How bizarre

Ambika's first day with us.  It's 5pm and she's dying on her feet having left home about 4 am, so I drag her out on a bike ride. The weather was glorious and we are pedalling along when we hear a man's voice singing a repeated phrase from over in the vineyards to our right. It's lovely and peaceful and then we hear a brass instrument on the left. We're getting nearer and nearer, and when we're very close to the music we see a track leading into the woods. Naturally, we head for the sound, pushing our bikes and wondering what we will find. 
Well, we found Michel playing his horn, with his white gloves on (naturally).

He didn't seem to mind us listening so I opened the conversation with (in my best French) "I suppose you are banned from practising in the house?" - my little joke! Very seriously he answered that he was allowed but that it was so much pleasanter out in the woods. We were loving the whole bizarre situation when he offered to play for us and suggested I video him.  So I did.

Electricity woes

On Thursday the power went off in the afternoon. We were expecting Patricia and Mike for dinner here later and had the meal all planned. As the afternoon wore on we went out and bought a couple of torches and began to think up alternative ways of cooking.  Sure enough we ended up toasting bruschettas individually over the gas ring (fortunately we have a gas hob) and browning the cheese with a blowtorch. 

Jon used his soldering blowtorch.

The roast potatoes became mash.

Mike's trying to figure out what on earth he's been offered while Patricia's admiring the electric lights in the house opposite.

During the course of the evening, Mike noticed that other houses in our street now had lights showing - it was just us who remained cut off.  The consolation was that it was very atmospheric eating by candlelight.

The next day I tried to ring EDF but failed the second instruction on the automatic answering system - I think they wanted some detail from my bill and all our bills are in England anyway. Finally got our neighbour Evelyne to ring for me and we discovered there was a second trip we had not known about.  Reset that and we had power again!  Feeling a bit stupid but relieved.

Now we were expecting the arrival of an Australian family we met in the hotel in Derby the night before our flight out. This time we planned a barbecue with oven-roasted potatoes.  They arrived at 4.30 and guess what?  Lights out again about 6pm.  Ah ha.  We know what to do now, don't we? Reset trip no.1, reset trip no.2 - no way. Both trips immediately turned off.  Our newly-made friends spent an hour or more trying to track down the fault, removing fuses and pulling plugs but the trips simply wouldn't reset.  So another scratch meal by candlelight. More mash. At least this time we had two appreciative young children who thought it a great adventure going round a strange house by candlelight and torchlight.  But two guests sleeping downstairs couldn't use the toilet, shower or basin, as the waste water has to be pumped out and the pump's electric.  Poor things were on a big, but rapid European trip and had hopes of showers and hair straighteners, phone charging and WiFi but EDF said Non!

Our unlucky Aussie guests enjoying the daylight next day

We tried the trips again before they left and then rang EDF again.  This time I managed the automatic questions better but the result was that the fault lay in the house, not with EDF.  Managed to get an electrician to call at 11, and the darn trips obediently reset! So it's a mystery.  And remains so, as the power has stayed on since.

Now the next problem to tackle is my Carte Bleue which the machine ate and the bank can't send the replacement to me as their system says there is no no.5 in our road.  The bank says we don't exist so we have to have it sent to the same long-suffering neighbours.  Only it hasn't appeared yet, after nearly two weeks and we're beginning to fear it may have gone to England instead!

On the trail of the Visigoths

For a week or more, Patricia, whom I know from Thursday French, and Mike have been camping on the site at Villegly, the next village to ours and we have been spending some time together.  Three of us went on a walk called Sur les traces des Wisigoths last week. In a local village near the start of the walk, we were accosted by a very enthusiastic man called Louis who had uncovered thousands of artefacts locally and created a museum to exhibit some of them.  He insisted that our walk to a necropolis of some 44 visigoth graves would be incomplete without a visit to his museum.  We were to call at his house on our way back and he would come and open up and give us a guided tour.
The graves are very impressive, dating from the 5th or 6th century and resting, as they mostly do, with their open mouths at ground level. There are large ones and small ones, and just so many it's astounding.

The largest, the sarcophagus from which now rests outside the museum

Mike and Patricia inside the church of Notre Dame de Lauzes

After the walk we stopped by Louis' house and he rushed out excitedly to tell us all about his findings. There was no end of fragments of Roman pottery and brooches, pins, door hinges made of bone (using the hole up the middle) and jewellery.

There were many amphora about one metre tall, used for selling wine and several miniature ones about 25 cm tall.  These rested in the neck of a full-size one and contained a sample for sales purposes.

 A pile of Roman coins was accompanied by an anecdotal tale of an old man who had discovered a treasure trove of coins which he kept in a large urn, and gave a handful each to three village women. I didn't gather how this particular handful came to be in the museum - it was hard to keep up as he was desperate to tell us as much as possible in a short time.

Heritage weekend

The first weekend we were here was Heritage Weekend, apparently a European event, though I don't think I've noticed it in England. All manner of buildings and artifacts are open which are not normally accessible and many paying ones are free. We went to Montolieu on the Saturday where there were loads of craft stalls and workshops. Among the most impressive was a conglomerate of local blacksmiths working on a joint artistic design.

One of the two design boards

They had five furnaces going and a design chalked on wooden boards.

The communal forge

Each wrought iron piece was worked on separately, holding it periodically against the drawing to check the curves were accurate.

Checking the curve

It was a weekend's work so we didn't see the finished article unfortunately.

On the Sunday we went to Malves, the next village to us, where the chateau was open exceptionally. Only last month when a plaster ceiling was removed, a wonderful painted wooden ceiling was revealed, as fresh as new and dating from the 17th century.

Here you can the fleur-de-lys some of which were painted over.

The circle is symbolic of the countryside and the square of industry.

There were other painted ceilings also and even frescoes on the walls of an attic room.
Interestingly, on the most recently discovered and best ceiling, the guide pointed out rough green painted patches in places, which date from the revolution and covered up fleur de lys decorations as symbols of the discredited aristocracy.

Later we visited a tiny roadside preRoman chapel with frescoes on the walls but in a sad state of disrepair. Often when attention is drawn to such things, the most important first step is to repair the roof to prevent further damage and it often stops there for lack of funds.

The little chapel with its lovely new roof

Ancient wall frescoes