Carpet saga update

Back home nearly three weeks and I realise, belatedly, that I didn't finish this story.
Well, the fitters' shop is closed on Mondays so we only have the (innocent) carpet suppliers to rant at. Anyway, I tell them that we are definitely finished with the fitters and want them to suggest an alternative. This they do and we have a friendly call to the new guy who promises to come out and see the job. He comes when he says!!! He's friendly, realistic ("can't fit it in before you go, or I would be letting other people down"), likes email :).  We trust him. He'll email us a quote.
The pent-up anger has to wait till the shop opens on the Tuesday, but only Madame is there, very apologetic as usual, but our cheque is in the van with the boss. She assures us that, though unreliable, he is not a crook.  So next day we retrieve the cheque, and the day after take a wee chocolate gift to Madame for being so helpful and as commiseration for her redundancy - the firm is closing at the end of the month.
End of part one of the saga.
We've received the quote and hope to arrange fitting for May, a mere 18 months after the stairs were ready.

Allotments and farms and language methods

What else?

We've had a dinner party, the greatest success of which was my summer pudding. The first time I'd made it, and it looked magnificent, I have to say. We sat talking afterwards about books, audio books and various ways to improve learning French/English. Barbara reads books in English to understand the story, then listens to the audio book in French. I read the newspapers and go to every function I think may afford me the opportunity to talk to anyone French. Marie and I, Michel and Jon exchange sessions in one language or the other. But we often hear people who have lived here for years saying that they still have trouble following the news or films in French. I'm not sure if that's disheartening or encouraging!

Family gardens

I've spent an afternoon on a group bike ride in Carcassonne, along the banks of the river, visiting “les jardins familiaux” - what we would call allotments.

 One of the "cyclists",a keen gardener.

It was interesting to explore the river banks, which constitute a tranquil recreational area between the old walled city and the lower town. And to hear from the gardeners how their plots are managed. This event was organized by the CAUE, an official body concerned with preserving the architecture, environment and planning of the town.

From farm to farm

View over Saissac to the Pyrennees, on our way to the farms

Our most recent event, again in the company of Marie and Michel, was “De Ferme en Ferme”, an annual event which attracts hundreds of visitors to local farms, to see how they are managed and to taste their products. We visited a deer farm, where we were able to hear the rutting call of the stag.

The stag

He had a troupe of 44 adoring females and no competitors but he was still anxious enough to make sure of his 44 wives that he strutted round threateningly, bellowing occasionally. Then a goat farm where I made a friend for life by scratching a nanny goat's head.

Marie and Michel at the olive oil tasting table

Lunch at the château, and an olive producer afterwards. Did you know that olives have to be soaked in sodium hydroxide to make them edible?

Chance encounter and the Gaza pig

Chance encounter

We went to a concert given by 5 Czech sisters who played gypsy music on accordions, and fiddles, where we sat next to two English men. One looked familiar and turned out to be someone we met on our first night here in our new house. We went on a nocturnal walk in the mountains, leaving our bare house behind with the beds yet to be put together, and Ralph told us of his first morning in his new house, where he was woken by the speaker, mounted on the walls of his house just outside his bedroom, announcing LES BRITANNIQUES SONT ARRIVÉS. 

I've told the story many times so it was reassuring to meet the central character again and know that I had not imagined it.

The Gaza pig

Jon let himself be talked into going to see “Le Cochon de Gaza ”, a film in Arabic with French subtitles. We sat through the adverts and the trailers and then a film in Arabic with French subtitles. No pigs and nothing obviously Gazan, and we thought it might be a trailer, but after half an hour or so decided maybe it was just the wrong one. So we stumbled out of room 2 and into room 3 where there were plenty of pigs, and one of them dressed up as a sheep, (because pigs are impure to Muslims, of course – why did you ask?)

There's no end to the blunders you can make when you don't follow quite enough of what's going on.

The carpet saga

This still continues. We are now down to only 9 days left before returning. When I went in to complain on the Monday, Madame was on the phone to the boss so she handed the phone over to me. He assured me he would ring me back with a date for the fitting when he had access to his diary. Thursday we rang again and Madame said she would get someone to ring back. Late afternoon we went in to complain, having heard nothing and spoke again to the boss, who said he would come and see the job at 5.30. And he did!!! with two workers. They said they would do the job (which was supposed to be finished before the end of September) on Saturday Oct 1^st at the very latest. When I expressed doubt the boss said I could cut his throat if it didn't happen by then. Saturday Oct 1^st – no sign of anyone, no knife to cut the boss's throat with,the fitters shop is closed, so we go to the carpet shop to tell them that the fitters they recommend are rubbish. They ring the boss who tells us to go back and wait because they will be coming. But the carpet is still in the shop, which is about to close for the day so it's clear there's no possibility of doing the job today.

You'll have to watch this space (if you can be bothered) as the next instalment will be tomorrow when the boss has until 11 am to ring and tell us when it will be done! Why, I wonder, has my customary optimism deserted me?

UPDATE – it's Monday morning now, 10.50 and no phone call, so we're off shortly to try and retrieve our deposit cheque, as yet uncashed! Where's my kitchen knife????

I'm a star!

I had an email following up the citizens' choir which I took part in earlier this year. It invited members to go to Toulouse to record a CD destined to go on sale in time for Christmas. I feel a bit unworthy as I have not been to any events over the summer, but decide to go anyway and it's just as well. Of the 30 or so original members, only 15 turn up. The studio is a pretty professional one and for once the day proceeds without the long sessions of sitting round waiting to be called for. We're focussed and hard-working and it's interesting to see how it all works.

Because we're 15 instead of 30, the studio will double our part, so we record the same parts lots of times, they choose the best versions and make 15 voices into 30 or 45. Easy when you know how! We have a bring-your-own lunch (only 1 and a half hours!) with plenty of wine provided and get back at 6 pm.

We only recorded 2 songs (!) and the CD will cost €5. My question about who on earth is going to buy it was greeted with shock and surprise. Apparently it will be very popular. Well, I'll buy one.

The first fortnight.

I arrived in France on Monday Sept 5^th, met as usual at the airport by my kind neighbours, full of talk of the terrific storm of Saturday night/ Sunday. It rained so hard that the street drains couldn't cope and the water poured off our courtyard and down the steps into the cellar. There was 10 cms of water in the basement suite and garage. They had mopped up but everywhere was still very wet. Fortunately, the weather since has been hot and dry so everywhere is now aired. These are a couple of pictures from the local paper.

Several of you have inquired after Tom, whose briefcase was stolen from our car the night before we left in June. I spoke to him recently and he feels he got off lightly because he was in time to stop his cards and cheques. What he mourns most is the briefcase itself, which was his constant companion for more than 30 years.

I've had two lots of visitors from the U3A French group. One couple only spent a day with me

but the others have just gone on their way today after spending a week at the camp-site in the next village. We've done lots together and it seems quiet without them now.

One victory and one “work in progress” to report. I have finally got the van on French plates. Actually remembered to take not only the whole of the English log book (only brought the export slip last time) but also the mandatory ID and proof of domicile. Easy really – I don't know what all the fuss was about! And the total cost was €60 MOT, €250 registration charge and €32 for the plates.

But the other task is the carpet-fitting saga. And that is proving as difficult as ever. When we left in June, we had paid for the carpet and the suppliers had agreed to keep it for us till we got back. We had signed and put a deposit against the quote for fitting the carpet, and all we need now is a definite date for the fitting. But it's the usual story of the receptionist saying she's asked the fitter to ring us - “Oh, hasn't he rung you yet?” but no follow-up call. We've already lost 2 weeks so I'm going to bang on the desk on Monday morning. I could do with a whole new French vocabulary – how to get what you want in French.

I've been doing quite a lot of cycling, comme d'hab, as usual. Had to laugh at myself on one occasion. Last time he was out here, Jon managed to fall off his bike while stationary. He was astride it, turning round to go back and caught his foot somehow. He fell heavily and banged his head on the road. Hearing the story later, it was only the large bloody lump on his head that kept my sense of humour under control. So here's my own version. I had been shopping and had the panniers well stuffed when I needed to dismount to get over some rough ground. The bike has a cross-bar and I forgot I'd bought a broom handle which was sticking up out of the pannier behind me like an antenna. I only just managed not to fall off when my leg encountered the handle, and then nearly completed it by falling about laughing.

Other notable events have been two wonderful concerts near Quillan, part of the traditional music festival which takes place there every year. It's a long way though for an evening concert on my own. Because they always start late and insist on encores, I don't get back till half past midnight.

And I went out with Marie and Michel on a walk up on the Col de Sallettes on Wednesday. I was a little concerned as they said it would be 13km and I hardly ever go walking any distance, and they are younger and fitter than me. We drove up to the start, watching the temperature dropping as we went, from 25 to 16, so I was glad of my jacket to begin with. But the sun came out after an hour or so and it was a beautiful day. The countryside was very open, with patches of heather rather then trees, and the views simply magnificent. Michel is a great cook so the picnic was superb too.

And on top of that, we talked all day in both French and English, each of us learning a lot.

The final chapter - eventful departure

The night before we left the English class was followed by a knees-up at Tom (the English prof) and Dominique's. We gave Tom and Nicky a lift in our car to Tom's house which is situated just below the remparts of the old town.

Scene from Tom's garden

It's an idyllic situation with a lovely courtyard overhung by the illuminated walls and towers.

Dominique, Cecile, Tom, Nicky

So we had a great evening, but on returning to our car found a back window smashed and glass everywhere. Fortunately there was nothing of value in the back - evidently our coats were not worth stealing, nor our empty shopping bags.  However, it was still very inconvenient as, having to be at the airport at 9am, we clearly had no time to report it to the insurers and the next people hoping to use the car are non-French-speaking friends coming out on honeymoon.

So next morning we made sure our neighbours had a garage key in hope that we could arrange a repair at the house, and checked in for our flight. Shortly before boarding we were summoned to the information desk as there was someone wishing to speak to us.  It was Tom, asking if we had found the briefcase he had accidentally left in our car. He looked shocked when I said I hadn't and that the car had been broken into. His briefcase contained valuable items, so I only hope he is insured. We hadn't time to talk as the airline staff were anxious that Ryanair might not be able to play its fanfare (when you land on time, they play a rousing trumpet fanfare) so I hope he's OK.

We took off at 10.10am and arrived home at 3pm having achieved the whole journey from the airport by public transport, and free because we're that old! Bus to Leicester, Leicester to M Harborough, M Harborough to Rothwell and we walked up to Orton.


So there we are, closing the diary for now. See you all soon.

Last few days. Choir concert, Mad bands day, and a curious cake

The citizens' choir is committed to at least 2 more concerts but somehow they're going to have to manage without me because I'll be back in England. On Saturday we were part of a concert in Le Viguier.
After the rehearsal there was a meal provided.  Sylvie, who is always full of amusing stories (if I could only follow them) was once more the centre of attention when she realised, part way through her meal, that her plastic fork had two missing tines. Lengthy searching only revealed one of them so she thinks she must have swallowed the other!

The group La Grande Bouche who have been coaching us, once again started off the evening.  There were reported to be 2,500 people there and
The main act was Idir who sings Algerian songs, which most people seemed to know, as the area is a largely immigrant quarter.

Yesterday we went to Montreal which plays host to 9 brass bands over this weekend.  Its another high-energy event with bands marching round everywhere playing and dancing.

Elderly (deaf?) resident enjoying deafening rhythm band outside her window.

Pig playing saxophone

Pigs can smoke pipes and drink beer at the same time

.

The curious cake.
We went to say goodbye to the lovely old couple in Alzonne who sold us a car and now give us home-made jam and eggs and lessons on local traditions.  There always seems to be something new and this time it was Étriér, a strange thin crisp cake about 8 inches across and embossed with a picture of a local village church on one side and a church tower on the other. It's made from a batter of eggs and flour poured on to a hinged cast-iron double griddle, which is closed and then put on the fire till it's cooked. I loved it for the rustic look of the design. And the cake itself, which tastes faintly of aniseed.

Isn't it great?