Tomorrow will be my last day of work.
Five thirty in the afternoon will see me out of the little room where I have worked for the last 29½ years and heading for freedom as fast as I can go.
I am very much looking forward to no longer feeling I am on one of these…….
……and having time to do a lot more of this…….
Everyone says that I will soon wonder how I ever had the time to go to work !!
When we were in Le Grand-Pressigny for two weeks at Easter the weather was not good. After a few days of sunshine and a little warmth to lure us into a false sense of security, the weather turned decidedly chilly and then very wet.
However, when you have a dog you just have to go for regular walks, especially when you’re on holiday and the dog knows that there are good long walks to be had. If only we can muster the energy and enthusiasm !! This is helped along a bit by some determined nudging and pawing, not to mention grumbling and squeaking from Miss Lulu !!
One of our favourite places to walk is beside the lake at Le Louroux, just a few kilometres north of Ligueil. It was a grey and chilly afternoon but we togged up in our warm clothes and off we set.
When we got there we found that there was no water in the lake! Apparently draining the lake every few years is part of the routine management of the eco system. The bed of the lake had become a large beach, which Lulu enjoyed – lots of new smells to sniff.
There were tons of these empty mollusc shells, presumably a kind of fresh water mussel. The emptying of the lake had not been good for them but would be quite a feast for the birds I expect.
The signs of spring were only just emerging, everything seemed much further behind than at previous Easter holidays. By now it was getting towards the middle of April.
The rain held off that afternoon and we all enjoyed the exercise. We are hoping to find everything much greener when we arrive again soon for our late spring holiday.
One of the nice things about our little of corner of France is that litter is not much of a problem compared to here in Derbyshire. Even though this is a popular place for visitors, to come for a walk, to do a spot of birdwatching, or a picnic, there is very little rubbish. The only litter we noticed that day was a discarded shopping list!
Jambon, toastinettes, chicken rillettes, chips (crisps), cheese and gateaux ….. it looks like someone was shopping for a party. I only hope they dropped the list after they had been to the shops - unless they had a good memory !!
On the day we set off back home to England the sun came out and the temperature soared – we had 26°C as we sat on our little terrace eating our last lunch before we hit the road. We are very much hoping for more of the same when we go back again, very soon !!
Have a good week !!
The drama series “The Village” was on TV recently and unfortunately I missed half of it. I remembered to record episode 5 and watched some of the earlier ones on BBC iPlayer before it became unavailable.
The story is about a family living in Derbyshire and begins in 1914, just before the beginning of the First World War. Imagine Downton Abbey, but rather more gritty and raw.
We see the younger son, Burt, being caned by his teacher at school for writing with his left hand.
We see the older son, Jo, returning from the war on leave and suffering badly from shell shock, being dragged away by the military police to be dealt with severely for being a deserter when he failed to report back for duty.
We see the father John spending what little money they had in the village pub and taking his misery and inadequacy out on his wife and children.
The series appealed to me initially because it is set in Derbyshire. In fact it takes place in a different part of the county from where I live, in the most rugged and, although beautiful, most unforgiving part of the Peak District where the winters are very hard. They were even harder then.
The thing that really caught my imagination is that if you exchanged agriculture for mining the story could almost be that of my father’s family.
My father’s grandfather was a miner and regularly spent what little money they had in the pub and went home drunk to his wife and children. The three eldest sons joined up as soon as war was declared in 1914, a way to escape the abuse at home. Sam and Enoch enlisted for the army and paraded through the village to brass bands and people waving them off as they set out on their journey to France, just like in the TV programme.
Enoch was 17 and survived two weeks. Sam was 34 and survived two years. George ran away from home and lied about his age in order to join the navy and survived the war completely – he was my grandfather.
My father’s grandmother died aged 47 after years of abuse and malnutrition, having lost two sons in the war and one having run away to the navy. Her two youngest children were taken into care after she died because their father was incapable of looking after them. The youngest, Lillian, spent her whole life in an institution.
Although it was obviously fiction I think the story was pretty true to how life was for ordinary folk at that time, certainly if the stories my father tells are anything to go by. When people are grumbling about how hard life is nowadays I can’t help thinking they have no concept of real hardship or even real hard work.
I shall have to wait until the series is repeated or buy the DVD to find out what happened in the end. Was Jo shot for being a deserter? Many seriously traumatised young men, who went to war totally unprepared for the horrors that awaited them, were shot because they were “cowards”. How things have changed, thankfully.
Last weekend the weather was sublime. We had sunshine for several days in a row and not only that, at a Bank Holiday, too, so that for once we were actually able to enjoy it. After the winter we’ve had, we were certainly ready for it.
Only six weeks ago we had a foot of snow on our garden. Then last weekend – whoosh – summer arrived!
Or at least, the weather was as good as it gets in summer in Derbyshire. The sun shone and the temperatures reached a heady 23°C. We made the most of it, barbecued twice, took the dog for long walks and spent lots of time in the garden. In the space of barely three weeks the garden has been transformed from a dull mass of dead plants into something vibrant and sparkling. The grass has shot up, the daffodils have greeted the sunshine by waving merrily in the breeze, the primulas are glorious and we have a few tulips about to open. It’s as if everything is rushing through spring as fast as possible to get to summer and make up for lost time.
Then today, we have strong winds, rain and it’s decidedly chilly. Ridiculous. In fact when I took Lulu up to the field this afternoon I was wearing my winter dog-walking anorak – the waterproof one with a hood and mud on it from previous walks – and after five minutes I was pleased to find a pair of gloves in the pocket.
That’s the thing about May. We get a few nice warm days, everybody gets excited and fetches the garden furniture out, then the evil weather comes back just to remind us that we were only dreaming. Dreaming that summer had come early !!
But at least it was nice while it was nice, if you see what I mean and we definitely made the most of it. After all, in six weeks time we have the longest day and after that, the nights start drawing in !!
Changing the subject, I have been at home today, on a day when I would normally be at work. It’s a good job too. I heard an unfamiliar rattling noise on the other side of our back door and looked out to see part of the roof of our car port about to take off in the strong wind. I was able to stop it lifting off, temporarily at least, by putting a couple of bricks on top of it. If I had been at work as usual I would no doubt have come home to find no roof on the car port and who knows what other damage.
Anyway, the cause of my being at home is a “bad back”. Only those who have bad backs will understand what a nuisance it can be and, at worst, a life-changing miserable affliction. Mine is an old problem resulting from the day I was determined not to fall off my motorcycle but, like other back sufferers, I have come to know my own back and understand what it can and can’t do and how to manage it.
You would be forgiven for thinking that the afore-mentioned gardening is the culprit but this is not so. The cause is the new equipment installed at work about eighteen months ago. In order to use it I often have to stand and twist and bend awkwardly around it to do my job and I always knew that sooner or later it would catch me out. It happened one day last week – I felt the twinge. I struggled in to work the next day then over the weekend my back settled down, but just one day at work this week was enough to do it. I always knew it was a problem just waiting to happen. I woke up at 4am with pain shooting across my lower back and that nasty sciatic pain down both legs.
It’s not serious. After two days of rest and gentle exercise it has settled down again and I am not in work again until Saturday, then for only half a day, which should be fine. By the time I have a full day to work things should be back to normal.
Two weeks from today will be the first day of my retirement. I am looking forward very much to not having to use awkward equipment that I would not have chosen myself, to not worrying about whether I can justify having a day or two off sick when I am not actually dying, to being at home more often when disasters are about to occur and being able to stop them, to occasionally finishing the ironing before I start the next lot of washing. And of course, to spending more time walking Lulu and in our little house in France, just because I can!
Things are hectic. Apart from being incredibly busy at work now that word has got around that I am leaving, there are jobs in the garden that just have to be done before it’s too late and blogging time is short so bear with me…..I only have to go to work six more times……..
Bon weekend !!
Now that – dare I say it – spring has finally sprung here in Derbyshire, we are busy, busy. I am considering putting my bag of rock salt and snow shovels back in the shed……..we know what happened the day after I did that last year !!
This morning, Nick got the 7am train to London for two days, then he’s off to Boston, Massachusetts – yes, that Boston – for just two days then he gets back in time for us to go and see Vincent and Flavia in Strictly Tango in Nottingham on Saturday. While he’s away I will be working three days (as usual) and trying to make at least part of the garden look something like presentable after the ravages of winter on my two days at home. Phew.
So I liked the moody tango theme to the new Caro Emerald song from her forthcoming album. We don’t buy too many CD’s these days but I might just splash out on this one when it’s released.
Have a good week !!
A door in Le Petit-Pressigny repaired using the lid of a tin.
I wonder what sort of tin it was – apple compote perhaps, or olives. Maybe even tomatoes or beans. But probably not Heinz baked beans, and almost certainly a long time ago.
This is only the second door I have seen repaired using a tin lid. The other is in Le Grand-Pressigny, and that has been repaired using the lid from a sardine tin – you can see that from the fish shape impressed into the metal.
I suspect that these are not the only ones !!
CROQUE MADAME MUFFINS
The first time I attempted to make these it was a total disaster. I constructed the muffins then as I put them in the oven I caught the muffin tin on the oven shelf, the whole thing fell out of my hands and landed upside down on the oven door !!
Yesterday we had a visitor at lunchtime chez nous and I decided to try making them again. It was either grim determination not to be beaten by mere muffins, or misguided optimism. As it happened, they turned out fine. In fact they were yummy.
A croque madame is essentially a toasted ham and cheese sandwich with with some béchamel sauce and an egg in it – croque monsieur being the same thing but without the egg. The idea for the muffins came from the totally charming series that was on TV last year featuring the cook Rachel Khoo.
To make six muffins you take six slices of thin white bread – the Mother’s Pride type of sliced bread that my dad used to have for his sandwiches every day of his working life. Much to my amazement you can buy this stuff in French supermarkets and in fact you can even buy it with the crusts already cut off, which is perfect for the recipe as that’s exactly what you need.
First you make a fairly stiff béchamel sauce by melting 1 tablespoon of butter in a small pan, stirring in 1 tablespoon of flour and cooking for a minute until the mixture (roux) is smooth, then stirring in 200ml of milk. Cook until it thickens and add a good pinch of grated nutmeg and a teaspoon of Dijon mustard.
Next you melt some butter in a small saucepan and then brush it over both sides of the bread, having first made the bread thinner by rolling it with a rolling pin. Use each slice of bread to line a hole of a muffin tin.
Put a bit of ham in the bottom of the muffin and add the yolk of an egg with a little of the white. (If you use a whole egg the muffin will be too full of egg and there will be no room for the sauce.)
Spoon about a tablespoon of the béchamel sauce on top and sprinkle some grated cheddar, gruyere or comté cheese on top of that. Brush the edges of the bread with more melted butter if you have any left.
Bake for 15 mins at 180°C if you like your egg runny or 20 mins if you like it cooked.
One muffin per person makes a small snack – it is after all only one egg and one slice of bread. Two muffins with a little salad makes a nice lunch. Two muffins each with chips makes a really good treat !!
If you want to see how it’s done properly here’s Rachel Khoo herself showing you how :
