac, with its tasting centre for the wine of the same name, mostly sweet, to go with dessert or with melon starter. Our restaurant later was Le Bistro du Coin, run by George and Chris, from Derry and England.

Sunday was spent going to church and getting back to Merignac airport in time for the flight, in seriously heavy rain!

Thank you all for coming.

My photos are at : http://seamusbergerac.shutterfly.com/64 and they look alright on the "Slideshow" option. But the others have more pictures, especially Mary.

Early summer in the Dordogne

Another update from the Dordogne valley, where the river has been as high as I have ever seen it. It's slowly returning to normal, but the boats that do the one-hour tours are still not running, as the loading area is still flooded. To board the boat now, you would have to wade in waist high water!! And, that's not allowed.

The most recent excitement was the election, and the demise of the much-despised Sarkozy. On live television, they counted down the seconds (like New Year's Eve!) until 8 p.m. (closing time of polling stations), and, on the dot of 8 the screen showed a picture of Hollande and 52%, and that was taken as the result. It was based on exit polls. But the exact result, which emerged some time during the night, gave the winner 51.7%, only very slightly different. I have no idea how they count the votes so quickly. There are no voting machines, just ballot papers and pencils. But, they count all 63,000 stations in a matter of hours. In Ireland, the exit poll could be well off, especially if Fianna Fail was involved. At the last election the exit poll showed them getting 3 or 4 per cent less than they ended up getting. People were ashamed to tell the pollsters that they had voted for FF! Anyhow, Angela Merkel can't wait to get her claws into Monsieur Hollande. She wants to see him in Berlin as soon as possible! 

The garden was in bad shape after five months of neglect. It had rained every day in April, and continued for our first five days here. But, I put on waterproofs and waded in the next day. Weeds, many of which also grow in Dublin, grow much more quickly here, and also get much bigger. My compost bin is now full to the brim, and the trailer is half-full of harvested weeds. I also planted some marigold borders, and several planters, hanging baskets etc. And, once the rain stopped, I cut the grass. It's not a big area, much like a typical suburban lawn in Dublin, but it looks better cut, and fertilised. At last, the rain stopped, and we've had only  few showers over several days. It's to be 27 and sunny on Thursday. I'm more concerned about late next week, when several members of my French class arrive for a three day visit. I don't want them to go home covered in rust.

Our neighbour, Madame Charrut (Christiane), arrived during dinner, covered in photo-copies of maps and correspondence with the city council and with the water company (Veolia - who run the Luas). It's seems to be about the abolition of septic tanks, as well as the disposal of rainwater and bath/dishwater. Anyhow, it will cost money to comply,  --- thousands she thinks! Phil Hogan, eat your heart out. There may be scope to share piping (and cost) with neighbours, who are all non-compliant. The inspection is free, (and the verdict predictable) but the work is at our expense, and obligatory! I said to her that I  might end up in prison, and she fell into convulsions of laughter. I missed out on the inspection phase by not being here, but I'm probably still covered by the revised bye-laws. She offered to open the gate for the inspector, but he said not to bother. Maybe it's not as urgent as she thinks. She enjoys a big drama. She's still convinced that gypsies from the other side of the town are coming to rob us, and maybe cut our throats for good measure. Her house is fenced in like Fort Knox, locked day and night. We lock our gate at night, only because she insists. Her poor husband is not at all well. According to Christiane, he has at least 17 things wrong with him, and it's hard to decide which is the most serious. But, she told me on the phone, before we left Dublin, that she had to summon the SAMU (emergency services) to drag him off to A&E due to an irregular heartbeat. But, he was home again the following day.  He's a very nice man, who was born in Algeria (a pied-noir - or black-foot) and earned his living driving a taxi. She also told us a big story about the man who had started to trim her extensive hedge system. Apparently, he discovered some kind of lump on the back of his head, and next thing you know, he couldn't walk. So, he's in hospital recovering, while the hedge continues to grow. A couple of years ago, she employed some cowboys to cut the hedge, and asked them to lower it a bit, as well as giving it a haircut. Unfortunately, they applied most of the pruning to the other side of the hedge, the one that we have to look at. And, the result was a severely butchered hedge (it's leyland cypress) with no greenery at all visible from our side. She never mentioned it, but I know she was embarrassed when she saw it. Two/three years on, it has recovered quite a bit.

The big excitement before returning to France was the party for my mother's 90th birthday. I'm the eldest of her 8 offspring, 5 male and 3 female, and all 8 made it to the event, including one from Australia and one from Canada. She's in reasonable shape for 90, but slow and shaky on her feet. However, she managed to get up and dance, and sing "The Homes of Donegal" and "The Black Velvet Band" as well as staying up until two in the morning, which is more than I could do! 16 of her 29 grandchildren, and three of her seven great-grand-children also turned up. I'm not sure that I ever want to be 90.

Of course Jennifer's recent engagement (second youngest) was also trundling along, with make-up trial runs, selection of wedding dresses, searches for suitable priests etc. etc. going full steam ahead. It's great to be at arms length from any further developments, as Jennifer is given to jumping up and down just a little at the least opportunity! I don't remember this quantity of drama when we got married, 200 years ago. Surely, it was simpler then? I remember being surprised halfway through the Mass to hear a tenor launching into "Panis Angelicus". But, that sort of haphazard planning is not good enough any more!

To get an idea just how many English people live in this area, all you have to do is to attend the twice-yearly sale of used English books, organised by Phoenix, an animal rescue charity. They take in any books you want rid of, give you nothing for them, and sell you any book you want for one euro. Tea, coffee, buns, cakes, quiche etc.are also on sale for one euro. They regularly take in €10,000 in a day! Huge numbers turn up, making the little town of Campsegret feel like Little England for a day. A lot of work goes into organising the thousands of books into alphabetical order of author.

Anyhow, it's nice to hear the sound of lawnmowers again, a sign that summer is on the way!

October 2010

France is in turmoil. Ostensibly about the very reasonable proposal to raise the retirement age by two years; it would still be one of the lowest in the EU. But, it's more about Sarkozy, corruption in high places, the rich getting richer etc. The result is chaos, with flights delayed and cancelled, trains disrupted, student marches, and, worst of all, a fuel shortage. Almost all the fuel depots and refineries were blockaded, so that no deliveries could be made to filling stations. Now, about 20% of stations have run out. However, many of the blockades have been forcibly lifted, with deliveries restarting. Dustbin collecting has also been suspended in some cities, including Marseilles and Montpellier. We have had to postpone a trip in the camper due to uncertainty about the availability of diesel for the return trip.

The summer has passed like a rocket, with a succession of visitors. The last visitors left only three days ago; one of my sisters (Nora) who lives in Canada, and came here with husband (Joe) for their 40^th anniversary. Luckily, the weather was still dry and sunny, but quite cool.

We did spend some time in the Alps (see photos on http://seamusphotos.shutterfly.com/), but that was cut short by a need for one of us to get to Dublin in a hurry (which I'll explain later). So, I delivered Therese to Geneva airport from whence she sailed to Dublin. That left me with 2^nd youngest daughter Jennifer, and, in a few days we made it back to Bergerac, camper still in one piece. A few days later, I brought Jennifer to Bordeaux airport for her return flight to Dublin. About halfway there, the overheating light came on in my ancient high-mileage Renault Scenic. However, when I slowed down, the light went out, even though the temperature needle stayed above normal, but not in the red zone. I presumed that my “meccano” could sort this out when I got back to Bergerac. It was not to be! About 5k from Bergerac on the way back, I decided to do some shopping in Carrefour in Prigonrieux. Just as I entered the car park, the car ground to a rapid halt, accompanied by a dragging sound that I have no wish to hear again. With the help of a motor-cyclist, I pushed the car into a parking spot, from whence I summoned the breakdown crew via my Axa emergency number. They said it would be 45 minutes, so I did the shopping while waiting. The “Rameau et Fils” truck duly arrived. The deal is that they bring you to the nearest garage. In this case that was only 200 yards away, but, as that wouldn't get me or the shopping home, I negotiated to go to my local garage, 100 metres from my hovel. He took one look under the bonnet and announced, rather helpfully, that the engine was banjaxed. I knew this already. A seized engine is not hard to spot. My local mecanicien confirmed the verdict, and estimated €2000 to repair it, more than the car is worth.

A few days later, I bought a little Citroen with my First-Communion money.

Getting rid of the crocked Renault is another story. In Dublin, I would have to pay someone to take it away. I thought that the same would pertain here, but everyone I asked said “non” and suggested advertising it for sale. So, last Wednesday afternoon, I placed a free small ad (“une petite annonce”) on www.leboncoin.fr, and sold it the following morning for €600, the asking price. I had to phone another buyer on his way from Bordeaux to tell him to turn around, as it was “vendue”. I had six replies in that short time.

We ate in the “Restaurant au Coin” last night, which is run by two gay men, one of whom (George) is from Derry. They have a menu for €16 featuring a choice of 10 starters, 10 main courses, and 10 desserts. As you might imagine, they regularly have to turn people away.

It is raining like stair-rods here today, the first wet day in two weeks. It seems to confine itself to Sundays, as in “a week of wet Sundays”. So, I couldn't do any bike riding today. Sunday morning is the big time for biking in France, but there's no point in getting drenched in the name of exercise.

Christiane Charrut (our neighbour) brought us over a tarte tartin last night. (She left it on the window-sill with a note saying “bisous” from her and Pierrot). Now, I have to eat it for dessert.

High Summer 2010

You know it's high summer when the French start to talk about the “canicule”. The current one is not forecast to be as bad as the one in 2003 which killed hundreds of old people, living alone. But, it's hot! And, it's forecast to exceed 40 in places in the next few days. It makes the news headlines all the time, which is what would happen in Ireland if we ever got a heatwave. The warnings about how to survive probably have a basis in the 2003 experience, but they include advice to check on people living alone. They also include “orage” warnings, although I'm not sure what you can do about it in advance, even if you know a thunderstorm is coming. Some this summer have brought hailstones literally the size of your fist, which have wrecked cars, conservatories, caravans and even the roofs of houses.

I went cycling yesterday with five others, instead of the usual two. The two extras are Yves and Jean-Michel, both members of my walking group, and both retirees from the north of France. I understand a lot of what Jean-Michel says (which is a surprise to me), but he usually speaks slowly and distinctly. Maybe it comes from his background as a gendarme in Paris, where he often had to say things like : “I am arresting you under rule 1024, sub-section 178 of the Napeolonic code, for using excessive violence against the referee”. “If you say anything, I will write it down and use it against you in due course”! Yves is more fun, but I understand much less of what he says. Tant pis. Towards the end of the two-and-a-half-hour “parcours”, I got a puncture, despite having a new tyre, fitted only the previous night. This was a major incident, with all four joining in on the repair. Rene said that this was appropriate for a “vedette” like myself!!

Another sign of high summer is the flowering of the sunflowers. Jean-Claude has many hectares of these, but he seems to have planted them at the wrong time, as they were drowned by the heavy rain in May. Now, they're too dry and a month behind schedule. So, the start of the cycle is delayed so that he can organise the big watering “cannon”.

There is also a big display starting from the Albizia trees, with their pink blossoms. They're very common in bigger gardens here. Unfortunately mine is too small to host one. There is a smaller version, with chocolate leaves, but I have never seen a fully grown one. I suspect that it's still too big for my plot. The photograph is taken in the village of Creysse.

The third big sight here is late summer is the profusion of Langerstroemia trees. They have only just started to open, but there are long lines of them on some of the approaches to Bergerac, and, in full bloom, they are very impressive. I'll include a photograph at a later date. They're much smaller trees than the Albizias, and I have two of them, in different shades of pink!

The French soccer disaster is still news here, with the new manager, Laurent Blanc giving his first press conference yesterday. The cyclists and walkers blame Ireland for the debacle! If Ireland had put out France, (and they had the opportunity), they argue, much embarrassment would have been avoided!

The other big story is Madame Liliane Bettencourt (no relation to the ex-hostage), and her money. She is the richest woman in France, founder of the L'Oreal beauty empire, and the fourth richest in the world. She was recently found to have invested much of her ill-gotten gains in various overseas tax havens (or “paradises” as the French call them), and, even in France, that's illegal. However, the real fun is that her chief investment adviser just happens to be married to Eric Woerth, a minister in the Sarkozy government, and the man in charge of financial rectitude! A new revelation appears almost every day. The latest is an allegation that as much as 150,000 may have been paid into the Sarkozy election fund from the Bettencourt fortune. The legal limit for an individual is rather low, at 150 euro! Nobody has yet resigned on this one. But, two ministers resigned a few days ago for other financial irregularities. One had spent 12,000 of the people's money on Cuban cigars. The other had spent 130,000 on a chartered flight, so he could visit the Haiti earthquake. Not a mention of Charvet shirts.

Some good news: My neighbours' 15-year-old daughter recently won the French judo championship in her class. Her sister got her Bac results on Tuesday, but I can't yet confirm how good her results were! But, her mother wasn't impressed by her level of application.

The vineyards are also starting to look summery, with little green grapes becoming visible among the leaves, and those funny-looking tall thin tractors driving around with sprayers attached, seeking something to devour.

The downside of hot, dry weather, is the need to water the garden. For reasons which I don't understand, the previous owner of this house connected hot water to the outside tap nearest the garden! So, before starting to water, I have to remember to turn off the water heating first. Otherwise, we suffer from scalded plants! Then, I have to remember to turn the heat on again, or the next person to have a shower will complain about how long it's taking for the shower to get warm!

Watch this space, - and keep in touch!