 
# Best of Blog in France

A pick of posts from this popular blog about ex-pat life in France

by

Stephanie J Dagg

Published by Stephanie Dagg at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Stephanie J Dagg

Lots more blog entries to read at <http://www.bloginfrance.com/>

Discover other books by me, Stephanie Dagg, at Smashwords.com and visit my website at http://www.booksarecool.com

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#  Introduction

Five years ago we left our large, brand new house in Co. Cork, which we'd built ourselves, for a two-hundred-year-old hovel in Creuse, France (actually, two, plus a crumbling barn, and not forgetting 75 acres of land and lakes).

Why, oh why? Why did we aspire to go down in the world, to leave the country where we could communicate successfully and actually use our painstakingly acquired professional qualifications to make a living? Why did we abandon all that and go abroad where, at least at first, we would be scratching a living so far below the poverty line as to be complete out of sight of it? Insanity? Bloody-mindedness? Misguided romanticism? The spirit of adventure?

None of the above. Quite simply - necessity. It was the only thing to do.

We couldn't carry on in Ireland the way we were. After fifteen years there, it was time to go before Chris's work-related stress made me a widow and the cost of living got any worse. And so we changed our lives by moving to rural France to run a gîte and carp fishing business and do a little llama farming on the side.

We are: myself, Stephanie, author and freelance editor and now also llama farmer and gîte cleaner; Chris, ex-quality assurance in the chemical industry, now carp lake manager, DIY expert and mole hater; three totally Frenchified children, namely Benj, currently nearly 20 and at University; Caiti 17 who regularly wins national school awards, and 10 year-old free spirit Ruadhri; Nessie our dog who came with us too, but all the other animals – alpacas, carp, cats, goats, guinea pigs, hens, llamas, rabbits, turkeys – have been accumulated here.

Moving abroad is tricky at the best of times. With kids of 14, 11 and 4 at the time it became even more of a challenge. But with persistence, a positive attitude and, let's face it, no alternative, we've made a success of it. It's been far from easy though. Many people harbour notions of an idyllic rural French ex-pat lifestyle, sipping wine and watching sunsets. That rarely exists. Reality is French bureaucracy, exploding composting loos, leaking roofs, viciously cold winters without central heating, living off savings, self-doubt, frustration and depression.

I began my blog in July 2009. With its honest view of what it takes to get established abroad, my blog, http://www.bloginfrance.com, has encouraged and educated current and would-be ex-pat families, as well as entertained everybody, or at least I hope it has. The overall tone is optimistic and light-hearted and variety is the key. I've picked what I think to be a nice selection from the first couple of years' worth of entries, which I've arranged by months. So from January to December, you can see what living in rural Creuse is like for an Anglo-Irish family who took the plunge and have never looked back. (OK, maybe just the odd glance!)

Enjoy!

Stephanie Dagg

# January

## Wood and Green Living

1.1.2010

We've spent the morning replenishing our firewood supply.

At the moment, we're using up all the old beams we salvaged during renovation work. So I drag them out of the stable to Chris and Benj, who are waiting outside to slice them up with the chainsaw. Then I load up the wheelbarrow and squelch down to the woodshed with the cut pieces, helped by Caiti and Ruadhri. We get through roughly a barrowful of wood on a cold day I would estimate. But that's pretty much all we use for heating. We have central heating but run it as little as possible – maybe an hour in the morning so there's a warm kitchen for breakfast and hot water for washing. Then it's off until evening when it comes on in the bathroom and bedrooms to take the chill off. We live in the living room in winter (easy to see where the name comes from!), only dashing to the kitchen to get meals and cups of tea. We wear two jumpers each as well.

And it's bearable although not very convenient. So it really got my hackles up when the French government proposed to add 5 cents a litre to heating oil and the same per kilo of gas, as a so-called 'green tax'. We couldn't use any less gas than we do already. I turn the Antargas guy away several times a year. He appears every now and again, begging me to let him fill our tank up, but I say 'no' firmly! We need less than one tankful a year. We can't afford to be tempted into using more than that. The price of petrol and diesel is going to be bumped up by the same tax. And again, I don't see how we can cut down on our mileage any more. There are no local bus or train services, so we have to drive to get our shopping. Mondays and Fridays we make a 22 km round trip to get Benj and Caits to the nearest bus stop for their coach to lycée. We go into Boussac perhaps once a week for the grocery shopping, and maybe to Guéret or La Châtre every fortnight for a bigger food shop and other necessary items. I've cut out trips to the swimming pool and other such 'frivolous' jollies. Ruadhri takes the school bus now, even though that means a very early start for him with a lot of wasted time sat on the bus as it meanders along the country lanes. Up to now we either cycled or walked him to school, nine days out of ten. Sadly his school at St Marien is about 12 km away, too far for biking. And I recycle everything to the point of ridiculousness. How could we be more green? Frankly, until the government ministers are doing the same as we are (just keeping one room warm in winter and hardly using their cars) then they should stop hitting us with carbon taxes when we're doing everything we can already.

Its manufacturers they should turn their attention to. A couple of reasons why: we had to saw our way with a breadknife to get into a few of our overpackaged Christmas presents this year. France seems to love that deadly, razor-sharp hard plastic packaging for everything. Way over the top. And then Chris bought a new electric screwdriver recently. He only needed a new battery for it but it proved impossible to buy that separately. So he had to buy the whole outfit, even though there was plenty of use left in the old screwdriver, battered as it was. That's where resources are being wasted and huge carbon footprints left. Not by us huddled round our fire.

Put another jumper on, Sarko.

## Llamaless fields

8.1.2010

For the first time in a long, long time there are no llamas or alpacas to be seen in the fields of Les Fragnes. They're all indoors since we're experiencing the worst winter weather we've had since we arrived here in 2006. Even the girls who can come and go as they like have stayed indoors all day, happily kushed down eating hay. Bernard and the two alpacas are in one stable, Oscar has joined the girls (he's had the snip so no hanky panky), and Denis has joined Maisy the goat in her stable. The forecast is for minus 10 with strong winds and snow – that's not weather to leave animals out in.

The poultry have been mainly indoors today too. The turkeys took up with the girl llamas, the chickens huddled up in their stable, and only the indomitable Sham (our white chicken) and the two ducks ventured very far. The cats are hanging round the house, hoping for us to show some weakness and let them in! Treacle has snuck in a few times, but not for very long. They're just too naughty.

Benj and Caits have taken up snowboarding. Benj took the wheels off his ancient Star Wars skateboard, but it's working very well. I imagine it's a bit smaller than a proper snowboard, and not as grippy on the top. Both teens slip off a lot! But they're enjoying themselves. We got them to come home from lycée on Wednesday as we were very worried about them getting stuck down in Gueret for the weekend. The bad weather hasn't arrived yet, but it would have been difficult fetching them tonight in the dark and the freezing fog and on the slippery roads. Chris drove the car up to leave it by the gate, our standard procedure when it looks like our drive will get blocked by snow, and he had a tricky time of it.

So we'll be hunkering down for the weekend. It won't be just the llamas keeping a low profile!

## Frozen Solid

10.1.2010

The temperature hasn't gone above minus 5 for four days now. It's certainly the longest cold snap we've had, although not the snowiest. (That was January 2007.) And we've had problems. Our pipes froze on Friday night, so on Saturday Chris was hacking holes in the plasterboard to locate the source of the problem. I was hair-drying one set of pipes while Chris set the electric fan heater up to warm another. We turned on the halogen floodlights in the loft to heat that up too.

So of course there was no running water in the house. Thank goodness we have the gîte. We were able to use the loo over there, and do the washing up and washing too. This morning we've got most of the pipes freed up. However, the kitchen sink isn't draining outside – but into the bath! Clearly a bit more ice to deal with somewhere.

The fun thing about the snow is all the animal tracks we find in the mornings. Here are some ragondin (Coypu) tracks that we spotted on the big lake.

The animals are all snug and cosy. Denis the llama and Maisy the goat are getting on well, but Oscar is being a little bit henpecked by the females. He'll survive! The cats are sneaking inside more and more often! As I type this, Treacle is sitting on my lap, having a good wash. She's not that impressed with the snow. Nessie is as happy as ever.

The children are happy as there won't be any school buses running tomorrow. That's a relief – the roads round here are certainly not safe. We'll have to wait and see what comes along weather-wise this week. It's meant to warm up mid-week by a degree or two, but I'll believe it when it happens.

## Bare Cupboards

13.1.2010

We've been snowed in for a week now. The kids are convinced our food is running out. True, Caiti is out of ice tea, Benj has noticed there are just a few yogurts left in the fridge and Ruadhri's chocolate breakfast cereal is dwindling fast. But it will be a long, long time before we starve. We can walk to Nouzerines, as we have been doing regularly through the snow and ice, to buy milk, bread, croissants and flour. The _boulangerie_ is only small and doesn't have a great range, but the staples are there. I haven't noticed a fridge, but I'm pretty sure they must sell cheese and butter. I can't imagine a small French shop that wouldn't!

We have a freezer jam-packed with blackberries and chestnuts from our summer hedgerows and autumn trees, and apples and pears from a friend's orchard. Not to mention well over a hundred frozen eggs from our chickens and ducks. There are plenty of frozen meat dishes too. Chris always cooks in quantity so there are leftovers to freeze whenever he's been slaving over a hot oven. There's a giant pumpkin that will make us a good few gallons of soup, nets of onions and a large bucketful of carrots in the kitchen, and several rows of potatoes out in the veggie patch still. And of course we have three turkeys, two ducks, half a dozen chickens, loads of rabbits (and a brand new litter has just arrived to our great surprise – we left the last litter in with momma bun too long) ... and not forgetting the goat!!! (OK, we won't be eating the goat unless we're still snowed in come July.) It might not be the diet of choice for the kids, but we could keep ourselves fed for ages.

I guess that makes us partially self-sufficient, which is something to be very proud about. We also keep ourselves in wood as well, and my knitting and sewing kits us out with a few clothing necessities. I should have enough alpaca wool from now on to produce my own yarn. Chris can turn his hand to pretty much any job around the house and grounds. He's done wonders in the last few days, sorting out our frozen pipes. But we'd need cows, pigs, fields of wheat, tea and coffee bushes, a private oil well and a windmill to be fully self-sufficient! We intend to increase our livestock this year, but I can't see myself taking up milking. We thought about some dairy goats a year or so back, but since none of us like goat's milk, and certainly not goat's cheese, there didn't seem much point! If we really wanted, we could start drinking llama milk – but I think Gabby would have a lot to 'say' about that. And I wouldn't be the one to volunteer to milk her! Gabby is a super llama but doesn't do the touchy-feely thing.

I think we'll be able to get to the shops before the week is done. But I look forward to needing to buy less in the future.

## Out, Brothers, Out!

16.1.2010

There have already been some strikes here in France in 2010 – and we're only halfway through January! There has been a traindriver's strike, a pilot's strike and an air traffic controller's strike, and next week there will be general strike in the French principality of Guadeloupe on the 20th , and then one here on the 21st, not forgetting the nurses who strike on the 26th.

Do the French strike more than other countries? It certainly seems so. However, a quick poke around on the net reveals that it's the Canadians who down tools most often. Between 1995 and 2006, the number of work days lost through strikes per thousand employees was 203.4 in Canada, 134.8 in Spain, 91.4 in France and 74.3 in Norway. The country that had the fewest strikes was Switzerland, with 2.8 days lost. (These figs from www.metiseurope.eu.)

The rivalry between unions is one reason for frequent strikes in France, apparently. Each union must be seen to be at least trying to outdo the others!

I'm not generally in favour of strikes as they inconvenience the wrong people the most. I mean, is Sarko going to care particularly that my two teens are having to come home on Wednesday afternoon now instead of being able to stay at school? Their 'internat' (boarding facilities) will be closed on Wednesday night because of the strike. Does it bother him that they'll be using two extra bus tickets each this week, that I'll have to get up at 6am on Thursday to get them on their bus (usually I only have to do that on Monday and once a week is enough, believe me), and that I'll be making two extra journeys of 22km each to get them from and to the bus-stop? And Benj and Caits won't be getting two meals each that we've paid for as part of their fees? They'll be eating here instead – two teas and two breakfasts. It's not a colossal sum of money involved, I know, but it's a good few euro, and it all adds up. And do _I_ have any influence on whatever it is the strikers are striking for? Unlikely.

However, workers have the right to strike so I must respect that. But it would be nice if it didn't mean I had to get up early two mornings and have more washing up to do ...!

## January Blues

20.1.2010

I've read in several places that round about now (the 20th or so of January) is the most depressing time of year. It's a month since Christmas, it's the middle of winter and there's nothing much to look forward to in the immediate future. Except, perhaps, more snow.

The very worst day is so-called Blue Monday, usually the Monday of the last full week in January. There is actually a specific formula for working it out which involves time since Christmas, post-Christmas debt level, time since breaking all New Year's resolutions, and motivational levels. It doesn't stand up to close mathematical scrutiny, being very tongue-in-cheek, but it makes you think!

But this Blue Monday idea is a very pessimistic view. There are a few things to brighten the dull days. There's a strike tomorrow here – a good, brisk march through the sunshine should lift the spirits! And the sales are on. I'm not a great bargain hunter and the sales at this time of year seem to be mainly of bedding and curtains and towels. There's a limit to those of what you can buy. However, there are other things on sale too. Gifi is full of cheaper than ever bling, and the clothes shops have reductions, so that's more interesting. The supermarkets have some bargains as well, sometimes rather strange ones, but bargains nonetheless. Caiti is impatient to have a trawl round the shops in Gueret as soon as she has some free time between lessons.

And more fun things coming up are Burn's Night next week. We love haggis and make our own (not going for the sheep's stomach, you may be pleased to hear), and follow it with tipsy laird. We're not Scottish, but we like to celebrate with the Scots. My brother in law is from Aberdeen and I spent a year at Stirling University so that's a good enough reason. Then Valentine's Day and Chinese New Year arrive together on 14th February. It's not too early to start planning for those to give you something enjoyable to do.

So don't be downhearted. There may be two months of winter left – and here in Creuse it may be more than that. Our winters are long. But it's not all doom and gloom. Every day is a few minutes longer and spring really is on the way.

## Censused

26.1.2010

The census taker came yesterday. It's our turn to be counted. Unlike the UK and Ireland, France carries out its censuses on a rolling basis. Communes with fewer than 10,000 inhabitants are censused (that's a real word, honestly) every 5 years, but not all in the same year. For example, Nouzerines is subject to a census this year, but neighbouring Bussière St Georges will be dealt with in 2012. Communes larger than 10,000 are censused every 10 years, but not in one go. A proportion of each of these communes is processed every year. This seems a sensible way of doing things. Maybe it doesn't give a snapshot of exactly how many people are living in France at an exact time and date, like the UK one does, but is that a particularly useful measure anyway? There can be large, rapid fluxes in population which won't be reflected in that figure. For example, the recent sudden arrival of tens of thousands of Eastern European people in Ireland was followed by an equally rapid exodus when the economy took a nosedive. A system like the UK's wouldn't ever register those people if it occurred between census dates, but the French system would at least take some account of it.

The form wasn't too complicated, and anyway, the census-taker, our neighbour Jan's daughter Gaëlle, was extremely helpful. Ruadhri's was the quickest to fill in. Caiti and Benj, being over 14, required a few additional sections to be filled in, and Chris and I had the most. There was also a questionnaire about our house to complete too. Gaelle wasn't quite sure if we needed to complete one for the gîte, since although it's a furnished house, no-one lives there – but we filled one out just in case!

Gaëlle was reckoning it would take her the full month she's allowed to collect all the information. Our commune only has a small population but it's quite widely spread and is out and about a good deal too. Catching people in is going to be tricky. Gaëlle had left us a note informing us when she'd be calling in our mail box at the end of the drive, which we hadn't discovered. But we're usually in so she found us anyway. So we're all done for another five years and France will officially acknowledge us as being here in its facts and figures from now on!

The last official figures are for 2007 and show a population of 252 full-time residents in Nozuerines with 9 part-timers. This group includes people who, for example, have a family home in another department, but spend long periods in Nouzerines for education or work purposes. Creuse as a whole has a fixed population of 123,861 with an extra 5,000 part-time residents. It will be interesting to see which way the figures move with this census.

## Firefighters versus Posties!

13.1.2011

It's the battle of the calendars. France is the land of calendars and the most important two are the Sapeurs- Pompiers calendar and the Post Office calendar. These are brought round by members of the relevant profession and you give a donation according to your means for your copy. I'm not sure that refusal is an option!

But which is the better of the two? Let's take a look.

First up the Sapeurs-Pompiers calendar. This is a locally-based one, ours is the Boussac version, which immediately makes it very relevant. There's a lively photo on the cover of firefighters spraying their hoses at the École Maternelle, fortunately not on fire. The water spraying theme is recurrent – unsurprisingly – with a factory, a wedding, a playground, and a couple of other places being dowsed. There are lots of photos – fire engines, members past and present, the batterie-fanfare, and training action shots.

The calendar relies on advertising to make it viable and so there are handy ads by local firms on each month's page, always useful. There's the obligatory summary of the year's saints on the back cover. The calendar comes with pre-punched holes in each page so it's easy to hang up. All in all, a colourful, practical item.

Now for the La Poste calendar. This is regional, but only half of it – the inner 4 pages which relate to Creuse with local maps. The outer pages this year consist of a desk diary at one end, and general info about France at the other end. I use 'ends' rather than front and back, because this is one of those slightly confusing publications where some of it is upside down. Are you with me? Open the end with the summary of saints for January to June and you have the desk diary part, right way up. Flip the calendar over and open it like a book from the other end, with the saints for July to December, and the info part of the calendar is now the right way up. Complicated!

The calendar comes with a metal hook on the spine for hanging purposes, but if you hang it up by that, then it's closed. Hmm. Also, with it being a desk diary this year i.e. the months are presented two to a page, portrait layout (rather than landscape), you can't really hang it up anyway. There is very little room to write anything in the gap for each date so not very user-friendly. It's good that La Poste are trying something new, but I preferred the old more traditional style of previous years' calendars. That said, it's a good quality item with stiff covers that come in a variety of designs so you can choose your favourite. The choice covers fluffy kittens, ferocious-looking boar, pretty scenery and cute kids, you can imagine the sort of thing. I plumped for Mont St Michel this year (and a cheery pic of fishing boats on the back).

So, very different, both in a good cause, but the prize this year goes to the sapeurs-pompiers. However, both calendars will get good use. The longer I live in France, the more the calendar culture takes hold and the more I need!

## Log Blog

20.1.2011

January is all about keeping warm in chilly Creuse. This year's winter started earlier than usual, but hasn't been too bad overall. However, another cold spell is looming and our woodpile is a bit on the small side now. Two cordes didn't go as far as we thought. (A corde of wood is roughly 4 steres, with a stere being a square metre. The size of a corde varies according to the region of France you live in!) So we've been slicing, lugging and splitting logs. OK, Chris has been doing all three, I've participated extensively in the last two, and even nine year old Ruadhri has helped with splitting. We treated ourselves to a secondhand log splitter this year, and it's a dream come true. Instead of Chris having to spend hours belting the heck out of logs with an axe, and breaking a couple of handles in the process each year, now, at the touch of a button, this wonderful machine does it for us. Awesome. Here's a picture of Ruadhri at work.

Other cosiness-on-the-cheap tactics are that we all wear an extra layer or two in winter and keep just one room heated all day with the wood stove. We only have the central heating on briefly in the morning and evening. It would be way too expensive to keep it on all day, and unnecessary anyway. We live in the lounge, with brief forays into the cold kitchen to get meals ready.

Long-term, though, we need to bump up our insulation. We thought we'd put plenty of glass wool in, but you can never have too much in this part of France! Chris has repointed the exterior of our house on the north side to help keep the wind out, but with an old building, there's always going to be nooks and crannies that winter can creep through. The wildlife creeps in too. Shrews and mice skitter across the floor every now and again. The cats studiously ignore them, despite the fact that all three of them are mean mousers outdoors. However, once they get indoors into the warm, they slump into a blissfully cosy coma.

We've got to the toughest part of the year. Late January and February tend to drag bleakly by, but spring isn't so very far away and, when it comes out, there's warmth in the sun. I was sat outside on Monday soaking it up. But today I'm back in furry boots. A typically crazy Creuse winter.

## Why Learning French is Better than Sex!

27.1.2011

1. You don't have to hide your French language magazines from your partner.

2. You won't go blind if you learn French by yourself.

3. You can learn French in front of the children.

4. You won't catch a disease learning French.

5. It's quite acceptable to pay someone to teach you how to do it.

6. You can learn French for hours on end.

7. Once you've learnt, you can try it out with everyone you meet.

8. It's OK to do it online.

9. No-one is going to post embarrassing videos of you learning French on Youtube.

10. People don't think you're a pervert if you learn French in a group.

# February

## February Sayings and Traditions

2.2.2010

Here are a few wise old sayings from the February 1932 edition of _La Prospérité_ _à_ _la Campagne_ :

Chandeleur noire – hiver a fait son devoir. _Chandeleur trouble – l'hiver redouble._ Black Candlemas – winter has finished its work. Unsettled Candlemas – winter will redouble its efforts. (I guess that by 'black' candlemas it means cloudy and not snowy. Candlemas is 2 Feb.)

Si janvier fait le février, février fait le janvier. If January is like February, February will be like January. (This seems to be a bit of a cop-out saying, since in our experience so far, the two months are very similar weather wise!)

Quand le soleil à la Chandeleur fait lanterne – quarante jours après il hiverne. When the sun shines brightly like a lantern at Candlemas, forty days later it will be wintry.

Candlemas on 2 February traditionally marked the end of Christmas. It is the midway point between the winter solitice and the spring equinox. Candles were taken to Church to be blessed. They were incredibly important items in days gone by, not only because they were the main source of light but also because many people believed they had beneficial properties. In Ireland, to this day, candles are used to bless the throat to protect it against infections.

It's traditional to have pancakes at Candlemas. Now that's always good news in our household.

February 2nd is also groundhog day. In German tradition, it was the badger who predicted what the weather would do. If he stuck his nose out and found snow, he'd come out because he knew winter would soon be over. But if he saw sunshine, he'd go back down his burrow and go back to sleep because he knew more bad weather was coming. I hope our _ragondins_ (coypu) will go back down their burrows!

And it's your last chance to take down the last Christmas decorations. If you missed the twelfth night deadline, this is the next one. Miss that and bad luck could be in store. You've been warned!

## Nodes and Nudes

6.2.2010

I'm going to be gardening by the moon this year. I have my trusty handbook by my side – _Mieux Jardiner avec la Lune_ – and I'm ready to get started. But will it really make any difference?

Gardening by the phases of the moon stretches back thousands of years. Pliny the Elder (23-79 AD) wrote about it. Benjamin Franklin did it. Now it's my turn to do both. The idea behind it is that when the moon is waxing, the water table rises so plants absorb nutrients more quickly. This is especially helpful to young plants. As the moon wanes, the water table drops so this is a better time for weeding and harvesting. You should prune then too as the cut shoots lose less moisture.

There's a bit more to it than that – a few complications like the apogee (when the moon is its furthest away from earth), the perigee (when it's at its closest) and the lunar nodes. These I'm still slightly confused by, but I believe they're when the moon's orbit crosses the ecliptic i.e. the sun's orbit. There are two each month, and they usually mean you can take some time off gardening. That's the great thing about the lunar gardening system – there are certain times when it would be a complete waste of effort to do any gardening, so you can put your feet up guilt-free.

It will be interesting to see if we get better harvests this year. Pumpkins, potatoes and courgettes are the only veg that really seem to thrive in our garden, but mainly because we surrounded them with plenty of llama manure. The soil is surprisingly poor, but only we think because of being over-farmed by our predecessor. We'll give it plenty of TLC this year – i.e. Tons of Llama Crap – which should it do it no end of good.

And a date for your diaries while on the theme of gardening. This year Naked Gardening Day is on Saturday 8th May. I'm very tempted but there will be both teenage children and gîte clients around on that day so it might cause too much shock, upset and/or hilarity. Shame!

## Le Pub

10.2.2010

Tuesdays is pub day. No, not the day we head off to our local for a drink , but the day the postman leaves a pile of advertising brochures – _le pub_ – in the mailbox with our letters. We refer to it all as the weekly pictures of meat since invariably all the brochures from the supermarket chains have a good few pages devoted to – you guessed it – pictures of meat. I can't see the point, I have to say. One bit of meat looks very much like another in my opinion. Are there really people who will see the photo of, for example, _viande bovine a bifteck_ (beef steak) or _porc: foie, coeur et rognon_ (pig's liver, heart and kidney) and leap from their chair to rush to the shops to buy it, unable to face life without that for dinner?

Sometimes we get two lots of _pub_. I suspect we might be at the end of our ever-changing postie's rounds, so if anything is left over, we get it. No problem, it all gets recycled chez nous. Either it's used for starting the fire, although we find the coated, shiny paper that's used in _le pub_ isn't brilliant. The rest goes to the nearest _local à papiers_ (paper recycling point), although at present we're saving it up for our raised beds. Just as soon as Notaire's house if fully finished, we'll be taking to the garden to build these. Our veg get easily swamped by weeds, plus the soil needs some serious improvement, so we've decided raised beds are the answer. _Le pub_ will form a thick layer over at the bottom of each bed to stop the weeds growing through. Aptly enough, a lot of manure (a good mixture of llama, alpaca, chicken and rabbit droppings and bedding) will go on top of the brochures. (Ironically, this week the Leclerc _pub_ has ads for horse manure – fumier -in it!) We'll mix soil in with that too and are confident our veg yields will double this year.

The hardware and garden stores are the next most persistent producers of _pub_ , closely followed by clothes shop. Those brochures get more attention in this household than the supermarket ones. Being a so-called 'hard discount' family, we don't buy top name products but live off supermarket own-brand produce. They don't feature in _le pub_ at all!

Is _le pub_ effective? It must be since it's continually churned out. Or is it just the case that no supermarket dares make the unilateral decision to stop? _Le pub_ is a huge industry. A lot of precious resources go into filling France's mailboxes every Tuesday and then France's bins every Wednesday, since the majority of it must get thrown away. This isn't a nation of recyclers yet. However, look carefully and you'll see the ecofolio logo on the back of a lot of the brochures. When organisations sign up for this, they commit to pay 37 euro per tonne of paper they produce to acknowledge their 'responsabilité elargie de producteur' i.e. a recognition of their wider environmental responsibilities. They must also provide facilities for recycling paper. There's also the 'imprimvert' logo on some _pub_. This encourages greener printing practises and certain standards have to be met to be able to use the logo on a publication. Steps in the right direction at last, but not everyone's taking them.

So even though for now _le pub_ is getting greener, I hope its days are numbered.

## Sex it up the French Way on St Valentine's Day

13.2.2011

There are plenty of aphrodisiacs to be found lurking amongst food items that we consider to be typically French. Here are a few to try out on February 14th.

Aniseed (anise) has been used as an aphrodisiac since Roman times. Sucking the seeds was thought to increase desire, and there's truth in this as they contain oestrogens. It also gives you sexy fresh breath! Pastis and Pernod contain aniseed so share a glass of this with your Romeo or Juliet on Valentine's Day.

Almonds are one of the oldest known aphrodisiacs and fertility symbols. The scent of the nuts and the tree blossom is very sensual. The nuts themselves are a protein powerhouse containing vitamin E, copper, potassium, selenium, iron and phosphorus and will give you plenty of staying power. No wonder dragées (sweet coated almonds) are so closely associated with weddings in France! In fact, in the old days these sweets would be thrown at the ceremony. Since they were known as confetti in Italy, then that's where the name for the coloured paper shapes we throw today has come from. I think I'd have rather had dragées thrown at mine! Verdun is especially famous for their production, and this industry dates back to the thirteenth century. So, either dish up some dragées on Valentine's Day or other marzipan confections that every confiserie sells here in France.

The Aztecs were the first to see the connection between sexual desire and the cocoa bean. Emperor Montezuma ate loads to fuel his love life! Scientists now know that chocolate contains tryptophan and phenylethylamine, both of which are chemicals involved in arousal and falling in love. However, many think the quantities are possibly too small to really have an effect. But chocolate is packed with energy which always comes in handy. So I would go with incorporating chocolate into St Valentine's Day meal somewhere or other. A typical chocolate heavy French breakfast would be a good start – hot chocolate and pains au chocolat or one of the many types of chocolate enhanced breakfast cereals that are de rigueur over here! Chocolate mousse at lunch or dinner, and chocolate covered marzipan or almonds would be the perfect accompaniment to a cup of coffee, itself an aphrodisiac because of its stimulating properties.

Two other very French foods have love-enhancing qualities – mustard and truffles. Mustard is believed to stimulate the sexual glands. Monks weren't allowed to have any in days gone by in case it set them on the path to ruin. And truffles? Pigs root them out because they give off scents similar to a porcine pheromone with a musky smell. But the effect on humans isn't so clear. The Romans certainly thought they were aphrodisiacs and so did Napoleon. Possibly he had too many! But if they were good enough for him, they why not give them a go, that is if you can afford it.

So a few suggestions of French foods to serve your loved on St Valentine's Day to make it a bit more fun!

## Fête de la St Valentin

12.2.2010

St Valentine's Day has lots of associations with France. It's thought that the idea of sending Valentine's cards started with the Duke of Orleans in the fifteenth century. He was captured during the Battle of Agincourt and taken to the Tower of London. He sent love letters and poems to his young wife. But even before him, French lovers had started celebrating around the middle of February, the time when birds began to pair off and build their nests.

But didn't the whole thing start off with St Valentine? Actually, there are at least three St Valentines. Pope Gelasius 1 made the day official in AD 496 to honour Valentine of Rome and Valentine of Terni. They were both martyred horribly but not much more is known about them. A third Valentine crops up too, Valentine of Africa, referred to in various martyrologies (boy, those must be depressing to read). So there's a lot of confusion as to who we should be commemorating on that day and what for. And an ancient Roman fertility ritual may have a bearing too. That happened on 15th February. It sounds rather fun. Priests sacrificed a goat (OK, it wasn't fun for the goat), drank a lot of wine and removed at least half of their clothing and then ran through the streets holding bits of the poor goat's skin. Young women were keen to be touched by this skin as it meant they'd be fertile and have easy labours. In a time before maternity hospitals, painkillers and antibiotics, you can see why they'd be prepared to be smacked with a bit of dead goat if that was the benefit.

However, we forget the martyrdoms and sacrifices and dwell on the fun stuff these days – the giving of flowers, presents and cards to our special someones. Valentines cards are called cartes d'amitiés here. The usual gifts to give on Valentine's Day are flowers and chocolates, as in many other countries. Cadeaux personalisés ordered over the internet are becoming popular too. So although the whole thing began with a French connection, it isn't anything particularly French about it any more. But that doesn't make it any the less enjoyable. Happy St Valentine's Day – Joyeuse Fête de la St Valentin.

## Mardi Gras

15.2.2010

So it's Fat Tuesday – that's what Mardi Gras means. What a great name. Traditionally it marks the last day of the 'carnaval' period that began at Epiphany and which ends with Lent ( _Carême_ ). Quite who would have been celebrating all that while I'm not sure. Certainly not the ordinary people who would have been battling with the hardships of winter. We've found this winter hard going with all our twenty-first century accoutrements – electricity, running water (most of the time), central heating to boost our reliance on our wood burning stove, supermarkets etc. It must have been really, really miserable in times gone by.

But Mardi Gras is an excuse for a knees-up with dressing up and tucking into nice rich food. There was a good reason for the latter in the past. The Church forbade people to eat rich food like eggs and cream during lent so they had to use these ingredients up before it started. Pancakes – crepes – we all know about, but bugnes are also very common. These are little fried doughnuts. There are regional variations on the precise ingredients that go into them. The French cookery website _www.750g.com_ has 1276 different recipes for bugne batter! More than one way of making them.

Ruadhri has only been at school for one Mardi Gras (he's been on winter holidays for the others). That year the children were asked to come along in their déguisements, so the tradition of wearing costumes for this day is still going strong, among children at least. Ruadhri went as an ankylosaur!

We're hoping Mardi Gras will see the last of the cold weather. It hasn't been above freezing for nearly a week now and we've had our deepest snow too. That's the third time we've been snowed in this winter. The novelty's wearing off!

## Moles

17.2.2010

Moving to France as we did from mole-free Ireland, we were initially taken aback at the obvious national hatred of these little creatures that manifested itself in the large displays of mole eradication devices that we saw in every hardware shop. There were mole mashers, mole crushers, mole crunchers, mole blasters, mole manglers, mole gasses and mole marmalisers. All this because of a few tiny molehills – talk about over the top! We felt sorry for the persecuted moles.

Not any more. We now hate, loathe, detest and despise moles. We have 75 acres of land. You'd think we could co-exist peacefully. But no. Out of that 75 acres, just a few hundred square metres is taken up by lawn. Can the moles leave that alone? They can't. In fact, they seem to home in on it on purpose. Their life's goal is to dig it up.

So reluctantly we've resorted to traps and deterrents. Our homemade molescarers made with plastic bottles upside down on sticks may have scared a few worms off but that's all. So we've become more sophisticated and invested in items from the hardware stores. But the moles are having the last laugh. While Chris has deafened himself several times with the mole blasters and come close to losing his fingers, we still don't have a confirmed victim. Despairing of that device, and particularly of its costs, we've invested in a little humane tunnel trap. So far that's caught a mouse. The mole cruncher hasn't caught anything. Moley has been round it, over it, under it and even through it a few times, but on each occasion he jams it open with earth. He's also removed the trigger that holds it open.

The cats have been more successful than we have. They've presented us with a couple of dead moles which bizarrely they refuse to eat. Normally our garden tigers eat everything.

Moles are fascinating creatures, with their star-shaped noses and velvety fur. They are smart little animals and incredibly quick. They can catch and eat a worm faster than the human eye can see. Their saliva contains a toxin so that they poison their invertebrate victims and store them in a specially constructed larder for later. And they give each worm a good squeeze before eating it to remove dirt and grit from its guts. They may live in the soil but they don't want to eat it! Males are called boars, females are sows and a group of moles is known as a labour. That's a very appropriate name.

What hope for our lawn? Well, we'll carry on our ineffectual campaign against our underground enemy. It seems to give them a good laugh and I'm not that sorry that we can't catch them! Maybe I should drop maps showing the route to Germany down their holes. Moles are a protected species there.

## Poo-stal Service

18.2.2011

Twice last year Chris, being just the wrong side of fifty, received very nice letters from the Association de Dépistage Organisé des Cancers en Creuse, at the orders of the Ministre de la Santé, inviting him to give himself up at the doctor's so that fingers could be probed where no-one wants fingers probing to check on his colorectal health!

Needless to say, Chris didn't feel terribly tempted by this and, although touched by the concern of the French government for the wellbeing of his intestinal tract, ignored the letters.

Well, the ADOCC are taking their duties very seriously. They're not giving up. Chris obviously isn't alone in his desire to have rubber gloves kept well away from the lower regions of his anatomy, so some dedicated individual has come up with the DIY colorectal kit. Its ultimate aim is to get three samples of you know what that can be sent by post for analysis to hopefully confirm the absence of blood. Here it is in all its glory.

Chris has to do three things.

1. Fill in a questionnaire.

2. Produce the samples and package and label them carefully.

3. Put the samples in the franked envelope – see, they're that concerned, they're springing for the cost of the stamp!

He's still not feeling terribly motivated about the whole thing. Maybe it's worth holding off a bit longer to see what or possibly who gets sent round next to ensure that ADOCC can cross his rectum off its list. (And yes, I really should take it more seriously. They'll be coming for me in a couple of years' time!)

## Getting Plastered in France

23.2.2010

I've been painting and cutting plasterboard on and off for the last week now as we work on some ceilings. In our various renovations we've used vast quantities of plasterboard, and we haven't finished yet. So I decided it was time I did some research on it.

Plasterboard, _plaque à plâtre_ here in France, and drywall in the USA, is made from a layer of gypsum paste sandwiched between two sheets of thin cardboard. The central layer is made from ground gypsum mixed with starch, paper pulp and thickeners. The whole lot is then cooked at 70 degrees Celsius. At this stage the sheets of plasterboard are up to 450 m long! They're cut to size once they've cooled, a common size here being 120 by 250 cm.

Plasterboard became popular after the Second World War, although it had been around since 1916. To start with it was thought of as a cheap and inferior substitute for traditional plastering and wasn't popular. But when the menfolk went off to fight there were labour shortages and plasterboard proved its value as a low cost and quick method of construction. It was positively patriotic to use it!

Plasterboard is fairly green. Recycled materials are used in the gypsum paste and the cardboard casing is up to 100% recycled newspapers. However, there are emissions when the product is made, although in the USA the first zero emission drywall has hit the market. There are recycling centres where you take all those leftover offcuts. Lafarge in France has such a centre at Carpentras. And of course gypsum is a finite resource. It is mined out of the ground. Once a quarry is exhausted, it is made safe, landscaped and replanted and made as pleasant as it can be. French manufacturers have undertaken to do what they can to minimise negative environmental effects.

We couldn't manage without plasterboard. It's allowed us to do our renovation work ourselves – the only way we could afford to do it. As well as being reasonably priced, it's relatively easy to handle, can be cut to shape, paints up well and has fire-retardant qualities. A pretty useful material. However, I shall be quite happy not to see another sheet of it for a long, long time...

## Why Winter Holidays?

23.2.2011

The two-weeks winter holiday break is the most annoying one of the school year. If you're not a skier who's heading delightedly off to the mountains, then there's pretty much nothing else to do! It's February, it's cold, it's grey, not many tourist attractions are open (we're not, that's for sure) and all in all, it's pretty depressing. The Point Info Jeunesse in Boussac has organised some kids' sporty activities – sessions of handball, volleyball, cycling, basketball and gymnastics, among others, so there is one ray of sunshine. Rors will be going to gymnastics to try and master forward rolls.

When I was at school, we had gym at least once a week, although I think it was called music and movement back then. Everyone, but everyone, could climb ropes, do forward rolls and cartwheels, and go bright red standing on their head for too long. However, in Ireland and here in France, most schools don't have a dedicated gym. Games lessons consist of running around outdoors, Irish dancing (horrors) or its French equivalent, and other fairly random activities. Caiti went to gym club for a year so at least she learned to do a forward roll. But my two boys haven't. Rors needs to do them in judo but he's very reluctant for me to teach him. And frankly, so am I! I can't remember the last time I did one. Now, I'm a very active person, doing tons of walking and cycling and llama wrestling, but my days of earning BAGA awards are long done. I'm pretty sure I'll do something nasty to myself if I demonstrate a roll. (I did a cartwheel last year for the kids and it took several days for my wrists to recover!) I only wish teachers did their jobs properly!

A week would be quite long enough for this holiday. I'd much rather have an extra week at Easter or a proper half-term during the summer term when at least the weather will be better. Unfortunately the forecast is wet and grey for the next ten days, so that limits what we can do even more. Not that the kids are complaining. After a forced route march each day, Rors is happy to play with his lego and read BDs (bandes dessinés – comic strip books), Caiti to cook and write Scratch programs on her laptop and Benj is up to his ears in revision.

So where did this holiday come from? In 1939 an arêté introduced four days of holidays around Mardi Gras (Shrove Tuesday). This has somehow evolved into a fortnight ski-ing break that is staggered across the country's three school holiday zones to avoid clogging the slopes! I'm guessing a lot of government ministers ski.

## Table Manners

28.2.2011

There's a lot of advice on the web about table manners in France, many of them implying there's a lot of formality. Possibly that's true, I guess I just don't move in those circles! My own experience has been much more of informality, particularly for the kids.

Now, in Ireland, cooked school dinners don't exist. For ten years I made packed lunches every schoolday for first one, then two, then three kids. Man, that's a lot of sandwiches. And as a result of eating out of plastic boxes during their formative years, a lot of Irish kids are a bit vague as to what to do with knives and forks, particularly when so much convenience food is served up at home. My own guys when they were little often ate their tea with a spoon if it was cheesy pasta or something with rice, or with just a fork.

Not so in France. From _maternelle_ (nursery school) upwards, children have a four-course cooked lunch at school which they eat with all the correct implements. The dinner lady sees to that! So even if they live on crisps and burgers at home, they learn how to use tableware. But not in quite the same way as English or Irish people do. The difference lies with the fork. The English way is to hold your fork between your thumb and forefinger and delicately spear your food to hold it still for cutting. Now here Ruadhri demonstrates la mode _française_. The fork is gripped in a fist and plunged into whatever it is you want to cut up next. In her early days at school, Caiti would remark on this and think it was bad manners. But it wasn't long before she was doing the same thing. So at our meals these days, Chris and I eat one way, and the three kids the other! Just another of those funny little cultural differences that make being an ex-pat so interesting.

# March

## La Mode Illustrée

2.3.2010

When we moved into Les Fragnes nearly five years ago now, the loft of what is now our gîte, Notaire's House, was stuffed with treasures – clothes, tools, toys, books and journals. One of these journals is _La Mode Illustrée_. We have copies dating back to 1876. It's a large format newspaper, obviously aimed at well-to-do ladies, and packed full of detailed black and white drawings of the latest fashions. Most issues include a detailed paper pattern and stories – and, as mentioned yesterday, a rebus! Amazon.fr even sells a book of 1,000 illustrations from this journal:

_La Mode Illustrée_ was delivered to the homes of elegant ladies around France every other Sunday. Why one was delivered here is an enticing mystery I'm longing to solve. We think that a young lady called Genevieve, whose home was at nearby Les Combes, a very fine house, married the Notaire who lived here, possibly Marcel Beaufils. We have snippets of information amongst the things we found but not the whole story. I really must get down to the archives at Guéret for a lengthy browse through any relevant records.

So for now some pictures from this wonderful old newspaper. However, I am incredibly grateful that we don't still wear clothes like that. I can't believe they were comfy, and I certainly can't see myself mucking out the llamas in one of those outfits!

## Sorting shelves and cracking shells

5.3.2011

My quest to be better organised continues. The latest thing I've tackled is the 'library' in our holiday cottage. When we used to go on holiday, pre llamas, I was always delighted to find a shelf of books offering some entertainment for quiet half hours, or if the weather was bad. So we've filled three bookshelves with books for our guests, making sure there' are plenty of children's books (including some I wrote!).

But the shelves were constantly untidy and the books weren't taken care of so I decided to create a more organised library. I've filled the shelves completely and put up book ends so the books won't keep falling over and ending up in a heap. I've also labelled each book and given it a number – A1 etc for books by authors whose surname starts with A, and so on – and have an index book to record them all in. It took a lot of work, but finally, we know exactly what books we've got there! I'm working on the principle that if it looks like we value and take pride in our little library, then the guests are more likely to do so as well.

From shelves to shells. The hens are laying busily now that the sunshine has finally reached France. But, like every year, I was too parsimonious in my frozen egg usage over winter, not wanting to run out! So I have a lot of frozen eggs left, and now a new supply of fresh ones!

Freezing eggs works well. You can't freeze them in their natural state though. You need to beat them for successful freezing. I do two at a time and store them in a yogurt pot with a plastic covering (cut from a bread bag or other recyclable plastic bag) held on by an elastic band. Lots of reusing there!

The egg looks a bit gunky when it defrosts, but it's perfectly OK and works as well as fresh egg.

One hundred years ago there was an egg crisis in France. In 1905 a law had been brought in making it illegal to pass preserved eggs off as fresh ones. But six years later, the practice was still widespread. Eggs were preserved in lime in those days. The secret with any type of preserving is to keep air and bacteria out. For the lime method, 12 oz of quicklime was mixed into a gallon of water, together with small quantities of other chemicals (salt, soda, saltpetre, borax and tartar). This would be poured over eggs in a barrel, and the barrel was then covered with a cloth. The lime would tend to make the eggshell feel very rough, so that was one way of telling if an egg had been preserved. Eggs could keep for 6-9 months this way. Modern-day preserved eggs are known as century eggs and are common in Asian recipes. These are preserved using lime together with salt, tea and wood ash.

Give me fresh eggs straight from a chicken any day!

##

## Eating Llamas

9.3.2011

Now, I'd always been under the impression that you couldn't eat llama meat in France. I was told that on good authority. But I was doing some research yesterday – not, I hasten to add, because I want to eat either Gabby, Windy, Katrina, Lulin, Vicky, Georgie, Mellie, Ciara, Plunkett, Elrond, Oscar, Denis, Seamus or Brendan. (Everyone knows you can't eat an animal with a name!) I was checking things out for my famous living in France book. And also because I just wanted to know. Every year, the most popular questions posed by people who come to trek with our llamas are 1) Can you ride a llama? (no), and 2) Can you eat them? I've been telling them no, but I thought I should find out for sure.

Anyway, I stumbled across a very long document issued by UNECE, the United Nations Economic Commission for Europe, entitled 'Llama/alpaca meat carcases and cuts'. France is listed as one of the countries whose delegation was involved in drawing it up. This suggests to me that therefore they support the idea of eating llamas. I've emailed UNECE to ask but haven't had a reply yet. They probably think I'm a passing lunatic!

All meat has a code according to what species it is. Beef is 10, turkey is 71, llama is 60 and alpaca is 61. There are then more codes for what age and sex the animal is, another set according to how it was reared (indoors, outdoors, organic etc), and more pertaining to how it was fed. And one set for fat thickness of the final cuts of meat L In fact, there are 14 different sets of codes, or fields.

There's a handy multilingual index of products, so I now know that Pecho corto sin tapa is Spanish for brisket point, and that the Russian for cube roll is nine words long. (It wouldn't paste here – my computer couldn't cope!) The UNECE report finishes with many pages featuring colour photos of various cuts of llama and handy diagrams showing whereabouts on the body this is found. It's actually fascinating but I appreciate it may not appeal to persons of a nervous disposition.

I'm not about to start looking up llama recipes, although there are plenty out there on the Internet. Llama meat is very popular in South America. I saw a programme on telly where some travel reporter was spending time in Peru and eating llama and guinea pigs. The former was tasty but tough, he said, and the latter absolutely delicious!

A few photo of our littlest alpaca to finish with. Elrond, who is now 7 months old, has now become known as Mutton Chops for obvious reasons. His ears are down as he's a bit nervous of the camera! He's one fluffy little 'paca!

## Mind your PQs – or why French toilet paper is pink!

10.3.2011

This question popped up in my brain the other day as I was doing the weekly shop in the supermarket. There were a few packets of white toilet rolls, but all the rest were pink. And, if you've been to France, you'll know that it's not a particularly nice shade of pink.

So – why?

Well, toilet paper (commonly known as PQ here – from _pécu_ which is short for _papier cul_ ie bum paper) goes back to sixth century China. However, it only became widely used in France in the 1960s! Bit of a time lag there. It had been around since the beginning of the twentieth century but was most definitely a luxury item. Newspaper was used, and then for a time, that dreadful shiny stuff that was no good at all if you remember!

At one time, toilet paper was made from virgin wood pulp. The WWF protested against this, and these days more recycled pulp is used. The vast majority of the toilet roll tubes are made from recycled paper. Recycled paper pulp tends to be a grotty grey so either needs more bleaching or dyeing a stronger colour to make it more appealing.

Pink is just a regional preference, although I can't find out who started the craze for this colour in France. The idea behind coloured toilet paper was to make it match the décor in the bathroom. I cannot believe for a moment that anyone would paint their smallest room Grotesque Pink so I'm not convinced that rule holds for France. Germans prefer paper with motifs I'm told, Americans plain white.

As often happens, the French are going against the general grain by sticking to dyed toilet paper when the worldwide trend is for white paper. It has been suggested that dyes cause irritation in sensitive areas, and of course there are the environmental concerns. Whether the pink dye is better than the bleaching that produces white toilet roll is debatable. It's more expenisive though. Sadly, unbleached toilet roll is not readily available anywhere since apparently consumers don't like its brown tinge. Ironic really.

Toilet paper is evolving. There are now scented papers, 3 and 4 ply papers, quilted, even glow-in-the-dark paper. But the pace of evolution is slower here. We still like our pink PQ.

## Moving the Earth in France

11.3.2011

Not so long ago I was sure we'd witnessed an earthquake. We were walking up our drive when there was an incredibly loud crunching sound. Now, I'd heard something very like that before, many years ago, when there'd been a very short earthquake in Washington, Tyne and Wear. I'd been doing an audit on a firm on an industrial estate there when it happened. Everyone had come rushing out of the factory units to see what was going on. Great excitement.

At first we thought our mystery noise must have been a sonic boom as there was no record of an earthquake in our area on that day. An earthquake is _tremblement de terre_ or _séisme_ in French. Our nearest seismic movement monitoring and measuring station is at Toulx Ste Croix, about 20 km away. This is one of 40 automatic stations that send signals in real time to the central database for Seismic activity at Bruyères le Châtel. Every time we come down from the panoramic tower there, we go and jump up and down just outside the seismic monitoring device which is next to it. But so far, I don't think our efforts have been recorded! However, supposing a worrying reading was sent from there, one of the team of scientists who man Bruyeres 24 hours a day would be alerted, and if it was a sign that something dreadful was about to happen, they in turn would alert the relevant authorities – police, army, government departments. France also has 4 seismic stations abroad and 12 stations monitoring possible tsunamis.

There are hundreds of minor tremors in France every year, but only a few notable ones i.e. of 4 or more on the Richter scale. The major French earthquake zones are Guadaloupe and Martinique, the Auvergne, Isere, Savoie, Alpes Maritime, Haut Rhin and Loiret.

So our noise wasn't an earthquake and it wasn't a sonic boom. What was it? In Nouzerines, a couple of kms away, a large chunk of an old house had collapsed. A farmer had been storing hay bales in it, and one of these had fallen and broken a crucial beam in the roof. Down came half the old building with an awful lot of noise and dust. Mystery solved!

## Road trip to Strasbourg – or 1,250 km in 36 hours!

14.3.2011

So we're safely back from our road trip to Strasbourg. We – eldest son Benj and I – were away for 36 hours. We spent 15 of those in the car – it's a long way to Strasbourg from the centre of France! It was tiring but a trip well worth making.

But distance isn't really a problem. I enjoy driving, and luckily Benj and I share similar tastes in music so we were happy enough to listen to each other's CDs on the way. We got through a lot. We also got through a lot of motorway service station sandwiches. I hadn't realised my son had a chicken and mayo sandwich habit. And we saw interesting things en route – three chickens right on the hard shoulder of one autoroute, happily scratching away at the scabby grass as traffic thundered past at 130 kph only metres away! Also car factories, the watersheds between the Mediterranean and the North Sea and the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, ancient fortifications, the Vosges mountains, Germany, an army convoy, policemen on bikes with ferocious truncheons and a Figuereido transport lorry which we thought was one cool name. (Maybe we'd just had too many chicken mayo sandwiches by then.)

The goal of the trip was to visit the university. Benj wants to do a Langues Etrangères Appliquées course (applied languages), specialising in German and English. Strasbourg appealed to him because of its proximity to Germany, and because it has a very good reputation for languages. This was his third university visit. He's already visited Limoges (with me) and Clermont Ferand (with Chris), both of them much nearer home! Strasbourg University is an old one, dating back to 1538, and it's also France's largest. In 1972 it was divided into three institutions, which between them have a student population of 42,000 – the Louis Pasteur University, Marc Bloch University and Robert Schuman University. The language school is part of Marc Bloch, named after the famous French historian.

Strasbourg is a huge city. Wikipedia tells me that it has a population of 273,000 which I frankly find hard to believe. I would have put it much, much higher. It's the seventh largest commune in France. It's beautiful too. The centre of it, on Grande Île, is a Unesco world heritage site, and you can see why. The towering, colossal Notre Dame cathedral is there. At 142 m it's currently the tenth tallest church in the world. It was the tallest from 1647 to 1874, but has been pushed down the rankings since then! It's in the Gothic style, a deep red colour and truly stunning. There's a fascinating astronomical clock in it. It features a perpetual clock, a planetary dial and shows the positions of the sun and moon. At 12.30pm every day the twelve apostles have a procession around the top of it. We missed that show but caught one figure walking round at 1pm. Whoever it was went past the eerie, skeletal figure of Death.

We walked through many bustling squares and along narrow lanes. The whole city was clean and gleaming. Like the trams. We loved the trams. We parked at a park and ride in the morning, rather than attempt to drive into the city, and travelled into in style on a tram. We found the university easily, and as we were running early and had an unlimited day pass on the trams, got straight onto another one and went to see the European Parliament and the European Court of Human Justice. These were very impressive, modern buildings, in a tranquil part of the city.

After the university visit, we were back on the tram, riding into the centre of Strasbourg to see all the beautiful buildings. We never had to wait more than 5 minutes for a tram, and each one was sleek, shiny and spotless.

We travelled up on the Friday and stayed at a Formule 1 hotel in the southern suburbs of Strasbourg, at Illkirch Graffenstaden. It was a low cost, no frills hotel, convenient to get to, and just perfect for our purposes. We strolled through the town, which was spacious and attractive, in the evening and found an Irish pub! (We moved to France from Ireland.) We drove back on Saturday, getting home about 9.30pm.

All in all, it was an interesting, enjoyable trip. I'd been wanting to visit Strasbourg for ages. I'd still like to go and visit the Christmas market there – it must be quite stunning in such a beautiful city. We'll have to wait and see if Benj ends up there for his studies ...

## Marching On

17.2.2010

It looks like winter might finally be over. It's been another long one, and our coldest and snowiest to date. We pretty much exhausted our wood supplies so it's time to start building up a store for next year.

However, a few more things to do first. We're almost there on the gîte renovation. That's been a huge task but it's looking brilliant. A final dust and polish, some gardening work outside and Notaire's House is ready for visitors.

The pool is coming along well too. Despite a ten-day break because it was too cold to make concrete, even with antifreeze in, our builder is back on the blockwork. That's almost finished so there's just the lining and pump to sort out – but we'll need much warmer weather before it's ready for being swum in.

Gabby and Katrina the llamas grow steadily rounder by the day. Katrina's cria could be due as early as next week, so we're all getting excited. All except Katrina, that is, who just gets grumpier. The other llamas give her a very wide berth. It was the same with Windermere in her last few weeks. Gabby doesn't seem to prone to the mood swings. She concentrates on seeing how close to exploding point she can expand. She really is enormous and she has until early May to go.

The daffodils have decided to go for it this time. They were about to burst into flower a fortnight ago but then the arctic conditions set in so they stayed firmly shut. But a few days of warm sunshine is tempting them to open now. At last!

Everything's getting going. There are meetings and fêtes and exhibitions. People are dragging themselves away from the fire and back into the world. There's a near hibernation experience in Creuse in winter! For our part, we have a German exchange student, Florian, coming very soon. He gets to Benj's _lycée_ today where he'll be staying till the weekend when he'll come here. Then we have an alpaca show at the end of the month. I'll be returning from that with two new additions to our herd, Acoria the Suri and her son Ghost. And the next day, Ruadhri has his _chasse d'oeufs_ with the school and a vintage car club are coming here to Les Fragnes as part of their ralley. Then it's Easter, then Caiti and I are going on a spinning course, and then, there's the Creuse on Famille open day, and then the kids go to Germany ... suddenly we can make plans again. We have our polytunnel to erect, together with lots of fencing, and the _potager_ needs attention. Plenty to do, and finally the weather to do it all. We'll forget all about the winter struggles ... until next winter, of course. But who cares when there's a glorious Creuse summer in between!

## Who needs Paris?

18.3.2011

So, Paris is still the world's number one tourist destination, with more than 30 million people visiting it every year. We still haven't been there yet, apart from Benj who went up with a school trip, and came back severely unimpressed. Too many rats everywhere, he reckoned!

I'm in no rush to go. There's plenty to see in rural Creuse. No, I'm not joking. There really is. Just yesterday we went for an hour's walk. It's one of our regular routes. And here's what we get to see on route.

First we go down by our big lake and walk through the wood at the far end. We regularly catch sight of herons, or ragondins, or a chevreuil or two (they're red deer and you rarely see one on its own). The other week I got a glimpse of two wild boar.

Round a neighbouring field, down a green lane, along the road a little way and we pass a hidden lavoir. This is where people washed their clothes in the past. It's fascinating to find one pretty much in the middle of nowhere!

Down the road and past the tiny quarry that someone works in from time to time. It certainly isn't a commercial one so I reckon it's a hobby quarryist!

A little further on and we always look to see if the telephone wire has given way yet. A tree has been leaning on it for well over a year now.

We reach the mill at the bottom of the hill. This is a tremendous building, four storeys high, as you can see. It was clearly prosperous in the past. The wheel has gone now but we can see where it was. We've never seen anyone in the mill, but from time to time workmen appear to do some maintenance, and someone keeps the two apple trees pruned. It's a mystery!

I love this little bridge across a tiny stream that runs through the mill's grounds. It's a DIY bridge with bedstead ends as railings. Waste not, want not.

It's a fairly steep climb along another green lane that takes up right up to the edge of our property. We pass a long-neglected lake on the right, with a very steep banking sloping down to it. On snowy days we roll snowballs down to see how big they get before they finally crash into a tree.

Back home and we've walked through nature and history in just a few kilometres. Who needs Paris!

## Cats in space

19.3.2011

I learned something fascinating today. France sent at least one cat into space in the early days of space travel. Her name was Félicette. In 1963 the French government were training a lot of cats for space missions. They were put through centrifuge and compression chamber tests. It can't have been too bad for them since ten of them were taken off the programme because they were too fat!

Félicette was a last-minute replacement for Félix, who was meant to be the first cat to go into space. He was a tabby street cat. He obviously stayed street-cunning, as he managed to escape, which is why his female counterpart was blasted into space on 18 October 1963 in his place.

Félicette was a black and white cat. Her flight lasted about quarter of an hour. Throughout her brief foray into the atmosphere the electrodes implanted in her brain sent back impulses to CERMA ( _Centre d'Enseignement et de Recherches de Médecine Aéronautique_ ). Apparently she made a valuable contribution to CERMA's research. She was safely recovered from the capsule after her flight, but there don't seem to be any records of what happened to her after that. The world press called her an 'astrocat'. Her official photo was issued afterwards, with her pawprint on it, and the sentence: ' _Merci pour votre participation à mon succès du 18 octobre 1963_ ′ (Thank you for taking part in my success of 18 October 1963).

If CERMA wants to restart this programme, we have a black and white cat they can have. Lucky, whom we inherited when her owner went back to the UK, is pushing her luckiness at the moment! She has become rather naughty. However, she's a very affectionate cat, who loves to come for walks with us, so maybe we won't send her into space just yet ...

## Polytunnels and Potatoes

24.3.201

We put our polytunnel up Monday afternoon. Given the number of bits of framework and the unhelpfulness of the instructions, we did it surprisingly quickly. We've chosen a south-facing spot behind the barn. It's in the girls' field (the 'girls' being our female llamas). They're delighted. They had a very interesting time watching us grapple with poles and plastic. Llamas are so wonderfully inquisitive. They seem very pleased with the new addition to their field and inspect it every now and again. We'll have to make sure we keep it closed, or they'll be in like a shot.

We've started to organise the inside. I put some plants in straight away to benefit from this wonderful sunny weather we're having at the moment, but they were just plonked on the floor. So yesterday we got to work constructing some workbenches from recycled building materials. I've had a potting session this afternoon – it's starting to look a very purposeful polytunnel. We've taken the precaution of wiring the framework to two very heavy iron bars that came with the farm. We have no idea what their original purpose was, but we knew they'd come in handy one day and they have. It was worth falling over them for three years!

I put a thermometer in the tunnel. Yesterday it registered 35 degrees! Today, a cloudy, breezy day, it got up to a toasty 20 degrees, and already some long-dormant seeds Ruadhri and I planted ages ago are showing signs of life.

Our friends Corinne and Christophe promised us some bamboo cuttings a while ago. They were ready to pick up a few days' ago. The 'cuttings' turned out to be large clumps of 7-foot-tall bamboo in about a dozen different varieties. Fantastic! We'll be busy digging holes for a while. We're watering them frantically as apparently bamboo needs a lot of water, about 20 litres a day, when it is first transplanted. I'm rather hoping it will rain soon.

The next gardening project will be raised beds. The vegetable patch has struggled the last couple of years. The soil is remarkably poor, except for where we've been putting llama manure. That's good stuff! So raised beds seem the best way to go. We have plenty of wood, lots of space and a bottomless supply of manure – we just need to find the time and energy to get building!

Next Monday to Wednesday are root days in the lunar gardening calendar, so we'll be getting the spuds in. Chris is wondering if it's worth it since potatoes are 23 cents a kilo in the supermarket at the moment, but we've brought the seed potatoes so we might as well get them planted. And they do make nice chips!

## When is custard not custard?

24.3.2011

Ruadhrí's favourite pudding in the whole world is _crème anglaise_. Before we came to France it was custard. But now he prefers the French version. Where have I gone wrong?

_Crème anglaise_ is the closest you'll get to custard here in France. And when I say custard, I'm actually referring to Bird's custard. The sort you make by mixing Bird's custard powder with milk. I mean, there isn't any other sort of custard is there?

It's time to put these two contenders to the test.

First up, let's look at the ingredients. In a carton of _crème anglaise_ you'll find : _lait partiellement écremé_ (partially skimmed milk), _sucre_ (sugar), _jaune d'oeuf sucré_ (sweetened egg yolk), _amidon modifié de maïs_ (modified corn starch), _épaississants – gomme xanthane, carraghénanes_ (thickeners – xanthum gum, carrageen), _arômes_ (flavourings), _colorant bêta-carotène_ (colouring – beta carotene) et _traces de gluten et de fruits à coque_ (traces of gluten and nuts). Bird's custard powder contains cornflour, salt, annatto (colour) and flavourings.

Right. Now, custard dates from the Middle Ages. It's traditionally a mixture of milk, cream, sugar and egg yolks. The eggs are what in fact make it proper custard. So on that score _crème anglaise_ is more like real custard than Bird's. However, the term is used these days to describe many starch-thickened puds. Bird's custard is egg free because Alfred Bird, who created it in 1837, was married to a lady who was allergic to eggs. Since she couldn't eat the traditionally-made custard, her kind husband came up with this familiar household product and made his fortune. Today, nearly half of all custard sold in the UK is Bird's, and 99% of people have heard of Bird's. That's probably more than have heard of the Prime Minister.

Both _crème anglaise_ and custard have colouring in them. Bird's uses annatto, which is a natural food colour. It comes from the achiote tree, found in tropical South America – and its taste is described as slightly peppery with hint of nutmeg. It is food additive E160b. It's noteworthy that annatto is the only natural food colouring believed to cause as many allergic-type reactions as artificial food colouring. So maybe the beta-carotene in _crème anglaise_ is the better option. But it's not as yellow!

As for the flavourings, both products are suitably vague. There's a website that gives a list of what counts as _arômes_ in puddings and pastries in France. As for what Bird's might be, perhaps vanilla and almond?

The _crème anglaise_ carton announces proudly that it contains 10 servings. But it's only 500 ml. It cannot be serious!!!! No way is 50 ml, 2 dessertspoonfuls, a proper serving. Everyone knows custard comes by the bowlful.

Everyone also knows that if you hold a spoonful of custard up in the air, the custard should only slide off very slowly, if, ideally, at all. Custard needs to be thick. _Crème anglaise_ is WAY too runny!

But each to his or her own. Rors the turncoat has sided with _crème anglaise_ , but the rest of us are sticking with custard. For ever.

A few Bird's custard facts to finish.

1. The Bird's custard factory was in Birmingham, and later moved to Banbury, where sadly it blew up in a dust explosion in 1981.

2. Bird's custard was supplied to WW1 soldiers.

3. Bird's was one of the first companies to use colourful advertising and promotion items.

## Polytunnel Update

31.3.2010

Look at my polytunnel now! It wasn't even that windy! And we positioned the tunnel next to the barn for extra protection. We wired the tunnel framework to two very heavy iron bars. They held it down fine, but the flimsy metal framework sheared or bent at all the joints. Very disappointing indeed.

If you were thinking of buying a polytunnel, then do go for a good, sturdy one. We got ours through ebay. We've started a dispute since clearly the thing isn't fit for purpose. The vendor has replied saying that he never said it was windproof! He never said it wasn't either. If he had, we wouldn't have touched it with a barge pole.

Maybe we should have erected it indoors ...

## Getting Ready for Fishy Friday

31.3.2011

Friday is 1st April, the day of the _poisson d'avril_ (April fish) when Ruadhri and all his friends at school will be trying to sneakily stick fish on each other's backs, without being detected.

So what's the best way to make super-sticky poissons? Last year Ruadhri and I went for cardboard fish with small squares of Velcro stuck to them. These worked very well on jumpers and fluffy coats, but were no good on slippery coats. Hmm. In previous years I used a small circle of sellotape, but these weren't very sticky by the time Rors got to school with them. Blutak? That would stay stickier than sellotape but like the Velcro would most likely slide off shiny clothes. How did kids do it pre Velcro and sellotape and blutak I wonder? Maybe a blob of flour-and-water glue?

I've just had a quick chat with Ruadhri and we're going with Velcro again, only this year we're using fabric fish. And here they are! We reckon that if they're pretty, people won't mind getting 'fished' so much perhaps!

Where did this tradition, the French equivalent of the British April Fool's Day, come from? There are several versions. One is that it all began with a silly fish trick. Someone would be sent to the market to buy an out-of-season fish, which made them look really foolish. Even babies in food-focussed France know what food is in season when! Another idea is that the ' _poisson_ '(fish) element is a corruption of 'passion' which is associated with Easter. But the most persuasive explanation goes back to the 16th century. The New Year used to begin at Easter, often around the beginning of April. However, in 1564 King Charles IX changed it to 1st January. But in some areas the tradition of giving New Year's presents around 1st April lingered, and because it was only the 'false' New Year, they gave 'false' presents i.e. they played tricks instead.

It doesn't really matter how it all began anyway. It's a fun time for kids, especially as adults are meant to reward them with a chocolate fish for each fish that ends up on their backs! Ruadhri is planning a major fish-sticking campaign on us!

Caitlin tells me that they have _poissons d'avril_ for lunch at lycée on 1st April. These are puff pastry fish with chocolate inside them. I've been trying to find a recipe but the best I've found so far is for fishy biscuits. Ruadhri and I got busy.

Here is Ruadhri's first batch of biscuits. We've already eaten them all! The recipe was 50g soft butter, 50g sugar, 100g flour, bantam egg. Mix together, knead and roll out and cut fishy shapes with a knife. Bake approx. 10 mins in hot oven.

Delicious!

# April

## Electric Gardening

8.4.2010

I often leaf through the some of the old magazines we inherited when we bought Les Fragnes. _La Prosperité à la Campagne_ is one of my favourites. We have issues dating from 1932 and 1933.

In the July 1932 issue, I came across an article on _electroculture_ – electric gardening. It looked very persuasive. The article explained how large metal aerials pick up magnetic and electric currents from the air and channel them into the soil where, by transforming the elements in the soil, they accelerate plant growth and development. Electroculture became popular in the 18th century, but the idea behind it goes back a long way. In the 9th and 10th centuries, people stuck metal poles in their fields, possibly as some kind of protection against lightning strikes. Better crop production was a lucky side-effect. Anyway, it developed from there, and had a lot of support in the past. In 1912 there was a huge conference about it at Reims, attended by Belgians, Hungarians, Russians and Mexicans, to name a few of the nationalities represented. The future of electroculture looked bright, so much so that fertiliser merchants were beginning to get worried. But for whatever reason, it didn't take off to the extent anticipated.

I googled 'electroculture' and discovered that it is still practised today. There are companies that will supply you with everything you need to get going and some webpages have amazing 'before' and 'after' photos.

Am I tempted? I think I'll wait and see how my gardening with the moon turns out first ...

## Naked for the Sake of a Good Yarn

19.4.2010

The threat of nakedness is hanging over the animals at Les Fragnes. Why? Because I learnt to spin a week ago. Now I eye up every creature I see with a view to what sort of yarn I could spin from its fur/wool/hair. Everyone knows that llama and alpaca wool is wonderful for spinning. But cat, dog and rabbit coverings are excellent too. We have one very fluffy cat – she's top of the list for an appointment with the scissors.

Caitlin and I spent two days mastering the age-old art of spinning with our brilliant teacher, Marion Gauvin, at Le Masmont, St Gervais d'Auvergne. We started by sorting through sheep fleece, learning how to 'open' it, ready for carding. Our first carding was by hand, which is extremely good exercise, but it's much easier using a machine, which we moved on to later. However, 'cardeuses' are on the pricy side so I'll be carding manually and building up my biceps for the time being.

We started our spinning careers on _fuseaux_ (spindles). I'd had a go at this before but it was great to have a refresher course. The principles of handspinning and spinning with a wheel are the same. So when we moved onto _rouets_ (spinning wheels) we knew about keeping tension even and making sure we spun two separate threads with the twist going one way, and also about plying, which is the combining of the first two threads together by twisting them in the opposite direction. That way your finished yarn doesn't unravel.

Caitlin really took to it and was soon producing very impressive yarn. I was a bit slower on the uptake but, thanks to expert tuition and the sheer enjoyment of it all, my early lumpy, bumpy efforts gradually improved, and I got better at keeping the wheel turning smoothly. It's going to be a matter of practice making perfect. I have my own spinning wheel, which came along to the second day of our course. It's a good, solid wheel which I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time with.

So ... that's why our animals could soon be parted from their outer coverings. We actually already have some semi-naked creatures on the farm. I bought five cou-nu chickens recently. Cou-nu literally means 'naked neck' and these freaky little birds have, you guessed it, bare necks. Endearingly ghastly!

## Springing Into Life

25.4.2010

It's well and truly spring here in Creuse. How do we know? Here are 11 sure signs:

1. The cuckoos are calling fit to burst and all the birds are singing. Our nightingale is back. I don't know if you've ever heard one, but it's such a strange, beautiful experience to hear a bird singing away in the middle of the night. The swallows have moved back into the barn and outbuildings. Every time we go into a stable, we have to duck as a startled, low-flying swallow hurtles out. They've repaired their nests and are sitting on the first clutch of eggs.

2. It's colder in the house than outside now. These old Creuse farmhouses have very thick stone and earth walls. They're brilliant for keeping the heat in during winter, and keeping it out during summer. We now put jumpers on when we come indoors!

3. In the space of a few weeks, the trees have leapt into life. Everywhere is white with cherry, pear, apple and hawthorn blossom.

4. It's time for anti-hayfever drugs.

5. The poultry are in overdrive. We're getting two turkey eggs, five chicken eggs and one bantam egg every day. The duck is certainly laying somewhere, but we can't find where at the moment.

6. The place is buzzing – the bees have appeared from nowhere again. There are butterflies and beetles zooming around, ants determinedly marching to and from their nests but no sound from the crickets yet. Any day now ...

7. The reptiles and amphibians have warmed up into action. Lizards bask on the house and barn walls in the sunshine. It's noticeable that since we got cats, they have moved upwards! Frogs and toads sing happily in the pond.

8. The lakes are alive. Various insects hover above them, waterboatmen skate around on the surface, dragonfly larvae creep across the floor, and the fish splash up out of the water regularly, leaving big ripples and startled ducks.

9. We've changed wardrobes. This was something we didn't do for fourteen years in Ireland as you wear the same clothes all year round there i.e. wellies, raincoat and jumpers (maybe taking them off a few days in the summer – maybe). However, here the winter stuff goes into storage and out come the shorts and tee-shirts, the floppy hats and sandals, and away go the thermals, scarves, hats, mittens, heavy coats, fur-lined boots, fleeces etc etc. We need a lot of layers in winter.

10. We've all got suntans. We first used our suncream during March, but only for a few days. Now we need a blob everyday on those vulnerable, sticky out bits like noses and ears!

11. No more lugging logs from the woodshed to the fire. Hooray! However, time to start cutting next winter's fuel. And all that time freed up from not having to carry chunks of tree around is taken up with grass-cutting and weeding. But they're much more fun!

So you see, it's spring.

## What's in a Name?

29.4.2010

Several visitors to the farm have asked me what the 'Fragnes' in its name, 'Les Fragnes', stands for? And these visitors have been French! If they don't know, then there's not much hope for me. We had a theory that it might mean 'hovel' since there were two of them when we bought the place. (I'm glad to say they are hovels no more.) Not so very far away, across the border in Indre, is Le Fragne. I took the kids there for a look around, but I didn't spot one of anything that we have two or more of here. So I conclude that 'Fragnes' is just a name.

There are other mystifying names on our farm. These belong to the animals which the children are usually responsible for naming. There has been The Big Cheese (a rabbit), Panic Attack (a duck), Dreadnought (another duck), Evil Twin (a cat) and Leopard (a bantam). The currently best-named animals are Nestlé Moschops the dog and Majority the hen.

Since The Big Cheese we've given up naming the rabbits. They're not pets, shall we tactfully say? I originally had a very organised plan of naming each litter with a particular letter of the alphabet, working our way through systematically. Letter A went well, as the buns all looked different from each other. However, next came a litter of clones which made it trickier. Then we sadly lost a couple of litters. Should we count those in the alphabetical run through? The system crumbled. So these days the latest female to have babies is always Momma Bun and if we give names at all to the offspring, they're pragmatic ones like 'And Gravy', 'Curried' or 'Tagliatelle'. (Do try Gordon Ramsay's rabbit tagliatelle, by the way. Excellent.) We're currently running down our stock of bunnies as we're not especially fond of rabbit, apart from the tagliatelle dish, and they're a lot of work.

Our first two turkeys were suitably and purposefully called 'Cranberry Sauce' and 'Stuffing'. But since then we haven't named them beyond temporary nicknames. At the moment we have White Turkey and Black Turkey. Black Turkey should really be Grey Turkey as she's a dinde grise, but compared to our other turkey, she's black! Both have been laying eggs for us, so they're no longer oven-bound. Black Turkey is broody at the moment, sitting on three duck's eggs which may be fertile. We had two batches of bantlings last year i.e. ducklings hatched and brought up by bantams. Will this year see turklings?

Our guinea pigs began with a gem theme, with Amber, Ruby and Jasper. We diverged slightly into fossils, Ammonite, and then an astromonical theme took over – Supernova, Stardust. Since then it's become a free for all. We have Poorly Pig who was attacked by a cat when she was tiny and was very poorly for a while: there's Archer, Mario, Blackberry and Scratchy – the latter because she is. Amongst the poultry we have Sham, Puma, Matilda, Hotel (he's a duck and his mate was Tokio – but she flew away! If you don't get that reference, then ask any tweens or teens in your household.)

The llamas and alpacas mostly have sensible names – Katrina, Ciara, Oscar and Bernard, for example. More unusual is Windermere Lady Coulemelle – but we didn't come up with that one. She was prenamed by llama breeder Bernard Morestin. He called her Windermere after the lake and Coulemelle because she was an October baby and there were coulemelles (a type of mushroom) growing in the fields. She was also a similar colour. I think he added Lady because it sounded nice. We also have Lulin, named after the comet that was in orbit over the earth when she was born. It's a cool name for a llama.

So what's in a name? Quite a lot on our farm!

## Pêcherie du Frâne

2.4.2011

I finally made my long overdue trip to the archives in Gueret. I'm so glad I did. I've barely made a start on finding out the history of Les Fragnes – who built it, who lived here, what they did – but I've already uncovered one fascinating fact. Our large lake, Alder Lake, is a pre-Napoleonic lake. That is huge in lake terms since it means these lakes have all sorts of privileges and exemptions from normal regulations controlling lakes. And we had no idea! Nor, obviously, did the vendors or the estate agents or they would have made a big deal of it.

I requested the Napoleonic cadastral of Nouzerines, dated 1829. I saw our neighbours' properties at Montpetut and Les Guérins, but there was no Les Fragnes. There was, however, a lake. Our lake! It was land parcel no. 263. When I looked this up in a weighty register written up in 1829, I found this described as _Pêcherie du Frâne_. It's not too difficult to see where 'Fragnes' has come from. Somewhere between now and 1829, the 'a' of Frâne lost its circumflex, a 'g' got slipped in and it became plural. I'm trying to find out what 'frâne' means. It's an old word and possibly means a landslide or a subsidence, something along those lines. However, I have more homework to do here.

André Beaufils owned this étang. Beaufils is a name I've come across before. In the stash of attic treasures, we found a roll of election posters. Marcel Beaufils was standing in the 1910 elections. Also, I'm pretty sure Genevieve Beaufils is written in the front of one of the books we found. I'm about to get very busy!

André Beaufils also owned most of what is now Les Fragnes, although M. Parrot had a tiny bit and so did Louis Payat. Possibly François Desfausses, a surgeon in Boussac, also owned a small corner. I shall take the up-to-date _cadastral_ with me next time I go to compare with the Napoleonic one. I've yet to track down how many people the land went through before it came to us, but one step at a time!

The archives has an impressive set-up in Gueret. Very helpful staff, plenty of space, and a vast wealth of documents to call up and scrutinise. You can take your computer and camera in. I didn't realise that before today, so I'll be back soon to take photos of the 1829 _cadastral_ and the register that goes with it. Absolutely fascinating stuff!

## Making Up French

5.4.2011

It's easy to make up French words. I do it all the time when I can't think of the exact one I want. I simply Frenchify the English word I'm thinking of! Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

However, there are certain rules for making up French slang. It's known as _verlan_. It changes existing French words into new ones by switching around the syllables, or reading them backwards. French for 'backwards' is _envers_ , and that's where _verlan_ comes from, with an 'l' added in the middle. The spelling can be changed a little to reflect the pronunciation.

There are a few different ways to make _verlan_. When a word has two or three syllables, the second one is put first. For example, _bizarre_ becomes _zarbi_ and _cigarette_ becomes _garetci_. On that basis , _lama_ (French for llama) would be _mala_ , and _alpaga_ (French for alpaca) would be _galpa_.

For a one syllable word, there's a bit more cunning involved. If a word has a silent 'e' at the end of it, as in _moche_ (ugly), then you pronounce it before you make up your _verlan_ word. So _poule_ becomes _lepou_. If the word doesn't end with a silent 'e', then you add one. _Foot_ (football) turns into _tefoo_.

It starts to get very complicated after that. If a _verlan_ word ends in a vowel, that's usually cut off, for example. And there's also reverlanisation, double verlanisation and incomplete vernalisation. However, I think a grasp of the basics is enough for now!

I got interested in _verlan_ after hearing my kids come out with words like _rempas_ (= _parents_ ) and _béton_ (= _tomber_ , as in _laisse tomber_ , forget about it). And if you're fascinated by slang and less mainstream French in general then you should get a copy of _Talk Dirty French_ by Alexis Munier and Emmanuel Tichelli. Very informative!

## Mysterious Méridienne Verte

7.4.2011

Caiti had another _rendez-vous_ at Montluçon hospital this morning. On our way to and fro, we crossed the _Méridienne Verte_.

This has long intrigued me. I'd ignorantly assumed it was the Greenwich Meridian, and other than find out that there had been a plan, hatched by architect Paul Chemetov, to plant 60,000 trees along it to celebrate the year 2000, I hadn't looked into it any further. (Not many of those trees have actually made it into the ground, which seems a dreadful shame. It would have been a wonderful project to fulfil.)

But today, immobilised by a headache, I decided to investigate more. A quick dig around on the Net and I've found out that the _Méridienne Verte_ is actually the Paris Meridian. It cuts through France at a longitude of 2° 20′ 16″ E from Dunkirk in the north (latitude 51° 2′ 10″ N) to Fromentera in the south (latitude 38° 39′ 56″ N). The _méridienne_ goes through the very centre of the Paris Observatory.

The Paris Meridian is one of three famous meridians – the other two being the Greenwich Meridian and the Cadiz Meridian. France, England and Spain were the three great naval powers in the past (how ironic that seems now, when Britain doesn't have an aircraft carrier to call its own any more), and each one came up with its own meridian to help its sailors navigate and to accurately locate ports, colonies and so on. The Paris Meridian was established under Louis XIV, and later redrawn with greater accuracy under Napoleon. The measurements were carried out in 1807 and 1808 by François Arago, together with José Rodriguez et Jean-Baptiste Biot. Eventually, in 1884, the Greenwich Meridian became the universally recognised one, but without much grace on France's side. As you'd expect! The French stuck with their meridian for timekeeping purposes until 1911 and for navigation until 1914. The competition between the Paris and Greenwich meridians is one element of the plot of 20,000 Leagues under the Sea.

Interestingly, the Greenwich Meridian is no longer the most used meridian since the 1984 World Geodetics system used by GPS redefined the prime meridian as some 100m east of the brass marker at the Greenwich observatory!

The Paris Meridian has its darker side. Not quite an axis of evil, but it's thought by some to be extremely sinister. In 1994, 135 medallions were put at intervals along the meridian. They're known as Arago medallions, after François mentioned above. A French conspiracy theorist reckoned these traced an 'occult geographical line'. There have been a couple of books written about this idea – David Wood's Genisis (and I've spelt it correctly), and Henry Lincoln's The Holy Place. I for one will be trying to get hold of those. Sounds rather intriguing ...

## Chasse d'oeufs

11.4.2011

Yesterday, Sunday, it was the _chasse d'oeufs_ (Easter Egg Hunt) that Ruadhri's school co-operative organises each year. Like the last two, it was another grey day, but it least it was dry.

The venue this year was St Marien. The eggs had been hidden in the field behind the school, but to get there it was a long walk through the village. However, we went off the main road so we got to see parts of St Marien we never knew existed, even after living close by for five years. There's the old railway and station, a restaurant and a couple of large factory buildings, that were once thriving places. St Marien itself was previously a large, busy village. However, it was totally reliant on the railway for all this business, and once that was closed in the shortsigthed 1960s, the village went into permanent decline. It is the largest geographically and physically of the three villages in the school co-operative (the other two are Nouzerines and Bussiere St Georges), but it is the only one without any enterprise of any kind in it. Bustling Nouzerines has the bakery, the auberge and a garage; Bussiere has a garage, but poor old St Marien has nothing.

But this afternoon it was lively. There was a good turnout, as ever. Three hundred eggs had been prehidden in the field. By the end of the afternoon, 269 of these had been found. What happened to the last 10% I'm not sure. The place had been combed and recombed by the children, and by adults too, drawn into the fun.

Each child has to find five eggs. There's also the special gold egg, which entitles the finder to a large chocolate Easter egg. All participants get a small packet of little eggs for taking part. It didn't take Rors long to find his quota, hidden in hedges, the grass and behind tree stumps. He was disappointed not to find the golden egg, but I think the ones he found are much prettier. All in all, a nice way to start the countdown to Easter.

## Berry Special Things

14.4.2011

_L'Echo du Berry_ comes out on a Thursday. It's one of our local _hebdomadaires_ (weekly papers), and probably the most popular. Everyone seems to read it. The _Echo_ itself reckons it has around 60,000 readers for the 13,300 copies it sells each week (2010 figures). Since it covers an area with a population of 110,000, that's a pretty impressive readership figure.

The _Echo_ began life in March 1819 as _Petites Affiches_. It later became _L'Echo de l'Indre_ before taking the name _L'Echo du Berry_ in 1950. These days it covers national issues, all the local news area by area, agriculture and the environment, and it has traditional Berry recipes, a short section on local history, classified ads, Sudoku and a what's on section. It's compulsive reading. We feature in quite regularly. I've made a point of keeping in contact with the journalist for this area.

The _Echo_ is a slightly unusual local paper in that its readership covers several different _departéments_ , and they're not all in the same _région_. This is because Berry is a historical region and a former province of central France. The French Crown bought it in 1101, and then in 1360 it became an independent duchy before being taken over by the Crown again in 1601. It remained a province until 1790, when it was replaced by _departéments_ following the Revolution. Berry now consists of the départements of Cher, Indre and parts of Vienne and Creuse (including us). So as well as being a _Nouzerinoise_ (female inhabitant of Nouzerines), I am also a _Berrichonne_ (female inhabitant of Berry).

As well as its own successful weekly paper, Berry has other famous products. The Sucrine du Berry is one of these. It's a very old variety of squash. After reading about it in the _Echo_ (where else?) I tracked down some seeds to grow this year. The end product should be a lovely big, dark green, pear shaped squash with golden flesh inside.

Berry has produced two black animals – the _Poule Noire du Berry_ (black chicken) and the _Âne Grand Noir du Berry_ (big black donkey). There's also a brown and black goat, the _Cou Claire du Berry_. There's even an association, the _Union pour la préservation et la valorisation de Ressources Génétiques du Berry_ , which is actively working to make sure none of these animals, or the sucrine, die out.

It's rather nice to think such interesting things have originated in our part of France.

## The Downside to School Holidays

20.4.2011

School holidays again – which means a lot of shopping. Groan. Since my two teens stay at _lycée_ from Monday to Friday during term time (strikes permitting!), and Rors has four-course school dinners so doesn't want much in the evenings, I only really have to shop for me and Chris (and the dog – the cats self-cater on the whole). So it's very noticeable when I'm catering for the kids full-time. It's not that they're greedy, simply that they eat a lot!

This morning's shop at Intermarché set us back 168€, and if I'm not back there within the week, I'll be surprised. (Food prices have been escalating lately, together with – and probably largely because of – fuel prices.) A few of the goodies will last a while. Chris came to push the trolley for me today and he likes to bulk-buy so we got a 5 kg sack of rice, a 5 kg sack of pasta, 5 litres of cooking oil and a value pack of 120 biscottes. That'll do for the children nicely for a while. We stocked up on red meat too, since we've used up the last of the chain-sawed sheep that E the farmer gave us. Our next big project is fencing so that we can get in some sheep and pigs and be self-sufficient there, like we are with eggs and poultry.

Vegetable wise, we have a way to go. We keep ourselves in pumpkins (whether we want to or not), but didn't do so well with potatoes last year. The onions and leeks were disappointing too, the birds got to my soft fruit bushes before I did, and Ruadhri ate all the peas (raw) and strawberries. But our super-duper polytunnel should arrive any day now, and we'll be filling it with salad veg and starting off all the other plants before we put them outdoors. We also need to dig a lot more llama poo into the vegetable plot. It is frankly a wonder product for the soil. A lot of people recommend chicken manure, but I find that smells nasty whereas llama poo is odourless and a lot less squishy. (Apologies to readers of a nervous disposition.) Luckily, we glean so many free blackberries, elderberries, apples, plums and pears each autumn that we enjoy budget fruity puds all year round. The only free food we decline are fancy mushrooms – we don't feel expert enough in that department to pick anything other than blatantly obvious field mushrooms.

To return to the feeding children issue, the cheapest meals we can feed them are pancakes (own eggs) with ham and cheese; chicken (own – usually cost around 2€ to buy at 5 weeks old at the market) or turkey (these are 6-7€ but grow up to 20 kg) with baked pumpkin (own) and potatoes (own or shop bought); Chris's homemade chips and fritters; pumpkin soup (not massively popular with the younger generation) and anything pasta-based. Our most indulgent mealtime is probably breakfast since we all love our cereals and _pains au chocolat_ but they're relatively expensive, even own-brand varieties which is all we eat. I occasionally knock out Welsh cakes or omelettes if I'm in domestic goddess mode.

A final remark about Intermarché. The carpark of the La Châtre branch is an eventful place. Not long ago a lorry got stuck under the low roof of the petrol station there, and today a car had rolled forward from its parking place and hit the back of another one, which was now firmly sandwiched in with a car in front and a car behind it. Some poor person was in for a nasty shock when they came out!

## Good Reading from 1909

26.4.2011

Old magazine time again. We have quite a pile of _Les Bonnes Lectures_ (Good Reading) from 1909 which I had never given much attention to, until today. Since it's April, I started browsing through the April edition to see what good people were reading about 102 years ago.

_Les Bonnes Lectures_ announces itself to be a ' _revue mensuelle pour la conservation et l'accroissement de la Foi_ ' – 'a monthly review aimed at consolidating and expanding your religious faith'. Now that's a good intention if ever I heard one. And in case you doubted the claim, the inside front cover has testimonies verifying that _Les Bonnes Lectures_ does what it says on the tin from two vicars, one priest and a curé. To ensure there's no let-up in your attention, page 2 sees the headline: _Un Fléau National_ – A national calamity. What could this be? A table of figures is presented, taken from the most recent census, showing that 1,804,710 households are childless, 2,966,171 have one child, 2,661,978 have two, and it continues to the last two figures of 34 households with 17 children, and 45 with 18 or more. (I had to go off for a cup of tea at this point, imagining myself with another 15 alongside my existing 3 kids!) If I were a good mathematician I would probably be able to work out the average family size for 1909 from the full table. At a guess, I would put it around 7 or 8 children.

So, is it the large family size which is the calamity? _Au contraire_ , it's the small families and the selfishness – _égoïsme_ – of the parents who don't produce at least a dozen offspring. Personally I would have thought poverty had a lot more to do with it.

The rest of the magazine seems to be equally outspoken. There are a few pages warning of the dangers of reading ' _La mauvaise presse_ ' – gutter press. Alongside the tyranny of these bad newspapers, ' _l'autocratie de Louis XIV était un jeu d'enfant_ ' (i.e. living under Louis XIV was like a walk in the park compared with 1909). There is an article by Marie-Ange warning how the Devil makes work for idle hands (and it's stressed that this is originally a German saying); a poem about St Joan of Arc; a sermon about St Philip; a story ( _Tante Noisette ou le Drapeau Sauvé_ – Aunt Hazelnut or the defence of the flag); the fourth part of a series on the moral education of children; a legend called _Le Jardin du Roi_ (the King's garden); a fable warning against pride – _La Violette Ambitieuse_ (the vain violet); two improving tales for children, and finally another sermon.

The last couple of pages have an advert for a pilgrimage to Rome organised by the _Ligue des Femmes Françaises_ and some other adverts. What did advertisers think readers of _Les Bonnes Lectures_ were after? Honey sweets, music for songs especially written for Christian families, medicine for indigestion, sewing machines, powders to relieve rheumatism and seed catalogues. Well, you'd need to plant a lot of veg to feed your 18 children!

Appearances can be deceptive. The magazine is dull looking with a drab blue cover and a serious sort of picture on it. There is only one more illustration in it, until you get to the adverts, and that's a picture of St Dominic on the children's page. But it's full of strong opinions, powerful sentiment, original interpretations and a lot of good intentions. Whether you agree with the viewpoints or not, it actually is a pretty good read.

## You Know You're Fully Frenchified When ...

28.4.2011

You may be an ex-pat, but you know you're as French as you'll ever be when:

1. It no longer even occurs to you to go shopping at lunchtime.

2. You dunk your croissant in your coffee.

3. You shrug at least ten times during every conversation.

4. You blame everything on Parisians.

5. You actually enjoy French television programmes.

6. You wouldn't dream of coming back from the shops without a baguette and a tub of fromage blanc.

7. You arrive everywhere half an hour late.

8. You sing along to Jonny Halliday records.

9. You no longer hanker after Heinz salad cream or McVitie's digestives.

10. You are proud to live in a country which produces 629 different types of cheese.

## Happy Birthday

6.5.2010

We've had a baby explosion here at Les Fragnes. Two litters of guinea pigs and one of rabbits have been born in the last two days. And this morning Victoria the llama arrived. She is so- named because today is Victory in Europe Day. We were about to set off to the ceremony at the war memorial in Nouzerines when we spotted that Katrina was in labour.

Here are mother and daughter having their first proper look at each other, and most of Vicky hasn't appeared yet!

Update: 9 May. Victoria is steadfastly refusing to suckle so we have been feeding her on powdered colostrum and goat's milk. That's supplemented by as much llama milk as we can get from Katrina. She is being so patient with us. Llamas are not the easiest creatures to milk – their teats are very small and positioned very high up between their back legs. Extremely tricky to get at, which partly explains Victoria's struggles.

Another quick update: 12 May. Good news. Victoria is now feeding from mum. I went in on Monday morning with her next bottle, and there she was, merrily suckling away. She gave me and the goat's milk a withering look! So that was a huge relief. Hopefully all will go well from now on. Victoria has a short daily outing to stretch her legs in the field but we're keeping her and Katrina in the stable until it warms up and dries out.

## High Speed Delivery

23.5.2010

Georgina of Les Fragnes was born today – very quickly We've been checking mum Gabby several times an hour for a couple of weeks now, knowing that baby was due any day. But she sneakily gave birth in between our visits!

Anyway, Georgina is almost pure white, which is quite a surprise given that dad Bernard is black and Gabby has apricot mottling. You'll remember Victoria was born just over a fortnight ago. Georgina is both Victoria's aunt and half-sister. But there's not much family resemblance. And don't be alarmed by the photo. Newborn llamas look very scarily fragile and ET-like.

Georgie was rather floppy to start with, but after Benj and Caiti dried her and warmed her up in the sun, she perked up and was soon up on her feet. In no time at all she was suckling and investigating the world. Tonight she's tucked up with mum in the stable in her cosy coat.

She's a very tall baby llama, a good few centimetres bigger than Victoria. We'll take some measurements tomorrow – if she'll co-operate.

## Lilies and Labour

1.5.2011

The first of May is important for two reasons in France – _muguet_ (lily of the valley) and _Fête du travail_ (Labour Day). And, although it may seem unlikely, the two are connected.

Lily of the valley is a good luck flower here in France. With its little bell-like flowers, it has always symbolised spring. It was through the Celts and their beliefs that it became associated with luck. The tradition of offering it to people as a lucky omen began in 1561 with Charles IX. Someone gave him a sprig of lily of the valley, and he thought that was such a nice idea that he in turn gave sprigs to all the ladies in his court on 1st May.

Lily of the valley is also thought to bring happiness in love. There used to be _bals de muguet_ (lily of the valley balls) and only young people could attend. Their parents weren't allowed in to keep an eye on them. The girls dressed in white and the boys wore _muguet_ as a buttonhole.

The whole idea of Labour Day began in the USA in 1886 in Chicago, where a general strike took place. It lasted several days and came to a violent end. Three years later, at the eleventh Congress of the International Socialists in Paris, which marked the 100th anniversary of the French Revolution, a decision was made to work to achieve an 8 hour working day. The date of 1st May was chosen as the day of action to commemorate the Chicago incident.

From 1890 onwards, the protesters who marched on the 1st May wore red triangles to represent their demand for an equitably divided day consisting of 8 hours of work, 8 hours of sleep and 8 hours of leisure. Eglantine replaced the triangle, and then in 1907 lily of the valley. And there's the connection!

In 1941, under the Vichy government, the first of May was officially designated as _Fête du travail_ to give workers a morale boost. In 1947 the day became a paid holiday.

## Search Me

7.5.2011

I've been keeping a note of search terms used to get to my blog for about a month now, out of curiosity. A few puzzling ones have cropped up. I'm not sure how someone looking for 'chocolate French blog' ended up at www.bloginfrance.com, but they were very welcome. Also baffling were 'wellies', 'concrete recycling' and, sadly, 'grief public domain'. They weren't knowingly subjects of any of my posts. Another one I liked was 'blog of family in France with six kids'. We have just the three, but sometimes it feels like we have six, especially when doing the food shopping.

Turning to the more mundane, not surprisingly 'Easter sayings' topped the search list. There is an insatiable interest in 'dictons', even though they are old fashioned. And of course festivals and special occasions have plenty associated with them. Searches for 'French toilet paper' gave Easter a good run for its money, though. These took a variety of forms – sometimes involving colour and texture!

Following closely behind came searches for 'custard' related material. The funniest one was worded 'Brulée gone wrong runny custard'! One person simply wanted to know 'Does France have custard?'. I hope he or she got the answer they were looking for in my post on this delicious subject.

Food seems to be uppermost on many web surfers' minds. As well as custard, there were plenty of searches along the lines of 'eating llamas' and 'llama recipes'. One specified 'llama with egg'. And 'cake au jambon' crops up regularly too. However, there's a preference for camelids over cake.

Three racy search phrases were 'France sex blog', 'naked blog' and 'sex blogs France'. Those surfers would have been sadly disappointed with Blog in France, I'm afraid to say. However, the interest is there, so maybe it's something worth thinking about ... !!

One surfer was looking for 'naked winter hiking'. Not in Creuse you wouldn't, mate.

There were lots of other sensible searches too – lilies of the valley, Eurovision, spring birds, French expressions, so at least some surfers are sane! I shall continue to keep a record as it's amusing and informative to see what people are after from blogs – although not necessarily mine.

## Europe Day

9.5.2011

May 9th is Europe Day. Did you know that? I didn't until very recently. The day is intended to be an annual celebration of peace and unity in Europe. And to make matters complicated (it's beginning to sound more European now), there are two separate Europe Days: 5th May for the Council of Europe, and 9th May for the European Union (EU). This latter day is also called Schuman Day, because it was on the 9th May that French foreign minister Robert Schuman made his historical declaration which created the European Coal and Steel Community, the basis of today's EU. (To cause further confusion, there's also European flag day on 29th September.)

So the whole thing is designed to foster unity among Europeans. How exactly I'm not sure. Limousin Region has issued a magazine about it but there's not a great deal in it, apart from a competition to win an iPad which I shall have a go at. And the logo is rather good too.

A few events are happening in Limoges. Not much in Creuse, no surprise there sadly, just an exhibition which seems a bit of a cop out to my mind! It seems to be something of a self-congratulatory day for a handful of politicians. Rather a wasted opportunity.

So here are five suggestions of ways to celebrate Europe Day _chez vous_.

1. Have something 'foreign' for breakfast – i.e. French croissants (if you don't live in France, of course), English bacon and egg if you don't live in the UK, Irish soda bread, Spanish magdalenas, Dutch Ontbijtkoek etc.

2. Learn how to say 'hello' in at least three European languages.

3. Actually sit down and look at a map of the EU to see where the 27 member states are. I have to confess I'm hazy about a few of them.

4. Write a catchphrase about or description of Europe using six words starting with the letters that spell the word, but not necessarily in that order. My best attempt is: Everyone undervalues each other's regional priorities.

5. Find out who your European Member of Parliament is and send them a Happy Europe Day email!

Personally I would nominate the Eurovision Song Contest to take the place of Europe Day as it's so much more fun and uniting.

## Midnight Ramblings

10.5.2011

I'm having a bad night. It's nearly 3am and I've been trying to get to sleep for four hours. Even listening to 'Yesterday in Parliament' on Radio 4 LW didn't do the trick today, which shows how bad things are!

Since midnight I've read four chapters of Bryce Corbett's _A Town Like Paris_ , raided the fridge twice (yum), drunk herbal tea (yuk), been back to bed twice and inevitably disturbed long suffering but luckily doting husband, trodden on the dog's tail and done some writing. I've also had a rummage through the medicine store. Caiti was prescribed some gentle sleeping tablets a year or so back. Now, I'm a great believer in misguided self-medication so I was going to give them a shot but can't find them. I did, however, come across some cat tranquillisers which are becoming increasingly tempting.

We have a large supply of medicines, thanks to French doctors' habits of prescribing at least three sets of potions for each visit you make. I have two large plastic containers of past prescriptions here in front of me, and I no longer have a clue what most of them were for. But one thing is certain – they all have grim names; Migrpiv, Exomuc (one of the catchiest), Spasfon, Ketum, Zomigoro, Urgo Vital, Sanmigran ... Enough to make you feel ill!

So what's the solution for my night-time wakefulness? Websites suggest exercising more. If I did I think I'd fall apart. Seriously. As I've mentioned before, we lead very physical lives on our farm, plus we're cycling fanatics and are out on our bikes every day. Another idea is to limit alcohol, nicotine and caffeine. But I don't smoke, hardly drink and avoid caffeine like the plague anyway. It's not looking too hopeful is it?

Never mind. There are far worse things to suffer from than a spot of sleeplessness. I'll hit the fridge again (good job I'm skinny) and go outside and listen to all the sounds of a rural Creuse nighttime – night jars, owls, deer, foxes and crickets.

And if all else fails, I could even make a start on some housework done. So _please_ let me fall asleep!

## Cyclists' Rights

11.5.2011

Cycling is a dangerous sport. Tragically on 9th May, Belgian cyclist Wouter Weylandt died during the third stage of the Giro d'Italia. He lost control during a fast descent. He was wearing a helmet but that couldn't save him from sustaining fatal head injuries. He was just 26 years old. It's a terrible, dreadful shame.

Chris and I are on our bikes every day, with Ruadhri for some of the time as we cycle him to get his school bus, and then we carry on for an hour or so. We've had the most hassle from drivers this year that we've ever had, in the form of being blasted by horns and then cut up on the roads. And this has sometimes happened when our son has been with us. He has even started joining in the swearing and gesticulating that follows these incidents! Whoops.

Anyway, I've done some digging around regarding the law on this. Many car drivers are under the impression that it is totally illegal for cyclists to ride two abreast on any road. False. By daytime it is permissible, but no more than two abreast. If the road is narrow, and if by cycling side by side you are obstructing cars coming up behind you, then they are entitled to hoot gently from a safe distance so you are aware of their presence, and then give you time to fall into single file so they can pass. None of which anybody does. They prefer to drive aggressively and dangerously. Motorists need to learn the rules of the road. And on a wider road, there is plenty of room for them to overtake safely without them hooting and cyclists needing to pull in.

Cars and other vehicles are obliged to leave a gap of at least one metre from the cyclist's left shoulder when they overtake. Again, motorists often don't and whistle by about 20 cms away. This is one reason Chris and I stick to riding two abreast as much as possible. We've found that if we drop to single file, cars don't bother pulling out far at all. What's more, they still overtake, even if a vehicle is coming in the opposite direction, which is diabolical. They suddenly veer in to avoid the oncoming car and woe betide the poor cyclist who might happen to be in the way. We've ended up in ditches before now, not in France thankfully. Yet, anyway.

And cyclists are _not_ obliged to cycle into the verge or the kerb to make way for a car behind them on a narrow road. In fact, the opposite. Cyclists are meant to maintain a safe line, not too close to the edge of the road where they could hit kerbstones with a pedal or ride over detritus and be knocked off balance.

It's noticeable but when Chris and I cycling in our matching jackets, we get better treatment than if we're in non-cycling tops with our longs or shorts. If motorists think you're in a club or some sort of organised ride, they're better behaved. I shall order us some matching cycling vests so we look more official. Twee, but official!

Anyway, we'll continue cycling two abreast. When we're with Rors, one of us goes on his outside and the other one behind to keep him protected (apart from on narrow lanes where we obey the law and drop to single file). And without him we cycle alongside because it makes us work harder and, funnily enough, even after 25 years of marriage and having spent the last 5 years working together 24/7, we still have plenty to say to each other!

## Smashing Geocaching

12.5.2011

We have three anglers on Alder Lake this week. They were dropped off here by the dad by one of them who, with a friend, has gone on a week's geocaching and wine tasting around France. The wine tasting you're probably familiar with. But geocaching?

It all began in May 2000 when 'selective availability' meant that everyone, and not just the military, got to use GPS. This meant treasure hunting could move into the twenty-first century. No more 'three paces south from the oak tree' and 'X' marks the spot on a tatty map, but a string of GPS co-ordinates that you can download.

Chris, Ruadhri and I went on a geocaching expedition on Wednesday, Ruadhri's school-less day of the week. Our first stop was at Toulx Ste Croix, a village about 10 km away. It's famous for having the oldest Christian statues in France – two well-worn lions. We followed the track shown on Chris's GPS and found ourselves behind the Panoramic Tower, on a rocky field. According to our hardware, we were slap bang on the little treasure chest that marked where the cache was. We poked and searched for a while, and then decided to decode the clue. This was given in a straightforward code on the sheet we'd printed off from the geocaching website.

Aha. Now we had a better idea where to concentrate our search. Rors and I went one way, Chris went another. We were in shorts and there were a lot of brambles to push through. Ouch. I made a mental note to wear trousers for geocaching in future. And since we'd seen a snake earlier, a harmless one though, I added gloves to the list of necessary items. I wasn't going to stick my hand into any possible viper-harbouring crevasses!

Then Chris gave a shout. He'd found it! Carefully wrapped in a padded wallet inside a plastic bag, was a small plastic box. The cache. Rors opened it to discover what treasures there were. How it works is that, for most caches, you take something out and leave something in its place, and also sign the log that's there.

We replaced the wizard figure Ruadhri took a shine to with a polished amethyst. Fair exchange is no robbery. Then we wrapped everything up again and replaced the box exactly where we'd found it, reinstating the rocks and leaves that had been around it.

Feeling well pleased with ourselves, we went up the Panoramic Tower to enjoy the view. We also watched while the ancient sarcophagi were put back into place in the old bell tower. I imagine they'd been taken off for a clean-up.

Then we went onto the nearby Pierres Jaumâtres, where the next cache was waiting for us. Chris navigated us to the right spot up beyond the main rocks, and we began hunting. This time I found the treasure, which was in another well-concealed plastic box. The log showed that several people had found this one by accident. Rors took a small plastic car and we left one of my handmade silver and Peruvian bead mobile phone charms.

Last stop was for a micro-cache at the Lavoir in Boussac. This time there was just the log to sign in the film canister. This one, like the Toulx one, had been put in place by Fred & Michelle. (The Pierres was put in place by Fildefred.)

We didn't do badly at all for our first go at geocaching – we found 3 out of 3. We'll definitely be doing it again. It was a great way to spend a morning. We're also planning to devise our own geocaches for other people to find.

## Naked Gardening and Celebrating Bread

14.5.2011

I did it! I put my money where my mouth is and I did my bit for world naked gardening day! The website urges you to put up a photo of yourself participating, so here goes:

Don't tell my kids this photo is here!

As well as grass cutting, I transplanted some peanuts from pots into the garden, then I watered the veg, relocated some stag beetle larvae from a pot to a suitable spot with plenty of rotting wood for them to eat, fed the chickens, checked the llamas and planted a few flowers a neighbour gave me. And all in the buff! It was the perfect weather for it, and I have to say it was enjoyable. All very one-with-nature-ish.

Now, with my clothes back on, this week is _fête du pain_ or bread party week! For fifteen years now, the week that includes St Honoré's Day – St Honoré is the patron saint of bread – is the time to celebrate French bread. Different departements have different baking related activities. Creuse, sadly, is never amongst the forefront of these various national celebrations. According to the official website, all the boulangeries in Creuse are happy for you to come in and talk about bread with them this week. I'm sure our local baker would, but it's not the most exciting thing to do. Other places are having special masses at Church, displays of old baking equipment, workshops for children to get their hands into dough and pastry making, decorated baguette competitions and visits to bakeries or mills.

A few facts and figures. Every year around 10 billion _baguettes_ are baked, 90% of them in small _boulangeries_ with less than 10 employees, and the majority of those with less than that. _Baguettes_ , and the larger _pains_ , make up three-quarters of the sales in _boulangeries_ , followed by _viennoiseries_ ( _croissants_ , _pains au chocolat_ , _pains au raisin_ etc) and then _patisseries_ (pastries such as _milles-feuilles, éclairs, tartes_ etc). I imagine in Creuse the _pâté de pommes de terre_ is well up the sales list. This is a regional delicacy, a simply scrumptious potato pie.

On average, there is one _boulangerie_ per every 1,800 inhabitants. And these inhabitants love the _boulangerie_ – most people cite it as their favourite shop, due to the friendliness and helpfulness of the staff and the quality of the products. However, our expenditure there isn't that high. The average amount we spend per visit is around €2.50. I've been spending €2.46 there every day the last fortnight for two _pains_ – pretty much spot on!

## Don't Since on the Fence

17.5.2011

Denis the llama's new field is progressing well. Not too much left to do now. We do all our fencing ourselves and at as a low a cost as we can. Fencing can be horrendously expensive. So you need to decide early on if you are going for looks or practicality. I would love swanky wooden post and rail fencing round my llama fields, but I'd have to sell the llamas to be able to afford it. So we have always used posts and netting, supplemented occasionally by electric fencing. I can't remember the last time we turned an electric fence on though, to the honest. It's not necessary with llamas and alpacas, and, because of their thick wool, isn't very effective anyway! Our fencing may not win prizes for its appearance, but it's functional and affordable.

The fencing for Denis's field has been hard work. First we had to get all the 1.8m high _piquets_ (posts) to the right place. The tractor wasn't quite as useful here as we'd hoped so there was a lot of lugging by hand. Then a hole about a foot deep needed pickaxing for each post, and then the poles needed bashing into place. The postslammer makes this easier than using the sledgehammer, but it's still very intensive labour. For Chris. I can hardly lift the postslammer off the ground, let alone get it on top of a tall post and whack it up and down! There was just one minor mishap when Chris lost his grip and the postslammer clunked him on the head. Fortunately he has a hard skull so no lasting damage done. At least, we don't think so.

For the last two days we've been putting the wire _grillage_ (netting) up. We use 1m high _grillage_. This is perfectly adequate for llamas. On the whole, camelids are great respecters of boundaries. They aren't bothered about getting out – unlike goats, for example, whose sole intent in life is escaping from wherever you want them to be. The worst llamas might do is break a pole by leaning against it to scratch. It's for this reason we've upgraded, but down-budgeted, to using rough chestnut _piquets_ , rather than the smooth, rounded ones from hardware stores. Those simply aren't strong enough. And also, being rounded, it's hard to get the _grampillons_ (u-shaped tacks) in properly.

Tensioning the _grillage_ is the hardest thing. Chris has a handy tool for that. He got it off ebay and we think it's called a monkey climber, but those might be the tensioners that involve chain and look mega complicated. Anyway, here's a picture of ours. It's ingenious and incredibly efficient. You need to tension at the top and bottom of the _grillage_ for the best end result.

Chris is pretty brilliant at fencing these days. He got a book, _A Guide to Stock Fencing_ by Andy Radford, and has picked up a lot of tips from that. All our corners are properly braced these days. OK, the fence posts aren't in a very straight line (my fault, I was principal pick-axer), and yes, they're too big – we should have ordered 1.5 m ones, but Denis won't mind and neither do we. He'll just be happy to be outdoors again.

## Excellent Eglu

25.5.2011

I must have had my Eglu for about seven years now, maybe longer. My what? Eglu – it's a space age chicken house made by Omlet. The company now produces several versions of the Eglu and also houses for bees, rabbits and guinea pigs. I'm glad to see Omlet is doing so well. It deserves to. It produces top quality items.

Originally intended for our first two chickens in Ireland, Lady Egg and Princess Layla, the Eglu has since housed more chickens but also ducks, turkeys, guinea fowl, rabbits, guinea pigs and, currently, kittens. Caiti came across a dumped litter of four in the road during her evening bike ride last night. It's incredibly versatile, totally secure and generally brilliant.

It was one of the few items that Irish couriers condescended to actually deliver to our house. We used to have a dreadful time with them back in Cork. They would avoid bringing anything out to you if they possibly could. We only lived a couple of miles outside Bandon, a small town, and around twenty miles from Cork City, but you'd think we were on the moon. The excuses we'd get for them not to come out – too far off the beaten track, not on our map (I even gave our GPS location to them sometimes), won't be going that way again till 2012 ... It was shameful. So I used to have to pick things up from the various depots. I gave up ordering stuff from Amazon altogether because we never got that. It either vanished into thin air or got sent back to the warehouse, the couriers claiming no-one was at home when they tried to deliver it. Grr. So it's wonderful here in France where couriers' vans turn up when expected and never have any trouble finding us, and we really _do_ live in the middle of nowhere now. We were semi-suburban in comparison back at Finnis!

Back to Eglu related content. There was great excitement when Ruadhri and I collected our first two chickens all those years ago. Our neighbour Joy had told me about a lady who sold chickens, so we went out there with a cardboard box. I was rather stunned when the woman opened a shed literally packed with chickens, grabbed the two nearest by their legs and dropped them on their heads into our box. But I'm used to chicken management techniques now! And when we found our first egg in the nesting box of the Eglu the very next day, well, that was it. I was hooked on chickens. Lady and Princess were super chickens. They spent their holidays with Joy's chickens every year, and the rest of the time free-ranged over our garden, and hardly missed a day with egg laying. Lady's eggs won a prize at the Bandon Show one year. Classy chicken or what!

But for now, the kittens are comfy and cosy in the Eglu. We'll keep them there another week or so until they're properly settled in, and then move them out into one of the stables. I shall need the Eglu back for more chickens soon ...

## The Joys of June

2.6.2011

June in France is all about holidays and exams. Thursday 2nd June is a public holiday – Ascension. And because it's a Thursday, schools and many businesses take the Friday off too. It's called _faire le pont_ – to make the bridge. So nothing much will happen till after the weekend now. And hard on Ascension's heels, comes Pentecost, so we get _le lundi de pentecôte_ as the next bank holiday on the 13th June. Pentecost is when Christians celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit fifty days after Easter Day when Jesus was resurrected. It always strikes me as odd that France, such a studiously secular country on the political front, has so many public holidays with a religious background. I'm not complaining. I'm happy to have them. They're not days off for us since we're self-employed, but there's no school and I don't have to make the one kilometre round trip to check the post box at lunch time!

The summer holiday season for our clients is in full swing now. We've had bookings on our big lake and in our gîte and lakes since March, but the busiest time is getting under way. Windermere was very co-operative having little Bertie when she did (24th May). The summer's guests will have the extra fun of seeing a little llama discovering the world.

Next week will be a sort of holiday for us since Chris's sister and brother and their families are coming for a week. It's a long, long time since we got together. I shall be meeting my sister-in-law Abbie, and my kids will be meeting their cousins Sam and Nuala, for the first time. Then the following week Benj and Caiti will be at home for a study week before they take their Bac starting on June 20th. OK, that's not holiday, certainly not for them, but it's a good preparation for _les grandes vacances_ (summer school hols) which start at the beginning of July since it gets me used to having to feed two hungry teens every day again.

The Bac is _le Baccalaureat_ , the set of exams that students take at _lycée_ , and roughly equivalent to A-levels or the Leaving Cert, but slightly higher. They take these in two sittings. The first is at the end of their second year there ( _Première_ ), and the second batch at the end of their third and final year – _Terminale_. Caiti is taking French this year. Benj did that last year, plus maths and science, so this year he has to cope with philosophy (sad face), history and geography (so-so face) and German (happy face)! He's already done his German oral, and despite it not going along the lines he expected, he came out confident and pleased with how things went. Caiti is not very excited about her French (neutral face), but she's done well in the mocks ( _examens blancs_ ), despite her difficult few months of being ill. And even Ruadhri has several evaluations coming up. He's not bothered (happy face). He has a minimalist approach to _devoirs_ (homework) and schoolwork in general, but is doing very well.

Oh, and a last holiday. It's the Nouzerines fête this coming weekend. Despite pushing it right to the line, all the scaffolding has come down from around the church, which now sports a fine new bell tower. I'll be on the AIPB cake stall, with the help (I hope) of one or other children. Should be fun.

## Tempting Fête

5.6.2011

June and July are the month for fêtes in France. Pretty much every little village with have one at some point, often tying in with its _saint patronale_ (patron saint). Nouzerines is connected with Saint Clair, whose day is 1st June. So the weekend closest to that is when the Nouzerines fête takes place. The drawback is that early June has a tendency to be unsettled and stormy in this part of the country. We should possibly consider swapping St Clair for a less meteorologically challenged saint.

I was at the fête Sunday morning, manning the AIPB cake stall. I got there shortly after 8am and the _vide grenier_ (car boot sale / bric-a-brac stalls) was in full swing already. I dread to think what time they must have arrived to get set up. There was a mass and procession from the church to St Clair's spring at 9.30am, but I couldn't participate, which was a little disappointing, since I was busy selling slices of carrot cake and flapjacks and scones to mainly French customers. However, this is a very important duty. There are certain things French people really need to know about British culture, and English cakes are near the top of the list. A French person who can master a scone with butter and cream is well on the way to becoming an Anglophile.

Fêtes are very popular. They're all quite similar, but it's a winning formula. Dancing and fireworks the first night after a _repas_ (meal), then next day a _vide grenier_ followed by some sort of _spectacle_ (show), often musical, and some kind of _concours_ (race) or _defilé_ (parade). Nouzerines was set to have a troupe of 45 Portuguese dancers (I hope the stage was well screwed together) and the Sapeurs-Pompiers batterie-fanfare, followed by the _course de la patate_. This latter looked great. It was a relay involving carrying potatoes on spoons. There was a long list of rules on the posters advertising it, which included not touching your potato or eating it or throwing it, and you were definitely not allowed to stop to do such things as scratch or pee! But sadly the whole afternoon was washed out by torrential rain. Chris, Ruadhri and I went down with Chris's visiting sister and brother and their families. We got well and truly soaked. However, the kids won some tat on the 'hoop a duck' stall and then had a toffee apple each, so they were happy enough. It was worth going.

Maybe we'll get the sun next year!

## Cherry Confusing

10.6.2011

It's cherry picking season here in France. It's a good year for them. The trees are covered. Even my young, little trees in the garden have produced a bowlful each. And they taste beautiful.

We've been gleaning from roadside trees as well and so far have collected three very different sorts of cherries. And this is where I'm starting to get confused. Cherries are _cerises_ in French, but they are often also referred to as _griottes_. And, to complicate things further, you get _cerises griottes_ too. I've done some research and I think these latter are long-stalked cherries, but I'm not 100% sure. And then of course there are _merises_ which are very small, dark, wild cherries. _Morellos_ are the larger, dark cherries. So, I know we have some _morellos_ , but what the other two types are, I'm not certain. One variety is very bright red and sweet, and the other is a more purple red, also deliciously sweet.

But whatever type they are, cherries are a good source of vitamins A and C and potassium. They also have beta carotene in them, more so in sour cherries. They also contain pectin, so jam making with them is easy, and anthocyanins, which are linked to cancer prevention. And they're good for your teeth. Cherry juice is good at fight tooth decay as it's antibacterial. Quite a superfruit in fact.

Caiti, the Chef in Boots, gets home from _lycée_ on Friday night so I'll set her to rustling up some cherry ice-cream for us. I'm sure she'll be able to concoct a recipe. Last week she whipped up blackberry ice-cream off the cuff, and it was the nicest ice-cream I have ever had.

I started destoning the _morellos_ today but I quickly lost the will to live, so we'll be eating those fresh! However, the _cerises/griottes/cerise-griottes_ we harvested today are bigger and firmer and should be easier to process. I have plans for cherry jam (probably David Lebovitz's recipe) and _tarte aux griottes_. So, time to get busy.

## Do 'To Do' Lists Do Any Good?

14.6.2011

I've had a rewarding day today. I've actually got through almost everything on my 'to do' list. I'm a listaholic, forever making lists, but generally losing them or forgetting to take them with me at the crucial time. Yet still I make them. There's something about writing a few words down in a certain order that makes you feel you are in control of things, if only temporarily.

So what did I achieve today? First item on my list was 'soft fruit'. I have a line of fruit bushes battling with the thistles at the end of our nominal vegetable patch. These started life way too close to the big oak tree in the garden, so 18 months ago I moved them. Last year they sulked and produced very little fruit, and the birds got 99% of that. This year they've done better, despite the fact I never got round to putting nets over them. However, I still only have 100g or so from 10 bushes. One gooseberry bush and my sole whitecurrant bush have disappeared altogether, leaving a collection of red and black currant bushes, and one sparse goosegog. Next year I promise I will give them the attention they deserve. I must make a list to remind myself.

Second item was 'Maisie'. She's one of our freebie goats (we have three altogether) and she keeps escaping from the field she shares with Denis. She'd been put back in the stable, where she was very happy, but I wanted to get her back into the field. So Chris has obligingly put up another strand of barbed wire where we think her escape point was. Hopefully she'll stay put now.

Third item: 'swim'. The water was 21 degrees and the air temp was 23 degrees, but I enjoyed my dip. It took me an hour and a half to warm up afterwards though! When I get cold, I take a while to thaw out. The pool was up to 24 degrees by teatime, positively roasting, so I had a longer swim then. I am getting into this footballer's wife lifestyle very enthusiastically.

Fourth item: 'facepaints'. Caiti will be doing facepainting at the AIPB summer fête in July so I've ordered a 400-face pack of Snazaroo paints today. The price was €88 euro. The plan is to charge €2 a time so we only need a class-full of kids to break even. The kit comes with plenty of paints and brushes and a book of inspiration.

Fifth item: blog. Work in progress!

But are 'to do' lists any good? It's rare for me to get through mine and I usually end up feeling despondent and a failure when only one or two things get crossed off. Apologies for the touch of drama queen here, but I tend to spiral downwards quickly. So I had a trawl online to see if to do lists are reckoned to be helpful. One piece of advice caught my eye and made me smile: 'Male a list of what you need to do to reach your goal.' I think the writer meant 'make', or possibly the whole thing just needed rewording to read: 'List a male you need to reach your goal'! (Who would yours be?) Anyway, other wise words I found were: 'Effectiveness has a lot to do with being organised and working to a structure, without being driven by it.' So, if your 'to do' list helps you be better organised then it is doing some good, even it you can't achieve everything on it. And let's face it, we're all over-ambitious when we make these lists, as we are with New Year's Resolutions.

Mind maps are an alternative to 'to do' lists, and since they engage both sides of the brain as you make them, they're reckoned to be more memorable and effective. I use the latter for plotting out stories and brainstorming. However, I shall start putting them into practice more with my daily organising as they're prettier for a start and because, according to this website, help the user 'emerge as a better individual'. I could do with that!

There are web-based to do list packages such as Bla-Bla List, Ta-da List and Remember the Milk, which are very popular. I'm not into these computer based ones, I have to confess. I go with pen and paper but those of you who are more computer literate than me might find those useful.

And now for something completely different. The silliest search terms that brought people to my site from last week were:

1. Women who cut grass naked – suggests a large subset of the population are into this, and on a regular basis. I only did it the once!

2. My fence posts aren't straight – surely a Charlie Drake song like 'My boomerang won't come back'

3. Why is there salt in Bird's custard – like I should know?

4. Nude French Christmas part 2 – I wonder what happened to part 1?

5. Flowers with bath water – possibly a still life painting?

6. Cycling sayings France – I could come up with a few choice ones.

7. Custard dates – anyone want to go out with a bowlful?

8. www.women carp fishing naked.com – now this one is just wishful thinking!!

Lavoirs

16.62011

For the occasion of the Nouzerines Fête, someone did a wonderful job cleaning the _lavoir_ in the village. This is right next to St Clair's spring, which allegedly has miraculous properties where eyesight is concerned. The lavoir was sparkly clean for the special event. A mere two weeks later it is all green and scummy again, sadly.

You come across _lavoirs_ in every town and village in rural France, and sometimes seemingly in the middle of nowhere. There were the places where women used to do the washing in the past. They were places to meet friends and have a chat while doing the backbreaking work of handwashing everything from handkerchiefs to sheets. There was a bit of competition attached too – everyone would be watching out to see how many of a certain item their neighbours had, and what sort of quality it was.

The women came to the _lavoir_ in the second stage of the washing. They would already have soaked and scrubbed the laundry, and boiled it in a cauldron with cinders, caustic soda and, unlikely as it might sound, lard. Then they would heave the wet, heavy washing down to the _lavoir_ , or river, in wicker baskets on their back to rinse it. Most _lavoirs_ have wide edges to them, where the women could spread out their laundry, and kneel, often on a wooden sort of step they brought with them which had straw in to give some padding for their knees, to carry on with their labour.

After rinsing, the women would batter the wet washing with a wooden _battoir_ , a sort of small paddle, to get the water out. They would either carry these back in their wicker baskets or, if they had a great deal of laundry, in a wheelbarrow. Then it would need to be hung up to dry somewhere, either indoors or outdoors, depending on the weather, and finally it would need to be ironed.

It was incredibly hard work. The women had to carry heavy, wet washing to and from the _lavoir_ , rinse, wring and bash it, their hands permanently cold and wet and their backs bent all the time. And in all elements. I for one never cease to be grateful for my washing machine. It comes in as number 12 in the Tesco Mobile list of greatest inventions ever (4000 people polled). I think it merits a much higher placing, but it's something we take so much for granted these days that it easily gets overlooked, particularly by the younger generation.

So next time you come across a _lavoir_ in your travels in France, do stop for a moment and think about the women who used to use it.

## Freezing and Form Filling

20.6.2011

The fêtes continue. Saturday night I was helping the AIPB run the bar and then clear away at the Foiuilles de Vieilles Pierres at St Sylvain Bas le Roc. The bar was open air, which I hadn't expected, and I froze since I was in barmaid attire and not a sensible, warm outfit! Today was Ruadhri's school _kermesse_ (another word for fête). Rors and I helped set up this morning and then this afternoon I was in charge of the cash box. I'm getting to be rather good at that. We cycled there and back both times, so I was in my cycling shorts. And I froze during the afternoon. A stiff, icy breeze got up from somewhere and whistled around my cash-collecting table. It wasn't very busy at the _kermesse_ , unfortunately but not surprisingly. It was all rather last minute and the Sunday afternoon slot isn't a good one. There's too much going on at weekends these days. There were _fêtes de la musique_ going on at Boussac and Vijon that I knew of in the immediate vicinity, plus numerous other fêtes a little further afield. We used to hold the _kermesse_ on Friday evenings after school, which was very good timing. Everyone was hungry and we made a lot on food. Plus it ended promptly at seven when people drifted home for tea, even if they'd just had _sandwich frites_ and _g_ _â_ _teau_. That seemed to be a winning formula, but for whatever reason we've changed to Sundays. However, all the kids enjoyed themselves so it wasn't all bad.

As well as fête season, it's form season. There are a plethora of sheets of paper to fill in at the end of the summer term, nearly as many as at the beginning of the autumn term. So far we've filled out a very long grant application form for Benj. Then there are demands for school transport to be completed, plus copies of the various _justificatifs_ to be scanned or photocopied and attached. Never mind that they're the same ones, year in and year out. You have to supply them anew each time. And there are the moving up forms. In Ireland, and England too, it's the norm that you move up to the next year at school, unless there are very persuasive reasons as to why not. But here it's never that certain. Even in Ruadhri's tiny school of around 15 pupils, there will be 1 or 2 who _redouble_ ie repeat a year. Personally, I think it's a bit overdone, as is the practice of kids jumping years. I know several kids who have made the _saut_. Apart from Caiti, who was catching up with her age group at college and had mastered French adequately, there is no real reason why the other children have been pushed on. They don't appear to be prodigies, and all that will happen is that they'll start _coll_ _è_ _ge_ before they're really ready to in terms of maturity. It's a puzzling practice, especially given the general obsession with making kids redo a year's schooling.

Anyway, moving up involves paperwork. A document comes home, hinting at what the outcome will be i.e. progressing or _redoubling_. You read it, sign and date it, express an opinion if you can be bothered, and return the form. This same document comes back with the official decision a month or so later. You read it, sign and date it, either accepting the decision or disputing it. You can fight a proposed _redoublement_ and ask for it to be referred to the _Academie_ (education committee) of your area if the school persists in insisting on it, but the _Academie_ 's ruling is final. When I asked for Caiti to jump a year, that went to the _Academie_ too. The school were in favour of the move, but had to get official agreement, which luckily they did.

And any day now I'll receive a wodge of things to fill in for the _lycée_ for Caiti's _rentrée_ in September, but those I can ignore until the day before she goes back. And as soon as Benj gets his _Bac_ results through, there'll be more forms, with luck all related to him starting at Limoges and not having to retake exams, or redo _Terminale_.

So, keep a pen handy at this time of year is my advice!

## Bacs Against the Wall

22.6.2011

My two teens are taking their bacs at the moment. The _Bac_ , _le Baccalauréat_ , introduced by Napoleon in 1808, is the qualification students gain (hopefully!) at the end of their three years in _lycée_ , when the majority of them are aged around 18. Technically it is an academically qualifying degree, so if a student definitely doesn't want to go on to university, he or she can refuse to take the _Bac_. However, the vast majority of students sit it.

Benj and Caiti are taking the _Baccalauréat general_. (There are two other types of _Bac_ – _Baccalauréat technologique_ and _Baccalauréat professionnel_.) The _Baccalauréat general_ is divided into three strings. For each one, the exams are spread over two years. Benj is doing a _Bac L_ ( _littéraire_ i.e. arts). Last year he took exams in maths and computer science, natural sciences and French language. He was assessed on a TPE ( _Travaux personnels encadrés_ ) project which counted towards his final marks. He then dropped all those subjects, and this year is in the process of being examined of French literature, philosophy, history and geography, English and German. Even his achievements (or lack of) in physical education over the year are taken into consideration. Caiti is taking a _Bac S_ ( _sciences_ ). This year she is taking her French language exam and will have an oral exam too. She's already had her TPE assessment. Next year, her last one at _lycée_ , she will sit maths, SVT ( _sciences vie et terre_ – life and earth sciences), philosophy, physics and chemistry, maths, history and geography, English and German, and get a mark for her PE during the year. As you can see, her workload will be a lot heavier than Benj's has been this year. There is also a third type of _Bac_ – _Bac ES_ , _sciences economiques et sociales_.

The exams are up to four hours long, which seems rather fierce to me. The longest I ever did were 3-hour ones at A-level and then at Uni, and also when part-qualifying as an accountant. Those were quite long enough! Benj had two of these 4-hour horrors on Monday. He still looks tired!

This being France, we need to complicate things. Each exam has a _coefficient_ i.e. a weighting, which makes some subjects more important than others. For Benj, philosophy has a _coeff_ of 7, which is a bit of a pain because Benj has found it harder going than he thought it would be. However, for scientific Caits, it will only have a _coeff_ of 3. However, Benj did well in his _Bac_ last year and got well over the 50% overall you need to pass. Those excess marks will contribute towards this year's scores. He has another secret weapon too. He has been taking an optional European German course, which he will be examined in orally. If he gets more than 12/20 for this, those marks will be added to his overall total, giving a nice little boost. (Caiti does the same course, so she stands to benefit next year too.)

If a student's overall mark for the _Bac_ (i.e. from all the exams over the two years) is between 8 and 10, a near miss, he or she can sit the _épreuve de rattrapage_. This consists of orals in two subjects that the student can choose. And if these go well and bring the average up to 10, the _Bac_ will be awarded. But if they don't, the student has the option of retaking the final year at _lycée_ and resitting the next June. The results come out on 5th July this year, and the _épreuve de rattrapage_ is held over the following few days so everyone gets their final result very quickly after the exams. This puts England and Ireland to shame where the waiting periods of several months for exam results are frankly ridiculous.

Pass rates nationally for the _Bac_ are generally above 80%, so I don't think my two have too much to worry about. But I'll keep my fingers crossed anyway!

STOP PRESS: It's emerged today, 23rd June, that a question on the _Bac S_ Maths paper, which kids took on Wednesday 22nd, was leaked on Monday. However, the education minister decided not to cancel the exam, which is what students and teachers are saying he should have done. The question, on probability and worth 20% of the marks, is simply not being marked and the other questions, more difficult ones, are being given a higher weighting to compensate. This isn't fair at all, since, as Caiti tells me, probability is one of the more straightforward areas and candidates can usually pick up good marks on this question. There are rumours that questions from the English paper were also leaked, but I haven't been able to find out much about that yet.

## Tractor Temptations

26.6.2011

We're test-driving a vehicle at the moment. Not a brand new Lamborghini, sad to say, but a 50 year old Mc Cormick Farmall Intenational 265 tractor. These were churned out in large quantities between the 1920s and 1970s as a sensibly priced, all purpose tractor aimed at medium-sized family farms. They could do enough of the tasks needed on the farm to reduce the reliance on hired hands, not to mention horses or mules. Farmalls were prominent in trend toward mechanising agriculture.

There are hundreds of old tractors to be seen in the farms of Creuse. I much prefer these to the increasingly enormous and powerful new ones that hurtle along the country lanes round here, completely filling them. Some are so wide that the tyres are on both grass verges. Not much room for other road users.

This could be tractor number 4. Tractor number 1, Rusty, was this tractor's sibling, and the first one we bought. It was brilliant, but suffered what we'll tactfully call antifreeze deficiency problems one winter and came to an untimely end. So we got a second tractor, which Rors named Sea Blue. This is a Fordson Dexta, a very compact but tough machine. These were only produced for seven years between 1957 and 1964. Ours is the same age as me. It's nippy, and apart from an unfindable fuel leak and the tendency for its steering to freeze up in winter, it's been a great investment.

Tractor number 3 was another Mc Cormick, a totally rusted up wreck that we bought for a few hundred euros as we were told the engine block was fine and so we could put it onto Rusty and get him going again. Well, it wasn't, so we didn't. That tractor was taken off for scrap a few months ago.

And now we have prospective tractor number 4 sitting outside. We've had a spin around the farm in it. What I like about the Mc Cormick is the passenger seat above the left rear wheel. It's metal, of course, and destroys your backbone as you bounce around it, but it's brilliant. So we're trying to decide if we really need a second tractor. It's bigger and more powerful than Sea Blue, and with old tractors, you never know what's going to go wrong next, so if you have two, the likelihood is that at least one of them should be working at any time. If we can get the price down a bit, I think the vendor has got himself a deal ... especially as it comes with a free, ancient _benet_ (metal storage/carrying box)!

## Gueret 7th June 1944

26.6.2011

I've often noticed plaques on the wall in various places around Gueret. And they all have the date _7 juin 1944_ on them. While waiting for Benj to take his German oral exam last Friday, I walked round and took photos of the ones I could find. Then I did some research to find out what happened in Gueret that day.

Gueret, in the free zone since 1940, was the first metropolitan _préfecture_ (chief town of a _departément_ ) to be liberated by the _résistance intérieure français_ (the resistance) and 7th June 1944 was the day it happened. Sadly it was short lived. The Germans retook the town on 9th June, but it was liberated again, this time permanently, on 24th August.

So what was going on in Gueret on the 7th? Creuse as a whole had been veering in favour of the resistance, away from the neutrality it was supposed to have. Starting around 5.30 am, battles between the Germans and the resistance centred on two hotels in the town. They also fought against the Vichy-controlled military police ( _milice_ ), who were based at the masonic lodge in Gueret. The Germans and the _milice_ surrendered. The people of Gueret were delighted. There was some vengeance. Collaborators were hunted out, with the cry of « _A mort, vendu, salaud_ » and summary executions took place. But after the German lorries rumbled back into town on the 9th and re-established control, the Guérétois leaders were rounded up, and sent to Limoges for interrogation. Very few were executed as the collapse of German control of France began soon after.

One of commemorative plaques I saw was in pieces. The surname Becker was visible but that's all. I hope it will be replaced as soon as possible. We mustn't forget these brave people and what they did that day.

## Nos Loisirs

30.6.2011

On 1st July 1906 a new magazine came out in France – _Nos Loisirs_. This first issue was amongst the huge treasure trove of magazines and newspapers that we found in the attic here when we moved in. It cost ten centimes and described itself as ' _journal-revue illustré de 32 pages_ ' (illustrated magazine and review). What's more, it claimed ' _pas une ligne, pas une gravure qui ne soit pas intéressante_ ' – there wouldn't be a single line or drawing that wasn't interesting. And is that true?

First up was a letter from the editor agreeing that readers were probably saying that there were enough magazines out there already. But this one was ' _différent_ ' and truly ' _populaire_ ' – for the people. Each week there would be new writing from well-known authors, discussions of current affairs and social problems, advice to young people, competitions, humour – everything!

This issue has a long illustrated story, 'The Extraordinary Adventure of M. Poulot', and then a detailed discussion of the new-fangled phonograph. Charmion, the ' _chien cambrioleur_ ' (burglar dog) has a column devoted to him, and one of eight photos in the journal is of him. Another photo is of Séverine, whose page comes next, and she talks about women and their right to vote. She concludes by quoting a friend who says astutely: 'Until women become voters, my dear, the men in parliament won't do anything for them.' They had to wait until 1944 to gain suffrage.

There are two more stories. Then a cartoon. "Where is St Stephen?" teacher asks a pupil, standing next to a large map of France. "In Heaven, Madam," the child replies. Maybe it was funny at the time!

A piece of piano music takes up the centrefold. ' _Sous le Fautaies_ ' it's called (In the forest of tall trees) and is in the fiendish key with four flats, whatever that is. I've forgotten a lot about music, which is shameful since I played the violin for years!

There's a flyer for the novel _Zezia_ by Paul Dumas, and then some short tips on things to talk about in conversation. One of these little nuggets is the fact that ice floes floating south from the North Polar ice will take two centuries to melt. They reckoned without global warming, obviously. Other conversation starters are the snippets that trees that grow on the south side of a hill are tougher than ones that grow on the north, and that 1.7 million children in Russia have no education. Another story, a hotel review (The St Regis Hotel in New York) and an article on home improvement – specifically how to organise your _boudoir_. Then there's a competition to match silhouettes to photos, fashion advice and adverts.

All in all, quite a variety of subject matter, and I'd probably have been tempted to buy the next issue. I haven't been able to determine exactly how long the magazine was published for, but I've found copies online from 1909 so it ran for several years at least.

# July

## Blog Slog

11.7.2011

I always find it a bit of a slog to blog in summer. It's not for lack of things to write about – summer is our busiest time. The trekking season has got underway, our gîte and lakes have had clients since March and are booked through to October, we've celebrated the end of term and excellent exam results, we've had Ruadhri's birthday, we go cycling as often as we can and swim every day in our swanky new pool, we've sheared an alpaca, we've got two new goats, there have been a lot of awesome thunderstorms ... there is loads going on. In fact, I think it's because there is so much happening that I tend to dry up creative-wise. Add the hot weather and lassitude tends to strike every night about 9 when I settle down to a bit of computing. Well, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!

It's certainly hot at the moment. I've had a good trawl around on the Net but can't conclusively determine whether July is hotter than August in France. Some sets of figures suggest July, others August. My own feeling is that July is warmer. The days are longer and nights certainly seem hotter. But it's great. When you live through Creuse winters, you deserve the summer sunshine, and you're ready for it. We've adjusted our daily routine so that we get up and outdoors early, get things done then have a siesta from 1 till 3 or so, and then get busy again later in the day.

However, I've discovered something interesting in my temperature-related surfing. A lot of weather and climate websites show the times of sunrise and sunset – and also twilight. Did you know that are three different types of twilight? And, that twilight happens twice a day – just before sunrise and just after sunset. Now I always thought twilight was an evening thing, and pretty much the same thing as dusk.

So, first of all there is civil twilight. That's what most of us would think of as twilight – when you can still see things clearly but it's getting dark at night (or starting to get light in the morning). The precise definition is when the sun is 6 degrees below the horizon, either before rising or after setting.

Nautical twilight is the next type of twilight, which is when the sun is 12 degrees below the horizon. It's a good bit murkier than civil twilight and only vague outlines of objects can be seen. It's hard to make out the horizon at all.

Finally, astronomical twilight is when it's completely dark – 'still' in the morning, and 'just gone' in the evening. The sun is now 18 degrees below the horizon.

Twilight is _crépuscule_ in French. It has a Latin root. Another derivative, crepuscular, is used in English to refer to animals that are active at both twilights, such as fireflies, owls and bats. Talking of fireflies, Chris and Benjamin have seen some down at our big lake. Ruadhri and I have looked a couple of times, but with no luck. I think we went searching when it was only civil as opposed to nautical twilight i.e. too early! Rors can't quite stay up late enough. But as the evenings slowly draw in, our chances will improve.

## Pole Dancing

1.7.2011

E, the farmer who cuts our hay, arrived yesterday to tackle this year's grass. Sadly it's a poor crop due to the early hot weather followed by the continuing long dry spell. Things aren't good for farmers generally. E told us that his beef cattle are worth half of what they were last year, that the cereal crops will be disappointing and that Creuse still refuses to declare an official drought. I'm not sure what the repercussions of their doing so would be for farmers, but there is presumably something.

Anyway, before E climbed back into his cab to finish the last field, he mentioned that one of our telegraph poles was leaning over. This came as a surprise. It had been OK when we'd last passed it at lunchtime. There's circumstantial evidence to suggest that the event has something to do with our hay being cut by a large tractor with a huge cutting attachment! However, when we went to try and prop the pole up this morning, we soon saw that it's practically rotten, and has large splits and holes all over it. It's a poorly pole. It would have only taken a slight bump from E to send it toppling.

We have a lot of poles at Les Fragnes. Down one side of our long driveway we have electricity poles, and they cross over the drive and back at one point. And down the other, we have the telegraph poles, which also cross the drive at the corner. We are a tad over-poled. It's a pity the two utility companies couldn't work together and save a few trees.

So, since this morning I have been ringing France Telecom to tell them about our pole. Phoning 1013 is a waste of time at the moment, though. There are 'perturbations' in their service, a recorded message tells me mournfully. The answer machine bloke who comes on next won't let me pass 'go' since he refuses to believe me when I tell him ' _un poteau est cassé_ ' – a pole has broken. He insists on putting me through to the commercial department on 1014, who promptly tell me to phone 1013. Scream. I shall just have to wait till humans appear at the 1013 site again. Given that it took around six months before I finally made contact concerning our droopy telephone wire last year, it's not looking too optimistic for getting the problem sorted soon. But this is altogether more dangerous with a large lump of wood flopping around loosely. I shall persevere since there's no other choice! France Telecom are leading us a merry dance, again.

## Good Start to Summer

5.7.2011

The summer holidays have got off to a good start. OK, we're getting up a bit later than usual, but the animals don't seem to notice that breakfast has been moved back a little. So long as food and water arrive at some point, they're happy. We've mended fences, cycled, swum, pottered, gardened, worked – all very satisfying.

And great news this morning. Benj passed his exams and has his _Bac_. He got a _mention assez bien_ , which means he got between 12 and 14 out of 20. He's thrilled with that, as one paper didn't go well and he never really got on with philosophy, which had a very heavy weighting for students taking _Bac L_ ( _littérature_ ).( I explained how Bacs worked in an earlier post.) So, Benj will be off to Unilim i.e. the University of Limoges, in October, and I shall move into his bedroom as my office. Finally a peaceful place for writing where I can spread out a bit! I currently work at my tiny _écritoir_ in the corner of the lounge, which is OK, but I'm happy to upgrade! Quite what will happen during the holidays when Benj is back home, I'm not sure. I don't think the llamas will mind Benj joining them overnight!

We are going to be Organised this holiday. We had a family meeting yesterday and set a vague schedule of places to see (Beauval zoo, Sazeray castle, some Roman ruins near Argentan), jobs that must be done (polytunnel, fencing for sheep field, wood cutting) and when friends can come and stay. Rors will be starting on paper _briquette_ production shortly. They take ages to dry so we need to start now. He's also begun making things to sell in my shop. (We sell llama-y souvenirs to trekkers, or at least try to. French people are hard to part from their money.) We'll be doing llama treks, but we're not pushing that element of our business for the time being. We have enough with the gîte and fishery, Chris's web design plans and my writing. Plus we only have three trekking animals this year, and one of those, Brendan the alpaca, has had a sudden flood of hormones and now gets bolshy when he's taken away from Windy, the llama. He's broken into the girls' field four or five times now (hence the fence mending I mentioned in the opening paragraph). It's a doomed love affair. Windy is not the slightest bit interested in him. We're hoping he'll calm down soon.

The hot, dry weather continues. It's the driest we've ever seen it in our five years here. Our lawn is dead and the veg need watering every night. The water butts are nearly empty though, so we'll have to switch from showers to baths and use the water from those, otherwise it could be a pumpkinless winter and that would never do. We're setting off early for bike rides since it's so hot. I don't know how the Tour de France cyclists cope with racing through the severe heat of the day. We are usually more than warm enough by 10 o'clock or so when we get back. Today we had a rare full family ride in that Benj actually joined us for once. He's not generally one for physical exercise any more, rather sad since he was super-fit as a kid. But maybe we'll get him back into shape over the next few weeks ...

## Summer Revision

6.7.2011

Revision books for kids for during the summer holidays are big business here in France. Every major educational publisher produces them, and every newsagent, bookshop and supermarket stocks them. And they sell well.

But why? Don't kids learn anything at school during the year? Do they really need to work during the summer too?

France takes education seriously. As I've written elsewhere, schooldays are long, the curriculum is broad and there's a positive attitude about learning at every level. The French government is prepared to support its schools and students. And on the whole, parents are too. So, although children of every age learn plenty during the school year, there's a willingness to make sure kids are up to scratch on the various subjects during the holidays. Every student is sick at some point during the year and misses being taught certain topics. A spot of holiday revision means they can catch up.

Educationalists have mixed opinions on the subject of these revision and activity books. Some say they don't do much good, others that they're brilliant. I go with my gut feeling. Until the other day, I had only ever bought one for Ruadhri, in the summer he finished at _maternelle_ (2007). I wanted to make sure he'd picked something up during his first year. The teacher had told me he understood well but didn't talk much, but I felt the need to make sure the first part of that statement was true! It was – Rors breezed through the activities in his holiday book. And I'm sure he'll do the same this summer too. However, towards the end of term, he was coming out with some strange theories about maths. He assured us that the fraction 7/7 was bigger than 6/6. Nope, I argued, they both equalled one so they were the same. My maths isn't great but even I was sure about that one. _Mais non_ , my youngest responded. Teacher had said if there was a bigger number on the bottom, then it was bigger, full stop. Hmm. Also, his school report had a few more ECAs (= _en course d'acquistion_ i.e. not quite got the hang of yet) than I'd have liked to have seen, so I decided we needed to do a spot of work over the _vacances_. Rors has one more year at primary school before moving up to _collège_ , so I want to make sure he's covered all the groundwork.

I've bought Ruadhri Hachette Education's 'Jouer pour Réviser du CM1 au CM2, 9-10 ans'. It looks fun. It's colourful, lively and the subjects are all mixed up so there's no great chunk of maths or French in one foreboding lump. English is covered too, so those pages will give Rors a boost when we come across them. And it comes with a free pencil! It has to be said that Hachette are rather good with the educational stuff. I subscribed Ruadhri to their 'Tout l'Univers' encyclopaedia series. This arrived in parts over several months. It's a real treasure trove of facts. The drawback is that the cellophane-wrapped block of pages come all muddled up. You have to rip each one off and file it away at the correct point page-wise in the relevant section of the numerous folders that come with the series. This takes ages and you rapidly lose the will to live during the exercise. Well, I do. However, it does also mean that the kids are actually looking at the material. If it came pre-sorted, then the danger would be that it would never get opened. We never get many pages sorted at a time because Ruadhri quickly becomes engrossed in reading them. Which is good! Maybe by the end of the summer we'll have it all organised.

Caiti is planning to do some revision too. Her six-month illness took its toll on her marks, and she missed quite a lot of days of school in the end. She's an extremely motivated student, although an even more motivated sleeper, and she wants to do well in her _Bac_. So, it could be quite a quiet holiday with everybody's heads down.

But it's not all work and no play here, no way. Just to prove it, a photo of a lively Beybladez match going on between Rors and his dad. I'd been winning, which is why I was sent off to take a photo!

## A Raw Milk Distributor That Doesn't Go Moo!

7.7.2011

Caiti and I went to do the food shopping – groan – at Super-U at La Châtre today.

"Oh cool," says Caiti as we drive into the car park. "There's one of those unpasteurised milk machines."

I am clearly way out of touch. I had no idea these things existed. Anyway, we got our trolley and went over for a look. Sure enough, it was a vending machine for raw milk. It all seemed to be incredibly complicated to start with. It looked like we would have to buy some sort of key and a minumum of 8 litres of milk, all for 10 euro. That seemed a tad over the top, unless we wanted to go into cheese production. Then Caiti worked out that you could buy an empty plastic bottle for 20 cents, and she found the part where the milk is actually dispensed. It wasn't clear how much it was or exactly how it worked, so we poked around for a few more minutes and then went off to fill the trolley with food that will be gone within days/hours/minutes depending on how hungry the teens are.

Super-U is being reorganised or refurbished or possibly even completely rebuilt at the moment. Chunks of the shop are sectioned off and there's a real din of drills and bangs and crashes. It's quite noticeable that when shops do this running conversion work, a lot of the cheaper lines disappear off the shelves since space is at a premium. The expensive stuff stays out though!

I decided to use up my 5 years' worth of accumulated loyalty points to get a free gift. Caiti and I decided on a wicked looking hand blender with an assortment of attachments. Think of all the pumpkin soup I'll be able to make with it! (Family joke that needs explaining – the kids would frankly rather starve than eat their dad's pumpkin soup, which both he and I are addicted to. Pumpkins rock!) Sadly it's not in stock so I'll collect it next time we hit the shop.

Caiti cadged 20 cents off me while I was unloading the car to go and play with the raw milk machine. Now, this particular one has been in place since November 2010. It was put there by two farming brothers, Jérome and Charlie Chaumette, who live close by at Sazeray. However, the driving force was Corinne Bouriaud, the manager of Super-U. She'd come across such a machine elsewhere (there are around one hundred of them so far in France) and she thought it would be a good additional service for her shop to offer. So she advertised and the Chaumette brothers saw a golden opportunity. They invested in the special _distributeur_ (vending machine). Every morning they put 150 litres of fresh milk into the machine, where it's kept refrigerated. (There are extremely tight hygiene regulations that they have to meet.) _Lait cru_ (unpasteurised milk) is 46% fat, but you wouldn't think so to taste it. It's light and refreshing, and definitely different from treated milk. With a bit of help from a passing lady, Caiti had worked out how everything worked and had half a litre of raw milk in a bottle by the time I joined her.

It's a win-win situation all round. The farmers get paid a sensible amount for their milk for once, customers get top quality milk the old-fashioned way in a place that's easy to access, and Super-U attracts some more customers through its doors.

I'm glad Caiti came with me today. I made a fascinating discovery. I must stop walking around with my eyes shut.

## Tour de France Action in Creuse

9.7.2011

We've have had a brilliant morning watching the Tour de France.

We woke up to rain, which was a blow. We wanted the rain, we've been praying for it for the garden and our lakes – but we didn't want it today! However, it dried up shortly before we set off at just after 10 am to claim our spot for watching the spectacle, after a quick face painting session. Caiti managed to get English, Irish and French flags on her face!

We had to get off our bikes at the junction of the D2 and D97. At first the gendarme there didn't seem to want to let us get past at all, but we told him firmly we would walk our bikes along the road. He wasn't happy but he let us by. As soon as we were out of sight, we hopped on again and zoomed down to a good viewing point!

First past was one of the official merchandise vans. I invested €20 in one of the kits. I'll be amazed if the Tour de France ever comes so close to us again, so it was a celebration. Here's what I got ...

... not forgetting the tee-shirt too!

Cars and motorbikes, mainly gendarmes who all looked rather smug, roared past at intervals. Then came the publicity caravan. This is brilliant! Everyone shouts and cheers and waves, and then jumps nimbly out of the way as the freebies come flying. Ruadhri was thrilled to see the Haribo lorry, dishing out Smurf sweets.

The caravan took about half an hour to go by, and then came the waiting time. However, it wasn't boring. In just ten minutes, 80 cars and 3 motorbikes went by. What most of these vehicles are actually contributing to the Tour I have no idea. I think a lot of people in them are there on a corporate junket. But they're jolly and wave as they go by, so it's fun.

Five helicopters buzzed past, a sure sign the cyclists were close by. A wave of more gendarme motorcyclists smirked by, and then, about ten minutes ahead of schedule, the cyclists arrived. First came the breakaway group of nine riders. A couple of minutes later the peloton zoomed by. I only managed to get one photo as they passed, it was that quick. The last cyclist struggled by and then some more team cars and finally the broom wagon. And it was all over.

It's a breathless spectacle, very exciting, but over way too fast. However, we had a ball and came home with all our goodies, apart from the ones we'd eaten at the time (mini-sausages, savoury nibbles and madeleines, all delicious). The only naff items were the portable ashtrays from Bic, but if we were smokers I'm sure we'd be very appreciative.

Caitlin is going to try and get a job with the caravan next year. It would be a great way to spend three weeks of her summer. I've suggested she becomes one of the mini-sausage-distributers. She could accidentally drop her sackful as she goes past us, because we'll be there somewhere along the route I hope!

## Tour de France Publicity Caravan Trivia

14.7.2011

This year, 2011, the publicity caravan, a 45-minute long procession, consisted of 160 crazy vehicles, 600 people, 33 brand names, 16 million freebies, 12 gendarmes, 4 traffic regulator motorcyclists and 3 medical cars. And a couple of other facts for you. Each advertiser invests between €200,000 to €500,000. And 39% of spectators only come to see the caravan!

The idea of the publicity caravan began in 1930. It was actually the idea of Paul Thévenin, publicity manager for Menier chocolate. He put his proposal to Henri Desgrange, tour organiser, who immediately say a good way of raising money for his sporting spectacle. In that first year, Menier gave out chocolate bars and half a million policeman's hats printed with the company name. The Vache Qui Rit was another of the first advertisers who joined in.

At one time anything went. There used to be motorcycle acrobatics and accordionists on vehicle rooftops but such excesses have been curbed these days in the interests of health and safety! However, the vehicles pass by at speeds of up to 60 kmph and some of the stuff they throw out is fairly solid. We've come home with bruises on our shins before now as packs of cards or samples of sausage have thwacked into them. But no pain, no gain.

People soon cottoned on to this nice idea of getting a free gift from someone passing by in a decorated vehicle, and more spectators come out to see the Tour de France. These days it's an integral part of the Tour. It helps pass the long wait for the cyclists to go by, and who doesn't like getting something for nothing. I totted up the potential savings from coupons I got, and they come to €121.50, if I use them all. And that's on top of all the hats, bags, keyrings, notebooks, food samples, newspapers, pens, bookmarks and silly stuff we got. _Pas mal_!

## Debt Today and Yesterday

17.7.2011

We have piles of old magazines here at Les Fragnes. And by old, I mean _very_ old. Many are one hundred years old, some nearly one hundred and fifty. I have an ongoing dilemma of what to do with them. For now they can continue to gather dust and provide occasional inspiration for blog posts.

I accidentally knocked the November 1909 issue of _Bonne Lectures_ off the pile upstairs just now, and so had quick glance through it when I picked it up. (I've looked at _Bonnes Lectures_ before. It's noticeable that since April 1909 illustrations have been dropped. There's only one in the whole journal which makes it look rather dull. It seems to be rather more serious too.) A quick paragraph about the national debt of European countries caught my eye. How do those figures compare with today's, I wondered. So I've chosen a few of the countries to compare.

First up France. In 1909 the _dette globale_ (national debt) was 30,350 million francs. For useful comparisons, I needed to convert that to euros with today's purchasing power. My brain refused to co-operate at first as I attempted to work this out from assorted tables I came across online. But then I found a formula saying that a franc in 1910 was worth €2.69 in 2006. This is close enough for the purposes of my quick analysis. So, 1909's debt equals €81,641,500,000. The population in 1909 was 39 million, so that gave a debt per capita of 780 fr, the equivalent today of 2,098 euros.

Now, INSEE, the statistical body in France, reckons that France's national debt at the end of the first quarter in 2011 was 1 646,1 milliard (billion i.e. 1,000 million) euro. France's population in 2009 was just under 63 million, giving a debt per capita of €26,129. The national debt has increased twenty-fold, but per capita only twelve-fold because of the increased population.

Quick look at Great Britain. In 1909 it had debt of 19,530,000,000 francs for its population of 43 million. This equates to €52,535.7 million euro and a debt per capita of €1,221. Today the unadjusted measure of public sector net debt £2,252.9 billion i.e. €2,569.5 billion. The UK's population is around 62,300,000 so this gives us €41,244 per head. Britain is in a lot worse financial state than France.

Let's just throw Belgium very quickly into the equation as well. Belgium had 3.28 billion francs of debt for its 6.5 million inhabitants in 1909, equating to €1,345 per head. Today it's €31,560 per head, 342 billion euros in total. Ouch.

I won't go into the reasons for today's debt levels. But _Bonnes Lectures_ had no doubts at all as to what was causing it 102 years ago. It was because of the godless _régime_ that was ruling and under which France was dying. There was more crime, more ignorance of religious truth, a deterioration in people's souls, as well as this increasing level of debt which everyone was having to pay for in their taxes. A link between debt and society's morals? Now that's something to think about.

##  In-faux-mation

26.2.2011

We're used to journalists getting things wrong when they write about us and our llamas in papers or magazines, but the last example takes things to extremes. The _Pays du Limousin_ summer special lists things to do and see in Limousin over July and August. A guy showed up a month or so ago to take a few photos. He wasn't a journalist and only had a scrap of paper with him, which I assumed were directions. He scribbled a few names down on it and that was all. So it came as a complete surprise when someone commented on what a nice write-up about us they'd read in the magazine!

My heart sank. What had they said? So I went to get a copy and, oh boy, it's worse than we feared. I appreciate that they want to promote us, but I'm aghast that no one thought to let me know what they planned to say about us and check some of the details. They're pretty much all wrong!

First up, the intro says that you can have rides on llamas. Horrors! You can't ride llamas, end of story, as their backs aren't strong enough, and no one has ever ridden ours. So where this came from, I have no idea. Somebody's overactive imagination! I hope we don't have the crowd from the DSV round again this year. They turned up out of the blue last August, saying they were in the area inspecting riding stables and had come to check out our llama riding set-up. We patiently explained that we were about trekking alongside your llama, not on it, and they went away happy. I'll be cross if they do come round again because of this crazy article.

Next up, it says that we left Ireland because we couldn't find land to set up a llama farm there and so came to France for that one purpose. We had seen three llamas at an agricultural show in Ireland and thought they looked interesting, but that was it. It developed into a joke with our eldest son after our arrival here, which is what led us to go and visit Bernard Morestin's llama farm. We ended up buying our first llamas from him. Our llamas have only ever been a hobby, and still are.

And it goes on. Llamas don't like rain (nonsense), apparently we offer 'sportive' treks with our animals (you what?), and people can stroke, feed and brush our llamas. The llamas could cope with the feeding, although Katrina would get grumpy, but as for the stroking and brushing – no way. They are happy to come up and sniff visitors, but don't want to be fussed over. Llamas aren't into that. The anonymous writer then says that we let children who weigh less than 40 kilos have a ride on our animals. And that they'll also happily carry our visitors' luggage.

Annoyingly the article says we're offering free guided visits on Tuesday mornings, which was news to us, and that we have pigs, along with poultry and rabbits. Well, we have _guinea_ -pigs. It also implies we run a pet farm, which we don't, because that would open up a whole new can of worms concerning business registration, safety regulations etc. Oh boy.

I know someone meant well by writing about us, but they've potentially caused us a lot of problems with their rash and just plain wrong statements. And I hoped for a nice, stress-free summer!

## The People's Cross

29.7.2011

A couple of days ago, Chris, Rors and I went for a bike ride to the Croix de Peuple, which is a few kilometres outside Vijon in Indre. Neither of our idle teens felt like joining us this time! The Croix de Peuple is a tremendous iron cross on a stoney platform on top of a hill (443 metres above sea level). I've hunted round on the Net but haven't found out anything much about it, apart from the fact that there's an annual pilgrimage to the cross, and also that on a clear day you can see the Cathedral at Chateauroux from it. Now that's impressive as Chateauroux is an hour and a half's drive from here.

There's a plaque below the cross, but wind and rain have made it illegible. The only thing I could pick out was the mention of _quarante jours d'indulgences_ – forty days' of indulgences. Perhaps the cross was erected so someone didn't have to undergo this long period of privations. I don't blame him or her!

Anyway, we set off along country roads lined with heavily laden fruit trees. There is going to be a super-mega harvest this year. (In fact, this morning, on today's bike ride, we came across a large branch that had broken off a pear tree due to the sheer weight of the fruit on it. Chris balanced it on his handlebars to bring it home so the llamas could eat the leaves and unripe pears off it.)

We spent around ten minutes at the cross, admiring it, and also the view over Creuse. Or is it Indre? My sense of direction isn't great! We decided to take a new route home and passed a road sign riddled with bullet holes. Someone trigger happy had been this way!

Not far away, we came across half a dozen donkeys. I'm pretty sure they were _Grands Noirs de Berry_ i.e. Big Black Berry donkeys. (Berry is an ancient province of France and famous for its black donkeys and black chickens.) A few kilometres further on, we happened across another cross. It's a stone one but has been broken quite recently and the top has been stuck back on with some concrete in a very slapdash fastion! Poor old cross. It has a beautiful setting.

This is why we never get tired of our cycle rides. We discover something new or see something interesting on every one. Rural Creuse is a treasure trove of hidden treasures which you just don't see blasting along in a car. Bike is best!

## Sarzay Castle - DIY Castle Renovation

30.7.2011

We had a second family summer outing last week, this time to Sarzay Castle – _ch_ _â_ _teau du Sarzay_. It's only about half an hour away, very close to La Châtre. I have no idea why it's taken us five years to get round to going there. But – we finally made it.

And it was brilliant. Sarzay is said to be one of the most photographed _ch_ _â_ _teaux_ in France. Its five towers are very picturesque. I took nearly 100 photos while we were there, and I know Caiti outdid me. So we've contributed to its reputation!

These five towers are all that remain of 38 originally. The castle was begun in 1348 by Guillaume de Barbançois as part of the chain of castles that the French built to keep the English at bay during the Hundred Years' War. Guillaume fought the English at La Châtre and followed that up with a spot of recreational looting before retiring back home. He built six towers, the moat and pond, and a large surrounding wall. His towers were fairly short. The chapel tower is the only one of these left. It is dwarfed by the later 32 that his descendant Jean de Barbançois added, nearly a hundred years later in 1440. These are proper towering towers! If only they were all still standing. That would be a mesmerising sight.

Over time the de Barbançois fortunes declined, and in 1719 their castle, together with the entire village of Sarzay, were handed over to Charles de la Porte de Montval. This family owned the castle until 1836.

Various other people owned it for short periods and then in 1912 it was designated as a national monument and left to crumble into ruins. It had been getting shabby before then. George Sand used it in one of her novels and referred to it as 'the pitiful wreck of ancient grandeur'. But, to be fair, it had lived through the Hundred Years War, the Wars of Religion (1562-98), the Fronde civil war of 1648, and the French Revolution of 1789 - and survived.

But before it completely fell apart, along came Parisian Richard Hurbain in 1983. He brought the castle for 800,000 francs and promised to restore it. But the French government appeared to do everything in its power stop him. Civil servants insisted that things be done just so, for no particular reason it seems, and put up as many obstacles as they possibly could.

Hurbain was even summoned to court for not filling in the correct paperwork before doing some repairs. He was eventually fined a hefty sum, but the fine was suspended, meaning he never had to pay it. However, he has a criminal record as a result of his incredible work to save a fantastic chunk of France's heritage. Had it been left to the official bodies that should have been looking after it, most likely Sarzay would be a pile of stones by now.

The restoration is ongoing. And I'm humbled. We've renovated two houses and it exhausted us and nearly drove us crazy. Hurbain is restoring a castle. OK, technically only five thirty-eighths of it are left, but they're colossal.

It's the DIY feel to the place that we all loved. Every room in the tower that's open is stuffed full of treasures the family found there – knives, axes, pots, barrels, furniture and a seemingly endless supply of boar heads!

You can get right to the top of three of the towers and look out of the little windows at the top. It's fantastic. We visited the chapel and finished up in the Knight's Hall where there was a rather disappointingly a display of artwork but only because I'd hoped for suits of armour. Many of the pictures were lovely.

Finally we browsed the huge display of antique odds and ends out in the courtyard. We didn't know what most of them were, but they all looked fascinating. We positively identified a huge stone knife sharpener, various tools and pans, and the watering cans were easy enough. But other than those, it was anybody's guess!

So, if you're ever in the area, you simply _have_ to visit Sarzay. You'll be captivated, like we were.

# August

## Unsubtle Food

4.8.2011

France isn't known for its subtlety so it's not really a surprise to come across some food items that make you wince slightly.

Banania, a chocolatey drink, is an institution in France, although it's slowly losing its place on the supermarket shelves. I'm positive that a new image would do wonders for its sales. I only bought my first packet for blogging purposes. I'd avoided it like the plague up to till then because of the cringey packaging. Let's be honest, it's not a flattering portrayal of a little African boy, is it? It's long been the source of controversy, with allegations of racism and colonialism being aimed at the manufacturers. However, the little boy smiles on.

On the left in the photo is a packet of biscuits called 'cigarettes'. Also known as Russian cigarettes, they're very tasty, all crunchy and almondy. They're often served with ice-cream. A couple of breakfast cereal manufacturers have broadened the idea a bit to produce chocolate-lined cigarettes like these for kids to slurp their morning milk up through. They're a nice product, but have a really naff name. And they don't look particularly like cigarettes anyway.

And finally for today (I'm pretty sure I shall return to unsubtle food as an occasional blog subject), a jar of Bonne Maman jam. Bonne Maman literally means 'good mummy', but the Bonne Maman US site says it translates as 'granny'. I'm sure there's a subliminal message there that you're only a good mummy or 'granny' if you make yummy jam! I imagined this name to go back into the mists of time, which would explain its tweeness, but in fact it only dates from 1971, although the manufacturers, Andros, had been producing the jam since the Second World War. Bonne Maman now accounts for 35% of the French jam and preserves market. I can see why, it is utterly delicious jam with a very homemade feel to it and it comes in a fantastic array of flavours. So it's a real success story, despite an offputting name. (And for the record, I _do_ make my own jam, but with varying degrees of success!)

## A Silver Day

9.8.1986

It's our silver wedding anniversary today. Here we are on our big day 25 years ago, 9th August 1986 at St Mary Magdalene Church in Westerfield, Suffolk. The Church celebrated its 900th anniversary that same year.

I can't believe a quarter of a century has gone by. We've done a lot of things in that time – lived in three countries (and Chris has worked in a fourth), moved seven times, had three children, held an impressive variety of jobs, had ups and downs and triumphs and disasters – but most of all, been happy!

Here's to our next 25 years.

## Swallows

11.8.2011

I posted a photo of four baby swallows the other day. Here it is again, in case you missed it. I'm pretty sure this is the parents' third brood of fledglings this year. Swallows lay 4 or 5 eggs which take up to 21 days to hatch. Then it's another ten days until the babies open their eyes, but only another ten or so until they're ready to fly off on their own.

These swallows are _hirondelles rustiques_ – barn swallows. As well as these, there are three other types to be found in Limousin – _hirondelles de rochers_ (rock or cliff swallows), _hirondelles de rivage_ (sand martins) and _hirondelles de fenêtre_ (house martins). All four types are protected under the nature protection act of 1976. It's forbidden to destroy either them or their nests. You face a fine of up to €9,000 or imprisonment if you do.

We all know these days that swallows migrate to and from subtropical Africa, but in the old days, people thought they spent the winter hiding in reeds around lakes. They didn't believe such small birds could make such enormous journeys. Swallows have been known to arrive in Limousin as early as the 21st of January (in 1991 and 2002), but usually it's around the 20th of March that they begin to appear. They really do announce the arrival of spring.

Swallow numbers are declining. According to the species, they have decreased between 60% and 80% since the 1980s, which is extremely alarming. The reasons include destruction of habitat in Europe, droughts in Africa, use of insecticides, climate change and loss of hunting grounds. Last year we lost most of our swallows here at Les Fragnes during the freak spell of cold weather in May that brought snow and strong winds. That was a disaster.

Our swallows are barn swallows and build their nests against or under beams in barns and other rural buildings. They are very happy to share their environment with other animals. Most of the nests here are in the stable where the guinea pig cages are and also in the old woodshed which is now one of the llamas' sheltering places. There are several nests in the llamas' other shelter, an open-fronted stable. So it really does seem that the swallows like company.

House martins build on houses, along roof edges or above windows. These make themselves unpopular with home-owners because of the inevitable pile of poop that builds up underneath. This is a main reason for their nests being removed – illegally. The simple solution is to attach a piece of wood to the wall beneath the nest to stop the poop falling on heads or pathways, and to clean it once the swallows have departed in autumn. That isn't too onerous, now is it?

Rock or cliff swallows are found on cliff faces, large rocks, barrages (dams) and bridges, while sand martins inhabit anywhere sandy where they can burrow their nests, usually close to waterways.

We love our swallows and spend hours each year watching them catch insects over the lakes at dusk, or as they sit in long lines on the telegraph wires alongside our driveway. They dive and swoop around us as we do jobs on the farm and it's always wonderful to see them arrive in spring. We don't enjoy their departure in autumn so much as it means winter is on its way!

## Mastering the Knitmaster

13.8.2011

Thanks to the generosity of our lovely friend Annette Smith, Caiti and I are now the owners of an Empisal Knitmaster knitting machine. It's about as old as I am, but in excellent condition (wish I was!) and will go for another hundred years. I've been wanting a knitting machine for ages, so it's a real treat to finally have one.

At first glance, it was definitely scary. Annette spent a whole morning teaching us how to set it up and do all the basics – casting on, increasing, decreasing and casting off. She's given us hundreds of patterns and enough spare parts to last the machine's lifetime, and beyond.

Caiti took to it like a duck to water. She's one of those people who is good at everything. She's made several test pieces on it already. We'll have to disassemble it tomorrow as the gîte is booked and that's where it's set up at present. However, we'll sort out a new home for it as quickly as possible and then we can carry on getting to grips with it. Benj may be off to Uni as early as 7th September so not too long to wait until we can turn his bedroom into a knitting studio, as well as my office, during termtime!

And finally, one of Annette's drawings. As well as an expert knitter, she's a talented artist. I love this llama picture.

## Wool

17.8.2011

Wool is the unifying link in this blog post. First up, my head is stuffed with it today. My insomnia is back to haunt me, so last night I finally resorted to taking half a sleeping pill. The doctor prescribed these for Caiti a while ago when she couldn't sleep, and being a great fan of self-medication, I thought I'd give them a shot. Well, I was a zombie. I had to get up a couple of times in the night and I was bouncing off walls and furniture, and also giggling quietly, Chris tells me. Today I feel like I've been hit by a train so I shan't be bothering with drugs again!

Here's a photo of the great sheep round-up from the other week. It took four Daggs plus one Fereday (Roger, who is drawing covers for several of my books), three dog leads, a bike, a bucket and a broom to get the misbehaving Suffolks back under control! Pat Fereday was chief photographer. This is her record of the occasion.

It was an unconventional but effective way of rounding up sheep!

My foray into sock knitting is going well. I'm now ready to tackle a heel for the first time. Wish me luck! And Caiti is going great guns on our knitting machine. She's made herself a pair of long, cosy fingerless gloves from some pretty pastel shades 4-ply wool, ready for winter. Nothing like planning ahead.

And finally, since it's turned hot, it's probably time to get the shears out again and give Windy, the woolly llama, a trim. She's not going to like it ... !

## Can You Cope With The Canicule?

21.8.2011

It's _canicule_ time in central France – i.e. there's a heatwave. However, not officially yet in Creuse, although Allier and Puy de Dôme, just to the east of us, are marked as such areas with a pending _vigilance orange_ (severe weather alert). To become a _canicule_ area, there needs to be three days of heat above 30 degrees C without rain. We've had that here, so it's a little peculiar that we're being ignored!

_Canicules_ are serious. Heat stroke and exhaustion are no laughing matter, and in the States kill anything from between a few hundred and a thousand people a year. The elderly and the very young are most at risk. The France _météo_ site gives advice on how to cope. Try not to go outside during the hottest part of the day, which during a _canicule_ is between 11 am and 9 pm. Yes, a whole ten hours! That's a little impractical to adhere to, but the rest of the advice is more user-friendly – spend 2 or 3 hours in a cool place, drink plenty and eat normally, wear cool, light clothes and apply plenty of sunscreen. You should shut windows and doors during the day but open them at night.

The hot weather brought a seven hour power cut in its wake yesterday. Benj and Caiti were reduced to staying in touch with the modern world via their Smartphones, being suddenly bereft of the Internet on their computers, poor things! Ruadhri sulked for a short while, but then went back outside to play. I sat out in the garden and knitted socks as it was too gloomy and too hot inside the house to do anything. And then along came a dramatic electrical storm. We had to disobey _météo.fr_ and close all the doors and windows as gale force gusts suddenly whipped up. The heavy wooden bench was overturned and our garden plastic chairs scattered everywhere. That was quite a wind to do that. Chris went out to shut various stable doors before they blew about too much.

The animals aren't doing anything during the day, apart from feeling hot. I'm constantly filling water buckets and checking that none of the llamas or alpacas look distressed. They don't tolerate humid heat well. They much prefer a foot of snow!

And thank goodness we have our pool. I was in five times yesterday and it'll be the same today. It's up to 29 degrees C, matching last year's record. It's wonderful. I never fail to feel like a footballer's wife when I wander out for a swim in our own pool. _Pas mal_ !

The hot weather is forecast to continue for a few more days, followed by warm rainy days. But I'm not going to complain too much. It won't be that long before the long Creuse winter starts ...

## Never Underestimate La Rentrée

28.8.2009

I thought I was ready for _la rentrée_ – going back to school, a huge affair here in France. I bought Benjy's books way back at the beginning of July at the book fair at his _lycée_ , and got the few new ones we needed for Caiti (on top of the ones she's inheriting from Benj). I ordered the outstanding ones from Amazon marketplace. I filed Ruadhri's _liste de fournitures_ away safely – just a few things to get there, I thought. Pretty much all dealt with.

But I'd forgotten about having to buy bags. All their rucksacks had worn out, after two years' use so I can't really complain, but time for new ones. And I'd forgotten about pens, paper, folders, calculators etc for my two teens, as well as Rors. And I'd forgotten about needing shoes, clothes and bedding (Caiti will be boarding at Pierre Bourdan on a weekly basis like Benj), and about sewing name tapes on pretty much everything, and about sewing covers for the cheap but naff agendas we got the guys, and about personalising Ruadhri's rucksack with fabric paints, and about checking out where exactly the bus stop is (we've found somewhere nearer than Clugnat for Benj and Caiti to get on and off their bus), and about discovering what time Ruadhri's bus will be coming, and about filling in the zillions of forms, and photocopying every vaguely relevant document the _lycée_ demands, and about ... well, I think you get my drift!

Every shop is cashing on _la rentrée_ , and not just shops selling the relevant schooly items. Hardware stores, garden centres, pet shops, garages, bakers – they've all got their _rentrée_ offers. And we're being bombarded with invitations to suscribe to interesting but expensive magazines in every post delivery. Commerce is grinding back into life after a lull over the holidays.

So the next few days will be busy. Then suddenly the holidays will be over and the guys will be back at school. I'll be sad and happy at the same time. I'll miss the kids as it's nice having them around all summer. But it'll be great to have time to ourselves again – time that's swallowed during the holidays in feeding three permanently ravenous kids; shopping to buy vast quantities of food to feed said ravenous children; bribing, bullying, begging them to help around the place; cleaning up after them; doing their washing; spending wonderful hours with them cycling, walking, reading, talking; taking them outfit shopping for _la rentrée_ (and that takes hours with our Caiti!).

Now, where did I put those name tapes ...

## Stormy Summer

26.8.2011

The summer storms, running a bit late this year, are energetically continuing in central France. Last night they finished off my gazebo, a quality product from the People's Republic of China. Not. It had sustained damage in a light breeze the first time we put it up. We erected it again a few days ago for a dinner party with friends, and foolishly left it up to enjoy for a few more days. This morning I retrieved it from very close to llama Denis's field. It had travelled an impressive distance. It won't be going up again sadly. Too much damage has been done to it now. We'll have to recycle the various parts for other purposes. I think it must have been made by the same crowd that made our first and short-lived polytunnel.

Sadly I don't have any photos of the gazebo in its glory i.e. actually standing up. Next year we'll invest in a decidedly sturdier model.

We lost power again for a good part of the night. I was boiling water on the gas stove by candlelight to make coffee about 5 am while Chris braved the elements to check that the animals were OK. Power cuts aren't a big deal really. Back in Ireland, where they were common, they were a nightmare since we had our own well, so when we lost electricity, we had no water either. We also had an electric oven so we were tea and coffeeless too, and that's hard to cope with. Here in France we have mains water and a gas supply so the only hardship is being without the Internet while we're powerless.

Shortly before the storms hit, Gigi the cat was up on the roof. She's taken a liking to wandering around up there. But luckily she comes down when the thunder starts and doesn't become a furry _paratonnerre_ (lightning conductor)!

## Eoliennes Around Boussac

29.8.2011

Work is underway on Boussac's nine _eoliennes_ – wind turbines. There will be seven in Bussière St Georges, the next commune along from us, and two in St Marien. It's slightly odd to be building them around here as it's definitely not a very windy part of France, and there isn't a great deal of energy-draining industry around either. However, there is very little information to find about the development online, just a couple of articles from 2010. It looks like apathy and an enigmatic silence reign in Creuse on the Préfecture's part since it decided to make Boussac a _zone de développement éolien_ (ZDE) a few years ago. However, I have found out that the project is costing 23 million euros and will supply 22,000 households. I'm guessing we'll be one. The _eoliennes_ are being built by Guintoli, which is part of Groupe NGE, a French public works enterprise.

It's noticeable that in and around Bussière a lot of _A vendre_ (for sale) signs have appeared on houses. According to the enquiry that was held before the _eoliennes_ were given the go-ahead, the locals were all very supportive. So maybe it's just a coincidence that suddenly half of them want to move?

We have friends who will have an _eolienne_ a couple of fields away from them. They're quite happy with the situation on the whole, although a little apprehensive about how much noise the wind turbine will make.

Yesterday, Chris, Ruadhri and I went on our Sunday morning bike ride to have a look at the site for _eolienne_ 3, which is the closest one to us (and our friends). Six days a week, the place is a hive of activity with a constant stream of lorries going to and fro. Yesterday it was deserted. There weren't any signs saying it was _privée_ and telling us not to go in, so we didn't have to ignore them. We cycled along the track and had a nose around. A lot of land has been cleared and levelled, and a huge hole has been dug. And I mean huge. This _eolienne_ clearly needs a very solid base.

Wind turbines convert the kinetic energy in the wind into mechanical energy which is converted by a generator into electricity. It's a renewable source which in these days of climate change is a good thing, so why are _eoliennes_ generally so unpopular? A lot of people consider them an eyesore, even though they are rather graceful feats of engineering. There's the question of noise, described as being like a boot in a tumble dryer and audible for up to a couple of kilometres, and also the unfortunate effect they have on bats and some birds. The drop in air pressure close to the wind turbines' blades causes haemorrhaging in their lungs. The creatures essentially drown. However, kids love eoliennes, thanks to the Teletubbies.

Here around Boussac, we'll just have to wait and see what living with _eoliennes_ is really like.

## Nearly A Wrecked _Rentrée_

30.8.2011

Our eldest son has his first _rentrée_ at University this year. He's going to Limoges. We went down today to sign him up officially. We also discovered that Benj hadn't read the bit of his letter from Crous telling him to send a deposit to secure his flat on campus. So suddenly we found he was homeless. The maternal temper was lost, I have to confess, as said son had been repeatedly asked if anything had to be done concerning his accommodation. Chris and I also suggested about once a week during the summer that he give Crous a ring to make sure we hadn't missed anything, this being the first time anyone in our family had gone to Uni in France and so we didn't know the system. But did he listen? Did he do anything? Anyway, very, very fortunately we were able to find him a room on another University residence, 3.6 km away from his fac. Still, it's more expensive which leaves him less money to live on each month, and he's got the journey each way to deal with six days a week. All very frustrating and avoidable. Eye roll and shoulder shrug. Gnashing of teeth and no x-box for Benj for a while.

So do learn from this mistake. We certainly have.

# September

## Taxing Times

4.9.2011

It's tax time in France. Any day now our _avis d'imposition_ for income tax will arrive, but in the meantime we have our _taxe foncière_ bill to groan over. This arrived with a heavy thunk in our mailbox the other day. It's gone up by €600 euro this year. Mega ouch. The main culprit is the swimming pool. I had actually thought that would only have an impact on our taxe d'habitation, which will be coming soon too. How wrong I was.

So what exactly are these taxes? Well, income tax, _impôt sur le revenu_ , is obvious enough. However, less than 50% of people pay that in Creuse, which is generally an area of low income. The French system spreads the tax burden over the number of 'parts' in your household. We're a household of five but constitute four parts. Partners, married or otherwise, are a part each, the first two kids are half a part each, and subsequent children are a whole part. Your taxable earnings are divided by your number of parts, which is a pretty fair system I think. It means families on low incomes don't get hammered.

The other two taxes I mentioned are property taxes. They're collected centrally but distributed to the local communes and your _departément_ to cover things like schools, refuse collection, street lighting, local facilities etc. You pay these taxes whether you're resident in France or not i.e. they're payable on permanent and holiday homes alike. _Taxe foncière_ , the more expensive of the two, is payable by the owner, _taxe d'habitation_ by the occupier. So if you're an owner-occupier, you pay both. These taxes vary substantially from _région_ to _région_ and are calculated according to some sort of notional rental value of your property, the _valeur locative cadastrale_.

The _taxe foncière_ has two components; _taxe foncière bati_ and _taxe foncière non-bati_. These relate respectively to the buildings and to the land that belong to your property. Any changes you make, such as renovations, central heating, building an in-ground pool, will push the tax up. Now, learn from our ignorance. I have only just discovered in the course of doing research for this article that you can get an exemption from paying extra _taxe foncière_ on your pool if you submit Form 6704 IL within 90 days of completing the work. I'm cross. I sent in the declaration saying we'd finished our pool, but the _fonctionnaire_ on the receiving end didn't think to write back to let us know that we could apply for this exemption. He/she was presumably too busy working out much extra could be slapped on our taxes! I think it's pretty shabby not to at least inform you of your right to make such a claim.

You can query your assessment if you think it's too high. I may go in to chat about ours, if only to make sure it's not going to keep on going up by €600 a year. Until now, it had gone up about €100, which was already more than enough.

I'll return to the theme of taxes, no doubt energetically, when our next tax bill arrives!

## Lurking in the Medicine Cabinet

6.9.2011

In a fit of domestic goddessism, I tidied up our stash of medicines this morning. You have to do this regularly in France, since any time you go to the doctors you come home with four or five sets of pills and potions, most of which you don't use. I'm grateful for their enthusiasm, and so no doubt are the pharmaceutical companies, but it can be over the top. In Ireland, if the doctor prescribed you a drug for ten days, say, the pharmacist would give you exactly that number of tablets. Here you get the drug in multiples of a hundred. OK, not quite, but you get the tablet in whatever quantity the manufacturers decide to box it in. This usually exceeds the amount you've been prescribed, and so the medicine stock starts to build up. As just one example, we had amassed four boxes of the exquisitely named exomuc, an expectorant as you might have guessed. So there was plenty of sorting out to do.

And I happened across a packet of potassium iodate tablets that the Irish government issued to every household in 2000 (I think) as a way of getting at the UK government. (We moved to France from Ireland after living there for 15 years.) The excuse for issuing them was so the Irish population would be protected in case of Sellafield having a meltdown or otherwise misbehaving. It was rather a token gesture. The six tablets provided would be enough for one dose for two adults and two kids. Irish families are generally larger than this so some members would have had to have been sacrificed. The tablets work by preventing your thyroid from absorbing harmful radiation from the atmosphere, at least for a while.

It was essentially an empty, political gesture, although I think a lot of people were touched by the Taoiseach's thoughtfulness at the time. I shudder to think what it must have cost. Anti-radiation tablets don't come cheap, as I've discovered after a quick trawl on the Net. Anyway, time to dispose of them since they expired in 2005! Also, we're a long way from Sellafield now.

## Profs and Plastic

7.8.2011

What is it about French teachers ( _professeurs_ or _profs_ ) and plastic? They're obsessed with the stuff. On the _liste of fournitures_ that Rors brought home last night (rather late this year) was the inevitable demand for _pochettes plastiques_ , 100 to be precise.

In the past, I've caved and given the kids some recycled ones to take to school. Well, this year I'm sticking my heels in. I have written a note in Ruadhri's _cahier de liaison_ to explain that I won't be providing said _pochettes_ because they are unnecessary and about as environmentally unfriendly as it's possible to be. They take between 200 and 500 years to biodegrade. Not every single sheet of paper that the children work on has to be put in one. In fact, none of them do. Surely, _surely_ teachers can see that. It's by making little gestures like not using plastic sleeves simply for the sake of it that we might actually get somewhere long term with combatting climate change.

Ruadhri's _cahier de liaison_ is itself encased in one of those hideous plastic covers which the school has provided. The book has a good, stiff cardboard cover anyway and will happily last the year with normal care. It doesn't need the flipping cover. More plastic junk. Grr.

Teachers tend to ask for more than the kids actually need. Every year they ask for _feutres_ , felt tips, and these only get used a few times. They dry out long before they're worn out. They also ask for _batonnets de colle_ , glue sticks – same story as the felt tips. They even encourage the kids to use _blanco_ , Tippex, or ink erasers to cover up mistakes with. What's wrong with just crossing them out and carrying on? That doesn't require something chemical based and encased in plastic. And we had to get Rors an _ardoise_ , literally a slate, a couple of years ago. However, these days these are – you guessed it – plastic, and require special marker pens to go with them that hardly get used. I can't see why the children don't use paper and pencil instead of the _ardoises_. Rors is vague as to what they actually do with them at school, so almost certainly not much.

I don't want to make life awkward for Rors by protesting to teacher. But I've got to the point where I am so exasperated by people who really _can_ make a difference – for example, teachers when guiding parents what to buy – simply turning a blind eye to the realities of climate change and demanding pointless, plastic products that will outlast us all by centuries and add to the problems of pollution and landfill. It's ridiculous and irresponsible.

OK, time to put the soapbox away now!

## Great Fire of Limoges

8.9.2011

I was in Limoges this morning. Benj had the first of his Freshers' lectures which the University, UniLim as it calls itself, has thoughtfully started before the vast majority of the kids have access to their accommodation. Benj doesn't get his flat until the 15th. This certainly makes life a bit complicated. Anyway, we set off at 6.30 am this morning, ugh, and got there 2 hours later. We had an exciting journey down as the Renault's windscreen wipers jammed while we were blasting along the busy A20 in the rain in the outside lane. It was pretty nerve wracking. If I were a cat, I'd be down to 8 lives I think! I got back into the inside lane and came off at the next junction, which fortunately wasn't too far away. No sooner had I pulled into a layby than the wretched things started again. They've been fine ever since.

Benj went off to his lectures so I walked into Limoges. It takes about half an hour on foot to get to the centre from Benj's campus. I had a history lesson on the way as the street signs tell you about the person that particular rue is named after. The French predominantly use famous persons or events as road names. So I walked along Rue Victorien Sardou (dramatist, academic 1831-1908), crossed, amongst others, Rue Jeanne d'Arc (1412-31), went up Avenue François Perrin (teacher and Resistance martyr 1891-1942) and ended up in the Place de la Motte. There are interesting notices up at various places telling you about their history. At the Place des Carmes you learned thhhat there had been a Carmelite monastery there. The Place de la Motte was the site of a medieval castle on a mott, and on 15 August 1864, the scene of the Great Fire of Limoges. It's thought a firework let off at Champ de Juillet started the blaze. (August 15 is a public holiday in France, often celebrated with firework displays.) It quickly spread amongst the old timbered houses and destroyed 150 of them between the Rue des Arènes (today's Rue Othon Péconnet where you'll find Games Workshop – if you have teenage boys you'll know how important that shop is!), the Place de la Motte, and the Place d'Aine. It also destroyed the original _halles_ , market halls. The firemen did their best but couldn't put the flames out with water, despite the nearest pump supplying them with 50 barrels of water, so had to resort to demolishing houses to make a fire break. The Emperor and Empress were very upset to hear about the disaster and sent the _Préfet_ 15,000 francs to help towards costs. There don't appear to have been any fatalities, amazingly but very fortunately.

Stupidly I left my camera at home so wasn't able to take photos. My excuse is getting up too early. However, I'll be back there tomorrow for Benj's second morning of introductory talks, and I'll be properly equipped this time. This south-western corner of Limoges is quite stunning, as you'll soon see, with remarkable old buildings and tiny streets.

I imagine I'll be seeing quite a lot of Limoges over the next three years while Benj is studying there. Caiti definitely will. She's already planning on how to get there from her _lycée_ at Gueret to visit her brother and take in some city life. Not sure if Benj knows about her plans yet though ...

## Limoges

9.9.2011

I was back in Limoges again on Thursday for the second of Benj's freshers' week lectures. As I mentioned before, these have started before the students can get into their accommodation, meaning a lot of parents are having to do a lot of running around. It only seemed like yesterday since I'd last been there – probably because it was! Anyway, I had my camera this time, slightly better weather and I was a bit less achey. (I'm fighting off some ghastly child-introduced virus, the sure sign that school has started again.) I also found a slightly quicker route into the city centre from the campus, and the car didn't try to commit suicide on the drive up, so all in all, it was better trip all round.

First up, here is one of the history lesson street name plaques I was telling you about yesterday.

On the subject of signs and names, I passed this fine, empty building on my walk today. It has the name _Ecole Normale d'Institutrices_ carved over the door. Literally this means 'Normal Teacher School'. This got me wondering where the 'abnormal' version was? Actually, the name just translates as 'Teacher Training College', as I've discovered since looking up about it online just now. Not quite so entertaining!

Into the city itself and I came across lots of timbered houses in the Motte area. They contrast strikingly with the modern architecture around them. There are some very old, very narrow streets to be seen. The old chapel of St Aurelien is dwarfed by the buildings around it. Isn't it exquisite?

Very close by was the Place de la Barreyrrette – and the strange spelling is correct. This particular area of the old city is where the butchers were concentrated. The Place de la Barreyrrette is where the animals were assembled for slaughter, up until the municipal abattoir was built in 1832.

Next I passed a statue of St Martial and then the Church of St Michel. Here are his lions which stand outside the church. (They're very nice, but not as nice as the lions at Toulx St Croix.)

Into Place de la Motte where the rather ugly Halles are. The original ones were burnt down in 1864, during the Great Fire of Limoges. However, opposite them, it's much more picturesque. There's a wonderful trompe d'oeil. It's known as the Fresque Cobaty, and it reflects elements of old and new Limoges. This really is a fascinating city!

## Dog Butt Fruit

11.9.2011

OK, what fruit is being described in this eighteenth-century snippet: "A fruit, vulgarly called an open arse; of which it is more truly than delicately said, that it is never ripe till it is as rotten as a turd, and then it is not worth a fart."

If it's any help, the French call it _cul du chien_ – dog's butt.

Any the wiser? No? Well, it's medlar fruit ( _nèfle_ ). Here's one we picked the other day, not knowing what it was. We picked three or four. We found them growing in a hedgerow along a lane during one of bike rides. After a quick bit of research on the Net I worked out that we had medlars.

Medlars are old-fashioned fruits, like quinces. (We picked some quinces, _coings_ , up off the road too during the same bike ride.) They are strange looking things, although I can't really see the dog butt likeness, and what's stranger is that you can't eat them until they're actually rotting, or 'bletting'. That's not a massively appealing thought, but apparently you can also make medlars usable by freezing them for a few hours and then thawing them out. They'll be all mushy without having rotted first. I prefer the sound of that.

I intend to make medlar jelly once we've picked some more. After freezing and thawing, I'll cut them into chunks, simmer them for three hours just covered in water and then drain them through cheesecloth overnight. Mix in an equal quantity of sugar, and then simmer again until it gels. This is the same method that you can use for quince jelly. Medlar jelly is said to be delicious, very rich and aromatic. I can't wait to try it. And I've also come across a recipe for roasting them with butter and cloves which is tempting too.

Medlar trees are slow growing and their wood is very fine grained and strong. Because of its hardness, it's been used for making spears and windmill parts in the past! The Basque people traditionally made _Makhilas_ from them. These are a combination of a walking stick and defensive weapon and they were engraved with special symbols while the wood was still growing.

We couldn't bring many medlars home with us - only what I could get into my bar bag. I don't have a rack for panniers on my bike, and Chris is currently riding his old Bill Cuss racing bike since his mountain bike has finally given up the ghost after nearly 20 years hard riding. That bike is rackless as well, and neither of us thought to bring a rucksack for roadside goodies. That won't happen again though. It's the free hedgerow bounty season so we'll be taking full advantage. There's an incredible amount of walnuts on the trees this year, and I've never seen so many apples and pears either. Several trees have lost branches due to the sheer weight of the fruit on them. The early hot weather and dry summer seems to have suited them well, to my surprise. And also my delight!

## Pasta as Currency

15.9.2011

Let me introduce you to a new unit of currency. The kilo of pasta which, for want of a better word, we'll call the kipastalo.

Let me explain. Eldest son Benj is off to Uni and will be self-catering on a regular basis. His plan is to live on pasta since it's one of the few things he can cook. We've offered to broaden his culinary repertoire many times and show him how to cook curries and cakes and pies, but he's always declined, citing an undying love for pasta.

A kilo of pasta cost 89 cents at Super-U. I think it's probably cheaper at Leclerc and Leader Price, but we'll go with this value for the time being for our kipastalo. Benj is getting a grant to (in theory) live on. This would buy him 489 kilos of pasta per month, assuming this is all he buys. But of course it won't be. He will have to sacrifice 241 bags of pasta to pay his monthly rent, 67 more than necessary since he could only get one of the more expensive student rooms. (You'll recall the story of his accommodation crisis!) He's 4 km away from campus (also due to this accommodation crisis). We can't fit his bike in the car with all his other stuff so he'll to manage a few weeks without it and either take the bus or walk. This will eat into his kipastalos, around 10 kilos or so a week I would think, either in the form of bus fares or en-route snacks. And Benj is a tea addict so he'll be paying around 10 kipastalos a month for teabags, sugar and milk. We've suggested he gets one meal at the cantine on campus every day, a massive hit of around five kipastalos five times a week. Literally round the corner from campus is a Quick hamburger restaurant. A burger meal with trimmings would set him back ten kipastalos. Maybe he can treat himself every Saturday.

He's been to two freshers' week lectures and came out mentioning there were some nice looking girls. A girlfriend will probably cost 10 kipastalos a month in the form of extra shower gel and toothpaste consumed while preparing for dates, plus coffees and treats while out and about.

And there will be the running costs of toilet rolls, tissues, washing powder, washing up liquid etc etc, or at least I hope there will. I've kitted him out with several months' worth of these crucial items (possibly the whole year) but we'll ignore that for now and say it will cost Benj 5 kipastalos to keep his flat hygienic. Oh yes, and he'll probably need some books, paper etc too, so that's another 20 kipastalos gone per month. And I guess we should allow another 20 for sundries.

What does that leave us? I make it 33 kipastalos. Not even our Benj can eat 33 kilos of pasta a month, so it's looking hopeful that he'll survive studenthood and even have a little bit of money left at the end of it! Maybe.

We'll all miss our Benj, of course we will, and Ruadhri more than most as the two boys are very close, despite their ten year age gap. But I know Benj will have a blast at Uni and make the most of the opportunity. And we'll go and visit a few times each term, assuming he'll let us!

## Electric Bed and a Fridge - Student Rooms French Style

16.9.2011

I'm not kidding. Benj has an electric bed in his room! His accommodation is awesome. My eldest son has landed on his feet following the fiasco of him not sending in a deposit to secure his first choice of slightly cheaper Uni residence. The luck of the Irish I guess.

We got to La Borie in Limoges just after ten and went down to book Benj in properly. He'd carefully (this time!) gone through all the paperwork and we had everything organised. He handed in a typically French meaty dossier that called for photos, insurance document, photocopy of passport, bank account details, proof of parents' earnings, various cheques etc etc. In return he got his badge, an RFID device that lets him in through his own door, plus the residence door and the kitchen door. (Benj is next door to the kitchen which is a good and bad thing. Could be a bit noisy but it's certainly convenient.)

He's up on the third floor so once we'd found the right building, we hurried up to investigate. It's like a ferry cabin but very new and shiny. This block has just been refurbished and it shows. It's excellent. It's small, as you'd expect for a student room, but ingeniously incorporates a toilet/shower room, fridge, wardrobe, desk, chair, electric bed and plenty of shelf space. The bed was parked about a foot below the ceiling and above the desk.

After pressing all the wrong ones first, we finally found the switch which operated the bed. It slowly descended, coming to rest on some wooden supports at either side of the room. It was now roughly a foot above the level of the desk. Steps, which cunningly double as drawers, lead up to it. Now how's that entire bed set-up for space saving!

At Stirling Uni, where I spent a year doing a postgrad degree in Publishing Studies, our bed arrangement wasn't so crafty. It was tucked half under the bookshelves on one side of the narrow room. To use it, you had to move the chair from under the workbench/desk at the window end of the room so that you had enough space to pull the bed out a foot or so. It was perfectly adequately, even if it meant you couldn't swing a cat, but not quite such a neat arrangement as Benj's electric powered rising and descending bed.

The fridge is huge. I managed four years hanging my milk and other perishables out of the window. Benj won't need to, and probably as well since he's very high up! It's a luxurious finish to a super room. He's got a nice view out over the city of high rise flats, trees and hills. I bet it's pretty at night. He's not too close to the road, but it's a city so there's traffic noise. He'll soon tune in. All we hear here are owls and cat fights at night (Voltaire keeps picking fights with our senior cats). It's a real change of scene for Benj but one he's been looking forward to for ages and which he's thrilled with.

We all cried when we said goodbye. It's a big upheaval. Benj is basically leaving home now. We'll see him for hols, of course, but he's really moved on from us. He's well ready for it. My last view of him today was of him heading down towards the residences, striding out purposefully into his new life, unfettered (but still financed!) by his parents.

Ruadhri came along with us today and I'm glad he did. He had lots of tearful hugs with his big brother when it was time to go, which helped him adjust and realise fully what's going on. He's used to Benj being away Monday to Friday. He understands now that Benj won't be home till Christmas this time. They're big buddies, Benj and Rors, so it's going to be tough to start with.

Now I feel tearful again! I miss my good-natured, laid-back, kind, jokey son. He's a wonderful human being. But it's time for me to let go so the rest of the world can find out just how great he is. Pass me a tissue please ...

## Socks and Flocks

19.9.2011

Wool is becoming something of a recurrent theme in my blog at the moment, but since I'm an avid knitter and I own an assortment of woolly animals – llamas, alpacas and sheep – then I suppose it's only to be expected.

First up socks! I have triumphed over the intricacies of knitting in the round using 5 tiny needles and very thin 4-ply wool. By preference I'm a two-needle double-knit-or-upwards wool knitter. But I felt it was time to challenge myself to try something new and I've succumbed to the lure of sock knitting. I have finished my first ever pair. Be impressed!

Now the flocks. Well, flock, and it consists of 3 our sheep. But 3 sheep are as much of a handful as 300, I'm sure. Our 3 Suffolks have been proving tricky customers and persistently managed to escape from their field. We were sure we'd put up adequate fencing, but they thought otherwise. Seeing that one of the ewes was systematically working her way along the long side fence, nudging it up with her nose to see if she could out that way, we attached a line of barbed wire to the bottom of the grillage. Chris and Benj also whacked in extra poles between the existing ones to help tension the fencing.

No more escapes that way. We also did some pre-emptive work on the back fence, which is one we inherited. (All the rest we've erected ourselves.) It was in fairly good nick with a lot of rusty barbed wire attached to poles and trees. We fortified that with good solid _chataigniers_ (chunks of chestnut tree) and more strands of much newer barbed wire. If we just add machine gun posts, we should be OK.

All was quiet for the best part of a fortnight, but then last week, the escapes began again. The two ewes started squeezing through the back fence. The barbed wire didn't seem to bother them. It did bother the ram, though. Now, male sheep are remarkably well endowed in the balls department. Decidedly over-enthusiastically so. Tuddenham, the ram, clearly didn't want to risk getting his substantial family jewels tangled in barbed wire so he stayed put in the field, but bleated anxiously whenever his women disappeared, which alerted us to what was going on. A couple of days ago this was happening every half hour or so, which was totally OTT.

So we have now added wire netting to the fence poles and barbed wire. We bought loads of grillage, wire netting, but still ran out. I dashed into Boussac yesterday to get some more, but had to make do with one metre high chicken wire since that's all I could find. However, it seems to be fit for the job. Chris and I spent our Sunday morning tacking it into place and making holes in ourselves and our clothes with the barbed wire, sharp bits on the chicken wire, the _grampillons_ (U-shaped tacks) and also the trees. There are a lot of hawthorns in that patch of woody hedging that our fence goes through. No pain, no lamb chops I guess.

We paid €340 for our three sheep, and I reckon they've cost us at least half as much again in extra poles and fencing. And between Chris, Benj and me, we must have spent at least 40 hours or so on the work. But I think it will still be worth it when we can become self-sufficient in mutton. And it had jolly well better taste good after all this aggro!

## I Don't Like Mondays

20.9.2011

Ugh. Monday again. The new departure time for the lycée bus, 6.35am, is proving tough going. It's only ten minutes earlier than previously, but at that time of day, one minute equals about twenty! I'm going to bed at 9pm on Sunday, but I don't tend to sleep very well as I'm worried about oversleeping, despite setting a very loud alarm for 5.45am, so it's a bit pointless really. I get up OK and Caiti is being co-operative so we've made the bus so far.

Leaving the house is quite a procedure. We bump Caiti's case on wheels down the stairs, trying to be quiet but never quite succeeding. However, it doesn't really matter since Rors can sleep through an earthquake and Chris is already awake, sipping the coffee I've taken him and slowly coming to. Then there's the inevitable last minute scramble to find something Caiti has suddenly remembers she needs. I head out with the case and stow it in the back of the car. I chase cats and rabbits out from under the car. This morning the two goats were sat in the driveway behind it as well. They'd got loose. So they were shooed away too, but kept slinking back until I started the engine. We encounter wild life on the way most Mondays – deer or boar wandering across the road, the odd owl and at this time of year suicidal frogs leaping out at the car from the ditch. It's never a dull journey.

It's pitch black. And it's pitch black at Le Poteau. I don't know who thought of making this godforsaken spot a stopping point for the _lycée_ buses, but he or she needs their head examining. The place is in the middle of nowhere. The bus stop is just after a very bad bend. There is no street lighting and nowhere sensible to park. I pull in by a garage and the other car that's regularly there is parking on someone's garden. I can't think of a worse and more dangerous place to have people assembling in the dark. ( _Le poteau_ means 'post' – an unimaginative name for a very dull spot.)

The coach turns up when it feels like it, the kids grumble their way on and the parents shoot gratefully back home for caffeine. And occasionally to get dressed. I've done the run a couple of times in my pyjamas over the last three years when things haven't quite gone to plan. We've only missed the bus once, luckily not a pyjama day, and it was because the bus had been rerouted. The powers that be decided not to let anyone know beforehand, just for a laugh. Grr.

I'm back at the house by 6.55 am these days (the bus stop is 11 km away) and get lots done in the kitchen before getting Rors up at 7.20, and then setting off with him and Chris on our bikes at 8 to deliver Rors to his bus-stop at Nouzerines. Chris and I have our morning ride, currently incorporating fruit and nut gathering, then feed anglers and animals before settling down to admin and work. I usually feel quite chipper still.

But by lunchtime I'm wrecked! I hate to admit it, but I'm ready for a snooze. Crikey, I'm only 49 – not 69. However, the early start is a killer. Caiti wondered about coming home on Wednesday afternoons every now and again. If she did, this would mean going through the Monday ritual on a Thursday morning too. I've told her that as much as I love her, there is no way I can do that twice a week. Not at these new early times. Maybe I'll toughen up as the term goes by. I certainly hope so.

There's an end in sight. Caiti finishes at _lycée_ next summer and will head off to Uni. So I'll get a four year break before having to do the dreaded Le Poteau run with Ruadhri from 2016. But that's looking way too far ahead!

## Contes? Count Me Out - Or Why I Hate Fairytales

22.9.2011

A _conte_ is a fairy tale. Now, I have never liked fairy tales, ever. As a girl growing up in the 1960s, the only things to read were class-riddled and Golliwog infested Enid Blyton stories, the Swallows and Amazons saga featuring a girl called Titty, Tintin books with their white colonialist overtones (and anti-llama propaganda) – and of course fairy tales. So sadly I was forced to read a lot of the latter.

And I will be again this year. Ruadhri's class is doing a year-long project on _contes_. Back in June, Rors and the rest of CM1 were presented with a book of fairytales by Perrault as part of a government funded scheme to encourage reading. I was unimpressed at the time, since Perrault was writing in the seventeenth century, so there were clearly going to be language issues. I hoped the book might get forgotten about, but no, it's at the centre of the fairy tale project. Uh oh.

This week is Cinderalla week, or _Cendrillon_ , as she is in French. Rors and I nobly ploughed through Perrault's garrulous version, and it nearly killed me. And then Rors brought home another version of the tale to read and compare with Perrault's. This one was even more ridiculous, involving Cinderella's dying mother at the outset, the fairy godmother being replaced by a bird and the ball going on for three days, as if one wasn't enough.

Fairy tales are just plain dreadful, let's face it. Each one is an example of bad parenting, ranging from the negligent to the criminally insane. Red Riding Hood's mother sends RRH off through a wood full of wolves, and this is a child who can't tell the difference between her grandmother and a hairy animal. She clearly shouldn't be let out at all. Sleeping Beauty – if you happen to have a wicked witch knocking around your castle, then you should be damned careful about making sure you _do_ remember to invite her to your daughter's christening. Such an oversight is simply asking for trouble. The mother of the Three Little Pigs simple throws her children out into the cold without making sure they are even vaguely prepared for the real world. That's akin to me sending Benj off to Uni without a supply of pasta. And as for Cinderella's father, who firstly marries a truly ghastly replacement to his previous paragon of virtue and then gives up on his beloved daughter altogether, well, he is simply too pathetic for words and doesn't deserve to be a father. Ditto Snow White. And the tales are all written by men who are hung up on dorky, endlessly patient and forgiving women who are sucker enough to fall for the first empty-headed prince that they encounter.

Nursery rhymes, mini-fairy tales, are even worse. I refused to sing any to my children when they were little. I made do with 'Nelly the Elephant' and a few other numbers from Junior Choice (remember that?) plus a good helping of Guide and Scout campfire songs. 'I'm going down the garden to eat worms' is far healthier than 'Rockabye baby' with its cradles plummeting from treetops.

OK. Deep breath and calm down. So, it's going to be an aggravating year reading fairy tales with Ruadhri, but at least it will help my French I suppose. And amazingly, Rors seems to quite enjoy them. We discuss their hideous non-PCness since I don't want my youngest growing up thinking that all women are doormats and that fairy godmothers will actually fulfil all your material desires and that the only decent husband is a handsome prince! But I really think it's time we moved on from fairytales. Like the printed book, they've had their day.

## Autumn Omens

23.9.2011

Autumn, _l'automne_ , has got off to a cracking start in Creuse. Rors and I had a quick skinny dip in the pool on the 21st. The temperature was a bracing 20 degrees, but I managed 30 lengths before my fingers turned a worrying shade of post-mortem white!

Chris and I continue our hedgerow-pillaging bike rides. We're adding apples and pears to the ever growing mountain of walnuts now. I'm going to start photographing all the different varieties of apple we come across and try and identify them. We must be gathering at least a dozen different sorts, possibly more. Some of them are absolutely delicious, and all of them are old. No one plants fruit trees along the roadside any more.

I've found a few French autumn sayings, but be warned, they're rather grisly on the whole. Clearly autumn in the past was a worrying time, with winter round the corner and the threat of illness lurking.

1. Autumne en fleurs, hiver plein de rigeur. An autumn with lots of flowers means a tough winter ahead.

This one's not too bad, but it's a bad omen for this year since it's very flowery at the moment. Our roses are having a third flush, as is the wisteria and clematis, and people's gardens are full of blooms. Our wild fields are a sea of pink and yellow at the moment. We'd better chop more wood ...

2. Chaleur de l'automne pique fort – Et cause à bien des gens la mort. Autumn warmth can be oppressive and certainly causes deaths.

We've got temperatures of up to 27 degrees forecast for next week. Oh dear.

3. Fièvre qui vient pendant l'automne – Est bien longue ou la mort donne. Fevers that come in autumn either last a long term or kill you.

Oh dear again. We've all got colds at the moment ...

4. L'hirondelle en septembre abandonne – Le ciel refroidi de l'automne. When the swallow flies away in September, autumn will be very cold.

Our swallows have already gone. Some visiting ones stopped by the other day, but they've gone too now. So – we're going to freeze.

5. _L' hiver mange le printemps, l'été, l'automne._ Winter eats spring, summer and autumn.

I suppose this means that during winter you eat all the supplies you've laid down during the rest of the year. We never seem to get through all our pumpkin though ...

6. Septembre se nomme, – Le mai de l'automne. September is called May of autumn.

This is a nice one – for a change – and very true for this year. We're back in teeshirts and sandals.

So all the signs are for a chilly, sneezy winter. But let's be positive. It's not here yet. Time to enjoy the nice autumn weather first, while we still can.

## Just How Dumb Are Turkeys?

28.9.2011

Sheep-proofing the fencing of the Suffolks' field has had an unforeseen bonus. It's now also turkey proof so we finally have somewhere to keep our wandering turkeys safely ensconced. To be fair, they'd been very good on the whole, only occasionally going into Yann's field next door, or appearing in the garden or along the drive. But a week or so back they started going walkabout more often. It was looking like they'd be heading for the freezer sooner rather than later. We do not intend to lose any of our seven fine, fat turkeys to a fox at this late stage. But, they've had a reprieve since we now have a very large turkey run for them.

Getting them there and back isn't easy, though. We have to negotiate three gates. Turkeys aren't good with gates. They don't get the thing about going through the open space that suddenly appears. They prefer to batter themselves against the wiring on either side, or try and squeeze through the very narrow gaps in the metalwork of the gate itself.

It takes two of us to get them from stable to field, and back again, each day. I walk ahead with a tub of grain saying "chook chook" while Chris opens the gates and assists the turkeys through, which takes the patience of a saint.

Are turkeys really dumb though? I've read or heard somewhere that they're thought to be the stupidest animal on the planet. There are tales that when it rains, they look up and drown. Our turkeys have never done that, and we've had some truly moronic ones. It's true that turkeys have a primitive brain with a limited capacity to learn new things. Like go through a gate. They get by thanks to instinct and to a very strong natural curiosity. This is why if you stand still near a turkey long enough, it will start to peck at your toes, or your laces, or your shorts, or your fingers, or pretty much any part of you, just to check it hasn't suddenly turned into something nice to eat.

Chris's brother-in-law Paul used to farm turkeys. He had to use round pens to raise them in because otherwise they would happily crush each other to death in corners. And one year some escaped out into the snow but were too silly to go back inside when they got cold and so, unfortunately, they froze to death.

We have three types of turkey this year – whites, bronzes and blacks, and it is definitely the latter that are the least intellectual. The black male is the worst for repeatedly pecking you while the female is almost too stupid to live. She is by far the most access-point-challenged.

So, they're not the sharpest knives in the animal kingdom drawer. But I like my turkeys. They're better natured than chickens and there's something endearing in their blundering stupidity. And they taste so darned good!

## Superstitions - Grigris

29.9.2011

Here's a quick look at some French superstitions – _grigris_.

Firstly, what brings good luck? It's probably not too much of a surprise to learn that finding a four leafed clover, hanging a horseshoe over your door and touching wood when you make a wish fall into this category. But the next ones are decidedly wackier. Treading in dog poo with your left foot as opposed to your right, touching the red pompom on a sailor's beret and seeing a ladybird take off are all really good things apparently. I'm not convinced about the poo one. I think that's a myth put about by lazy dog owners who can't be bothered to clear their dog's doings off the footpath. They clearly don't want to deprive the rest of us of a lucky break!

Breaking a mirror, opening an umbrella indoors, Friday the 13th and thirteen people around a table are bad omens in France, as we might have guessed. Less obviously disastrous are putting a baguette upside-down on the table, wearing new clothes on a Friday, coming across a black cat during the night (how can you tell it's black in that case?) and – very French this one – lighting three cigarettes with the same match! So, you've been warned

Forty per cent of the French population admit to being superstitious. It's said that Sarko keeps a pressed four leaf clover amongst his papers, and 66% of French people simply won't walk under a ladder. So if you are superstitious, then you're in good company. My own personal foible is not crossing on the stairs. My Aunt Olive was adamant about this at her house. And I always throw a pinch of salt that's been spilt over my left shoulder with my right hand. I've done that for so long, it's an instinct!

What are your grigris?

# October

## Stressed But Blessed

4.10.2010

Yesterday saw the special animal blessing ceremony to mark St Francis of Assisi day at our local church, St Clair's, in Nouzerines. Very few services take place there any more, sadly.

We set off in good time with: one llama – Oscar; two alpacas – Brendan and Seamus; and one guinea pig – Teggs. Oscar loved every minute but the alpacas were a bit stressed by the whole thing. There were a lot of yappy dogs around, and also curious onlookers who always have to poke the alpacas, even though you ask them not to. They didn't poke Oscar or the various hounds or the guinea pigs, so why pick on my 'pacas! Anyway, we decided to leave early, which was a shame, but the sensible course of action.

Sadly, and very ironically, during the ceremony there were the sounds of gunshot in the distance as hunters took out a few of St Francis's wild companions. However, the priest had explained in his sermon that God gave us animals to be our companions and serve us ... and also be served up as our dinners!

Next year we'll take maybe just Oscar and another guinea pig, and perhaps Nessie the dog as well. I'm also half tempted to take the turkeys. I'm sure a blessed turkey will taste even better than a normal free-range one. In the old days, turkeys were herded from Norfolk to London for the Christmas market. That's roughly 110 miles! Les Fragnes to Nouzerines is only two. In theory it should be a doddle!

But definitely not Seamus or Brendan. A blessing is too stressing for alpacas.

## Of Les Fragnes Or Not?

10.11.2010

I've reluctantly decided not to go to my first alpaca show. I entered a couple of months ago, planning to put Plunkett in the class for male white Suri alpacas, and also the fancy dress class. Brendan was coming along to keep him company in the fancy dress, and also to take part in the obstacle course, led round by Caitlin. I was excited about it and we started to train the boys up. However, it was obviously an omen when, on one of our practice walks, Brendan sniffed Plunkett's backside one too many times and got a kick in the face as a result. His two central bottom teeth haven't been seen since.

Anyway, last weekend I got a call from one of the organisers, checking a few details. I discovered that I couldn't use the suffix 'of Les Fragnes' for my two boys since neither of them had actually born at Les Fragnes, even though they both arrived here very young and have lived here longer than they haven't. OK, lesson learned. Then I found out I couldn't change their names. Plunkett was born under another name, which was nice enough, but we have a theme of Irish names here, reflecting our heritage, so we called him Plunkett after our solicitor! Nope, he has to keep his original name so that people know where he was bred. This has made something clear to me. There is quite a trade in pregnant females. I've bought two – one llama, and one alpaca – and neither purchase was successful in that the llama wasn't actually pregnant, and the alpaca lost her baby the next day due to the stress of the journey to her new home. The vendor generously let me take her back to be remated, and this time it worked. The market in 'in cria' females is thus a risky business, however judged worthwhile, I assume, so that the purchaser can lay full claim to the cria when it is born at their stud. So I can call our little alpaca born in July 'Elrond of Les Fragnes', even though his mother is a from one herd and his father from another. He wasn't 'manufactured' at Les Fragnes, so to speak, but that doesn't matter. The important thing is that he was born here. And if we should sell him, not that Caiti would let me, he will trail that name around with him for ever.

Now, Brendan was nameless when I bought him. What should you do in that situation officially, I wonder?

This is a whole new world to me. I used to show rabbits and cavies with my dad when I was young. If you owned the animal, whether you'd bred it yourself or bought it, it was your critter and you got the glory. And you called it what you wanted!

So, suitably chastened, I've decided I can't quite face spending two and a half days in an environment where I am evidently a crass ignoramus and will inevitably do everything wrong. I'll cut my losses for now, and have another go next year and try it get it right then. Shame, as I was looking forward to creating fancy dress for the boys. Brendan was going to be a vampire, and Plunkett, probably a packet of biscuits! Maybe I'll make them anyway for Hallowe'en ...

## Polytunnel Progress

3.10.2011

Chris has been beavering away on the polytunnel on and off for a few weeks, putting brackets and braces up, and getting rails and frames together. Today we were ready to put the plastic over. Chris first taped over any sharp bits with power tape, and over the aluminium framework itself with hotspot tape. That seemed a bit pointless, but it was in the directions so we did it. I usefully held the ladder! I'm good at holding things.

We spread out the huge bit of thick polythene on the field, and then man and woman handled it over the frame. It wasn't as bad as we'd feared. We tugged and heaved it roughly into the right place. The polytunnel is in a lovely sunny spot so we were doing all this today in 30 degrees of roasting sunshine. But better than in rain and a strong wind! (On the subject of hot weather, our pool is up to 24 degrees and Rors and I having several swims a day again. It's summer all over again.)

Chris battened the plastic onto the top of each door frame (there's one each end). It was traumatic to make holes in it, having been so careful for so long to treat it really, really carefully to prevent any tears or punctures.

Then it was time to attach the plastic to the metal rails at the bottom of the long frame with some plastic clips. There were two sorts of these – U shaped ones and T shaped ones. It took a few puzzled moments and false starts before we sussed this out. But soon we were cracking on. Chris did the skilled labour while I held the plastic under tension. The sides were relatively straightforward, although the plastic clips took a fair bit of force to get into place correctly. However, the two door ends were more of a challenge. You're left with a lot of excess plastic that has to be pleated neatly and battened into place on the door frames. My sewing skills came in useful here and for once I could offer helpful advice, as well as helpfully hold things. We made our best stab at it. It's not brilliant and we're a bit disappointed that it's actually meant to be as crude as that. But that's what it says to do.

Finally Chris whacked the T shaped clips into the U shaped clips. I provided bracing from the inside of the polytunnel with my feet and had a sauna at the same time. It was boiling in there! We'll be able to grow bananas in it. The aluminium frame was too hot to touch. I take back my earlier disparaging remarks about the hotspot insulating tape not being necessary.

## Quincessentially French

8.10.2011

Quinces, _coings_ , are a very French thing. In Creuse, every country garden has at least one quince tree and quince jelly, _gelée aux coings_ , is turned out with great enthusiasm by many people every year. On our daily bike rides, we've picked up a few _coings_. We got a monster the other day. I reckon it weighs about a pound. (Since Caiti, the Chef in Wellies, recently made the transition to American cup-based cooking, I haven't bothered replacing the last set of broken scales. I estimate quantities for my cooking, while Caiti painstakingly measures hers out in portions of cups! So, that's why I can't accurately weigh the quince.)

Quinces, like medlars that I blogged about recently, have to be bletted i.e. allowed to rot, before they're pleasant to eat raw. They're too hard and astringent otherwise. I don't fancy eating rotten fruit, so I'll be cooking mine. You can stew them, like apples, but they need a good long cooking time, and interestingly will turn red in the process. And I bet you didn't know that the word 'marmalade' originally meant quince jam, coming from the Portuguese for quince, which is _marmelo_. Quinces go back a long way, and it's likely people grew them before they began to grow the more familiar fruit we know today, like apples and pears.

Quinces grow well in central and southern France because of the warm summers. They're tough and are frost resistant, and in fact need a cold spell to flower properly. That's why they do so well round here!

I'm fascinated by these large, knobbly, clumsy pear-shaped fruits. I have three young trees in my garden and hope that we'll be producing our own in another year or so. Until then, we'll carry on gleaning. I also now have my own tiny medlar plant. It will spend the winter in the polytunnel and we'll plant it out in spring.

We lit the first fire of the autumn today. It was decidedly chilly in the living room when we got up so time to start burning things. One of Ruadhri's briquettes went on and helped get the flames roaring into life. So, autumn is well and truly here now ...

## Invading Ladybirds

10.10.2011

During the last gîte changeover, I had, sadly, to vac up a lot of dead ladybirds off one of the windowsills. It's the time of year that they start to wander indoors, looking for somewhere cosy to spend the winter. I'm not sure why this lot all perished.

When I told Ruadhri about my discovery, he immediately wanted to know if they were _coccinelles asiatiques_ – Asian ladybirds. He went on to tell me all about these insects which he'd recently read about in his _Mon Quotidien_ magazine. I was fascinated. I had no idea we were being invaded.

I've done a bit more research myself and here are a few facts about these imported ladybirds. And that's exactly what they are. Back in 1982, some bright spark had the idea of introducing this species of ladybird to France to help keep the numbers of _pucerons_ , aphids, down. _Coccinelles asiatiques_ , Latin name _harmonia axyridis_ , have particularly voracious appetites and breed enthusiastically. Originally they were confined to greenhouses where they were studied, but they were released on the general public in 1995 when a company commercialised them and made the larvae available to gardeners. Oh boy. They are rapidly becoming the dominant species of ladybird in France now. They've already taken Belgium over. They've made it into Switzerland, Holland, Luxembourg, Germany and Great Britain too. When food runs short, they turn to eating the larvae of other species, and especially of other ladybirds, so there is a very real risk of some indigenous European varieties being wiped out.

Asian ladybirds are big, and come in a variety of colours – anything from yellow, to red with all sorts of patterns of black spots, including cats-paw shaped ones, to black with red spots. It's apparently quite tricky to distinguish them from our native French varieties.

There are maps on the Net showing how _harmonia axyridis_ has spread from the north through a good chunk of the country now, and you can even find the contact names for people in charge of keeping an eye open for these critters in each _région_ of France.

I'd always taken ladybirds for granted up to now, but I'll be looking at them a bit more carefully to see if the Asian variety has arrived at Les Fragnes yet.

## The Good, The Bad And The Delicious - Crayfish

12.10.2011

Look at the photo carefully. Can you see him? I spotted this large _écrevisse_ , crayfish, at the dam end of the middle lake yesterday. He's the biggest one I've seen for a while. He was covered in silt and lying low in the water so I couldn't make out if he was friend or foe.

Friends are the native French _écrevisses_. They are a few varieties of these and sadly all are now considered 'vulnerable'. They are: the red-clawed crayfish ( _écrevisses à pattes rouges_ ); the white-footed crayfish ( _écrevisses à pieds blancs_ ); and the spindly clawed crayfish ( _écrevisses à pattes grêles_ _ou turque_ ).

The main foes are the signal crayfish from the USA. They are generally chunkier than the native varieties, have more red patches on them and have a distinctive spur just behind their pincers. There are also American and Louisiana crayfish.

What are American crayfish doing in France? As so often happens, like the ladybirds I was talking about just the other day, someone introduced them. In the first half of the twentieth century, crayfish plague wiped out most of the crayfish in Europe, so in the 1960s American crayfish were introduced to help boost European stocks. Sadly no one realised that these new crayfish also carried the crayfish plague. They were resistant to it themselves, but their poor stressed European counterparts weren't, and so suffered from another dose. The signal crayfish are also taking over the territory of the natives, which is putting further pressure on their numbers. They're found in most countries in Europe now, but haven't made it to Ireland yet.

So a rather sad tale for French _écrevisses_.

When we first arrived at Les Fragnes, we often came across huge signal crayfish wandering up the drive or across the garden. Since introducing catfish into our lakes, their numbers have dropped considerably and it's rare to see large ones, like the one I spotted above.

The nuisance crayfish can be fished all throughout the fishing season, usually Easter to the end of September. However, fishing for native crayfish is restricted to just a few days, sometimes only one, during the year, according to _departément_.

Crayfish are delicious. They're like large prawns so whenever we trap some foreign invaders, we have a nice supper afterwards! Barbecuing works well.

There are plenty of websites giving details about the various crayfish varieties so you can familiarise yourself with the wicked ones it's OK to hunt down and digest, and the native ones, which really we should completely leave alone in order to protect France's biodiversity.

## Millions Of Mulots

13.10.2011

Gigi the cat has just brought another _mulot_ into the house, and been quickly chased out. _Mulot_ is the colloquial term round here for any sort of small country rodent. The usual suspects are _campagnols_ or field rats, which is what they used to be called. It was my friend Georges-Louise Leclerc de Buffon, a famous naturalist, who came up with the term _campagnol_ in the eighteenth century. (He's my friend because back in the 1770s he suggested that llamas would be good animals to introduce into France.)

_Campagnols_ aren't mice. The latter have longer tails and are grey, whereas our _mulots_ are brown with a relatively short tail. You get up to 1,000 of them per hectare in the countryside. They are burrowing creatures and do a lot of damage. Our poor old lawn is full of holes and as lumpy and bumpy as a lunar landscape. The burrows collapse after a while so there's no hope of playing croquet on the surface above them. Come winter, when food starts to run short (they eat grass and sedge), the mulots turn to roots and shoots underground and harm a lot of trees and other plants. They don't have a lot going for them, do they?

_Mulots_ are the chief prey of buzzards, kites, owls and various mammals, such as badgers and foxes, and of course our cats and Nessie, our dog. She gets through quite a few every day. They have an unpleasant effect on her digestive system, so unpleasant that she's often exiled outside while we leave the door open to let some fresh air in! The little critters are parasite-infested, so anything that eats them will inherit these nasties. Our vet recommends worming our _mulot_ -munching pet once a month, but we usually wait for evidence before we dose them up again. I don't go for over prescribing.

Now that the cold weather is here, the _campagnols_ will be starting to move in with us. We've already seen a couple scurrying around the lounge. The cats were asleep on the chair at the time. We prodded them awake but somehow indoor rodents don't get their interest like the outdoor ones do. It looks like we're on our own again this year in fending them off!

## Creuse Carp

14.10.2011

I've never talked much about our fish on this blog, but they should get a look in. We have three carp fishing lakes. Carp – _ciprinids_ – are cool fish. Izaak Walton said so in his famous book, _The Compleat Angler_. To be precise, he said "The Carp is the queen of rivers; a stately, a good, and a very subtil fish" which was 1653-speak for 'cool'. When we bought Les Fragnes five years ago, the lakes, which had been teeming with life when we viewed the property, were all completely empty. It was a massive blow and meant to we had to restock with carp.

There are several main varieties of carp – crucian carp, grass carp and common carp. Mirror carp, Royale carp and koi carp (goldfish) are variants on common carp that have arisen during their many years of domestication. We were looking for something in the common carp line. I'd started writing and emailing various fish farms in early September 2006, but getting a reply was like getting blood out of a stone. I persisted in my pestering. Fortunately and finally, one _pisciculteur_ in Indre got back to us and his prices for Royale carp were very attractive, so we went to visit. It was an impressive set up, clearly very professional and well managed, exactly the sort of place we wanted to get fish from. It offered a wide selection of fish – several types of trout, tench, perch, roach, catfish, common and Royale carp, pike, zander, sturgeon, grass carp and black bass. These were farmed in various sizes in various sized stock ponds. We watched as a delivery of trout was captured for a client. We peered into the various ponds. The manager netted a few carp to show us what they were like. They looked healthy and lively so we were satisfied. We came home and put in our first order – 550 kg of Royale carp in the range of 3 to 10 kgs, and two medium catfish. We opted for smaller fish as we knew we wouldn't be opening for fishing business for at least another year and a half, so there was plenty of growing-on time for them. And the smaller you buy them, the cheaper they are. But small is relative here. Ten kg represents a stone and a half. That's a lot of fish.

Royale carp are the night-club bouncers of the carp world. They're solid fish with a large humpy shoulder, and as they mature they develop deep, round bellies. They're browny-grey on their upper portion with a mustard yellow underside. Some have very distinctive patterns of scales. They're handsome and imposing, a super fish to catch. Ours have the added advantage of being triploid, that is, sterile. They put all their energy into growing, rather than reproducing, which, when you want big fish, is all to the good. It also means they don't display spawning behaviour so won't stop biting during that period of the year. And a further plus is that the lake doesn't fill up with lots of small carp which anglers will soon get fed up with catching.

We were very excited when the lorry turned up with our very first fish, almost exactly five years ago now. It was a white mini-tanker that made lots of satisfying swishing and sloshing noises, long after it had stopped moving. That could only be our carp eager to meet our lakes. It was a cold drizzly winter day – it was early November – and we were all suitably dressed in waterproofs, confident that we'd stay dry and warm during the proceedings. Not a bit of it. Unloading around 200 thrashing carp is a wet business. They send water up your sleeves, and splash it down your neck and into your boots. We were all soaked by the end of operations.

We began down at the big lake, and put around 100 of the biggest of the carp in there. There was just the one fishery employee. He was suited up far more professionally than us, and took his position on the lorry. What had appeared at first to be one large tank was actually divided into half a dozen smaller ones. He opened one of these and began to net the carp. He lowered two or three into a large plastic box that Chris and I were steadying, reaching up with arms outstretched. This was why so much water ended up down our sleeves. The fish fought energetically against being put in. We then carefully lifted the boxes down and carried the fish between us to the lake. Caiti took a quick photo and we then gently tipped the fish out into their new home. The fish fought energetically against being emptied out. A few of them hung around for a short while before taking off, but most of them torpedoed away the moment they were in the lake. Benj lent us a hand so each of he, Chris and I did two out of three boxfuls of fish, but it was still muscle-aching work. Caiti snapped away. Ruadhri soon lost interest and wandered off to play in total and happy neglect.

The last fish to go into the big lake was the Wels catfish. He was 27 kg, which is a magnificent and large quantity of _silurus glanis_. Dark grey, long and sinuous, rows of tiny teeth, six sensitive barbels, sharp pectoral fins that wash the prey into the cavernous mouth – this guy was a custom-built killing machine. The fishery employee lowered him into our waiting plastic box. Would he even fit? Somehow he coiled himself up in it. Then into the lake he went. He was momentarily quiet, then with a muscular ripple of his body, he disappeared into the depths.

We've since topped up the stock by another few hundred carp, including some superb specimen fish who went in at 20 kg, a consignment of grass carp, a few more catfish and one sturgeon. So, with the exception of _campagnols_ , carp are the most common creature to be found at Les Fragnes. But you've got to catch them first ...!

## The Evils Of Tomato Ketchup

17.10.2011

The French government recently banned tomato this from school canteens as part of its new dietary guidelines. Kids can have one helping of ketchup each on their chips, but no more than once a week. Claims have been made that this is a public health move.

This is nonsense. It's a political move, pure and simple. The politicians don't want French children adulterating good French food with this American concoction.

Let's see how healthy or unhealthy ketchup actually is. 100g of tomato ketchup contains 108 kcals, 1.3 g protein, 25 g of carbohydrates (glucides) and o.3 g of fat (lipides). In comparison, mayonnaise has 676 kcals for the same quantity and 74g of fat. And cheese, that French staple, is often around 400 kcals per 100 g with 30 g or so of fat.

The unhealthy claim simply doesn't work. It's not ideal for kids to slosh it on everything they eat, but it's hardly the end of the world. Our Ruadhri loves a tomato ketchup sandwich and his big brother enjoys a plate of pasta with ketchup on. It's a universally popular food and it's frankly just plain mean to ban it in canteens.

The government can be a bit heavy handed in its anti-obesity drive. It banned primary school kids from having snacks during breaktimes a couple of years ago. This caused an outcry at the school where Ruadhri was at the time. Like many schools in France, it's a country one. A lot of the pupils leave their homes around an hour before school starts to make the bus ride there. Obviously they have their breakfasts at least half an hour before departing, say around 7.30. Going through to midday is a long haul for little kids, many of whom can be faddy when they're half asleep at the breakfast table. Rors was one of these and some days he'd hardly eat anything. So we parents all protested and the teacher eventually said it was OK for them to have something to eat before lessons began, but remember, she didn't really say that. It put her and all other teachers in a very awkward position. The ridiculous thing was there wasn't even one remotely chubby child at the school anyway! A friend of mine with twins at another school had her kids actually faint a couple of times. Their school had two lunch sittings since there were a lot of pupils, and the twins were on the second sitting, not getting lunch till around 1.15 pm. These poor kids were having to go nearly 6 hours without eating. No adult would stand for that, but somehow it was OK to inflict it on children.

So this seems another equally ill-advised move. It may possibly save schools some money, but I bet it's more likely they'll be throwing away more leftover food that would have been happily eaten up with a splodge of ketchup on top.

## Presidential Baby And Three Happy Bilingual Kids

20.10.2011

I couldn't ignore today's top news in France – baby Sarkozy who arrived on Wednesday night. Mother and baby girl are doing well and father is preoccupied by politics. He missed the actual birth but has since come home from Frankfurt, although probably not for long.

Mlle Sarkozy is a lucky young lady. She won't be short of a bob or two and, all being well she's inherited her mother's looks, rather than dad's! She has a rather nice life of plenty waiting ahead of her. It made feel just a little sad this morning. As we cycled to school, something I don't suppose Mlle S will ever do, I realised that the only new things Ruadhri was wearing were his runners. The rest of his ensemble, including bike and helmet, was secondhand at best but predominantly thirdhand. Most of his stuff is, poor poppet. And he hasn't had a holiday in six years. However, he's happy and bright, clean and smart, loving and creative, and I don't think a lack of material wealth has had a negative impact on him. OK, he doesn't have the Nike jogging suit or the Adidas runners or the Marseilles Olympique rucksack like a good few of his school friends do. He has perfectly acceptable alternatives. We chose to downsize our lives when we came here and this is the consequence. But we also have three bilingual children who are living extremely interesting lives and aren't scared of a challenge. Chris and I have shown them that you can break out of a rut and go for it. Rors isn't doing so badly.

So, baby Sarkozy will be growing up comfortably and, I imagine, very happily, in the _Champs Elysées_. Well, all things considered, it's _pas mal_ growing up in the _champs_ around here too!

## Smurfs Rule!

22.10.2011

Last night I went to the cinema for the first time in France. It's taken five years, but I've finally got round to it. Ruadhri wanted to see the Smurf film. He doesn't ask for much, bless him, so I steeled myself and said I'd take him. And it was brilliant! Rors was squealing with excitement through quite a lot of it. I didn't quite go that far, but I laughed a lot and was thorougly entertained in Boussac's little part-time cinema for the whole evening.

Ruadhri really loves the Smurfs – or rather the _Schtroumpfs_ , as they're called in French. He is addicted to the comic books ( _bandes desinées_ ) about them. So now, having seen the film too, I decided it was time to find out more.

In case you didn't know, Smurfs are fictional characters with blue skin, white trousers and white hats. They live somewhere deep in the forest, and travel long distances by stork. They began back in 1958 as a comic strip in Spirou magazine, drawn by Belgian cartoonist Peyo (Pierre Culliford). Soon they got their own comic, and then books and films, and then the merchandising machine swung into action. You can now get Smurf toys, figurines and games.

I've had a browse through the books. The stories are straightforward with lots of action. And they use the word 'Smurf' a lot – as a noun or a verb. You get sentences such as: 'This time I'm going to smurf. I know it!' and 'It's going to smurf us like a mouse'. Sounds confusing? Probably, but the pictures give an idea of what's going on. The French version has an advantage over the English as we get the distinction between _schtroumpfer_ (verb) and _schtroumpf_ (noun). That probably helps the kids work out what's going on a bit easier. And there I was in my books, trying to use as varied a vocabulary as I could!

Anyway, Ruadhri loves the books and I haven't noticed him saying 'Smurf' all the time. So I'll let him work his way through the series. They're the first books he makes a beeline for at the library, closely followed by Scrameustache, another comic books series (but I'll save that one for another day).

The Smurf books have been translated into 25 languages, and more than 25 million copies have been sold. Now I could do with sales like that! And now there's the film too.

However, other people see the Smurfs as racist and anti-Semtic. Who's right – Ruadhri or them?

## Limoges Revisited

27.10.2011

We picked Benj, his sister and his washing (grr!) up from University in Limoges on Tuesday and did some sightseeing. We visited the wonderful aquarium and then wandered around the city. We came across several of these.

This is a cockle shell and it marks one of the pilgrim routes taken by St Jacques de Compostella. St Jacques is St James, one of the twelve apostles. Legend has it that he went to preach in Spain, but on his return was captured by the Romans and beheaded. Nothing daunted, he picked up his head, tucked it under his arm and walked back to Compostella where he then buried himself. A very self-reliant, practical person was St James!

St Jacques' symbol is the cockle shell, or scallop. There are a few explanations as to why. One is that these were found on the coastline of Finisterre, where he came ashore on his way to Spain. Another is that while he was being chased by Roman soldiers, he came to the banks of a river that was too wide for him to cross, even on horseback. The cockle shells rose up to the surface so that he could gallop across, and then sank again before the Romans got there.

It wasn't for another eight hundred years that pilgrims began to visit his resting place. By the twelfth century around a million or so were coming each year. They came from all over Europe and were given a cockle shell to show that they had made the journey. (A trade in fake shells soon grew up, by the way!)

One of the pilgrim routes to Compostella, the way of Vézelay ( _Via Lemovincensis_ – the Latin name for Limoges), was used by pilgrims coming from north-eastern France, Belgium and Germany. Limoges was one of the most important pilgrim sites along the way. Gilded cockle shells mark the path through the city that the pilgrims took.

We also found these intriguing seed pods. Avenue Albert Thomas is lined with the trees that drop them. We picked up a dozen or so. I want to get the seeds from some of them, and the more curly ones we're going to paint as snakes for our Halloween tree. I've done some research and the tree is the honey locust – at least I'm 99.99% sure that's what it is, although it could possibly be the black locust tree. But whatever it is, I shall try and get some seeds to germinate. I like the idea of these trees at Les Fragnes.

# November

## November Past And Present

4.11.2009

I have just been reading through the November 1932 issue of _La Prospérité à la Campagne_ and picked out the following to share with you. Firstly some sayings:

_La Toussaint venue – plus de charrue_. All Saint's Day has come – no more ploughing.

Autant d'heures de soleil le jour de Toussaint - Autant de semaines à souffler dans ses mains. For every hour of sunshine you get on All Saint's Day, you'll get a week of blowing on your hands to keep them warm during winter.

A la Ste-Catherine, l'hiver s'aberline [s'acheminer] A la St-André il est aberliné [arrivé]. Winter is on its way on St Catherine's Day (25 Nov). By 30 Nov it has arrived.

And now some bargains. Here are a few books advertised in the magazine:

Le commerce et l'industrie de la plume pour parure The Feather Bedding Industry (22 francs)

Poules qui pondent, poules qui paient Chickens which lay, chickens which pay (22 francs)

Lapins, Lapereaux et cie Rabbits, baby rabbits and co (15 francs)

You could buy a hunting gun for 690 francs (1 euro 4 cents), a sports bike for 195 francs (29 cents), and a breeding pair of 8 month old ragondins (coypus) for 400 francs (60 cents).

The conversions francs to euro above are in today's actual money values. To give their equivalent purchasing power, a more helpful conversion, we come out with prices of 243 euro for the ragondins, 118 euro for the bike and 420 euro for the gun. The books come out at 13.36 euro for the 22 francs book and 9.50 or so euro for the cheaper books.

## Remember In November

11.11.2009

Today is Armistice Day, 11th November. It's a national holiday in France. We went down to the ceremony at the war memorial in Nouzerines – we go every year (and also in May to mark the end of the Second World War). It's a short yet poignant ceremony. Today it was held in bright sunshine, the perfect day for it. Ruadhri and the other children recited a poem written by a local man, and they did it beautifully. The mayor and his adjoint did readings, and we stood in silence for a minute as the three flag bearers lowered their colours. Then we walked to the other side of the monument to commemorate the dead in the Second World War and the African Wars. And then it was over. There's a _cup d'amitié_ in the auberge afterwards, i.e. a glass of wine, but we've never partaken. Ruadhri usually wants to get back and today the three teenagers (we have an extra one, Goran, staying with us over the break) had already set off home on their bikes, so maybe next time.

That's the last 'day off' until Christmas now. The time in between brings with it ever shorter, darker, colder days. But there are some bright spots. We have Benjamin's 18th birthday to look forward to in three weeks' time, then Chris's birthday, then the Christmas preparations (but not perhaps Ruadhri's school's Christmas do which has been known to go on for four hours!). And hopefully at some point Windermere will decide to give birth. She's going to explode soon. Poor Caiti is beside herself with impatience – we all are. A llama's long pregnancy means you get very worked up towards the end. A year, or very nearly, is an awfully long time to wait.

The _Grues_ Flew By

17.10.2011

There are currently several tens of thousands of European grey cranes ( _grues cendrées_ ) flying over France. A couple of thousand of those came over our house this afternoon. Every autumn, usually early November, they fly from northern Europe (Sweden, the Baltic Sea and northern Germany) across France on their way to Spain, although there is another migration route that takes them to Tunisia and Algeria. The birds fly at speeds of up to 70 kmph, depending on the wind. The trip is reversed in early spring.

These cranes are large birds, between 4 and 6 kg in weight and are up to 140 cm high, which isn't a whole lot shorter than me at my 152 cm! Adults have a grey body with a black and white neck, and red markings on their head. Young birds up to a year old are yellowy-brown.

They're protected but are still endangered due to loss of wintering quarters in Spain and breeding grounds in Scandanavia. What a disaster it would be if we were to lose them. The twice yearly migration is a fantastic experience – an incredible sight and an amazing sound.We look forward to it, but more so in spring since it means the good weather is on its way. Today, seeing the cranes fly over means it's about to get very cold – here comes winter. They never get it wrong!

## Dark Nights And Panicking Turkeys

19.11.2010

Galloway Forest Park in Scotland has just been awarded the prestigious dark sky award by the International Dark Sky Association. Well, I reckon our sky deserves a medal too. Here in deepest, darkest Creuse, there is very little light pollution. Our night sky is pitch black and the stars are dazzling. You can see the Milky Way clearly. It's beautiful. Night-time is made even more amazing by the hooting of owls, and occasionally the song of nightingales. There are mysterious rustles in the undergrowth and distant deer barks – a lot goes on at night at Les Fragnes.

November has turned beautiful this year. We have cold frosty nights with clear, sunny days. Long may it last! It's the perfect weather for us to do some tidying up on the big lake. There were quite a few snags (fallen trees and branches) along one side of the promontory we call Ragondin Island. These provided good shelter for the carp, but there was the danger that hooked fish would run into the snags and get the line tangled around them. The angler would break his line and the carp could be left caught up, unable to free itself from the hook. So we've dropped the lake level a little and set to work. Chris does the cutting with his chainsaw and I do the dragging out. It's not the cleanest job in the world, but its good exercise and very satisfying!

We made a discovery today. From time to time we've found large shells in the lake. We eventually identified them as swan mussel shells. Ruadhri loves making ornaments out of them – he had a good sales line going during the summer to llama trekkers! We know now that we have a large, healthy colony of them in the lake, up at the shallow end. We watched them today, zig-zagging through the mud, leaving wiggly trails behind them. Fascinating.

The turkeys are leading us a dance at the moment. They escape at least three times a day so we set off with a bucket of grain to coax them back home. I had help rounding them up this afternoon. Our neighbour Yann has a herd of Breton and Percheron heavy horses – truly gentle giants. They saw the turkeys in their field and came thundering up to have a look. Strange to say, suddenly the turkeys didn't want to hang around! They sprinted back home at top speed.

## Battling Bands in Boussac

28.11.2010

I have a headache, a stiff shoulder and sore calves today. Why? Because yesterday I was dancing for over 4 hours at the Boussac Battle of the Bands. (And I wasn't the oldest rocker there either but I was the oldest one in the mosh pit!)

The Amitiés Internationales du Pays de Boussac organised this _tournoi_ and called on our Benj to be one of the judges, which he was thrilled about. He rounded up some friends from _lycée_ to come and support him. They were an enthusiastic addition to the dance floor!

The battle was between five relatively local bands – Boussac's own Fingers in the Noise, Argyle (pronounced arjeel) from Poitiers, Vertigo from Limoges, Déjà vu (who renamed themselves last night to Tu Souviens!) and Corrupted Generation, both from around Boussac. They were all excellent. Fingers and Tu Souviens were older groups who did great covers of hits from the 70s onwards. Corrupted Generation consisted of 13 and 16 year old brothers on guitars, and a 14 year old girl on drums. No vocalist yet but they were brilliant. Vertigo was an excellent five-piece band of 30-somethings, with a very good guitarist, and the awesome Argyle were brothers Basile and Marthur Mousset and friend Noé Gaillard. They were absolutely outstanding and thoroughly deserved to win.

Their prize was a magnificent trophy made by local artisans Jean-Claude Aubailly and Sébastien Moser. It was a guitar made from scrap iron. There was 300€ too, plus they'll be getting an hour long slot on France Bleu Creuse.

Johnny Mc sang in the interludes when the bands changed over. He's a local British ex-pat who's been here three and a half years now. He's a very talented singer and a really nice guy too.

The show opened with a set by Hernbay Road, an indie/blues rock band from Clermont Ferand and they did a few more numbers later in the show. So it was an incredible night of music and dancing, and one I hope will be repeated – as often as possible!

There was a good crowd enjoying themselves. Luckily the weather was kind and the snow stopped at the right time to mean people weren't put off coming. There were refreshments and a raffle (we donated a free llama trek as one of the prizes) and half the night's proceeds went to the Telethon. So a great night in a good cause.

Boussac rocks!

And in November 2011 here's what happened:

## Boussac Battle of the Bands 2011

Last night the second Battle of the Bands, organised by the inter-culturally active AIPB, took place in Boussac. Benj wasn't on the jury this year. Caiti was going to be, but at the last minute some bright spark decided that the judges needed to be at least 18, for reasons which elude me, but which ruled my daughter out. Shame, but the jury we did have still came to the right decision without her!

Six groups battled it out. Last year's winners, the awesome Argyle from Poitiers, opened the evening with a session of great music. This band, consisting of brothers Basile and Arthur together with friend Noé, just gets better and better. If you ever get the chance to see them, seize it.

First up in the contest was Hill Treason. This is a five-member electro pop and trip-hop band, influenced by Massive Attack, with drums, keyboards, guitar and two female vocalists. Only one was named in the programme, Pauline, but the other singer was Zélie? Anyway, along with Michael, Cedric and Romain they gave a gutsy, talented performance and got the show rolling.

Singless Project came next, an alternative rock band, consisting of three guitarists and a drummer. Now the two Guillaumes, Benoit and Adrien were good, very good, but I think they could do with a vocalist to widen the appeal. They were also pretty scruffy! Now I'm no fashionista myself, and I'm not advocating a return to the sequinned and shiny matching suits of 80s pop groups, but maybe just a little effort, lads? I know two of you were wearing cool shades, but all the same!

Next it was the turn of a group from neighbouring Haute Vienne. Prism Break had three guitars, keyboards and drums. Here was classy classic rock, and then some. Olivier, Fabien, David, Bruno and Sylvain played brilliantly. It was obvious they'd go through to the semi-final.

Up to now there hadn't been much dancing. Caiti and I were officially on duty, keeping an eye on the entrance to the side room where all the musicians' equipment was. Last year there'd been a few problems with unsupervised kids getting in there and messing with stuff. We were at the right hand side of the floor. I'd been jiggling around discreetly behind Caiti – 17 year olds are easy to embarrass, and I just have to dance, so this was a good compromise. But then Hernbay, a young Indie rock group with a Boussaquin among them, took to the stage. Their groupies took to the floor and at last there was some dancing, although the youth of today are no match for my generation! The Stalk, Blake and Doug gave a good performance. Maybe they'd give Prism Break a run for the money?

No. Midnight Rider put paid to that. This band consists of three mature British rockers – my kind of lads. Richard, Keith and Mat, who said they were only here to have some fun, got lots of people to their feet with seamless covers of 'Jumping Jack Flash' and 'Highway to Hell'. Here was real quality.

Then finally Hold On, a superb rock blues group, with British Bev Calladine as vocalist, had their turn. Together with Stellio, Wilfrid and Pierre, she got everyone dancing again. Bev has a smashing voice.

The results weren't long in coming. Midnight Rider and Prism Break were the two semi-finalists, so after a short interlude they played again, each doing just two numbers. Prism Break seemed to have lost their edge this time round. The songs they played were good but not _really_ good. After their first session, I'd actually thought they might well win. However, Midnight Rider came up with the perfect combo of 'Born to Be Wild' and, the clincher, the Sex Pistols' 'Pretty Vacant' which they performed brilliantly. Now, over the years I've done my mother-daughter thing with Caiti and tried to pass on useful skills like knitting (little success), sewing (more enthusisam) and cooking (Caiti has way surpassed me there now). Last night it was time to do fulfil another maternal duty and teach my girl to pogo! She shows a lot of promise.

And so Midnight Rider triumphed. The right result. And it means they'll be back next year to open the show. I can't wait!

It was a great night at the Battle of the Bands. There was a good crowd, everyone had fun and I imagine we raised plenty of money for the 'La Maison des Parents' charity. My ears will ring for another few days I expect from the decibel overload, but who cares. I love rock music!

## Be Wise And Winterise

30.11.2010

Our summer visitors often ask: what are winters like here in central France? Simple answer – tough! They are long and cold and snowy, and this year's has started earlier than normal.

So here are some winterising tips for France. Here's what we do.

1. Fill the wood shed during summer or autumn at the latest. We either use our own wood or buy it in. It's cheaper to buy longer lengths of wood and cut them to size yourself. Useful tips – a _stère_ is one cubic metre and a _corde_ is 4 stères here in Creuse. This latter measure varies according to _région_ from 2.72 _stères_ in Vienne, to 4.4 in the Auvergne. The general advice is to buy wood in _stères_ , although this isn't an official unit of measurement either. It was established in 1800 but decreed to be outside the recognised system, although still legal, in 1966. In 1975 another edict said the _stère_ shouldn't be used after 1977. However, it's still here even though the International Committee decided it was ' _non-authorisée_ ' in 1996.

2. Put anti-freeze ( _antigel_ or _liquide de refroidissement_ ) in all vehicles that need it (i.e. anything with a liquid cooled motor).

3. Either set the heating to very low in unused buildings during winter (the gîte and the shower room in the barn) or drain the system to stop the pipes from freezing.

4. Set plenty of mouse traps indoors as the critters tend to move in when it gets chilly outside!

5. Put the summer clothes away and fill the shelves with warm clothes. We wear at least one extra layer in the winter. Believe me, you need it!

6. Always have at least one spare gas bottle handy for the catalytic gas heaters we use as emergency heating. Very effective.

7. Put sheets of the silver space age insulation material over all doors. It actually looks quite Christmassy while it cuts down heat loss and stops draft!

8. Close the shutters at night. It's one of those things you don't bother to do the rest of the year, but it's worthwhile in winter.

9. Move into one room during the daytime. We live in our lounge, with quick dashes to the kitchen to get meals. It's a bit chaotic since there are five of us and our cottage is small, but it's practical and economic and good for the planet. This is what gets me so mad when fuel and other prices are put up by the government to try and make us more energy efficient! Does Sarko huddle round the fire in one room all winter long? I don't think so, so he can stop accusing me of being profligate.

10. Stock up the larder and freezer to last out any periods of being snowed in, usually at least one week each winter.

We take a lot of winter measures with the animals too. Most of the llamas can get into shelter when they need, but Bernard and the two alpacas don't have access to a barn so we bring them into a stable at night. The goats come in too, although we've been assured they're OK outside down to minus 25! Somehow I don't think they'd agree with that. We stuff the guinea pigs cages full of hay so they keep cosy and feed our free-ranging poultry and rabbits extra rations.

They may be tough, but Creuse winters are often beautiful, always interesting and sometimes extremely eventful. For example, rescuing children stranded at _lycée_ because the school buses have stopped running, slithering home from a Christmas concert through a blizzard, walking the length of our big lake on the ice. And they're worth it for the equally long but beautiful summers we get in central France.

# December

## Comings Not Goings

2.12.2009

There are some comings going on here at Les Fragnes. The first one is Christmas, but of course that's coming everywhere! Santa is up on our gate and the first Christmas decoration has gone up in the house. Caitlin bought her two brothers Advent calendars with chocolates in (what a great invention) so _Avent_ is really being enjoyed by Ruadhri and Benj.

And the second coming is that Benj has come of age today. My first baby is 18 – wow. Poor old Benj is full of flu though, so is having a quiet, achey birthday at home. Caitlin came home from _lycée_ today to join in the family party tonight and that's a real gesture of love as she'll have to get up at 6am tomorrow morning to get the bus back to school. And Caiti hates early mornings.

Aisling of Les Fragnes (Windy's baby) is coming along well. She has her cosy coat at the moment and is only going outside for a couple of hours at a time. It's just too cold for a tiny cria. She gets bigger and stronger every day, and is fascinated by everything around her. She particularly likes trotting after the ducks and chickens. They're not so keen on it though!

We've just heard that our next consignment of carp for the lakes will be coming next week. We've waited a long time for them. Since the lake is usually frozen by Christmas, we were starting to have visions of having to make holes in the ice in order to get the fish in! We've finished removing the snags from the lake. We dropped the level so that we could pull the fallen trees and branches from out of the mud in the shallow end. It was muddy, squelchy work, but well worth the effort.

## Christmas Traditions

10.12.2010

Did you know that Christmas baubles are a French invention? Meisenthal in the northern part of the Vosges is where they began. This was an area famous for its glass making, with the combination of pure water, sand and wood. Every year the glass makers decorated their Christmas tree with apples and nuts. However, one year with bad harvests there weren't enough for the tree, so the glass makers made apples and nuts out of glass instead. They decided that these were better than the real things and used them instead from then on. And so the tradition of Christmas baubles began. Little by little the idea spread out of Alsace and now every Christmas tree is decorated with them.

Another French tradition, but one which has stayed within France, is the _bûche de noël_. In the olden days, the Christmas log was blessed at midnight mass and then burnt. Now known as the _Brandewidaowa_ , its ashes, full of marvellous properties, were carefully collected and kept until Epiphany, when they were scattered over the garden and fields. Nowadays, the _bûche de noël_ is French Christmas cake. It's a log-shaped, rolled sponge cake with a layer of cream and then iced. It comes in all sorts of flavours, and is usually decorated with a marzipan or meringue mushroom and plastic axe. Always delicious!

## Marking Christmas With Markets

11.12.2010

Nouzerines' _Marché de Noël_ (Christmas market) got underway this afternoon. Caitlin has been busy with it for a couple of months now, going down to the school on Saturday mornings to make Christmas decorations and other trinkets to sell on the _Comité des Fête_ 's stall. Benj went down to help one morning but was sent off to clear paths instead – he wasn't that impressed!

As usual, one of the first activities of the afternoon was the installation of the _crèche_ at St Clair's in Nouzerines. St Clair's hosts very few services now – such a shame as it is a beautiful Romanesque church. Every year there is a different theme – this year's is wool so Ruadhri did some sewing with wool on a swatch I'd knitted, and I took some baskets of alpaca and llama wool. Ruadhri read one of the meditations during the service. We were very proud!

Christmas markets like Nouzerines' are usually organised by the _commune_ and held in December. They sell Christmassy things and locally made or produced items. Nouzerines has a dozen craft stalls or so, with some really beautiful things.

_Marchés de Noël_ date back to the fourteenth century in Alsace. They were originally known as _Marchés de St Nicolas_. The very famous Strasbourg Christmas market ( _Christkindelsmärik_ ) began in 1570. This is probably the most famous one in France. Our Benj is thinking of going to Strasbourg University to do languages, starting next year, so that would mean we could get to visit when we pick him up at the end of Autumn Term. I've been wanting to go to the market since we came to France.

However, Nouzerines' _Marché de Noël_ may not be as famous, but it's a very enjoyable occasion that really brings the community together. And it marks the start of Christmas for everyone.

Bernard, our black llama, was under consideration to be _Père Noël_ 's companion this year when he comes to deliver presents to the children at the _Marché_. I spent an afternoon making him a festive blanket in case he was needed. But llamas aren't very happy with too much noise and excitement going on around them, so although flattered to be invited, Bernard decided he would be much happier munching hay at home!

## Christmas Concert And Lots of Snow

18.12.2009

Every year our big Christmas event is Ruadhri's Christmas concert. The three schools of St Marien, Nouzerines and Bussière St Georges get together and organise some festive fun. To be honest the first couple of years were a bit on the over-enthusiastic side and 'festive' and 'fun' were distinctly lacking. The totally secular concerts went on for rather a long while. The second one took the record – this was over four hours long. We had to slip out to go home to put the llamas away for the night, and then meet Benj and Caiti off their school bus from _Coll_ _è_ _ge_ , and when we got back to the hall, the concert was _still_ going on!

We're down to a perfect couple of hours now. And this year's had a new feature – _P_ _è_ _re No_ _ë_ _l_ arrived in a _caleche_ pulled by a little white Shetland pony. Through deep snow! The snow had begun in the morning, _quelques flocons_ (a few snowflakes) as France Méteo had predicted. But the _flocons_ kept on, and on, and on ... We watched it building up during the concert and it was a bit of a slithery drive home, but we made it safely.

This year at the concert there was a lovely mixture of songs, dances and poems. Ruadhri starred as a butterfly! A butterfly in wellies maybe, but a butterfly all the same! (I have no idea why Ruadhri hadn't changed out of his wellies that morning at school – he seems a bit vague about it too.) _P_ _è_ _re No_ _ë_ _l_ gave him a lovely dictionary and some sweeties. Rors was delighted.

Anyway, not long after we got back, Benj rang up from _lycée_ to say that they'd been told at the _Internat_ (their dorm) to try and get home tonight as a lot more snow was forecast for Friday. Chris and Caiti bravely set off to retrieve him, but had to turn back as the roads were too bad. We got Benj back next morning. He got a lift back with his friend whose Dad managed to borrow a 4×4. The school buses weren't running. Because of that there was no school for Ruadhri either. So the Christmas hols have started a day early, and rather chaotically. But we've had a great afternoon sledging and enjoying the snow.

## Limping Into 2009

31.12.2008

My seventeen-year-old son Benj was dithering about whether to go ice-skating with some friend from lycee.

"Go on," I told him over the phone. "You'll enjoy it."

So off he went, and at 10.30pm I got a call from the lycée infirmiêre telling me that Benj had been taken to the casualty department at Gueret hospital. Taking fourteen-year-old Caiti along as translator in case things got beyond my grasp of French, we drove through the dark and the snow for thirty miles to Gueret. It took us a few tries to find the way into the hospital, but soon we were reunited with our son and his very sore knee. I was so thankful that I'd finally got around to taking out top-up health insurance just a few weeks before, otherwise it would have been an expensive as well as a painful incident.

The hospital hummed with clean efficiency, and the staff were all very kind and helpful. Also patient, as I had to make a number of calls back to the casualty department over the following days to get copies of various forms that the _lycée_ decided it suddenly needed. The school nurse was my main point of contact. Her daughter had gone skating the same night as Benj, also as a result of maternal encouragement. "I'll make you laugh," she told me. "I had to take my daughter to casualty the next morning - she has a broken arm and a broken wrist!" So that's what a nurse's sense of humour is like!

Benj missed the last few days of school, including the Christmas dinner which he was very annoyed about! The brace on his leg meant it couldn't bend it so he couldn't dress and undress himself, or put his shoes on. We didn't feel it wise to leave him to the tender mercies of his two youthful roomies.

He's still strapped up, but in a less evil device now. We saw the orthopaedic consultant a few days ago. He doesn't think anything too bad has happened so has prescribed a course of physio and the new leg brace. I went into the _pharmacie_ alone, thinking the brace would be a sort of elastic bandage. Benj was tired from an afternoon of hobbling around and sore from the consultant's ministrations (i.e. seeing how far he could bend Benj's leg before he fainted!). The assistant rolled his eyes and explained that we needed my son to be here. So back out in the snow to fetch Benj. By the time we got back, the _pharmacie_ had filled to bursting. I felt the hatred of many eyes as we walked up to the desk past the long queue to continue the fitting process. Benj was measured up in public but taken into a backroom to be strapped up. I was quite relieved at not having to battle with his socks and runners in front of everyone.

So it's been a busy holiday. We had a list of 'heavy' jobs lined up for Benj to help his dad tackle over the hols, since he's a strapping teenager. Poor old mum has had to take his place instead! These mainly involve assembling concrete rabbit cages. Our good friend Rick Temple died far too young at the end of November and we have taken on his rabbits. We've been moving the cages a bit at a time from Rick's house to ours. They are fiendish contraptions. If it's possible to put one of the parts in the wrong way round first time, then that's what we've done. And when they weigh as much as an elephant, it's a lot of effort and the source of much grumpiness in sorting the problem out. I've also been busy keeping Benj supplied with endless tea and biscuits. Not surprisingly he's been a bit down. Usually he's chugging around Creuse on his scooter during the holidays seeing friends, but that's out of the question at the moment. He's been reduced to computer games and losing at Pokémon to his seven-year-old brother.

So he's limping into the New Year. Come to think of it, I feel like I am too. While enjoying life out here, it's certainly not without its stresses and challenges and occasional pitfalls. I constantly have a nagging worry that there's an important rule or regulation that, despite my best efforts, I haven't found out yet and which is lying in wait for us just round the corner. Hopefully I'm just being neurotic. 2009 will undoubtedly be as interesting and eventful as our last two years here - but I prefer to cautiously edge my way into it rather than leap enthusiastically.

## So That Was 2009

31.12.2009

New Year's Eve – time to look back on the last twelve months. Here at Les Fragnes we've had the usual ups and downs of everyday life. We've faced some unexpected challenges but we've also had some unforeseen bonuses too. There have been low points but wonderful high ones as well. The nicest things with the children have been Caiti starting _lycée_ and doing really well, Ruadhri settling into his new school happily too, and Benj landing a tough but well-paid summer job and then turning 18 this month.

On the animal front, Lulin's birth in March was brilliant, as was little Aisling's in November, although we had the sadness of losing her when she was just a fortnight old. Amélie the alpaca came to join us and Gabby battled back to health after her illness in the summer. We have restocked the lakes with beautiful, healthy fish, some of them enormous, and done a lot of work on the big lake.

We have moved into what was the _g_ _î_ _te_ and are in the process of transforming our old house into beautiful holiday accommodation. We had a swimming pool (a self-assembly one) for the first time this year, and had a fantastic sunny summer to make the most of it. Chris's surgery back in March seems to have sorted his knee out finally after years of problems with it. Plenty to be grateful for. And of course there was the excitement of being snowed in just before Christmas – I don't expect it will be the last time for this winter.

And as for 2010, well, one thing is certain. It won't be dull. We have the renovations next door to finish, miles of fencing to construct, a smallholding to increase (with pigs and broilers), German exchange students to welcome and, all being well, our busiest year yet with our _g_ _î_ _te_ , fishing and llama trekking.

Thinking back ten years to 1999 – we went to a candlelight church service on New Year's Eve in Innishannon Church (Ireland) to see the old millennium out. It was very moving. And it's made me realise just how much our lives have moved on since then. Ruadhri is here now, the biggest change by far! And we've moved to France in that time and started our new lives here. I'm kind of hoping the next ten years won't be quite as eventful ... but maybe I'll be disappointed if they're not!

Wishing you a great 2010.

## French Revolutionary Calendar

31.12.2010

Two hundred and five years ago today, the French Republican Calendar was abolished by Napoleon. It had come into being in late 1793. (It was briefly revived for 18 days in 1871!)

The new Republican Government that came into power after the Revolution wanted to sweep away as much of the _Ancien Régime_ as possible, and this included the calendar. So Charles Gilbert Romme got together a team to work one out. The team included chemists, mathematicians, astronomers poets and gardeners. Yes, gardeners. You'll see why presently.

The calendar was brought in retrospectively. It became active on 24 October 1793, and this was declared to be Year II of the Republic. If it's all starting to sound complicated already, you're right. This is French bureaucracy after all! Anyway, bear with me. Here are the main points.

Years were written in Roman numerals. The first year began 22 September 1792. The autumn equinox was New Year's Day effectively.

There were twelve months each divided into three ten-day weeks called _decades_. The tenth day, the _décadi_ , replaced Sunday as the day of rest. The extra five or six days to keep in line with the solar calendar were placed after the months at the end of the year.

Leap years were called _sextiles_ and the extra leap day every four years marked the end of the ' _franciade_ ', four year period.

Each day in the calendar was divided into ten hours of 100 minutes consisting of 100 seconds. So an hour was actually 144 conventional minutes long. However, this decimal time didn't really catch on and was suspended in 1795 although a few places kept using it until 1801.

The twelve months were given names based on nature, and from French or Latin roots mainly, and they predominantly reflected the weather conditions around Paris! They were: Autumn – _Vendémiaire_ (starting around the 22nd Sept, and meaning 'grape harvest'); _Brumaire_ (fog); _Frimaire_ (frost). Winter – _Nivôse_ (snowy); _Pluviôse_ (rainy); _Ventôse_ (windy). We're now up to Spring, so starting around 20th March was _Germinal_ (germination); _Floréal_ (flower); _Prairial_ (prairie, hay field). Finally Summer – _Messidor_ (harvest); _Thermidor_ (summer heat); _Fructidor_ (fruit).

The ten days of the week were much less imaginatively named. They were _primidi_ (first day), _duodi_ (second day), _tridi_ , _quartidi_ , _quntidi_ , _sextidi_ , _septidi_ , _octidi_ , _nontidi_ and _décadi_.

Instead of days having a patron saint associated with them, days with the date ending in 5 had an animal connected with them, days ending in 0 had a tool, and other days had a plant or mineral. Here's where our gardeners came into their own. For example, the 1st ten days of _Vendémaire_ had the following assocations: 1st – grape, 2nd – saffron, 3rd – chestnut, 4th – crocus, 5th – horse, 6th – impatiens (bizzie lizzie), 7th – carrot, 8th – amaranth, 9th – parsnip, 10th – vat.

The five (or six, in a leap year) complementary days were national holidays at the end of each year. Originally called _sans-culottides_ (without trousers!) they became known less imaginatively as _jours complémentaires_ after year III (1795).

So there are the bare bones of the Republican Calendar. I think it is utterly fascinating. Why not go Republican in 2011 and use a different method of marking time!

# A note from the author

I hope you've enjoyed reading about our experiences in France. Things are certainly never dull here! We came here in 2006 to change our lives, and we've definitely done that. Keep an eye out for _Heads Above Water_ , the first book about our ex-pat life, which is coming soon. The website for the book is here: http://www.headsabovewater.fr.

I've always loved writing. I wrote my first stories when I was about 7, all about Apple and Carrot! English was my favourite subject at school and I went on to study it at Oxford University. I did a postgrad degree in Publishing Studies and Stirling University and then began working as a desk editor. I took a few years out to be an accountant, but when we moved to Ireland from England in 1992, I set myself up as a freelance editor and indexer, and I've been doing that ever since. I'm married to Chris, have three children - Benjamin, Caitlin and Ruadhri - and since 2006 we've all lived in France on a 75 acre farm. We run a gite and carp and farm llamas, and also edit ebooks.

My first books were published in 1996. I have around 30 to my name now and I'm moving into adult fiction and non-fiction, as well as carrying on writing for children and young adults.

Follow my blog http://www.bloginfrance.com and find out about my other books at http://www.booksarecool.com. Follow me on Twitter too: http://www.twitter.com/@booksarecool23

Visit my Smashwords page here: <http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SJDagg>

