Trouble with my waterworks

If you think I've been a bit on the quiet side lately, you're right, but I have my excuses! Things have been a bit hectic work wise with a few days away and home wise with some fairly hefty (by my standard) jobs.

It started about three weeks ago when I flushed the vortex on the pond, or to be more accurate, didn't. Its not a big job, just climb down into the filter compartment, pull the gate valve wait a minute or two and then shut it. Sometimes if I'd left it a bit too long the accumulated muck (fish poo, leaves, drowned twigs, etc.) would block the entrance to the waste pipe and I'd have to either work things free with a stick ( the vortex is 5 feet deep) or shock suck the wedge of leaves through by opening and closing one of the other waste valves on the filter chamber.

Anyway this time the water didn't flow. Opening and closing the other valves didn't help and what's worse, they didn't flow to waste either. This could only mean one thing, there was a blockage in the pipe.

The waste pipe runs under the patio (it would be a terrase but we are in England) and one of my design flaws in the pond pipework which I knew sooner or later would come back to haunt me was the lack of facility to rod the drain. Oooops.

So I skillfully played Card 1 - do nothing and perhaps it will sort itself out. Sort of rot down in the pipe and gently clear, after all it was probably frogspawn or something and its all biodegradable so lets let it biodegrade. Well it sounded plausible after a couple of beers. So I left it a couple of weeks.

Anyway I had another go with the waste valves last Saturday and......no such luck. With something of a huff I decided to leave one of the filter chamber valves open on Sat night. Perhas some constant pressure would help and I'd hear the pump, etc. if it cleared and started drainig the pond.

After a sound night's sleep I awoke on Sunday to a cup of tea in bed and a strange sound from the garden.

The Pond.

Leaping into my Marigolds, oh and some clothes I rushed out expecting to find it half empty but it wasn't! The pond was full, the filters half empty and the filter chamber half full , with the pump sucking air as it vainly searched for water and all the electricts within an inch of beong submerged. Not good.

Maybe the drain was still blocked and something else was wrong......and it was.

A huge wadge of twigs moss and leaves had blocked the flow from the vortex to the filters. Presumably part of the flushing problem. That was easily removed and the flow resumed. But it was A Sign, I had to sort the pond out, and that meant cutting a section out of the drain pipe, rodding it and putting it all back together,

So, by opening time on Sunday I was at our new B&Q looking for 2 inch pipe couplings. They don't sell them. 2 inch pipe is obviously passé and everyone uses smaller or bigger metric stuff. Except of course, me.

Then with a flash of inspiration I bought a roll of duct tape and a plastic clamp. Back home I sawed the pipe through stuffed my pipe snake thing down it and was greeted by the foul mess blocking the pipe. Half a hour later all was taped up and working fine, although I was a bit smelly.

Then I looked at the decking and thought it needs a scrub off. Brush and hose was too much like hard work so out came the pressure washer.

Then I looked at the fliters and they were disgusting as well. Flushing them had not done the trick so I spent a not very happy couple of hours cleaning the brushes and half the Japenese matting. If you've ever cleaned a pond filter, you'll know what a joy that was!

Jean insisted I ate lunch outside for reasons that are beyond me bt the sun was out and also dried the decking giving me the opportunity to give it its annual painting.

Jean tells me we went for dinner down at our local Chinese, but I really don't remember.....

That was my lovely sunny Bank Holiday Sunday.

Still I'd earned a few hours off to go fishing on the Monday.......except it rained all morning, so I put the decking back in place in the rain and some gardening in the afternoon between showers.

What else would you do on a Bank Holiday weekend?

The good news is I got to go fishing today and ...you need to sit down for this.....actually caught not one but two brown trout, (both safely returned) using a little Grifiths Knat which I tied myself.

What can I do with a leftover carrot?

Even if its cooked, a leftover carrot can be fun.

Well perhaps that is overstating things a bit, but you can at least use them and even make something quite tasty. Over the years, I have to admit to having generated quite a lot of leftover carrots, potatoes, beans, leeks, and the odd cold brussel sprout........

One of the great joys of being on holiday is that it forces you to improvise in the kitchen. No longer can you rely on the same old stuff..its Tuesday so its....routine. Each day is a culinary adventure, especially as you get towards the end of your stay and Eating Up becomes the order of the day.

And so many years ago we found ourselves with a load of cooked and uncooked but definitely un-eaten vegetables, half a ton (sorry tonne) of cheese plus a packet of lardons fumé in the fridge, all facing extintion the next day when we were due to head home, and so it was that Veg Gratin (pronounced vej gr-rat-an with a stressed chef untill he's the right side of half a bottle of
cooking sherry).

So how do you make this culinary masterpiece? Simple really...

First you take a selection of veg..whatever you have will do

Note the mystery ingredient in the glass...(hint, you don't put it in the cooking).

Chop your veg up and put the oven on to warm up and a pan of water on to boil. If the veg are cooked leftovers, forget the pan.

Par-boil the slower cooking veg - the main cooking is in the oven but for veg that need a bit of boil time like swede and potatoes, you need to get them 2/3 of the way in boiling water whilst other stuff - broccoli, peas, french beans, etc., you can leave raw. The trick here is to balance the cooking of the veg so when you've finished the dish all are to your liking.

Whilst the veg are cooking you need to make the sauce. Fry up some smoked bacon (or pancetta if you're posh) in a saucepan and maybe some garlic, etc. when browned turn the heat out, allow to cool a bit and then knock up a mix of Delia's white/béchemal sauce in the pan with the bacon, to which I always add the first of my 2 mystery ingredients....

Yep... I put mace in my white sauce. You only need a pinch - maybe 1/8 teaspoon - but it just adds a little something that goes with a cheesy sauce so well. Since I fancied it I also chucked some smokey paprika on the bacon bits as they fried this time.

Having tried this "recipe" (its really more a method) with lots of different cheeses, the best for this kind of thing its got to be Reblochon. Its a bit like Brie but has its own mild creamy cheesy flavour, and it cooks wonderfully.

Luckily I just happened to have one to hand!

You can add as much or little cheese to the sauce as you like at this stage. Make sure your veg are not cooked to death by the time your sauce is ready. If you've any doubt, make the sauce then put the veg on.

When they are ready drain the veg well and artistically dump them in an oven proof (daft phrase) dish. Its better if the veg really don't carry much water at this stage so drain well and remember timing here is important e.g. the broccoli is still raw at this stage, it'll get all the cooking it needs in the oven.

Pour the sauce all over the veg and add some slices of Reblochon and if you like, tomato or whatever - choriso works well. Art is important here, so take your time arranging - sorry I meant dressing the dish .....


Then into the oven for 20 - 30 mins and.....hey pretso, diner is served!!!

Easy, innit? Who says they can't cook?

There again, not always

I've been having a bit of a debate with myself recently - which in itself is a challenge cos not only am I always right but I tend to challenge stuff that doesn't immediately stack up, so it all gets a bit frustrating. I mean its hard when you are arguing two different points of view and you know both are both right and wrong at the same time and so need to convince yourself that you really are right....or half left.

Anyway what was I talking about?

Going to work. Not a pretty subject so no photo's. Sorry.

I have a choice of transport. For the last 10 years or so I've split the year in two travelling differently during Greenwich Mean Time and British Summer Time.

In the summer I commute the 16 miles on a motorbike, whilst in the dark nights of the winter I've taken the rather less convenient approach of getting Jean to give me a lift to the station, train and walk.

Then last year after much soul searching I bought a little car, largely so I could go fishing without marooning Jean, and justified it by saying I could use it in the winter to get to the station (or as near as you can park without paying £6.50 a day) so saving her a lot of dashing about, etc.

I don't like the train - its horribly crowded and the people push and shove and get cross and frustrated, etc. Whats worse is half of them don't buy tickets and all in all its pretty miserable. Add to that the new "improved" service introduced a few months back which improved things by making the trains a lot smaller and not having all of them stop at our station!!!! But the good news is you can get to London 10 minutes quicker (so in just under 2 hours) if you are unfortunate enough to have to go there. That said the trains have been reasonably reliable this winter.

So as Spring approached I started thinking oh goody, time to get the bike out.

But I haven't.

Because its just such hard work.

Let me tell you about the average ride to/from work. Its 16 miles and includes..... a mere 38 sets of traffic lights and about 10 miles of dual carriageway and another couple of miles of unrestricted main road.

There are 8 sets of lights between the edge of Chesterfield and the start of the Chesterfield bypass(?!!!) (about a mile). The traffic is heavy but generally I can ride past the queueing cars without too many incidents. Then off up the bypass (another set of lights on the first island) and round another too big and dangerous roundabout and onto the Dronfield bypass where the lunatics amongst us think it clever to drive at 3 figure speeds just because they can't get out of bed, etc. Then we hit the real traffic on the way into Sheffield. Huge queues of some very angry people and traffic lights every few yards. Yes there's about 30 sets in not much more than a couple of miles.

Entertaininly Sheffields transport policy states that because they cannot make public transport a viable alternative particularly in terms of journey times and convenience, they have decided to make private transport slower, less convenient and more costly to make public transport a more competitive alternative. Not a very Green approach but then its Sheffield.

So perhaps you can see one of the reasons why I want to retire to France....the roads really are like Simon says. Its true that if I was retired I wouldn't have to commute, but the traffic and importantly the angst of those caught up in it, is terrible all day long. From LGP you've got to drive a long way to find a traffic light - Loches or Chatellerault - both a good 20 miles away.

So anyway, no final decisions or anything but I'm still using the train despite the expense and inconvenience, but I suppose the exercise is doing me good. Just goes to show, Sheffields policy may not be popular, but it works!

Ho hum, I'm getting old!

Mornings Can Be Fun

Believe it or not, mornings can be fun, despite having to get up at some ridiculous time. the routine is, alarm at 6:30, shower and up in time to take Lulu out by 07:00 for a run around (her not me, I'm too old for that kind of thing).

[Note for new readers: Lulu is a dog, not just any dog, but a Standard Poodle, not that there's anything standard about her. And she's only 9 months old, so should be calming down in another ten years].

I digress, the purpose of this blog is to show you some snaps I took last week on our morning strolls through the woods in the beautiful countryside we are lucky enough to have on our Derbyshire doorstep.

First we walk through a couple of fields with some open views......

Then over the style......

Fabulous photography eh? Actually it took weeks to train Lulu to stay still in mid air like that. If only she'd do it sitting down in the house...

Through the first wood where the bluebells are out

Then across another field and into the woods on its left........

For a run and sniff amongst more bluebells and wood anenomies.

You'll notice that its real wild woodland, with a big mix of trees, flora, etc. and not just conifers (or anything else) planted in neat rows.

Its a great way to start the day. Almost makes it worth getting up....except of course I then have to go to work - assuming I can catch Lulu!

More Decorating

A man's work is never done, partly because we never know what to do next. Or First for that matter!

In our little chateau, like all french chateaux we have some questionable wallpaper, which is really surprising.

The stairs ceiling and wall where its not wood clad has been carefully papered with what Jean likes to refer to as chinese restaurant wallpaper.

Whats more the bedroom is done in a pink birds in a cage floral type of theme.

Now it is france so perhaps not that surprising, particulalry considering it was probably done in the 70's, but bearing in mind the shower room was not even undercoated

not to mention the kitchen,

I find the loving care with which the paper was obviously put up with, a bit of an oddity. Still at least its there.

Question is, now what do I do?

What's Wrong With My worms

When I first met Alex he was wearing a fisherman's shirt. I can't remember the name emblazoned on it (half the time I can't remember my own so its not that surprising) however I rcognised it and therefore him as a fellow fisherman.

Well thats not exactly true.

Alex actually is a fisherman, I'm more of a bloke with fishing tackle.

Anyway we've promised each other (or to be more precise, suggested to our wives) that we go fishing and after much merging of schedules over the months, Easter Sunday was the appointed day.

So on arriving in LGP I hurried down to the florists/garden store/gun shop/fishing tackle suplies shop (its important to have more than one string to your bow) and purchased my 2009 Permis de Peche, duly filled out in triplicate and embelished with my photo and inside leg measurement in traditional french style.

Due to logistics I was appointed Bait Monitor and so acquired a quantity of astigots and ver de terres (trust french maggots to have a fancy name) for us both. So we'd would be using the same bait.

Sunday came and off we set, Alex wit a rod, coupe of bits of tackle in a small bag and a stool, me with the entire contents of Fishing World stuffed in a huge bag and nothing to sit on.

After half an hour Alex caught my usual prey...an anchovy. It might not actually have been an anchovy, but it was the right size.....I of course caught nothing.

Time passed without stopping to say hello and so we moved to my favourite hot spot, where Alex caught 3 trees to my two. Suddenly I was feeling encouraged, perhaps I'm not that bad at this after all..........

So we moved again to a lovely spot on the river down by the station. We changed tactics from astigots to ver d terres and chucked our tackle in as they say.

Alex caught 3 proper fish whilst I caugh a leaf and a bit of weed. We were 15 meteres apart using the same bait, etc.

Makes you wonder, what is wrong with my worms?

The wonder of Crepi

A funny thing happened to me on holiday......I discovered Crepi.

Now I've heard whispers of its virtues but never actually knowingly laid my hands or eyes on any, and certainly never bought any from round the back of the supermarket.

Anyway if you like I didn't know, Crepi is one of a family of textured paints sold in France and this holiday I was feeling rash and a bit on the edge, so decided to go in for a bit of extreme decorating. Push the envelope, that kind of thing.

The thing is in a 250+ year old country cottage, not all the plasterwork is pristine and in the bedroom we have what you might call a "problem wall". Actually there are two of them, or possibly four but we'll get round to them later.

In this case its not even plasterwork. It seems to be splattered concrete on bits of stone and flint, painted sometime when my ganmother was young in strangely durable white stuff. All complete with with cracks, holes and lots of places for spiders to hang out.

What should I do? Ideas ranged from selling, to plasterboarding, chipping it off and re-building and....Crepi.

So, as we wandered around Mr Bricomarche I spotted the baffling array of Crepies (or should that be Crepii) available. After much deliberation I picked the cheapest tin which was labelled Tont Pie (turns out to mean natural stone colour), to use as a bit of an experiment. After all I could hardly make matters worse and for a tenner I thought it worth a try.

So on Monday, fortified by a rather decent Easter Lunch at Grand Ma's I set about the wall. Nicole had explained that she'd used a brush to apply the stuff to one of their Gites, whilst Barrie suggested a trowel. Knowing my skill as a plasterer I opted for the brush.

Prising the lid off I discovered that Crepi is basically paint with sand in it. How much depends on the grade, etc. but this stuff was pretty thick.

And it worked a treat.

It filled the cracks and holes and smoothed the lumps. Not a fine plastered finish of course - the wall is still pretty rough and the surface is a bit like coarse sandpaper or chaux, but its quite a transformation, and I can always paint it with something finer to finish it off.

Obviously my trial size bucket of the stuff wasn't enough to fill the holes in our bedroom wall, but I'll be back for some more in May to finish the job off.

I was so excited by the result we had to call at Leroy Merlin's in Tours on the way home to check out their encouragingly vast array of similar products. Forget boring matt/silk emulsion on your oh so dull smooth walls, they have loads of texture based products...and I'm iching to try a few more!

The only question in my mind is why isn't B&Q stuffed with this kind of stuff?

Can't Wait

If you think my blogging has been a bit thin of late, you're right. I'm new to this you know and slowly getting inspiration - I've never even kept a diary. And the keys on this keyboard are in a different place to the one at work which drives me nuts. Why do they do that?

Anyway the thing is we're off to LGP in a day and I've been getting my head round the packing, loading, sorting and generally cramming the car with everything we might want to take. Its important we get all the big stuff for the year and most of the small stuff as next time Lulu will be coming with us. Her passport isn't valid till mid May so for this trip she's going to Barnsley for her holidays, no doubt John and Kathleen will spoil her rotten.

Now I've got to get back to being excited about what Alex and Nicole have done in our absence, and remembering how much I love being in our cottage, walking roud the village and fishing in the Claise. Oh and making plans for the decorating that somehow I might just not get round to. After all, I do need a holiday.

Spring Cleaning

The rear of our house in Derbyshire faces south, and so enjoys all the sun there is. We installed a patio/terrace some years ago when I built the pond and since then its been extended as we've developed the "garden room" as those trendy folk would have us call it. Anyway the thing is that despite all the sun, etc. we do get quite a bit (24 inches or so a year) of rain. And being in the Midlands, its dirty rain. The leaves on the bay tree get a black covering and need scrubbing before use, the terrace gets mucky and then over the winter starts to go green.

Yuk!

In previous years I've got the pressure washer out and squirted off areas, brushed them, etc. and frankly its hard work. I once did the whole lot in a long day and couldn't move for days. Yes I'm obviously getting old.

Anyway when I was walking Lulu a couple of weeks ago I spotted a van with Patio Cleaning emblazoned on the side. After the usual diligent enquiries a week later the deal was struck and the work commissioned. I have to say I was a bit dubious when the guy said it's take an afternoon, but he seemed happy with the deal so we asked him to get on with it!

He used a sort of hover mower rotary cleaner thing and it cleaned the slabs in no time, and didn't use any detergent which is important for the pond or spray water and muck everywhere either.

I don't know where he got the thing and have never seen one before but wish I'd bought one years ago!

We now have a sparkling paved area, pond wall and conservatory, all done in half a day by a bloke with the right equipment! Here's the finished job, just waiting for the return of the clutter. Brilliant. How easy was that!

Street Art

I was leafing through (if thats what you do on a computer) some oldish photos and was reminded of the gite we had 3 years running in Avoine. Its an odd place for a gite in some ways - not that much of a tourist spot, just a neat village on a rather busy road. Thing is its between Chinon and Bourgueil, just by Savigny and Beaumont en Veron. All of which are rather well known for producing excellent wine. Whats more you hardly notice the nuclear power station.

The Gite was quirky in a way but comfortable, private, comfy and very quiet, despite being only yards from the road round the back of the tabac. Anyway its surprising what you find in these places.

Avoine has a lovely park on a musical theme which is lit up at night.....the pictures don't really do it justice...

We also drove through Avoine at Christmas (wine shopping again) and just had to stop and admire this lot...

And then there's the trendy south coast.....we found this blockhead in Nice....

You just never know what to expect, do you?

Snap Happy

Being an up to date, happening, 21st century kind of guy - I mean I even blog a bit - I've long since abandoned that ancient media...film. Yep, I'm all digital these days, I'm on my second digital camera, a super little thing a quarter of the size of my last one.

Jean however has been lagging behind. She got her first digital a year or so after me and I've just upgraded her to a mega thingy (i.e. smaller one). Its actually very nearly the same as mine, except being a year newer its much better.

Its pink.

Anyway the thing is, they take great photos.....of houses, fields, even the odd flower, like this one of a distant view of Hardwick Hall

which has been there for hundreds of years and doesn't move very much.......

But not dogs!!!!

Here's Lulu at puppy school doing her 1 minute sit still.....

And why is it you get a pause between pushing the button and it actually taking a picture? How long am I expected to hold the camera still?

Lulu sitting looking cute in the doorway of her den........

And why does it make a little annoying tinkly sound when you switch the thing on? All it does is wake the dog up and tell her to move from her oh so perfect pose........

Here's Lulu asleep with her paws crossed.......

Ho hummmm!

Still, at least you don't have to get all the duff ones printed out, and suffer the knowing look and the "that was a waste of money" smile from the assistant when you go and pick them up......

Where's your telly?

One of the great joys of the prospect of retiring to France is the entertainment we'll get from just being there.

In less civilised countries you might for example expect on receiving your demand for payment of a TV licence, to be able to simply advise that as you have no TV, you don't need a licence. Not so in La Belle France.

First you fill in the council tax form and send them the dosh (minus the TV licence fee of course) plus a polite letter advising that we haven't got a TV so don't need a licence.

Next we get a letter asking us to advise if we've got a TV. No problem, we still haven't so write off in our best Googlaise to say no! So...we then get a letter to say, Oh well in that case, forget it, we won't charge you. Yippee, jobs a good un.......as we say.

Well almost.

So last week another rather scrappy note arrived with a tear off bit at the bottom asking us to tick a box to say we've no telly (or to be precise had no telly on the all important 1st an 2009). As with all official communications I duly took the letter for a second (and perhaps more learned) opinion form a colleague who due to the accident of birth just happens to actually be French, even if he's not lived there for some time. Anyway it turns out all I need to do is tick the box and send it back, unless of course I have got a telly in which case...I should not send anything back.

Now this is where it gets difficult.

You see I put the letter on the kitchen worktop next to the box of miscellaneous post waiting filing ready for Jean who knows how to print an envelope to organise. There it stayed for a couple of days, then poomph, it disappeared.

We've looked everywhere, even been through the recycling and can't find it. Which only leaves one suspect......

Lulu!

(this is Lulu's idea of training)

Which brings me to the point of the blog, does anybody know the french for, "I'm sorry but our dog ate your form, please could you send me another one?"

My Back Aches

What is it about springtime that makes your back ache? Could it be sniffing daffodils? Or collecting your home grown saffron?

Nah..of course not, its the digging, clipping, mowing and general getting ready for the glorious summer that we know we're going to have this year.

So thanks to the BBQ induced springtime euphoria, I've mown the lawns...well whats left of them thanks to Lulu's toilet training, hacked/pruned some rather prickly roses and pyrocanthia (most things in our garden are prickly) and weeded and rotivated most of the veg patch ready for Jean's seedlings. Phew!

Its been so dry and sunny recently the lawn almost looks summerish!

You can also just about see the temporary keep Lulu ff the Veg patch fence. More of that to come....!

I've even bought some rather cunning "bio-degradable grass seed impregnated paper" to mend Lulu's zillions of brown patches. It sounds like a good idea - we'll see how it works.

All this makes me even more excited about our next trip to LGP. We planted loads of bulbs last October and Nicole and Alex have been working hard to create something other than a rather neglected patch of weeds around the wonderful shiny new terrace they've installed. I can't wait to see what it looks like.

And we've even got our first Camellia out, how good is that?

It'll probably snow tomorrow.

Where's my Shorts?

Forget cuckoos, the real sign of spring is that primeval kitchen, the BBQ.


Yes, its true. We've been enjoying some unseasonably good weather in Blighty this last week or so, sunshine, 12 - 14 degrees C, it even doesn't get dark till 18:30, and I'm beginning to feel distinctly spring like. We've even got some tulips out......




On Friday Jean had a day off and mid afternoon rang me to say, "its another lovely day lets make the most of it, how about a BBQ?" Now bearing in mind its dark and cold within half an hour of my getting home, you might think the answer would be ......are you mad?


However...you forget.......I am!


And there's the Championship Internationale du Monde to consider as well.....more of that later.


So Friday 20th March saw our first full on, oudoors evening barbeque of the year and just another new experience for Lulu, who helped out with the rushing around.



Jean made 3 fish kebabs. Confusingly there were 5 of them. Tuna, salmon and I think cod with an interesting lemon and olive rub, plus a few assorted tomatoes, courgettes and mushrooms. She even found some sweetcorn from somewhere and a couple of toasted shallots topped it off. These were to be followed by some lovely goats cheese and washed down with Chablis (appero) and a Pinot Noir from somewhere down south.




So I fired up the Weber (definitely Mans Work) and the Chiminera (ditto) and.....we had the best evening ever...or at least for a while. There's something very special about sitting around a fire in the dark with a few candles going and the stars out above. Plus of course the twinkly lights and the rattle of the waterfall on the pond.
For the cheffy reader(s) I also cut a sprig of sage and one of rosemary and chucked them on the coals then cooked the fish with the lid on. Yummy.


Dining in style is important and being outdoors in the dark is no excuse for an exception! It might have only been 5 degrees, but it felt like .... well like every camping holiday I can remember, and yes Jean had her woolly hat on.




Anyway after the goats cheese and brie and a Lavazza espresso it was time for the next round of The Championship.


For those of you that are not sports fans, The Championship Internationale du Monde is a bit like the World Series, in that its played outdoors. And cricket in that its a series of games played all over the place but nobdy really uderstands why. What is this olympean sport you cy....well Scrabble of course!

Now I wouldn't describe us as Scrabble fans or addicts or anything, but we do like a game outdoors by candlelight, and preferably away from home. Strangely having the handicap of being a bloke and therefore 10,000 words a day short of the average woman doesn't seem to have to much bearing on the outcome.


So it was that after 3 hours of play I was able to lift the prestigeous Brass Monkey Challenge Cup as winner of the first game of the year. Superb!

Ring My Bell

I have to admit to an ever so slight interest in things campanological. It all started long ago when I read The Nine Tailors (Daphne du Maurier). An excellent tale of triple bobs and murder in the fens.

Now for those of you who's education tended more towards the Comprehensive than Ecclesiastical and are wondering what the old fool is on about this time, its BELLs and (for once) I don't mean of the alcoholic whiskey variety!

Years ago I used to be a (fairly bad) bell-ringer...and even earned 50p per wedding which was the price of a good 3 pints back then. Its not easy you know, you don't just yank the rope and it all happens, you actually do speed it up and slow it down, and you have to be able to follow the number patterns as well, and pull hard enough to make sure your bell stays up, but not so hard it bounces, at the right time......its all very technical stuff.

These days my bell ringing is a bit more mainstream. I stick to doorbells.

When we bought our Grand Pressigny Chateau, or at least looked round it, it had a lovely old bell, with a chain and proper handle.......

But this mysteriously disappeared with all the contents before we got our hands on the place. Which is a real pity cos it was one of the very few things I really hoped would remain. So our first French purchase for our new home was, that symbol of welcome, a doorbell.

Then I cut down the rampant hydrangeas so you could actually get to it!

Its not quite as intricate as the original and is no doubt a modern cast thing, but it has a lovely light note that always gets you attention. And visitors find the string easy to operate!

We've even added an outside light to help them find it.

How hard is this?

The problem with all this technology is..its all a bit too mystifying.

I mean why don't you get the little pictures by the commenter's comment?
And why doesn't Jean's picture appear next to her comments when she makes them? After all, they do when I make them!!!

Not only that but every other blog I've looked at (well both of them) has images and even a hit counter. Why hasn't mine?

Trouble is She Who Must Be Obeyed has asked and we all know what that means!!!

How hard can it be? Eveyrone must want the little pictures so you'd expect them to appear. Mr Google didn't get where he is without giving folk what they want, so how hard an it be?

I've used the default settings, and I bet everyone else does too. I've even got the box on the settings menu comments tab "show profile images" ticked as YES , (which is the default), but... don't get the little profile images.

It must be in the settings - what else is there? I've played with them or at least looked at them but no, I can't see it.

AAaaaagh.

Obviously I'm looking at the wrong thing.

So why is it?

Of course the answer is simple.....

It doesn't work.

Now I could spend (more) hours researching and trying different things, but we all know the result will be the same.

What you really need is black magic, smoke, mirrors, wet string and ....... a teenager.

Oh look, its time to polish the bike ....

What am I doing here

I've been feeling a little strange of late, especially at work. Its nothing to do with the new girl in the test team, I mean that's not strange, although with luck she might be.

No its more a sort of am I really here and why are all these idiots so worked up and can I be bothered to think about this stuff type of thing. I suppose its a sort of pre-occupied, there's something 'd rather be doing, somewhere I'd rather be sort of feeling. I mean I used to enjoy it, well it kept me sort of entertained, or at least awake most of the time.

You see years ago, well until quite recently I suppose, I liked the idea of having a holiday home, a pied a terre in La Bellle France. I'd look in the estate agents windows and oooh and aahhh, but really I didn't want one, it was just a case of well it would be nice I suppose but I'd rather not be tied, type of thing. I wouldn't want to spend all of my meagre holidays in just one place, looking after it.

No you see I've got those itchy feet. I'm not a big fan of aeroplanes. To me travel is exactly that, the process of getting there, the journey, the exprience of finding you way, the changing landscape, people, language and food, not a few hours in a plane and getting out somewhere hot and smelly after just a few hours discomfort. Its all about the transition, the experience, seeing the slow change, the ..... journey.

That's probaby why I like camping so much. It frees you to go anywhere, any day. When you've seen it you move on. If the weather's bad or whatever, just pack up and go. Perhaps I've gypsy blood (although it'd have to be a long way back).

Actually I like to think of myself as a true Englishman with the sea in his veins, destined to explore and find new lands. Yes for me camping at sea was the ultimate experience..........true its difficult to get the pegs to stay in, but well you can compromise and caravan, which is really what sailing is all about. Anyway I digress.

The thing is, it seems like a lifetine since we were at the cottage. In truth its just 3 weeks, since our long weekend in paradise. Trouble is it seems like a long time till Easter when we next go, and frankly it is.

Anyway what I'm inching towards saying is I've sort of changed, from a don't want to be tied to one place sceptic to a just want to be there believer. The thing is that I quite like having a bolt hole, a little place I can dream about, look forard to being at and maybe one day live. Yes I still want to bungy a tent to my helmet and ride off to discover Wales or Switzerland or some other foresaken land, but....well what I really want is to go to Le Grand Pressigny and decorate the bath(shower)room, wire up the kitchen lights and walk, fish the Claise, shop on the village market, BBQ, even watch the village football team.

Now if I could just arrange that small lottery win and not need to work for another 5 years 8 months and 2 days......

All Roads Lead.......

Have you tried to get anywhere recently? Of course you have and you'll have come across at least one of the zillions of sets of temporary traffic lights that blight this sceptered isle, this demi paradise...sorry had a Shakespearian moment.

But its true isn't it? Everywhere you go there are roadworks - widening, modifying and building new ones. You'd think we'd be used to it by now, but we never seem to be. Somehow we're conditioned not to expect them or at least grumble about them.

Did you know that in Napoleon's day a whole fifth of Finnistere was actually roadway? Well muddy track for the most part but definitely used for getting from A to B.

A fifth. Imagine that. We could have 20 lane motoways. I suppose some modern housing estates might come close, but a whole departement the size of an English county? Wow.

I bet this road hasn't changed much since Napoleon's day.
And apart form the tarmac perhaps this one hasn't either.....what a way to go to work!

There were so many roads from Beauvais to Ameins that 6 of them are still in existance. Apparantly you could shout from one to the next - who says dual carridgeways are a 20th century thing? I expect the traffic moved about as fast as that on the M25 as well.

Still you get rush hour everyhere - even Le Grand Pressigny!!!!!

Has anyone seen my tea?

One of these days I'll find it, first time, without even having to think about it. It'll just be there where I left it waiting for me to need it, and what's more I'll rmember where that is.

Now wouldn't that be nice?
Am I getting old? For that matter is it an age thing? I mean do you know where your MOT certificate is? Or the paper bit of your driving licence? Those are the easy ones! How about the receipt for the last pair of shoes you bought? The dogs vaccination certificate. My vaccination certificate. The instructions for setting the clock on the microwave. My grade 1 violin certificate. We need a huge house and a filing clerk just to look after it all.

If only the digital age had started a good 55 years or so earlier, perhaps I'd have all those millons of bits of paper I can never find on a memory stick.

Which I'd loose.
Or Lulu would eat it.

Ho Hum.

Now where did I put my cuppa....?

Its 5 o'clock ..... somewhere

What is it about citron vert? Is it the smell, the flavour or the zing factor?

I've staggered home from an oh so loooonnnggggggg day with the Orientals, the Arabs, the Indians and Mexicans.

Did I say Mexicans? What does that remind me of?


Limes and home made Fruit Cordial.


Or possibly one of the most refreshing drinks known to man/woman.


Put 8 or so ice cubes in a cocktail shaker (go buy one - a cheap stainless steel one is perfect - you won't regret it)
Take 2 limes and cut a slice from one, setting it aside.
Squeeeeze the limes over the ice in the shaker. A few juicy bits if lime won't hurt so don't filter it.
Add 2 shots of Gold Tequila, taking care when you sniff the cork.
Then a good half shot of White Tequila
And a half of Tripple Sec........
and a half of Grand Marnier (the French invented it just for this purpose)
and then one and a bit of Roses Lime Cordial (or if in France any lime cordial you can find - it ain't easy).

Now lid and shake for 30 seconds. Feel good while you are doing it. Think about the lime, the zing, shorts, sunshine, a beach........


Pour into a couple of glasses (salt or sugar the rims if you like), add some more ice, halve the slice of lime and perch on the rim, a couple of straws and.....

UNWIND

You just made

Margaritas

One of life's great pleasures and sure to leave you chilled and taste buds twinkling for quite some time.

(With special thanks to Jimmy Buffett for inspiration and the recipie).

Fireplaces

I suppose its a man thing. A sort of hunter gatherer instinct.
Stalking, trapping, binging home a dead dinosaur for dinner. Lighting the fire and listening to the gentle crackle, watching the patterns in the flames and catching a whiff of woodsmoke. It brought a cave to life, made it a home, somewhere good and happy and relaxed. Everything you'd want.

Of course these days with shops and deep feezers and stuff, we generally don't do and don't need to do the chasse bit, but the fireplace is still the heart of the home.

So whenever I see an old fireplace there's a second look...or third and fourth...
That must be why French estate agents are so keen to show you their piece de resistance....
La Cheminee. It'll sell the house no problem....like these....

Of course they weren't all that bad....this one looked almost practical...note the modern fitted kitchen -

Strange thing is, the agents are right....ooooh a real fire.......how lovely, we can sit and toast our toes, maybe even a crumpet or two.

I think I read somewhere that the French are the biggest users of wood burning stoves. Which probably explains why there's so much woodland in France, until you think again and wonder why there's any left...!!!

Which reminds me. We have a Cave, or to be strictly accurate, a bit of the house where the floor (earth) is a couple of foot (sorry it can't be in France) numpteen centi thingies - below everything else. Its where I put the wood which is dumped elgantly by Michele and his tractor in the courtyard, all cut into the correct sized pieces for the poele which he dutifully inspects each time we order some wood. Interestingly you buy it by the "stair" which seems to be about a cubic metre. Unforuntately there's an upstairs to the cave (although there aren't any stairs, or even a floor) and frankly the beams for the ceiling are a bit low in the entrance. Which is why I knocked myself out stacking wood. Ouch!

I'm developing a twitch.....

One of the great pleasures in life is sitting up in bed on a Sat/Sun mornng looking out of the window at the garden and fields beyond. To add a little extra something I hung a bird feeder from the snowy mespilus and hey presto - we've got great and blue tits. Well it is cold.

Then we noticed the neighbour had peanuts.

So we've got peanuts.

Then the other neighbour had thistle seeds.

So now, we've got bird seed, sunflowers, thistle seeds, fat balls, peanuts and a ground feeder! Talk about competitive bird feeding - we're in the olympics. Worthwhile though - some of the birds we regularly see in our Derbyshire garden are:

• Blue, great, coal/marsh and long tailed tits
• chaffinch, gold finch, green finch , bull finch
• siskins
• nuthatch
• redpolls
• robins
• sparrows and dunnocks
• wrens
• blackbids and song thrushes
• pheasants
• pidgeons, collarded doves
• greater spotted woodpecker
• pied and yellow wagtail
• And we've even see a kingfisher, coot and 2 ducks on the pond!

Who says birdseed isn't worth it?

Its suprising what you can do with a wire brush.

Have you ever wanted a chainsaw? Or a pickaxe?

Its not that I don't enjoy planting the odd bulb or dead-heading the petunias, its just that, well, ummm, I suppose I like to see a difference for my labours. Right now.

Its the same with decorating, not that I'd done much in recent years...till we got the petite maison that is.....

We nipped over for the weekend to do a spot of cleaning up after the builders who'd not only shown up but actually put the new window in the right wall, changed the right window/doors and modifid the main bedroom, laid a new terrace and generally done exactly what we'd asked for. Basil Fawlty would have been beside himself. Not only that but though a fabulous fusion of friendship and landscape gardening, the cleaning was well on its way with the floor washed and the fire lit. Thanks Alex and Nicole.

Can you spot the new window?

Anyway back to the plot. I was a Man on a Mission. Having basked in the success of my efforts with the beams in the salon, every time I sat on the loo I looked up and thought, I must to sort those beams out, and this was my opportunity. Have you ever tried cleaning a couple of hundred years worth of what can best be described as a sort of plaster based french whitewash off ancient beams? I know I have.

Here's an action shot of your's truley wire brushing the beams - you may think its a rubbish photo, but the air really was that thick with dust......

Sooooo satisfying! Even if my glasses steamed up because I had the mask on upside down for the first hour.

Whats wrong with my flies?

Have you ever wondered if perhaps just maybe, despite your best efforts, boundless enthusiasm, months and years of thought, study, reading all the magazines, books and even a couple of lessons, has it ever occured to you that perhaps despite having all the right equipment.....you are just no good at it?

The snow and ice having given way to temperatures in the balmy 10 degree range (52 F) the river running at a sensible level and fairly clear, and after weeks of abstinence I finally made it down to the Derwent with copius amounts of tackle, waders, rods, zillions of flies for every occasion including my unrivaled colection of nymphs none of which I can remember the name of but they are very er..nymphlike. I even bought some of them (the others I tied myself) so they must be the business.

So, I turn up and after a mere 20 minutes or so fighting my way into my waders and tying my new secret weapon - a florocarbon leader with and a highly experimental 2 fly easy tangle set-up, I'm ready to go. I stroll up the bank away from the car and the bridge out of sight of Joe Public, (I hate being watched whilst making a fool of myself) and spot another couple of guys fishing.

With floats, feeders and maggots. Not a fly in sight.

Just to encourage me they proudly show me a photo of the fish they've just put back. They wish me luck with a smile and I stumble off.

Actually I had quite a good day, I caught 3 trees and a small bramble. Not bad for an aftenoons fly fishing. Still the grayling will be there next week and if it was easy it wouldn't be so much fun now, or would it??

Here's a picture of a very big and quite grand Pressigny.The countryside is a bit like Derbyshire, except its nowhere near as busy, populated, etc. At the bottom of the hill is a beautiful river called the Claise that actually does have fish in. I know cos I've seen them. What better place can there be to go and not catch a fish? How stunning is that?

Another day, another sandwich!

Why is it that when you are quietly minding your own business munching through The Wife's Carefully Prepared (and only slightly scary) sandwiches, visitors turn up? What was wrong with 11 o'clock? Why wait till 12:32 and half way through a cold pork and apple sarnie to come and annoy me?

Sometimes I wonder what the world is coming to! I'm sure that sort of thing never happens in France. No decent Frenchman (or to be politically correct person) would dream of disturbing someones sandwich. Come to think of it the problem simply wouldn't arise, no Frenchie worth their Tricolour would dream of eating a sandwich at their desk. So why do we do it?

It seems to me the answer is simple, in France food is not fuel, its a way of life. Many workers get luncheon vouchers (whatever happened to them?) and eat at their local restaurant, where the ritual of a proper lunch and relaxing conversation is dutifully observed. If you hop across the channel (if you're reading this from other than the UK, get an atlas) for your hols, do yourself a favour and do lunch. Watch, listen and learn.

We've been entertained in posh places by tables of businessmen spending 2 hours discussing the local cuisine with their visitors, and in not so posh places by lorry drivers having the exact same conversation. You'll be amazed at the number of local folk turning up for the day's set 3 courses and a carafe of local plonk, a chat with their mates and absolutely no talk about work. Two hours later thy are nourished and relaxed ready for another four hours ranting about nothing. Compare that with your daily routine - beetroot on the keyboard and working the phone with a mouthful of sausage roll.

All of which has absolutely nothing to do with this rather fine picture

I don't know what it is about the French that makes them want to build such fabulous bridges (with a little expert help from us Brits of course), but if you really want to see how to get across a ravine, estuary or whatever....go have a look. And yes the sky really is that colour, why we can't have one like that over here is yet another mystery.

Err....... Now what do I do?

This is coming as a bit of a surprise to me....I never thought I'd make it to the 21st century let alone embrace its charms and foibles........such as blogging.



In fact I can safely say I didn't know what a blog was until recently and in reality, I'm not sure I do now but apparently everyone does it, so here goes. I've been a little ispired by a couple of blogs with wonderful photos and articles diarising their author's such interesting lives. So I though I'd have a go.



Today - Tuesday - I got up and caught the train to work. Did I mention my weetabix? I had sandwiches for lunch which were made by my wife and at the appointed hour....I caught the train home. Then I walked the dog, cooked and ate diner and wrote this.
Tomorrow, I'll probably do the same.


Here's an interesting photo of some flowers on a tree/bush/shrub in the public gardens in Descartes. the interesting thing is I've no idea what it is called








But its very pretty.


Now you're probably thinking this is rubbish, and you'd probably be right, but bear with me and I'll do my best to entertain.


We have a manic standard poodle called Lulu. She's nearly 7 months old and frankly I have to say looking a bit skinny since she had her first Big Girls Haircut yesterday.




She's so very cute and rarely still long enough to capture on the old digital camera. Why do they take so long? You'd think with all this technology and stuff you'd press the button and hey...its done. But no, you have to wait while everything moves and the snazzy camera has a good long think about whether to take the picture...or maybe not. If anybody ever made a digital camera that took the photo when you pressed the button, they'd sell millions.

Anyway I digress. One of Lulu's favourite tricks is playing opposites! Apparently something called "children" like to do this as well. How you play is you let your dog do something - like go out into the garden - and then you command her to do something that you know she knows how to do - like "come here" or "sit". Doggy then does the opposite. You can play this game for ages and even add a bit of chasing and pretending to shout in a gruff voice (this is hard as you'll be having so much fun). For an easy version, wait till doggy does what you are intending asking and then shout the command just before she finishes, e.g. shout "come" just as she arrives at your feet, although 9 times out of 10 this will send her scurrying away......

Phew, I've done it. My first ever blog.



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