SINCERE APOLOGIES FOR ABSENCE FOR LAST FEW MONTHS, NOW HERE YOU CAN CATCH UP
OCTOBER/NOV 2010
An old and treasured friend in Yorkshire has just collected her life P45. The family did me the honour of asking me to speak at the funeral, but I had to refuse as I am just not fit enough at the moment. The horse of life has just come down with me and rolled on me. My son (bless him) said that I had just overdrawn on Life’s Current Account and I was starting to feel the pinch. Well, I suppose that I cannot argue with that, but I am sorry that I cannot see Joanie off properly. She and her husband, Colin, were both treasured friends. I well remember the first time we met. We were dining at a smart-ish house. Colin and I were arguing because we both enjoyed arguing – the subject was something to do with “The Book of Common Prayer”. I do not remember what, it was in 1975. If you drew the covert (the Prayer Book) with Colin, you were certain to find an argument. We got rather heated and Colin whipped out his false teeth, slapped them on the table between us and said that if I insisted on talking such “Papist crap” he would set his teeth on me! He was a lovely man but very human. One Sunday they both came to lunch and Colin was late because he had to call on a client. It was obvious that the client had been hospitable. Colin loved a glass of Claret. He sipped his glass and then fixed his gaze on his neighbour’s plate: “He’s got more f.....g shprouts than I’ve got,”, then with great dignity he slid feet first under the table where he lay for the rest of lunch.
Just been down the town to get some petrol. You see our Prime Minister (French) has hacked the voters off by telling them that they have to work longer to get their pension. They are not best suited and have been picketing refineries to stop petrol getting out – this means that Jean and Jeanne have had great problems topping up the tanks on their cars – the whole point of the Dragon Lady and I moving to a town is to make shopping easier in our Old Age, everything is supposed to be within walking distance. Our nearest Petrol station is just beyond the ring road. It is within walking distance but that is a waste of time, should you need to take your car with you. Well, I had walked down the road to see the man who crushes my bones, joints etc – the things that you need for walking – he lives some clicks out of town. So I asked him about petrol – “Pas de Problem” he said as he had refuelled at the Supermarche that morning! That was good news, as the Supermarket had shut its’ gates yesterday: Anyway, I limped home and roused the Dragon Lady from her chair and we popped down the road and filled up the car. It was a great relief, because we do need a car, even if we are retired and walking to the shops is all very fine, but if you are a cripple, the idea seems to lose its’ gloss somehow. We need to go to England in November and a General Strike is just what we do not want and the French ‘do dearly love a strike’. Some years ago I was stuck on the decks at Cherbourg with 4 horses, there was a seamen’s’ strike and the Channel ports were closed. But that, as they say, is another story.
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Settling in
So how fares life in Normandy? Well, quite nicely really, thank you. We have been here for about a month – I think.
The climate is quite different – all our friends in the Vienne told us that. They said that it would be much colder and wetter. It has certainly been wetter, but as the area had been without serious rain since April, it was grateful for it. It freshened up the grazing on the Marshe, which is an essential part of raising the livestock that is an essential part of agricultural income around here. Normandy is famous for its’ beef and lamb. The sheep meat is certainly excellent, with very good flavours from the salty grassland. I wish I could say the same about the beef - I felt duty bound to try some the other day. After 5 years of grave disappointment with the beef in the Vienne, we hoped that Normandy beef would be good. The cattle looked good, but the problem seemed to be the same as it is throughout France – the French have no clue about butchering. The beef is badly cut and is not hung – it is therefore inedible. Very sad and a waste, but the French do not seem to mind how tough and grisly their beef is. So, you may think that after the failure of Normandy beef, I am going hungry? Not so, I am glad to say. I refer you to an excellent little book – ‘The Pocket Guide to French Food and Wine’ published yonks ago, which has been in my pocket ever since. It says that: “Nouvelle cuisine seems to have given the area a wide berth and the classic regional fare is still very much alive” and Amen to that say I. The “classic regional fare” contains a lot of fish. As Normandy lies where the English Channel meets the Atlantic this is not surprising, but it is very pleasant even if you cannot always get a translation as to what a particular fish might be – I mean, do you know what a ‘Monk Fish’ is in French?.....well no more don’t I, but it is very tasty.
Our little house takes up one side of a village street. The village is quite well-known, as it was the first place ‘liberated’ after D-Day. It was an “omelette” which caused many eggs to be broken – for instance on our street side wall there is a little bronze plaque, which tells you that “on this spot (on 6th May 1944) a section of airborne engineers under Sgt Smith were shot down”. If you look at the high wall on either side of the road, you can see that it was a perfect shooting alley for the Waffen SS. This quiet spot was indeed a piece of “Dark and Bloody ground” in May 1944 when the section of Airborne Engineers marched into the Trap. Normandy was not ignorant of stirring times. The other day, Madame and I motored North to look at boarding kennels for the little dog. One of the compelling reasons for moving to Normandy was a regular ferry service to the family without the Eurostar flaking out in the Tunnel. As we drove North, through lush and rich-looking countryside, I was interested to see a lot of fortified farm steadings – against whom were they fortified? It should be remembered that this area is only c. 10 miles from the Channel coast and for centuries there was a strong tradition of piracy between Normandy and its’ cross-channel neighbours.
One of the comforting things to me about Normandy is that it is Cider Country. I was brought up at my grandmother’s house in Cornwall – it had its’ own cider press and every year it produced its’ own pressing – it was so sharp and sour that it was known as “Torfrey (the name of the house) Razor Blades”. Normandy produces an excellent commercial product. Some years ago we were staying in a house in the Bourbonnais and I was asked if - in England – we had “Ceeder?” “Bien sur” I replied, “most in the West Country, but you in France have Ceeder, the most excellent especially in Normandy.........” at this moment I was halted by a hefty kick on the shin – “No you fool – they are talking about AIDS”. Well it’s not my fault if the French can’t spell – I am still fond of Cider.
Our street is one of the principle roads out of town. Just beyond us there is a dual carriageway by-pass, a main route to Cherbourg. There is a daily passage of heavy lorries so it is fortunate that this road is sunk in a deep cutting. In the house, the thunder of heavy traffic is almost completely muffled – and a good job too.
So by and large and taking it all in all, we like Normandy and find it passing pleasant.
The climate is quite different – all our friends in the Vienne told us that. They said that it would be much colder and wetter. It has certainly been wetter, but as the area had been without serious rain since April, it was grateful for it. It freshened up the grazing on the Marshe, which is an essential part of raising the livestock that is an essential part of agricultural income around here. Normandy is famous for its’ beef and lamb. The sheep meat is certainly excellent, with very good flavours from the salty grassland. I wish I could say the same about the beef - I felt duty bound to try some the other day. After 5 years of grave disappointment with the beef in the Vienne, we hoped that Normandy beef would be good. The cattle looked good, but the problem seemed to be the same as it is throughout France – the French have no clue about butchering. The beef is badly cut and is not hung – it is therefore inedible. Very sad and a waste, but the French do not seem to mind how tough and grisly their beef is. So, you may think that after the failure of Normandy beef, I am going hungry? Not so, I am glad to say. I refer you to an excellent little book – ‘The Pocket Guide to French Food and Wine’ published yonks ago, which has been in my pocket ever since. It says that: “Nouvelle cuisine seems to have given the area a wide berth and the classic regional fare is still very much alive” and Amen to that say I. The “classic regional fare” contains a lot of fish. As Normandy lies where the English Channel meets the Atlantic this is not surprising, but it is very pleasant even if you cannot always get a translation as to what a particular fish might be – I mean, do you know what a ‘Monk Fish’ is in French?.....well no more don’t I, but it is very tasty.
Our little house takes up one side of a village street. The village is quite well-known, as it was the first place ‘liberated’ after D-Day. It was an “omelette” which caused many eggs to be broken – for instance on our street side wall there is a little bronze plaque, which tells you that “on this spot (on 6th May 1944) a section of airborne engineers under Sgt Smith were shot down”. If you look at the high wall on either side of the road, you can see that it was a perfect shooting alley for the Waffen SS. This quiet spot was indeed a piece of “Dark and Bloody ground” in May 1944 when the section of Airborne Engineers marched into the Trap. Normandy was not ignorant of stirring times. The other day, Madame and I motored North to look at boarding kennels for the little dog. One of the compelling reasons for moving to Normandy was a regular ferry service to the family without the Eurostar flaking out in the Tunnel. As we drove North, through lush and rich-looking countryside, I was interested to see a lot of fortified farm steadings – against whom were they fortified? It should be remembered that this area is only c. 10 miles from the Channel coast and for centuries there was a strong tradition of piracy between Normandy and its’ cross-channel neighbours.
One of the comforting things to me about Normandy is that it is Cider Country. I was brought up at my grandmother’s house in Cornwall – it had its’ own cider press and every year it produced its’ own pressing – it was so sharp and sour that it was known as “Torfrey (the name of the house) Razor Blades”. Normandy produces an excellent commercial product. Some years ago we were staying in a house in the Bourbonnais and I was asked if - in England – we had “Ceeder?” “Bien sur” I replied, “most in the West Country, but you in France have Ceeder, the most excellent especially in Normandy.........” at this moment I was halted by a hefty kick on the shin – “No you fool – they are talking about AIDS”. Well it’s not my fault if the French can’t spell – I am still fond of Cider.
Our street is one of the principle roads out of town. Just beyond us there is a dual carriageway by-pass, a main route to Cherbourg. There is a daily passage of heavy lorries so it is fortunate that this road is sunk in a deep cutting. In the house, the thunder of heavy traffic is almost completely muffled – and a good job too.
So by and large and taking it all in all, we like Normandy and find it passing pleasant.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
