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| A rainy day in Montignac |
Since we've been home, & since we had so little sun on our holiday, we've been debating another holiday before too long. There is an urge to go back to France. The Fox fancies Burgundy or Alsace. I'm fancying the Camargue or the Sologne. I've looked up a few places, found a few possibilities, but now we're back to the old problems, plus a few new ones.
The new ones are that we've now planted all these vegetables. If we leave them untended they are not going to flourish. The tomatoes, potatoes, green beans & peas all need regular watering, feeding & harvesting at the appropriate time. If we're away, that won't get done. Any harvest will be minimal. I see places with vacancies in the more north of France, even in July & August. The weather is likely to better then, the temperature higher. But there's those veg. I think, in all honesty any holiday will have to wait until the end of August, if not September.
The anxiety over my benefits still remains. They are due for renewal next month. I've still not received any forms to fill in which presumably means I will continue to receive the money until I do get one & they've had chance to come to some decision on it. But it also means I'm reluctant to be away for long as the forms will need filling in fairly promptly when they do arrive. But that could be any time, even September.
No, immediately the only time I can see us getting away is for a weekend, somewhere in England, or possibly Scotland or Wales. I just hope we get some sun in this country soon. Today we're back to rain. It was forecast for snow once more in Scotland. Is the summer never to arrive?! I distinctly feel the need for a sustained spell of blue skies & some warmth on my skin - the former for my spirits, the latter for my physical well-being.
I've finished my jigsaw of Constable's "The Haywain". I have to confess it's made me appreciate the picture more.
As a schoolgirl, I once went to a French school while I was staying with my French penfriend in the suburbs of Paris. The English teacher, herself a Frenchwoman, wanted to take advantage of me as an authentic English speaker. One class I read a passage for them to take down as dictation. In another I had to answer their various questions about England, English life & what I found different in France. Among other questions I was asked was who I considered the best, most typical, English artist & name a painting by that person. I chose Constable's "The Haywain" as I thought it captured something very English. I still think so. The teacher was a fan of Turner.
Anyhow, back to the jigsaw. While you are doing a jigsaw, you inevitably look at the image in great detail.
While doing this I grew to appreciate the fact that the sky behind the trees was not the usual simple wash. In parts blue peers through the leaves, in other more grey-white. The clouds billow from dark rain-filled to white in clear blue sky - something we seemed to have a lot of since we returned home - yet the transition from one to the other is subtly done. I noticed, too, a gentle breeze must have been blowing, just turning some of the leaves up to reveal their silvery undersides.
I found a certain pathos in the curve of the back of the driver of the haywain, a strength in the great horses pulling it, humour in the spaniel running alongside the stream with a stick in its mouth.
I discovered, too, the fisherman sat in the midst of undergrowth on the right hand side of the picture. And what's that in the water near the boat in front of the fisherman? A float from the rod? A bird diving?
On the left, near the cottage, a woman stoops down, her arm in the water. Is she washing? Or just collecting water?
Then there's the other man on the haywain, his arm outstretched. Is he calling to the dog which is looking his way? Or is he trying to attract the attention of the woman? Or is he just pointing something out to the driver of the haywain? Or is he trying to verbally encourage the horses to move on?
Questions, questions, so many questions. I feel a simple jigsaw has made me see so much more in the painting, given me so much food for thought trying to answer so many questions. A very satisfying experience. Over forty years on, I still remain a fan of John Constable, though I have grown to appreciate the work of Turner more than I did, all those years ago.
As the Fox mentioned in his recent blog, while on holiday in France, among other things we visited the Musee de Medecin at Hautfort.
As you can see, downstairs, life in the wards were brought alive. There you saw drills used to bore holes in your head, saws for cutting off limbs, all done without anaesthetics - a truly horrific thought. I'm surprised anyone survived the operation - certainly not something done except when essential.
The most disturbing sight though, to my mind, was the dummy dressed as the plague doctor.
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| The Plague Doctor |
I should think he was a very troubling sight when you were sick, feverish, probably delirious. Just imagine what it must feel like to have this pointed white cone of a mask, topped with its great black hat, peering down at you. I should think you would wonder if you hadn't already died & in some sort of hell or courtroom to decide whether hell or heaven was your rightful place.
Upstairs there were sections on dentistry,
scientific discovery, surgery & anaesthesia. Unfortunately I could not get upstairs to these sections, but the Fox took some pictures so I could have an idea of what was there.
Downstairs was also the hospital chapel. The hospital was nursed by nuns, so this chapel would have been the centre of their spiritual life. The chapel is still in use, though these days it is only used for weddings.
Altogether it was an interesting visit. It even had free entry. It was certainly out of the rain, a blessing indeed this holiday.
Now we are most definitely home. We settled down to our first roast dinner - lamb as it happens. I couldn't help thinking there's something quintessentially English about the roast. And yet why should this be? After all, putting a bit of meat, fish or fowl, on a spit over a fire must be one of the most basic methods of cooking, known by earliest man once he'd discovered fire. And yet, too, I know nowhere that does a roast in the way the English do, except that is in former colonies where the English took their roast dinners with them.
I suppose the French do do their roasts but they end up tasting totally different from the English version. I can't explain the difference. Even in these days, when many English people add other flavours, garlic, spices, herbs etc to the basic joint, the meal still remains English. Indeed yesterday our version had garlic & rosemary added to make it a little different.
I suppose part of it is that we have a tradition where good quality meat at reasonable prices was readily available, unlike in some countries where it was well out of the range of the ordinary working man. And you do need a good quality of meat for a roast. The success of the dish depends on it. But maybe this availability means that we, the cooks of old England have kept in practice. Whatever the reason, it remains a mystery & a wonder.
While the salt marsh lamb was in the oven, we hastily got the tomatoes planted up. At the moment they are in a covered area. We suspect it is rather cold at night for such tender plants. I've duly gone out this morning & rolled up the cover so they can enjoy the milder daytime temperatures. The cover will come down again this evening. Today the Fox is hoping to get a few other veg, some peas & beans,planted out, weather permitting while I get on with bed-changing & sorting out the washing. He will be in charge of dinner as I will want to just collapse when I'm done.
I think we're about on top of the chores from the holidays.
Wednesday afternoon we got to the garden centre. Now the Fox is ready with compost & tomato & other plants. Unfortunately the rain came yesterday so, at the moment, all remains to be done. The plants are sitting on the patio wall during the day, coming inside at night as it is still very cold at night. However, this morning, it has stopped briefly at least. I've hastily planted out some chervil in the herb garden & had a general tidy up in the front. I'd love to tidy up the bog garden & add some extra bark we bought to discourage the emerging weeds. However, the bog garden is not a bog at the moment. It's more of a lake!
I managed to get all the ironing done yesterday so that task is done for this week.
In the afternoon we ventured down to the library. It's ages since I last looked around a library for general fiction. I've been to look up specific info but that's it. For years the Fox did the library hunt while I did the food shopping. And a very good job he did of it, too. Since I've become disabled & unable to do the food hunt by myself, we've just abandoned the library & depended on our own bookshelves for reading matter. Of late the Fox has also downloaded some out-of-copyright books on the net.
It's a strange sensation being surrounded by so many strangers, authors I've never even heard of. Our local library is a very small library so the range of book is rather limited. There seem few of the classics. Most of the books seem to be written by authors post my regular library days, many of them in the Aga saga genre. There is a section specifically on crime & a very small sci-fi section. Still it ought to be fun discovering new books & authors.
Having finally got on top of things, after dinner last night, I let go of the adrenalin that was keeping me going & collapsed into bed before 8pm, not to arise again until 7.30 this morning. I've a quiet day ahead as the Fox has already prepared a paprika chicken & chorizo meal, ready to be warmed up later. I'm looking forward to it.
While
we were at the library I also got a couple of jigsaws out. So I'm off to put
together Constable's "The Haywain". I expect to be lost in dark foliage
& rolling clouds.
The time has come to say a little about our holiday. I'll start today with a few general comments. Once our pictures are out of the camera & in the computer I'll maybe write about some of the specific places we visited.
Undoubtedly the dominant feature of the holiday was the weather. It was wet, very wet. The first week it rained every day. And I mean rained, not light showers in between bright spells. The only break from the rain seemed to be a brief couple of hailstorms. The second week didn't start off much better. Eventually we had a couple of sunny days. By the third day the day started well but clouded over, returning to torrential rain by the evening.
All this rain had a dramatic effect on our holiday. Much of the time was enforced idleness as we hadn't gone prepared with fully waterproofed clothing. It meant we had to resort to indoor places to visit, or at least predominantly indoor attractions.
The fields around us were soon lakes, especially once the rivers started to flood their banks. I had thought we might have had one of the river boat trips along the Dordogne. However, when we turned the corner of the bend to where the boats were moored, we soon discovered the ticket office was 100 yards or so across a lake, let alone getting to the boats. Admittedly we were rather sceptical about the possibility of a boat trip when we had seen how swollen the river was & how fast its current. Certainly no one was attempting any canoeing in the rivers in the region despite it being a very popular past-time - far too dangerous, I would think, for all but the most experienced canoeists.
It also meant on those few good days we ended trying to pack an enormous amount in, rather than spreading our activities over the fortnight. I suspect that is partly the reason we are so tired now. We did so want to see the most exciting bits, which also happened to be the furthest from where we were staying. Still it says something that the Fox even managed so much driving in so short a time, day after day, though he is paying the consequences now.
Ryanair proved far better than we feared. With having to print boarding passes before you went to the airport, & many people opting for just hand luggage, it did mean the queues for checking in were much shorter, & therefore, quicker. Although we weren't allocated extra legroom, as is usual for disabled passengers, there was more room than on some aircraft. The flights were prompt. We even got back to Liverpool early!
The property itself was remarkably accessible. I say that because we've stayed at so many where it has been essential to be able to walk a bit at least. The rooms were spacious with plenty of turning room for wheelchairs. The bathroom had grab rails & a walk-in shower with a proper wheel-in shower chair, the toilet grab rails & a frame around it. Great!
Our hosts, too, were very welcoming & hospitable. They provided a welcoming back of food, including homemade bread, two bottles of wine, cheeses & a large box of English teabags - in France it is almost impossible to buy boxes of more than 50 teabags, the French preferring tisanes (herbal teas). When they discovered it was the Fox's birthday while we were staying, they gave him a bottle of Saumur sparkling wine to celebrate with.
Our biggest niggle with the property was the heating. The place hadn't been heated up since it was last used, at Christmas. With such a long period of emptiness it felt cold & damp. The only heating was a small electric oil-filled radiator, a heated towel rail in the bathroom, & a wood-burning stove. So we had to grips with the wood-burning stove if we were ever to get warm.
After the first couple of days we finally managed to work out how to load it, adjust the ventilation etc to keep it going 24 hours a day. Only then did the property really start to warm through. We remain convinced, though, wood-burning stoves are not something we would ever give houseroom to. They seem to necessitate so much work. Logs have to be brought over. The glass front seems to need cleaning most days. The ashes need emptying. When you open the door to add more wood, half the time smoke billows out, impregnating your clothes & spreading ashes all around. Even the need to keep adding more fuel regularly necessitates a certain keeping your eye on it, especially when you are just first lighting it or trying to revive it in the morning. No it's too much hard work for us. Give us our gas fire & central heating any day.
The other problem with the property was the distance to the nearest shops, bars, restaurants etc. In theory it was 7km to the nearest amenities. I think they must measure the distance by how the crow flies, not as the country lanes twist. It seemed nearer 7-10 miles! A fact we were convinced of, when later in the week we noticed the roadsigns stated the same distance even though we had been on the road 10 minutes or so already. When we were younger, & healthier we wouldn't have thought twice about these distances. But now, we are older, & not in the best of health, it seems a long way to go just for a loaf of bread. And in France you do need to go & buy your baguette on a daily basis. They just don't keep very well.
Being right in the midst of a maze of country lanes, often unsigned, meant that there were no street lights. Again not a problem if it's your home & you are familiar with the way. But when you are a stranger, & it is pitch black by the time you are ready to return after an evening meal, it is a bit worrying. It wasn't until we were confident of finding our route to and from the bigger roads without a map that we felt we could hazard staying out late.
As
a result, between the distance & the darkness, we didn't eat out as often as we'd hoped. It was
easier instead to stay at the property & make a quick salad, a quick bit of fish, a
risotto, something easy to do.
Despite all the problems that came with the holiday, it was on the whole a relaxing experience. It probably did us good, though at the moment we're still feeling the backlash of those last few busy days there, the 5am start to drive back to Bergerac airport, flight & long drive back from Liverpool to here. I'm telling myself, give us a few days to recover, & we will bounce back. At the moment we're still rushing around catching up. Washing's done but not yet ironed. The larder's been restocked. The seed potatoes have been planted though we could do with a trip to a garden centre for more compost, bark, tomato plants etc. We've just about got around to responding to the mail while we've been away - bills paid etc. We've done a bit of catching up with the news, communicated with friends, even seen some, discovered our neighbour Dave is once more back in Blackpool hospital with complications, found out one friend had an overnight hospital stay while we were away & his wife has been celebrating her 60th birthday as best she can in the circumstances. Life goes on & we will soon be able to relax again, and enjoy the blossoms on our fruit trees, the first emerging leaves of the nasturtium seeds I planted before we went away just popping through the soil, appreciate our avian visitors, & feel the benefit of our holiday.
Roll on.
We're home! At the moment we're very weary & rather shattered.
We actually got home on Saturday afternoon. So far, time has been spent recovering from the rather harrowing return journey. It took us nearly an hour to cross through Lancaster, the Bank Holiday traffic was so horrific.
Since then it's a case of trying to get on top of things, the mounds of post & of washing. Today will be the food shop. We've hardly got any fresh veg in the house. Fortunately we had a couple of largish potatoes in which we had yesterday. Sunday was pasta day & Saturday was a quick trip to the chippy. We couldn't face the Bank Holiday supermarket crowds so we've left it as long as we could.
Instead, yesterday we popped off to the Pub, partly to see PD again & partly because the Fox always appreciate some good old fashioned English bitter beer, even if the price has gone up in our absence. There's nothing quite like English bitter in France. They only seem to do the lager type.
At the moment it's almost too soon to evaluate the holiday. We're just too tired.
And I've had trouble with the computer already today. I started by updating my freezer contents file to discover the file had disappeared somewhere. Just what I needed! I have managed to refind it though I still don't understand what happened.Then I tried to send birthday greetings to our dear friend in Harrogate. I'm just hoping I found the right e-mail address. Now I'm having to contend with this new format blog site, while I'm not even really thinking straight!
Still I just wanted to reassure you all that we are safely home, even if I'm drained & aching & the Fox is also drained with his leg & hand playing up. A few days of quiet will no doubt rectify the situation. When it does I'll tell you more.
