a very grand pressigny

BAKING ALERT

2012-01-26T11:54:00.001Z

Well, it’s not so much baking as boiling.

We made a steak and kidney pudding.

You can read all about it here.

EGG AND CHIPS

2012-01-22T08:29:00.001Z

In France you can get really nice chips. Lovely, skinny crispy chips, slightly salted. If I haven’t had chips by the end of a week in France I start to get chip deprivation syndrome. Which is strange, because I rarely eat chips at home in the UK.

New Year’s Eve in Loches.

Such was the case on New Year’s Eve. We were looking forward to a nice dinner with our friends Chris and Gail in the evening so we went to Loches to catch the last hour or so of the market and grab a light lunch. What I really wanted was chips.

A stairway to ~~heaven~~ ~~the château~~ lunch.

After a browse round the market on what was really quite a dull and dismal day, we went in search of lunch. Lots of restaurants were closed for annual holidays and we really didn’t fancy the menu at most of the ones that were open. Then we spotted this place.

An oasis in a desert of closed or fancy restaurants.

It had a board outside advertising various snacks. One of them was hamburger and chips. Another was a “Texan plate” which included “oeufs en plat”. As well as chips, the French do fried eggs really well.

Nick’s light lunch. ‘amburger and chips.

So in we went and Nick ordered hamburger and chips. I politely asked the waitress if it might be at all possible just to have oeufs en plat avec frites. She thought it would but said she would check with the chef, who happened to be sitting at the next table enjoying a break. “Oui, tout est possible!” was the reply.

A little bit of heaven on a plate.

She asked me if I wanted three or four eggs. I was thinking of two but agreed on three. In the end she brought me four because they were small eggs.

I have eaten “oeufs en plat” all over France and never yet been disappointed. One may argue that it is a dish that is difficult to get wrong but I would disagree – under or over-cooked eggs are not nice, no matter how good the chips.

These were perfect and exactly what I needed. A light lunch…….until they brought the obligatory dessert of apple crumble afterwards……oh well, it’s only New Year once a year !!

There is no reason to put this picture in other than I really like pink.

NO COMMENT

2012-01-19T10:26:00.001Z

I think I read a while ago that some people were having trouble with Blogger comments. I didn’t take any notice because I didn’t think I was.

But lately, some blogs I follow have been playing up. In the sense that if you click on the comments box the page freezes and you either see nothing at all or just a bit of the page and you certainly can’t read or leave a comment.

Then if you try again later, the comments link will work fine.

It doesn’t seem to happen with those blogs whose comments appear in a pop-out window, like mine or wcs or Days on the Claise.

The problem seems to be more with those blogs where the whole post reloads and you have to scroll down to the bottom again to see the comments, such as Snippets from Labartere and Zut Alors!, although it doesn’t seem to happen with In and around Braye-sou-Faye, which works the same way.

It also doesn’t seem to make any difference whether you are logged in or not.

Does anyone else have any experience or solutions for this problem ?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS, congratulations to Alexander SACALEVIC, on becoming my 100th follower. I never thought so many people would read the kind of stuff I write. Probably, most of them don’t any more, but I am very flattered that so many obviously do – a big thank you to all who do.

I shall no doubt become a nervous wreck and develop a twitch if the number drops down below 100 again, anguishing over who has dumped me….blog stress …. can you get tablets for that ??!!

NEW PET TRAVEL RULES

2012-01-18T08:07:00.001Z

Last year I wrote here about the joys of being able to take your pet on holiday to Europe from the UK.

Lulu and Nick in Ferrière-Larçon on New Year’s Eve.

The rules changed on 1st January this year, making it slightly cheaper and much easier to do this.

A wintry walk in Chinon.

In a nutshell, if you are considering taking your dog (or cat or ferret) on holiday for the first time, you have to visit a vet in the UK for a rabies vaccination and identichipping. There is no longer any requirement for a blood test for EU countries such as France; you can take your dog on holiday almost straight away.

Contemplating a cuppa at the new Salon de Thé at Ferrière-Larçon

The confusing part has always been that in actual fact, taking the dog (or cat or ferret) out of the UK has never been a problem, it’s bringing them back in that is the problem. Nobody takes any notice of a pet travelling with you on the way out. On the way back, you have to show the pet passport at the port.

Season’s greetings from La Poste.

Prior to 1st January this year, after the first inoculation, you had to have a blood test after one month then could bring the dog back into the country six months after that.

Now, under the new rules, you can bring the dog (or cat or ferret) back in after 21 days. This means that if you are considering taking your dog on holiday you don’t have to plan more than half a year ahead if you have never done it before. You can have the rabies inoculation a week before you go away for two weeks and you will be ok.

Posing at the troglodyte site down by the river.

The other major difference is a great help to people like us who already have a pet passport and take their dog (or cat or ferret) to and fro across the channel regularly.

Prior to 1st January, you had to visit a vet in France between 24 and 48 hours of boarding your train and ferry home, for a worm and tick treatment, an examination of the animal and the all-important stamping of the passport. This was occasionally very awkward – having to arrange travel times such that you could get the passport stamped at the right time. For example, if you intended to travel home on a Monday evening, you would have to be visiting a vet on a Sunday – not at all easy.

Then, if something went wrong with your travel arrangements, you could very easily come unstuck. If your car broke down, someone was ill, there was a hold-up on the motorway or any number of common problems that could delay you, you could end up presenting your dog at the ferry port or tunnel after the very short time slot had expired. This happened to many travellers every year, who were then faced with having to stay in France for an extra 1-2 days to give the dog the treatment all over again. This was costly and not good for the dog either – having two worm tablets within the space of a few days.

Under the new rules, you must visit a vet in France between 24 and 120 hours before travelling. In other words, so long as you visit a vet in France between one and five days before going back home you are fine. (So long as it is not less than one day.)

Relaxing after a hard afternoon chasing squirrels.

This is the one thing that is going to make the biggest difference to people like us, I think. We can now visit the vet at any time towards the end of our stay and have the peace of mind of knowing that if our usual vet is not available, which is what happened the last visit, we needn’t panic and have time to find another one. Also we don’t have to plan our journey quite so precisely, our travel can be slightly more flexible and if for some reason we are delayed by a day or two we will probably be fine.

All steps just have to be climbed and walls sniffed.

The other difference is that the tick treatment is now not necessary at all, which saves some money, although we will continue to give Lulu regular tick treatments ourselves as it seems a sensible thing to do.

To re-enter the UK only a worm tablet is needed, and the stamping of the passport with the date and time of it having been given.

A chilly walk down by the river in Le Grand-Pressigny.

To sum up:

If taking your pet to France for the first time, visit a vet for a rabies innoculation, identichip and issue of a passport. The pet can then re-enter the UK three weeks later.

To return home, visit a vet in France with the pet and the passport for examination, a worm tablet and stamping of the passport. The pet can then re-enter the UK up to five days and no less than 24 hours later.

These are the rules that apply to France, as I understand them. They do vary for other countries. You can read the official version on the government website here.

BLOG AWARD ETIQUETTE

2012-01-17T10:34:00.001Z

I had a comment in my comment box the other day from Perpetua of Perpetually in Transit, telling me she had awarded me the LIEBSTER BLOG AWARD and inviting me to collect it from her, post the logo on my sidebar and then pass it on.

I had seen various award logos on other blog sidebars and always wondered how people got them. I had always assumed there was some kind of blog police committee out there, looking around for who writes what, having important meetings in dark, smoke-filled rooms and voting for the best blogs in their opinion, a bit like the Oscars.

But no, you get an award from someone who likes your blog enough to encourage other people to read it by passing the award to you after they have received it themselves. So thank you, Perpetua, for your kind words about my blog and for adding me to your list of recommended blogs.

I am truly chuffed.

Really, I am truly, truly chuffed. Why would anyone write a blog at all unless they wanted other people to read it and although some may sniff at the concept of blog awards, I personally have no shame in admitting that sometimes it’s really nice to feel appreciated.

Now I have a problem. I have to do the right thing and pass the award on to five other blogs, the only rule being that the blog should have less than 200 followers. That is not so much a problem as a shame, as some of the blogs I really would like to give the award to have more than 200 followers so don’t qualify, such as Going Gently, a blog about village life in Wales, with a bit of a difference (and the odd rude word).

Then there are blogs whose writers declare their blogs award-free zones, such as My Life in the Charente, a delightful blog with just less than 200 followers, written by Diane, about….her life in the Charente, with lovely photos, recipes and history.

Then, worst of all, there are several blogs I would dearly love to give the award to, only to find that someone else got there before me and has given them the award already !! Into this category falls Chez Charnizay, written by Niall and Antoinette, who write about life in a little village just up the road from Le Grand-Pressigny, with lovely photos and lots of interesting stuff about life in and the history of the region.

I was also going to give the award to Martine of Wishing I Were in France, a very talented lady who speaks several languages, lives in Belgium, writes about her life there and about her holidays in the Loire, which is where she really would like to be. Chez Charnizay gave it to her already !!

Similarly, Simon and Susan, of Days on the Claise, were high up my list. There’s was the first blog I ever read, in fact I didn’t even know what a blog was until Nick stumbled across it when he Googled something to do with Preuilly-sur-Claise a few years ago. Chez Charnizay got to them first, too !!

This is beginning to follow a pattern, like a bunch of mates in a school playground, or you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. An award will circle around amongst a cluster of blogs and occasionally break out into pastures new. Not that that matters, except that I’m not sure that it’s the done thing for an award to be given to someone who already has it.

So, after much head-scratching, here’s my list of award-winners.

1. Colin and Elizabeth of In and Around Braye-sous-Faye, who write about life in the little village near Richelieu where they have made their home. From garden birds and dustbins to broken washing machines and Elizabeth’s famous knob collection, all of life is to be found here, seen with the eyes of a couple from the north of England just getting to grips with the ups and downs of living in France.

2. Vera, of Snippets from Labartere, who writes about life on the smallholding she and her husband keep somewhere further south. I never knew how difficult it was to keep pigs, bees and chickens until I read her hilarious and heartwarming stories. Rather you than me, Vera !!

3. Alex, of Moving from France to Ferrets. Alex and his family (wife and dogs that is) moved back to the UK from France last year, which is more or less where I came in, and writes very witty stuff about day-to-day life, exactly the sort of stuff that blogs are for I think. In fact I read most of my world news on his blog as I don’t watch telly or read newspapers so he usually gives me the important stuff with his own witty slant on it. He waivered slightly a while ago and nearly gave up blogging. I hope he’s over that now, but I’m not really sure he’s an awards kind of person. We shall see.

4. Leon and Sue of Melbourne, Our Home On The Bay, who write passionately about their love of France and their holidays there – I never thought I would learn so much about France from a couple of Aussies who have only been there for their holidays !! Also about life in their part of Australia, Leon’s passion for cycling and Sue’s amazing cooking. And they have very interesting new neighbours.

5. Last but not least, Phil of Mug of Strong Tea, who works on the butchers counter in Tesco in Nottingham and writes wittily about food, life in Nottingham, life in general and his love for France and French food.

If I had my way the list would not stop there, but blog award etiquette dictates that it must. I hope that you will pay a visit to the blogs I have mentioned, as that is, after all, the purpose of this award business, to increase the traffic, so to speak.

Thanks again to Perpetua for nominating me and I shall display the award proudly on my sidebar. I will not be offended if those who receive the award from me decide not to do the same and not to take part….well, not much anyway !!

I did a bit of brief research about the Liebster award and nothing much came up, except that it originated in Germany. I didn’t find out who or when or why……..somebody with a few friends and quite a bit of time on his hands, I suspect !!

Happy reading.

The rules for award winners, if you wish to take part, are: post the award on your sidebar, link to the blog that awarded it and write a post passing it on to five other blogs with less than 200 followers.

ANYBODY HOME?

2012-01-14T09:42:00.001Z

Probably.

Almost certainly not.

Difficult to tell. You can never be sure.

All were photographed at Ferrière-Larçon on New Year’s Eve.

Bon weekend !!

BAKING ALERT

2012-01-13T17:50:00.001Z

Anyone who liked the chocolate courgette cake recipe might also be interested in these:

Beetroot and chocolate muffins.

Read all about them here.

SOLVING A DRINK PROBLEM

2012-01-12T09:43:00.001Z

I have found it eternally frustrating that I am hopeless at getting the cork out of a bottle of bubbly. I just don’t have the knack of gripping the bottle firmly in one hand and easing out the cork with the other, getting that oh-so-professional slight hiss as the gas is released, then pouring the wine steadily into the glass.

After years of struggling, corks hitting the ceiling and the precious bubbly spilling over everywhere, I now have the answer. It was a Christmas present from a friend (who obviously knows me too well) and, unbelievably, it works !!

You simply hold the bottle down on the worktop, push the tube down onto the cork, twist the bottle and hey presto – the cork shoots out and is caught in the tube and the bubbly stays in the bottle !!

So now I can open a bottle all by myself, without having to pass it over to Nick or anyone else !! A problem solved. Marvellous !!

HOLIDAY COOKING

2012-01-07T19:53:00.000Z

When we were in France for the week between Christmas and New Year, we invited our friends Ken and Walt for lunch. Their dog, Callie the collie, came too, of course.

Callie, Ken, Walt and Lulu.

Callie making herself comfortable in front of the fire.

For dessert, Nick decided to do one of his favourite puddings, pears poached in red wine. I decided it should be served with a slice of rich chocolate torte as well.

We were almost perfectly organised but things went pear-shaped at the last minute as our guests arrived. So Walt pitched in to help and mixed up the torte for me. All I had to do was put it in the oven.

The perfect lunch guest – making his own lunch.

Thanks to Ken for this picture of the pears.

The poached pears are actually very easy to make. You simply peel and core the pears leaving the stalks on, immerse them in red wine and cook for hours and hours in a low oven. We did them the day before as they are served cold, but the chocolate cake was meant to be served slightly warm.

We had the leftover pears the next day and they were very good as an accompaniment to cheese.

If you would like to see the recipe, click here.

VERY PECULIAR WEATHER

2012-01-05T13:09:00.001Z

We were in Le Grand-Pressigny for a week after Christmas and the weather was most peculiar.

Sunrise over Le Grand-Pressigny on a misty morning.

When we set off from home in the UK at 4.30 am on Boxing Day it was incredibly mild: 13½°C. This is in stark contrast to last year when we had temperatures below freezing in the UK and barely getting above freezing for most of the week.

This time we had fine weather and mild temperatures all the way to the Loire. When we arrived chez nous, Nicole had put the heaters on low and had laid the fire for us but the house did not have that dense chill that we normally get when we have been away for a few weeks at this time of year. Boxing Day had been a gloriously mild and sunny day in the village, apparently.

The next morning it was still mild but it was very misty. Then it warmed up and we had a lovely fine day.

The early morning mist gave way to a beautiful fine and sunny day.

The château looked beautiful and was open for business as usual in the early part of the week.

As the week went by the weather changed a lot. We had a couple of frosty mornings, then it warmed up again and gave way to grey drizzle for most of the time we were there.

Drizzly weather and wet rooftops in the middle of the week.

This was disappointing. We really look forward to the blue skies, frosty nights and log fires that we normally get on our winter break.

Christmas decorations and geraniums in flower in a Loches window.

Everywhere we went there was evidence of a mild autumn and winter (so far anyway). We saw geraniums in flower everywhere, including our own. We also spotted a red camellia and pink hollyhocks in full bloom.

Our own geraniums were still holding on pretty well.

But we had a nice time and on our last day, as we were packing up to come home, sadly, the sun came out and we had our lunch on the terrace before we set off back North.

Blue skies and fluffy clouds on our last day.

However, due to the mild temperatures we didn’t make much of a dent in our log pile, which is still there for another visit, and the electricity bill will be better than usual. Every cloud and all that…….

MERRY CHRISTMAS !

2011-12-24T15:45:00.001Z

Merry Christmas, everyone !! And a very happy New Year, too.

Keep well, keep warm, enjoy your celebrations and I’ll be back in the new year.

MORE WINTER CHEER

2011-12-22T16:58:00.001Z

The château with its new walkways looking beautiful last Easter.

I remember being so thrilled to be back in Le Grand-Pressigny in April, after an absence of sixteen weeks. They were very long weeks. ~ it was a very bad winter last year.

I just can’t wait to see those Loire Valley blue skies and fluffy clouds again.

I am happy that the shortest day is now behind us ~ although I usually notice very little improvement in the length of the days until well into January. I always feel we have turned the corner once I am driving home from work in daylight, some time in the middle of February.

One of our favourite views in the village ~ always pretty at any time of year but especially nice in spring.

With the worst of the winter weather yet to come, I find great pleasure in reminding myself of what it was like in our little corner of France last spring.

The village square looks so inviting in the spring sunshine.

Curiously, today it is unbelievably mild ~ 13°C according to my car dashboard. It certainly felt like it ~ 12° warmer than it was only three days ago !! Long may the mild spell continue ~ any day without snow is very welcome at this time of year.

Lulu foraging amongst the spring flowers in our little garden.

All I can say is “so far, so good”. We haven’t been snowed in yet this winter. Christmas looks like being a mild one rather than a white one. That’s fine by me. It’s after Christmas that winter really starts to bite, I think.

SPRING FLOWERS

2011-12-20T13:20:00.001Z

Looking back at our photo album, our stay in Le Grand-Pressigny in April this year was very floral. The weather was exceptionally good, if I remember, too.

Dinner on our little terrace, just an hour or so after we arrived for the first visit since the dark days of winter.

Our Judas trees were in full bloom in April. Such pretty flowers ~ it’s a shame they make so much mess later on.

This poppy was in Nicole’s garden, I think.

Another bunch of flowers left on our doorstep by Mme André.

Some pictures of the glorious spring flowers in the park at Descartes.

Flowers in a container in the village square.

And last but not least, the climbing rose on our front wall was in full bloom to welcome us back to our little holiday home.

WINTER CHEER

2011-12-16T08:21:00.001Z

The only thing that really cheers me up in winter is looking forward to spring, summer and autumn.

The château in spring.

OK, it’s nice to get cosy with the fire going in the hearth, the Christmas tree twinkling away, a glass of mulled wine and the Strictly final on the telly. All three of us, me, Nick and the dog, getting comfy on the sofa – Lulu stretched out in the middle and us squashed in at each end, a large ginger fluffy tail wafting across our eyes as she turns round and obscures the view of the best quickstep ever seen in the competition.

Flowers from Mme. André, left on the doorstep at Easter.

It’s even nice to get togged up really warm and go for an occasional long walk, noses glowing, then come back to a lovely warm house and a comforting cup of tea.

But the reality of winter is cold, cold and more cold, mixed with grey, damp and dark. And of course the dreaded snow. Once Christmas is over, for us it’s batten down the hatches, and keep going until spring. What a pity we can’t just hibernate.

Isabella and Amélie prepare some leftover BBQ bits for Lulu last April.

So I have been looking back at our photos for this last year and realise that we have so far spent the equivalent of eight wonderful weeks in Le Grand-Pressigny and for most of the time the sun shone beautifully.

The photos fall into a few obvious themes : flowers, friends, food and sunshine. It’s great to have all that under our belts and to look forward to more of the same.

Walt’s magnificent rhubarb crumble tart.

I’m going to post some of my favourite photos while we busy ourselves with Christmas – I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

At the Paulmy brocante last Easter.

TWO LITTLE GIRLS

2011-12-11T09:14:00.001Z

This little girl was born in January 1928. She was a shy country girl with a mischievous sense of humour, the youngest of eight children.

She married a handsome sailor, had two children herself and worked in a knitwear factory where she once mended King Farouk’s underpants. Not many people know that. She rode pillion all over England, Scotland and Ireland on the back of a BSA motorcycle. She loved her home in the country and enjoyed holidays in Cornwall and Scotland with her sailor. She once went to France but didn’t reckon much to it. She died four days before Christmas in 2002.

This little girl was born on the 11th December 1951. She was a bit of a tomboy and spent most of her spare time climbing trees, collecting tadpoles and playing cricket with her male cousins. She seemed to spend a lot of time in a sidecar attached to her dad’s motorcycle. She went to university, has skied down mountains, dived the ocean, sailed, windsurfed, canoed, ridden a Harley-Davidson all over Europe with her husband Nick, and once drove a steam engine. Not many people know that. She has a little house in France and almost as many friends there as she does at home and is really looking forward to her next visit.

She misses her mum on the day she turns sixty but she is looking forward to her family coming over for her birthday. It’s roast lamb and tiramisu for lunch, two of her favourites. Happy days.

NICE ARTWORK

2011-12-08T11:14:00.001Z

At the beginning of October there is a festival in the next village, Le Petit-Pressigny, called “L’Art et Lard”. It’s a mixture of food stalls selling all kinds of interesting local produce, and all manner of artwork, displayed here and there all over the village.

This year it was a miserable day weather-wise but we had fun, bumping into friends old and new and seeing what was on display. These two are some of my favourites.

The artwork that was for sale was generally quite pricey but we could easily have bought lots of it – if we had the wall space. In the end the only thing we bought was a small bottle of locally made walnut oil !! Happy days.

WEATHER TALK

2011-12-05T09:49:00.001Z

Winter has arrived in Derbyshire. It was only 1°C at 11pm last night and we had a slight snowfall overnight. Nothing much, just a sprinkling.

Lulu met up with her friend Jack in the field and had a good run around. You can see Jack’s owner all muffled up in scarf, hat and gloves. Me too.

3rd December 2011

However, we are much happier than we were this time last year.

3rd December 2010

This has been a normal autumn so far. A bit milder and drier than usual perhaps, but we normally get a slight fall of snow at this time of year, then it disappears and we get some more in January and February.

This time last year we were under three feet of snow already and clearing the drive was a mammoth task – we had huge piles of snow everywhere, as did everyone else.

I am keeping my fingers crossed that we continue as we are. The forecast is for light snow on and off this week, which is normal.

A BIT OF A CLUE

2011-12-04T09:28:00.001Z

As you can see, there are actually two of them.

But what are they for ?? Why would you need two pretty little “windows” like these on a building like this ??

Any further suggestions are welcome !!

Bonne dimanche !!

A PUZZLE FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-12-03T10:39:00.001Z

We have come across similar things to this many times in our wanderings around the Touraine, and in fact in other parts of France.

Any ideas what it is or the purpose of it ?

This one is in Le Petit-Pressigny.

Bon weekend !!

HOLIDAY BAKING

2011-11-28T12:30:00.001Z

When we were chez nous in October, we were expecting visitors mid-morning for coffee and I decided to bake a little something to go with it.

Usually I would nip down to the boulangerie and get a little selection of treats from there but I had an urge to make something myself. So I made a small batch of madeleines.

They are very easy to make and take no time at all. I use a madeleine tin from Lakeland that I got as the freebie in a “3 for 2” offer last Christmas. The recipe is a Waitrose recipe that makes just the right amount of mixture for one tin.

I also used my icing sugar sifter that I bought in France and is absolutely brilliant – gone are the days of icing sugar fog in the kitchen as you sift it over a cake – this pack of icing sugar with its own sifter puts just the right amount on the cake instead of all over the place. I bought it in Auchan I think, or maybe Intermarché.

They were absolutely scrummy and you can see the recipe here.

A CUPBOARD ON THE ROOF

2011-11-27T12:18:00.001Z

When we furnished our little house we did it mostly in one go three years ago, bringing all the furniture in a large transit van from England, all in one weekend. You can read about that here.

This year we decided we needed another piece of furniture, some kind of large glass fronted cupboard to store our crockery and glassware. This was so that we could have it all nearer to the kitchen, saving having to walk across the living room with trays precariously piled up with stuff after each washing up session. Plus the fact that the little sideboard was crammed full and getting down on our hands and knees to winkle things out at every mealtime was becoming annoying.

Just like before, we spent some time searching furniture shops, vide-greniers and second-hand shops in France and found nothing that was even remotely the right size to fit where we wanted it to go, not to mention affordable. So we came to the conclusion again that if we were to avoid spending a lot of our precious holiday time shopping for furniture, we should have to buy it in the UK and somehow get it over to France.

The furniture we bought only three years ago is now discontinued. We were rather disappointed about this, as they did have the perfect cupboard in the range. We considered buying it at the time but thought we would never need it. Now we know we should have bought it in the first place.

However, the store we got it from had a cupboard made for us to our own specification for about the same price as we would have paid for the original.

You can see how we got it to France. The wrapping started to unravel half way down the M1 but we bodged it back together and the cupboard arrived in perfect condition. Much easier than hiring a van or towing a trailer.

We’re very pleased with the new cupboard and it’s full already.

STRICTLY THE BEST

2011-11-24T14:14:00.001Z

Strictly Come Dancing is one of those shows that you either love or hate. We love it !!

This year we feel that the contestants haven’t quite come up to the standard of previous years. They have plenty of enthusiasm but not quite the sparkle.

These two videos show one of the best contestants ever, I think, Rachel Stevens. I don’t think there has ever been a better Argentine tango or Rumba since.

I decided to look them up on You Tube to remind us how it should be done in advance of Saturday’s competition !!

HALF TIME

2011-11-21T08:00:00.001Z

It is now just over a month since we returned from our last holiday in Le Grand-Pressigny.

In a few weeks’ time we will be heading back to France again. It can’t come too soon.

The weather here in Derbyshire has turned into November all of a sudden. Yesterday it was cold, misty and miserable all day. Until now it has been unusually mild, and dry.

We did a few last tidying-up jobs in the garden – our green bin recycling service is being cut between now and March – part of the local council’s economy measures. The last collection is this week so we crammed as much into it as possible. The rest will have to sit in the emptied bin until March. It rankles that we pay huge council tax for a service that they have decided to cut. The bigger your house, the bigger your garden, the more you pay in council tax and the more you need your green bin.

The next few weeks will fly by as we drag ourselves to work in the ever-darkening mornings. I can no longer ignore the fact that we are hurtling towards Christmas once again and with all of that we will soon be on our way back to France.

Last year it was touch and go whether or not we made the trip. Tons of snow fell overnight on the 25th November and we were snowed in for a week. More snow fell throughout December and travelling was difficult to say the least. I am sincerely hoping that last year was one of those winters that we only get about every ten years.

I think I must be suffering from half time blues !!

DEM DRY BONES

2011-11-19T11:52:00.001Z

When we were chez nous in October, we went for a walk along the track that goes behind the ruined château at Etableau.

It was a mild but overcast day but we had a lovely walk and there were some surprises along the way.

Nick and Lulu spent ages searching for arrowheads in the fields next to the track.

Then we came across this huge pile of silex that had obviously been picked out of the earth by someone.

There were all kinds of fascinating things in it, including these old bones. We wondered what animal they came from. Any suggestions ??

But we didn’t find any iphones !!

Have a bonne weekend !!

CAKE, ANYONE ??

2011-11-18T11:14:00.001Z

It’s the day of our annual charity cake stall for Children in Need.

This is about half of the cakes we had to display.

But you’ll have to be quick, it will all be gone by teatime !!

DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE !!

2011-11-15T12:31:00.001Z

Or you could find yourself up a grassy bank !!

UP, UP AND AWAY

2011-11-12T22:37:00.001Z

On our last Sunday in Le Grand-Pessigny I heard a familiar roaring sound outside. It was quite early in the morning, probably about 8.30am.

I was still in my dressing gown when I dashed outside with my camera, just in time to see a hot air balloon drifting towards our terrace. I waved to the people in the basket and Lulu barked.

It passed low over the house and seemed to barely clear the château. I scrambled into my jeans and dashed up the hill to see if it had landed behind the château but it drifted off into the distance, quite low over the fields. In the quiet of a beautiful sunny Sunday morning, you could still hear the roar of the burners as it disappeared over the horizon.

REMEMBERING

2011-11-11T08:28:00.001Z

Four years ago today it was a Sunday and Remembrance Day. Also Nick’s birthday.

We had owned our little house for two days and were staying in the hotel in the village while we bought some basic furniture, such as a bed, and got the house ready for us to spend our first night there. That would be tomorrow.

Our only friends so far in the village, Barrie and Lucie, invited us to join them in watching the November 11th parade through the village. We were amazed at how big an occasion it was. The parade and the villagers gathered round the war memorial behind the church and there were speeches. All the names of the village war dead were read out and there were tears in the eyes of many of the people around the memorial, including mine. It was incredibly moving.

Afterwards we joined everyone for drinks in the salle des fêtes and were introduced to Alex and Nicole and their two little girls, Isabella and Amélie. We were made extremely welcome by the people of the village and Barrie also introduced us to the Maire.

It was a bitterly cold day, in great contrast to the unseasonably mild November we are having this year. We were well wrapped up in warm coats and woolly scarves.

Afterwards we wandered back up the hill towards the château and to our freezing cold and empty little house with a very warm feeling inside us. Maybe it was the wine we had shared with all our new friends but I think that was the point that we realised that this village and our little house at the foot of the château were something really special. Something we hadn’t bargained for when we thought we were just buying a nice little holiday home.

AN ANNIVERSARY

2011-11-09T06:28:00.000Z

It is four years ago today that we bought our little house in Le Grand-Pressigny. Those years have flown by and we have grown to love the house and the village in a way that has taken us by surprise.

These before and after photos speak for themselves. It was a neglected, unwanted and unloved little cottage and is now a cosy, happy place for us to spend our holidays.

Le Salon

La cuisine.

La chambre principale.

La terrasse.

Le jardin.

La fenêtre cachée.

There are still things to do. The bathroom will be refitted and the hot water tank moved into the cellar, making lots more room. The cellar will be made into a cleaner, more useable area for storage. The staircase needs decorating. Then it’s finished.

And then we can just relax and enjoy it.

I would like to say a huge “thank you” to Alex and Nicole of Les Limornières, who have done a fantastic job of looking after the house and garden for us. They have also worked very hard to bring about its transformation. Without their help we would never have got it this far in four years.

FACES

2011-11-06T20:52:00.001Z

I like the endless designs of lace or net curtains that you can get in France. They range from chic and modern to quaint and old-fashioned.

I’m not sure this was the best choice for a restaurant…….the faces watching us eat our lunch made me feel slightly uneasy. Once I had got it into my head that these were little puppy faces, I kept wanting to slip them a morsel or two …….

EXPERIMENTING

2011-11-05T09:14:00.000Z

I never tire of the view towards the château from the village square.

When we were chez nous in October I was sitting with the customary apéro outside the PreHisto and was lazily fiddling with my camera. I found a couple of settings on it that I had never noticed before.

This looks like it might have been taken in the early days of photography. Apart from the stylish metal chairs, that is.

I took the same picture again and it could have been in the 1950’s, even with the metal chairs.

Nice, but I think I’ll stick to the colour settings. Mind you, at least I didn’t have to post off the film, and wait a week for the pictures to come back before I could make my mind up !!

CLOSED ON MONDAYS

2011-11-02T13:57:00.001Z

I actually find it strangely quaint and reassuring that so much of France is closed on Mondays.

Living in the UK where all retail outlets are open the maximum number of hours legally allowed, so as not to miss an opportunity to sell you something, I rather like the feeling that our little part of France is still immersed in the 1950’s or 60’s and that you have to plan your shopping accordingly.

For example, the butcher is open all day Saturday until 7pm and Sunday mornings until lunchtime but closed on Mondays. The boulangerie is closed on Mondays but bakes the bread which is sold at the Spa shop. Most places are closed for at least two hours for lunch, including the supermarkets.

Hence we had a bit of a challenge when we wanted go out to lunch with friends and the only day they could manage was a Monday. Most restaurants are closed on Mondays but we dropped lucky and went to “Le Croissant” in Ligueil.

During the week they do the typical working lunch, with several courses including wine for a set amount. We have eaten such lunches many times all over France and they vary from extremely good value to extremely scary and almost inedible.

At Le Croissant we were lucky. Monday was turkey steak day.

Every week seems to be the same – the dish of the day - plat du jour – is determined by the day of the week that you eat there.

The restaurant was cheerfully decorated in a home-spun fashion and the proprietor was helpful and friendly. The food was good and definitely falls into the good value category rather than scary. Although that could definitely depend in the day of the week !!

The buffet starter looked home-made rather than bulk-purchased, which was nice. I can’t remember what it cost exactly but even with extra wine and a really nice coffee afterwards, it didn’t break the bank.

We will certainly be returning ……. but possibly on a Friday – the Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday menus are a bit too scary for us.

What would be your favourite day of the week ?? !!

KNOCK, KNOCK

2011-10-29T23:03:00.001+01:00

We arrived for our October holiday on the Saturday afternoon.

On the Sunday morning there was a little tap, tap on the door. Nick opened the door and there was no-one there, just a beautiful bunch of flowers left on the doorstep.

A MUSEUM FOR EVERYTHING

2011-10-26T16:18:00.001+01:00

Over the years we have visited all sorts of museums in France ~ car museums, motorcycle museums, museums for mushrooms, wine, tools and prehistory.

This summer we ventured south by about 65 km to the town of Montmorillon and this time we were interested in the MACARON MUSEUM !!

I found a leaflet for it in L’Office de Tourisme in the village and I simply had to go !!

The museum is on the upper floor of this shop and tells all about the production of almonds, the history of macarons, and the escapades of the family that have been making them in the town for many, many years.

There was a modest entrance fee and for this we had a tour of the museum, a very quaint film to watch and a dégustation – a tasting of some of the macarons the company still produce.

These are not the glossy fashionable macarons that you see in all the fancy shop windows ~ the guide was very keen to point out that the family were making macrons like this first and they have an enduring quality. They certainly were delicious.

There was all sorts of paraphernalia on display relating to the production of macarons ~ I rather liked the knobs and levers to twiddle on this one.

Mind you, this was parked a couple of streets away in the town and the knobs and levers on it looked more worthwhile twiddling !!

Montmorillon is an interesting town and there will be more about it later ~ a nice place to go on a dull and drizzly Monday afternoon.

IT’S ONLY A RUMOUR

2011-10-24T08:23:00.001+01:00

We were out and about the other week and spotted this rather desirable house on the road between Descartes and Neuilly-le-Brignon.

It was obviously beautifully restored with what looks like an indoor swimming pool on the side.

Back at the PreHisto, we asked Mariel about it and she told us it changed hands last year and the new owner is rumoured to be Johnny Depp.

That’s what we thought. You would have to be mega rich or famous to live somewhere like that. Must buy a lottery ticket this week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The holidays are over, the washing is all done, the ironing is down to just one basket and as life returns to normal, blog posts will slowly resume their normal pattern, if I can remember what normal is !! Thanks to all who have been patiently following and waiting for something to happen !!

NOBODY LIVES HERE ANY MORE

2011-10-22T19:44:00.001+01:00

You can never be really sure but in this case it looks very doubtful.

I SIT, THEREFORE I AM

2011-10-19T13:43:00.000+01:00

Somewhere to take the weight off your feet in the park at Descartes.

THE LAST BREAKFAST

2011-10-17T10:29:00.000+01:00

Breakfast on the terrace the day we made the journey back to the UK at the end of our August holiday.

It didn’t help us feel any better about going home.

FISH? WHAT FISH!

2011-10-15T10:29:00.000+01:00

A poodle tired of checking the best places to fish and ready for her dinner.

GOING OVER THE EDGE

2011-10-13T13:38:00.001+01:00

There’s something about the sight and sound of water rushing over a weir that is so fascinating. I could have stood and watched it for hours.

Well, a few minutes anyway !!

PEACE AND QUIET

2011-10-11T10:28:00.000+01:00

Time passes slowly when you’re having this much fun.

OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR

2011-10-08T07:59:00.000+01:00

The château at Ussé seen in the mirror of my motorcycle.

THE ENGLISH SHELF

2011-10-03T10:26:00.002+01:00

Browsing through the supermarket in Yzeures-sur-Creuse, I found myself in front of some familiar things, many of them costing at least twice what we would pay for them in the UK.

I don’t think I would miss any of them enough to pay as much as that.

KEEPING WATCH

2011-10-02T23:48:00.001+01:00

Down by the river in Descartes, perched up in mid-air, the little dog sees everything. He runs to and fro along the platform that goes across the top of the gate.

APÉRO TIME IN THE SQUARE

2011-10-01T11:40:00.000+01:00

Enjoying the early evening sunshine with an apéro.

KITCHEN HELP

2011-09-29T12:22:00.000+01:00

Amélie and Isabella came round to help make cupcakes.

They also made toad in the hole and coconut macaroons.

THE COLOUR OF LATE SUMMER

2011-09-26T07:29:00.000+01:00

This is the tree that stands outside the old tabac opposite the village school. I don’t know what kind of tree it is but in August it was smothered in these lovely pink flowers.

SOMETHING FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-09-23T08:55:00.001+01:00

A stall on the Saturday market in Loches.

TAKING A BREAK

2011-09-21T23:52:00.001+01:00

The blog will be on hold for a while. I will still be keeping an eye on my favourite blogs in the meantime and there will be occasional photos to keep you going until normal service is resumed…..

Toodle pip!

THE COMICE AGRICOLE

2011-09-18T23:30:00.001+01:00

Preuilly-sur-Claise was dressed in its Sunday best on the 21st August for the Comice Agricole.

This is old news now, and you may have seen it in other blogs, but for me it’s good to look back and remember.

To remember that no matter what the event in France, if it’s outdoors, there will be a brocante!

To remember that it was a beautiful day - the sun shone brightly and there was hardly a cloud to be seen in the sky.

Now that the nights are drawing in and the evenings are getting chilly, to remember how warm it was, standing in the shade, as people, some of whom were definitely no spring chickens, marched and danced for our entertainment. It was about 32°C and they all deserved a medal.

This Breton group were my second favourites ~ the bagpipes were wonderful. Although I thought the person offering CD’s and DVD’s of their performance for sale was a little optimistic! I suppose if you really can’t find something to watch on the telly on a rainy night in February, it might come in handy!

The costumes were amazing and they must have been so hot in all those layers.

This group were my absolute favourites. The music was rousing and jolly ~ there was barely a single person in the crowd not tapping their feet or clapping their hands as they went by.

I suppose they did have an advantage, in that their clothes were more suitable for performing in the baking heat.

What I remember most is how blue the sky was, how good it was to feel warm and surrounded by people enjoying themselves. How wonderful it was to be back in our special little corner of France. And it was only a month ago.

A PHOTO FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-09-17T08:05:00.001+01:00

The last time we boarded the train to cross the channel, we were the first car to be directed to the upper deck. We were very tired after a long drive and now we were completely alone.

Driving the full length of the empty train was a weird sensation. Almost like being in one of those space movies where you are drawn down into some strange and distant planet, swooping and diving between tall and oppressive buildings. Then an alien stepped out in front of us to stop us before we hit the wall at the end ~ a Eurotunnel lady !!

(I was going to put this in as a puzzle, but it’s far too easy!)

LIFE IN A CAVE

2011-09-15T16:43:00.001+01:00

People have been living in the caves in the Loire region since prehistoric times and many were still very much in use in the 19th century.

Inside the weaver’s cave.

The Troglodyte village, Ethni’Cité, at St-Rémy near Descartes is a fascinating place to visit. You can have a good look inside caves that were used in prehistoric times, those that were occupied by Richard Coeur de Lion and some that still have furniture and tools from the 19th and 20th centuries.

The bread oven, typical of ones used for many centuries all over France.

When Richard the Lionheart ruled this part of France, which was in fact England, he would look down from his cave over the valley below where the river Creuse flows sleepily along. That part of the land was in France.

Confusing, isn’t it, especially if like me, you have a limited knowledge of French and English history.

Richard the Lionheart’s view of France from his cave which was in England. There would have been no roads or houses, just a few huts, possibly some animals and people waiting for the right moment to attack.

On our tour of the caves, there was much information about how the cave dwellers would defend themselves from the people in the valley below, who were often starving and would attack the caves in search of food. The cave dwellers were well organised and better supplied with food and the other essentials of life.

The post lady delivers to the caves that are still in use and some are in the process of being renovated.

None of the caves seemed to be in constant use, in other words as a home. In other parts of the Loire, many are still very much in use; a more modern house is built on the front of an old cave dwelling.

Most of the ones we saw seemed to be used for recreational or display purposes. There was nothing special going on the day we visited, which was good in a way as we had them all to ourselves.

At Ethni’Cité there are regularly special events throughout the summer, with numerous and varied demonstrations of how people lived there and the way they managed to support support themselves. We came away feeling very grateful that we were born in Europe in the middle of the 20th century, as life must have been extremely uncomfortable and dangerous for all the previous occupants of the caves. The temperature inside is apparently constant all year round, neither too warm nor too cold, but the caves must have also been rather damp, cramped and smelly.

The display boards in the caves had lots of postcards showing clearly that they were still inhabited in the early part of the 20th century and I seem to remember seeing a date sometime in the 1940’s being the last time they were used for real.

The morning we spent there was fascinating and we will certainly go back and see some of the events that they put on. It was well worth the modest entrance fee.

For anyone who might think of visiting, I was glad I wore sensible shoes and picked a day when it was dry underfoot.

A STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

2011-09-13T13:06:00.001+01:00

Well it might be ~ it’s the footpath that leads to the church from the village of St-Rémy and comes at the end of the walk you can do if you visit Ethni’Cité, which we did on a beautiful warm and sunny day in August.

More soon, I promise !!

UPDATE AND THE ANSWER IS…

2011-09-11T20:01:00.001+01:00

Nick has phoned to say he has arrived safely at his hotel in Brazil, a mere 26 hours after the taxi picked him up from home to take him to Heathrow. Luckily his suitcase also arrived at the same time. On his way to the hotel he passed scores of the gated and guarded compounds where many of the better off have to live to in order to be safe.

Richard Coeur de Lion’s des res in St-Rémy

The picture in the puzzle is of a well shaft in one of the troglodyte dwellings at Ethni’Cité at St-Rémy near Descartes. The well was used to provide water but also as an escape route for the occupants to flee from attackers in the valley below. (Although not both at the same time, I guess!) If you look back at the picture you can see the footholes on the side of the shaft.

Thinking about Nick’s current location, one could speculate how much things have really changed over the many centuries since the caves were occupied by their most famous inhabitant, Richard Coeur de Lion. In many parts of the world, very little, it seems.

A PUZZLE FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-09-09T21:21:00.001+01:00

Just a quickie from me for now.

This week has been a bit of a scramble to get Nick washed, ironed and on the aeroplane to Brazil for a couple of weeks. It’s just for work, unfortunately.

Guessing what this is might be relatively easy, but there will be extra brownie points if anyone knows where it is.

Mind you, if you trogged past it too quickly, you would miss it.

A BRIDGE SLIGHTLY FURTHER

2011-09-05T13:42:00.001+01:00

The journey to France is troublesome. In the sense that we are constantly trying to find the best way to do it.

It’s 600 miles door-to-door and the travelling problems are all on the UK side of the channel. The journey from home in Derbyshire to Folkestone to catch the train is the difficult bit. All because travelling on the UK motorways is a total nightmare, a complete unknown.

According to Google it takes three and a half hours from here to the tunnel but it can take much, much more than that. All it needs is an “accident” caused by someone doing something stupid and then you have a huge traffic jam and you miss your train.

We organised things differently this time, setting off on the Friday night, aiming for the just-before-midnight train and having a hotel booked near the tunnel exit in Calais. Then after a relaxed breakfast we would continue south and be chez nous by mid-afternoon – much less exhausting than trying to do it all in one go after a day’s work.

The traffic going south on the UK motorways was foul. But moving. Until we got past the Dartford crossing and onto the M20. Not far from the tunnel there was a short section of badly organised roadworks funnelling three lanes of traffic into one lane in a very short space and suddenly there was chaos. At 11.00 pm it looked like we would miss our train, a massive hold-up being caused by a careless lorry driver stuffing his lorry into the side of a car as he changed lanes without looking or giving the car the chance to get out of the way. It was only by a difference of seconds that the hapless car driver didn’t happen to be us.

However, we eventually made it across (or rather, under) the channel to France and from that point onwards all our travelling problems evaporated.

We decided to use a slightly different route, avoiding going through the centre of Rouen and crossing the Seine via the Pont de Bretonne, which we have never done before. Yet another spectacular French bridge to add to our list of really good bridges crossed in France.

The temperature rose steadily as we got nearer to the Loire. On leaving Calais it was 18°C and by the time we were passing the florist’s shop in Montbazon, it was 32°.

Le Grand-Pressigny was in full bloom, full fruit and looking beautiful. The apple trees in the car park by the château were full of fruit, as were the blackberry bushes and the vines.

We had a wonderful two weeks and I will be telling you all about some of it as soon as I can.

Things back home are as hectic as always so you will have to be patient… !!

A RENAULT WITH A CAKE ON TOP

2011-08-17T10:43:00.001+01:00

On 14th July we went to a birthday party.

It was a meeting of Renault 4’s and other old vehicles in the little town of Scorbé-Clairvaux, which is a few kilometres west of Chatellerault.

We arrived fairly early and there was not much happening so we had a wander round the brocante that was also taking place. There seems to be a brocante at most events, whatever they are.

Lulu enjoyed all the attention from lots of people who had obviously never seen a standard poodle before and she made several new friends.

The Renaults were all out on a ride – a parade through the countryside – and pretty soon they all started to arrive and line up to be admired. I was especially impressed with the one with the birthday cake on top !!

There were lots of other old cars in the parade, all twinkling in the beautiful sunshine.

I thought the flame job on this one was superb.

This seemed to be the “sublime to the ridiculous”.

I thought this would make a very nice camper or ice-cream van.

For those who would like something a little faster in pink !!

And this one’s for Tim and Keith !!

It was one of those essentially French events. Glorious sunshine, good humour, good fun, beautiful old cars, nobody taking it too seriously, any excuse for a jumble sale and no admission fee. A great day out.

THE RENAULT 4

2011-08-15T08:23:00.001+01:00

To celebrate the Renault 4’s 50th birthday, there is a really nice collection of them in the “auto, moto, vélo” museum in Chatellerault, along with posters from its hey day, advertising films, and even a video of a pop song where the 1960’s female singer, beehive hairdo and all, is draped all over one.

I know the 2CV has a huge following, its iconic shape being almost a symbol for France, along with the Eiffel tower. I can appreciate its charm but somehow it just doesn’t do it for me. Maybe it’s the fact that I have never owned one but I did once have a Renault 4.

I actually had my first driving lessons in one. You may justifiably question the sanity of someone who tries to learn to drive in a car with only three gears, a gear stick sticking out of the dashboard and a tendency to lean alarmingly on the slightest bend, but that’s what I did.

Until the occasion when I was overtaken by a milk float going up a slight hill in Leeds. Then I decided that if I was going to get anywhere (literally) I needed proper driving lessons in a proper car.

The posters in the museum showed how the Renault 4 was everything a car should be, appealing to everyone; it was a shopping trolley, a workhorse and a cool set of wheels all in one design. Pretty clever.

Mind you, from the experience of owning one, I would think it might have trouble keeping up with those skateboards in the poster !!

I had never seen or heard of them until I saw mine in the car showroom window. It was a basic model, in blue, second hand and very reasonable. I had to arrange a bank loan to afford it, which in itself was a huge step in the 1970’s – having to be interviewed by the bank manager to borrow £300.

As it turned out, it was the most awful car I have ever had. It wouldn’t start at all in winter and I had to use the starting handle or bump start it down the hill outside my flat. The heater was almost non-existent and those windows were not the best design for keeping the draughts out. It was really slow and almost died on the slightest uphill slope yet leaned as if you were on race track on every bend. I had to choose my passengers carefully – there was no room for anyone who suffered from motion sickness or was afraid of getting frostbite.

But I loved it. It was fun, quirky and none of my friends had one so it was unique. They were all burbling around the countryside in their done-up VW Beetles, or posing in their MGB’s and I would lurch round the bends in something like a cross between a small van and a blue brick. It was also all I could afford and my very first car, like a first love, always remembered with fondness, forgetting the annoying bits.

In my mind it will always be on a pedestal. You can keep your 2CV’s. I will be getting another Renault 4 as soon as I can. Just to see if it is really as bad as I remember it.

THE ANSWER IS…….

2011-08-14T20:34:00.001+01:00

My mischievous attempts to throw you clever people off the scent worked. A girl has to have some fun, after all !!

Those who guessed it was a door bell were right. It seems to be an empty doorbell casing where the push button is missing. I spotted it on my doorknocker photo shoot tour of Chinon.

I thought it was a shame that someone had ruined what probably was quite a handsome door by mounting a regulation letter box in the middle.

It seems there is sometimes no respect for the old buildings and they are spoiled for practical purposes, doing things the cheapest way possible, with no regard for aesthetics.

A PUZZLE FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-08-13T09:40:00.001+01:00

Any idea what this is?

I’m not giving any clues ………. bon weekend !!!

A PASSION FOR OLD VEHICLES

2011-08-10T09:53:00.002+01:00

We had a lovely couple of hours in the “Musée auto, moto, vélo” in Chatellerault last month.

It is in ~~some kind of old~~ an old arms factory premises* down by the river. You can’t miss it – just look for the two magnificent chimneys outside.

(*Thanks to Susan for this info.)

Inside there is everything from the original penny farthing, through the first motorised cars and cycles to more familiar two, three or four-wheeled vehicles most of us will have seen on our roads.

There is something for everyone with an interest in cars or bikes, all beautifully displayed, with old garage workshops, videos and posters. All for a modest entrance fee.

Quite a bit of space was dedicated, as you would expect, to the 2CV. However, I was more interested in the displays of something having a big birthday this year.

The Renault 4 is 50 years old.

The bottom one was just like mine !! Or at least the one I had in the 1970’s. I didn’t check if its starting handle was just as well used !!

APÉRO TIME

2011-08-09T10:39:00.001+01:00

We love the early evening routine of sitting in the square with an apéro, watching the last of the shops close and people making their way home with last minute baguettes or little packages of meat from the butcher.

Mariel, the proprietor of the PreHisto bar, has a superb skill of stopping exactly at the top of the glass when she pours a rosé wine.

There is an equally specialist skill in taking the first sip without spilling as demonstrated by our friend Gail.

Happy days.

With all the unbelievable things happening in our cities these last few days, I can’t wait to get back to the peace of rural France.

AN OLD DOOR FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-08-06T09:39:00.001+01:00

A lovely old door and its equally lovely knocker, seen in Chinon on a doorknocker photo shoot.

A BIT OF EXCITEMENT

2011-08-05T08:36:00.001+01:00

Whilst we love having our little holiday home, there are things about the old way of spending our holidays that we miss.

We have slipped into a comfortable routine: drive straight there, ignoring the whole of northern France in order to get there as fast as possible, get settled in, do some shopping and sit on our little terrace absorbing the sights, sounds and smells of village life in rural France.

Nothing wrong with that. But Angus’ post here reminded me of an incident that happened many years ago and I suddenly realised I do sometimes miss the excitement and adventure of our old holidays.

They used to go like this: on Friday night, pile all our luggage on the motorcycles, using Nick’s championship skills to bungee tent, waterproofs and as many bags as possible onto any bit that he could, ride to the south coast, get on the first available ferry, dive into a cheap hotel for the night, get up the next morning and think “now where shall we go this year?”.

Such overnight stays often provided unexpected entertainment. Such as the time we were awakened at 3am, having just got into our first floor room at 1am, by a huge commotion. A car screeched to a halt beneath our window, a “lady” got out and immediately started shouting. I think it was something like “YOU B*****D WHERE THE F**K ARE YOU”. In French of course.

She was a clever woman. All windows of all the rooms opened as people wished to express their annoyance at being disturbed (the French) or just have a nosey (the English). Only one remained closed.

The argument continued for what seemed like hours. It was interesting at first but it did go on a bit. We concluded that the French do like a good, loud argument. The “lady” got back in her car, slammed the door and screeched off, another female slipped out of the room, shoes and jacket in her hand, got into a taxi and left. The next morning, as people packed their things into cars and headed off to start their holidays, a man was seen on the balcony outside his room, cooing and pleading softly into his mobile phone. I don’t know which lady was on the other end but she was obviously not impressed as he was cut off mid-sentence and he held the phone at arm’s length, looking at it completely aghast.

We miss that kind of thing. But not that much !!

HOLIDAY BAKING

2011-08-04T13:47:00.001+01:00

A month or so ago I went to lunch with a friend in a French style restaurant near to home in Derbyshire. We both chose the same thing from the menu – a nice slice of summer vegetable tart which had in it green beans, peas and broccoli. It also had some caramelised onion on the bottom, which gave a lovely slightly sweet taste and made a nice change from the usual very savoury flavour of fried onions.

So I decided to have a go at something similar myself. I made a large quiche at home in the UK and it was so nice that I then made some mini tartlets to serve as a starter for lunch one day when we were chez nous in Le Grand-Pressigny.

I used some haricots verts, broccoli, peas and a few broad beans from our Derbyshire garden. Although the tart in the restaurant probably didn’t have any cheese in it, I decided to add a couple of spoons of the nice ready-grated parmesan cheese that comes in re-sealable bags that they sell in the Spa shop in the village.

My friend Nicole suggested using a muffin tin rather than the mini loose-bottomed tart tins that you can get specially for the purpose. She also suggested using puff pastry instead of shortcrust as she found it turns out more easily and holds its shape better.

I used an old Bon Maman jar, purchased that week from a vide grenier, as a template for cutting out circles of pastry the right size for the muffin pan.

They looked wonderful, in a rustic kind of way, and tasted good too. They made a lovely starter, with a few salad leaves and a cherry tomato on the plate.

If you would like to see the recipe, you can find it here.

AN INVISIBLE MOMENT AND A HAPPY ENDING

2011-08-01T09:40:00.001+01:00

So there I was with my new carte grise in my hand on Monday morning and all I needed to be able to ride my motorcycle in the lovely warm and sunny weather was a number plate with my new French registration number on it and some insurance.

A happy person with her new plaque d’immatriculation

Nick remembered a car spares shop (similar in style to the UK Halfords) next to the big Auchan supermarket in Chatellerault. As it was Monday of our first week’s holiday, we needed to do some shopping so off we went. The process of getting my number plate (plaque d’immatriculation) was the easiest and quickest in everything we had done so far – ten minutes after entering the shop we left with the plaque.

Chatellerault has lots of nice cafés and restaurants.

So we decided to have a spot of lunch in the town centre and also fit in a visit to the motor museum which is down by the river in the early afternoon, with the aim of calling in at the insurance office in Descartes on the way home to tie up the last loose end so that we could be on the road on Tuesday.

It was a beautiful hot and sunny day. We had a lovely walk by the river and the motor museum was superb – much more about that later.

We arrived at the insurance office in Descartes about 4pm. We had decided to use the same company as we already use for our French house insurance. When we bought that, the process was incredibly long and tedious – you can read about it here. So we thought already being clients would save time.

Down by the river at Chatellerault.

However, another unforeseen hurdle cropped up. The original insurance agent we dealt with, M.Touteafait, had retired and in his place was a young man call Eric. Eric insisted on seeing some “letter of introduction” from my existing motorcycle insurers, stating how long it was since I had had an accident or conviction, before he would consider me for a policy.

Harrumph……!! Not wanting to waste the beautiful weather, we dashed home and got on to our insurance company toute suite. This proved to be difficult as they only have a UK 0800 telephone number and we couldn’t access that from our mobiles. By 5pm we were having an argument with a young insurance call centre agent called Darren, who was hundreds of miles away and not happy about giving me any such letter. Eventually we managed to persuade him we were not intending to use it for devious or illegal purposes and he agreed to email it to us.

One of the bridges over the Vienne at Chatellerault.

On Tuesday it was warm and sunny. We decided to leave it until lunchtime to give the young Darren time to send the email. As we have no internet access in our little house, we have to use the public computer in the Tourist Office. At 3pm we were there, hoping to simply get this letter printed off so we could hop it back to Descartes, show it to Eric and get this insurance thing sorted.

Nothing is ever easy. We failed to access our email account at all – maybe something to do with using a public computer. After numerous fruitless attempts we gave up and dashed up to Alex and Nicole’s where we could “borrow” their broadband with my little laptop. We logged on successfully but by 5pm, nothing had arrived.

Wednesday dawned bright and sunny and as soon as it was sensible we were on the phone again to our insurance company. Nothing had arrived on Tuesday because it was Darren’s day off.

We spoke to a young lady called Julie who promised to sort the job out. We gave her a different email address – one that we knew we could access at the Tourist Office because we had done so before. We were in and out of the Tourist Office all day. By 4pm nothing had arrived. As a long shot we went back to Alex and Nicole’s to beg use of their broadband yet again and sure enough, Julie had sent it at lunchtime, but to the wrong email address.

Still, at least we now had the letter and Nicole kindly printed off two copies for us. Unfortunately it was now 5pm and too late to go to Descartes to buy the damned insurance and tomorrow was 14th July, a bank holiday.

The other bridge over the Vienne at Chatellerault.

The 14th July was a lovely warm and sunny day and we had a great time – more about that later.

On Friday we were expecting visitors for lunch and had lots of preparation to do. We had ordered some moules from the supermarket in Descartes and had been told to pick them up at 9am. So I took my letter from the insurance company with me so I could call at the office and save another trip. It was another lovely warm and sunny day.

Now I have a theory that when you turn 50, you start to gradually become invisible. I have had many moments of personal invisibility since my 50th birthday and today was going to be one of them.

I entered the insurance office to find Eric not there but a female colleague in charge. She looked at me as if I was an alien from planet Zog when I explained I had spoken to Eric on Monday, and here was the letter, etc., etc. She asked me to sit down and just as she was obviously trying to take it all in an older man entered the office and stood behind me. He interrupted our conversation, which I thought was probably ok if he just had a quick query or wanted to hand something in, but when she started to deal with him at length, including using the computer, I realised I had become invisible again.

I was sitting only feet from this woman, staring her in the face with beady eyes and she was ignoring me. It had been a long, hot and sunny week which would have been perfect for riding my motorcycle, we had guests coming for lunch, my moules were calling to me from the car and I was rapidly running out of patience. I then had what can only be described as a bit of a strop.

I reared up in my chair and with my face only inches from hers, said “excusez-moi”, very loudly, as the insurance lady was mid-sentence. She looked horrified, as if I had indeed suddenly landed on my feet in front of her without coming through the door. I ascertained that the office would be open tomorrow, which was Saturday and said “je revien demain”, scraped my chair back, stormed out and slammed the door behind me in a very satisfying fashion.

I drove home to Le Grand-Pressigny the pretty way, just to remind myself what a beautiful part of France we live in, how lovely the weather is, how perfect the roads are for motorcycling….oh what the heck…tant pis. I wouldn’t be riding my bike today anyway as Ken and Walt were coming for lunch and we would be having a lovely time with them

First thing on Saturday morning we called in to see Eric. The process of buying an insurance policy took about an hour. It required much tapping of the computer as he said “ tac, tac, tac” and entered the same information over and over again. He then scanned all my documents and the all-important letter. At 10am I stepped out of the office with my insurance certifiicate – my carte verte - in my hand – just as it started to rain.

It continued to rain on and off for the next week.

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How I registered my UK motorcycle in France

This is how we would do it again, now that we know what we should have done in the first place !!

The process is probably similar for cars. I am also told it varies from one part of France to another ~ I can’t vouch for this. This is not intended as a definitive guide but it may be helpful to other people who haven’t a clue where to start.

Documents you need

Your UK registration document

Driving licence

Certificate of conformity

A Quitus Fiscal

Application form for a French registration document (carte grise)

Personal identification, eg passport

Evidence of residence in France, eg EDF bill

A cheque and stamped, addressed envelope for your French address

A letter from your insurance company stating your claims history

Bill of sale for the motorcycle

Order of doing things

Get your Certificate of Conformity from your dealer. This document states whether or not your motorcycle conforms to the European standards and it may be free or there may be a charge. Mine cost £150 and took two weeks to arrive.

Take your Certificate of Conformity, UK registration document and your EDF bill to the Hôtel de Finance for your area and get a Quitus Fiscal. This is a customs document. Your motorcycle should be more than 6 months old and have 6,000 kilometres on the clock to avoid paying import duty, I believe.

You can download an application form for the new carte grise, a demande de certificat d’immatriculation d’un vehicule from the internet here.

Take your quitus fiscal, application form and all the other documents, to the office issuing carte grises in your area. Mine was at the Préfecture in Tours. Get there as early as you can and join the queue. There was a ticket machine inside to issue tickets for places in the queue, once the office was open. Our office was open 8.30- 12.30 only and friends who went through the same process after us said there was a long queue outside by 8.00am.

Take your carte grise to the number plate shop to buy your new plaque d’immatriculation. There is one a few doors down from the Préfecture in Tours but I got mine from a car spares shop and it cost 16 euros.

Arrange insurance ~ for this you will need your new carte grise, driving licence and the letter from your existing UK insurance company giving your claims history. The French system of giving discounts on premiums is similar to the no claims bonus system in the UK.

Notes

I suggest you compile all the documents in a file and take the whole lot with you at each stage. I ended up applying by post so I sent photocopies of my passport, driving licence, etc. I therefore suggest you make photocopies of absolutely everything, just in case.

Retain the part of the UK registration document that you have to fill in and send off to say you have exported the vehicle, before you hand it over as it will be kept with your application form.

I was never asked for my bill of sale so I don’t know at which stage you might have to produce it. There is also the possibility that you will be asked to make modifications to the vehicle and present it for inspection at some point but I don’t know how this works as I didn’t have to do it.

SOMETHING FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-07-29T23:04:00.001+01:00

We found this in Mairé, a small village near Lésigny. Any idea what it is?

GETTING CLOSER

2011-07-28T15:24:00.001+01:00

In our absence from Le Grand-Pressigny – between holidays – Nicole had kindly been checking our post box every few days to see if there was any sign of my carte grise.

I was thoroughly expecting a letter demanding that I take the motorcycle to somewhere to be inspected, or to have parts modified, or even refusing to register it at all for some reason. So when Nicole emailed to say a temporary carte grise, valid for a month, had arrived, I was over the moon.

The post office in Le Grand-Pressigny.

Not only that, it was in the envelope I had sent with my own name and address on – how good was that ??!!

However, there was also a note to say a package should have been delivered that needed signing for and was being held at the post office – but for only two weeks. The two weeks would be up long before we were back chez nous. The last thing I wanted was for my proper carte grise to slip from my grasp before I even set eyes on it, just because I was out of town and it was sent back to wherever it came from. Panic mode set in.

There was a form that I could fill in authorising a third party to collect the package for me but there wouldn’t be time for Nicole to send it to me in England for me to sign it, naming her as the third party, and send it back again before time ran out. So we devised a cunning plan by email, involving a scanned signed letter from me, for Nicole to take to the post office.

It didn’t work. The lady on the counter that day was having none of it, insisting on me turning up in person with identification (passport and EDF bill) before handing it over. She waved the envelope in front of Nicole and Alex, confirmed that it contained a carte grise, and snatched it back behind the desk before they could even get a sniff at it.

Nicole explained the situation, that I would not be in town for another week and the postmistress promised to keep it for me. Somehow I didn’t think I was going to be that lucky.

But I was !! First thing on Monday morning I handed over my passport for inspection (the EDF bill seemed to be surplus to requirements this time, according to the young man on the counter that day) and he in turn handed me my carte grise.

A very happy person with her new carte grise.

It seemed a disappointing document for so much fuss, I thought. The UK equivalent is in several A4 pages but this was just a small slip. But it was MINE!!

The next step was to get a number plate with the new registration number on it and then some insurance.

Now how difficult could that be ??

WHAT A SHAME

2011-07-26T08:21:00.004+01:00

It's a shame to lose a singer with as much talent as Amy Winehouse. Her influence on many an aspiring young star was obvious not too many years ago - Amy look-alikes and sound-alikes were everywhere.

There was a time when I got thoroughly sick of the way the press treated her - always publishing the least flattering photos of Amy after a rough night or a fight with her boyfriend and often making her the subject of unkind jokes. What ever troubled her, I bet this didn't help.

It's a shame she didn't live long enough to consolidate her place in music history.

THERE AND BACK AGAIN

2011-07-25T10:05:00.001+01:00

We’re back home again after another holiday in Le Grand-Pressigny.

A door handle in Chinon

We crammed a lot into our two weeks as usual and the carte grise story did have a happy ending – in the end! More about that soon.

Mind you, where did summer go? We definitely had English summer weather for our second week – wet and chilly. We were not impressed with that!

The weather did perk up by our last weekend and on the day we left we had breakfast on our little terrace in lovely sunshine !! C’est la vie !!

There will be lots of stories and photos soon………..

MINDLESS RELAXATION

2011-07-05T22:01:00.001+01:00

After all the frantic activity of the previous days what I needed was some mindless relaxation – something that passes the time, occupies the body and requires not too much brain activity.

So on the Thursday of our holiday, which happened to be a bank holiday for Ascension Day, Nick went fishing (again) in the morning whilst I did some baking.

I made some cranberry blondies – a kind of brownie but with white chocolate and dried cranberries. Even though I say it myself, they were just what the doctor ordered – sweet and indulgent. You can read more about them here.

In the afternoon we went to the brocante at Ferrière-Larçon.

It was a beautiful day, very warm with bright sunshine and a gentle breeze. The brocante was a huge one, with all the usual stuff – old garden tools, broken toys, worn out shoes and ancient kitchen gadgets. Also lots of stalls selling food that you could either eat now or take home for your larder

These ladies had swooped early and grabbed a bargain!

The only thing I bought was a very old Bon Maman jar – just like today’s version but with no lid – very useful for 40cents.

I bumped into Tim and Pauline, who had found a lovely old umbrella stand to buy. It’s funny how other people always find really good stuff at a brocante or vide-grenier whilst all I ever find is a sea of rubbish. I have come to the conclusion that you need a particular kind of x-ray vision to see through the junk to the real bargains.

They invited us round for a cuppa so we called in later and enjoyed some home-made cherry muffins with our cup of tea.

Their cats were not quite so pleased to see us as they had to shuffle up on the sofa to make room for us!

All in all, the whole day was just the job, a leisurely antidote to two days of hurtling from one public office to another, grappling with the French language and trying to beat the clock.

On Thursday evening we sat for a while on our little terrace, watching the swallows swirl around us and listening to the church bells and the chatter of village life. As the sun went down and the bats came out to play, the laughter drifting up from the village square dwindled, the slight breeze that had been with us all day died down and we were left with complete calm and quiet. A perfect end to a perfectly relaxing day.

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There’s still time to treat yourself to a bargain break.

Alex and Nicole have asked me to mention that they still have some availability in their lovely gites at Les Limornières for July. They are offering a reduced rate for anyone who would like a last-minute booking. So if you were thinking about spending some time in this beautiful area of France but weren’t sure – now’s your chance to treat yourself to a short break at bargain rates.

For further details, click here for a 4-person gite with €100 off or here for a 5-person gite with €150 euros off.

AN ENVELOPE IS NOT JUST AN ENVELOPE

2011-07-03T22:06:00.001+01:00

After lunch on the Wednesday of our week’s holiday, Nick went fishing while I busied myself organising the paperwork we had accumulated in attempting to get my carte grise.

I had my UK registration document, the application form for a French carte grise, my EDF bill, passport and driving licence to prove I exist and have a home in France, my certificate of conformity, the quitus fiscal and my swimming certificate. I also had a cheque made out to Trésor Publique but I had to leave it blank because no-one had been able to give me any idea how much this would cost.

I walked down to the Office de Tourisme in the village to get photocopies of all of them. For some I would send off the originals and keep the copies, for others I would keep the originals and send off the photocopies.

On top of that I needed two large envelopes, one to send them off in and a second with my name and address on so that something could be sent to me.

I went to the Maison de la Presse in the village to get the envelopes. I searched the shop whilst the newsagent, Nellie, was busy serving other customers. All I could find in an A4 size was some envelopes “soufflé”, in other words, expanding envelopes for a large wedge of papers. That was fine by me but it would not do for Nellie. When I presented them at the till, she subjected me to an inquisition on what exactly was to go in the envelopes, declared my choice no good and set about hunting for something better.

I was put on one side whilst several other customers came and went, with lots of gossip being exchanged per person, until the perfect envelopes could be found.

I was tempted to exclaim “Rejoice, for I have found my sheep” when she appeared from under a pile of cardboard boxes with two ordinary brown A4 envelopes. Thank goodness for that.

Mind you, when I asked for stamps to put on them, I was treated to a lecture on postage and directed to the post office. There was some reason why Nellie was unable to supply stamps for such an envelope but the nuances of the explanation went over my head completely.

It had taken twenty minutes to buy two envelopes and I dreaded to think how long it would take to buy stamps for them. Getting into our post office is in itself quite a feat as you have to press the right buttons on a control panel by the door for someone to let you in. The first time I had to do this I was completely taken aback, the crime rate in the region being so low compared to at home in the UK. On this occasion I had barely touched the panel when there was a click telling me I could open the door.

Apart from an old lady sat at a small table waiting for something, I was the only customer. This was quite a relief. French post offices give me the willies, even more so than the butcher. The opportunities for looking a complete idiot seem to be infinite in a post office where the conversation is likely to include numbers, weights, currency and destination. I asked for two stamps and waved my brown envelopes at the lady with a weak smile. I somehow knew I was not going to get off lightly and was subjected to another inquisition about what was going in it and where it was going. I thrust a random bundle of my photocopying into one of the envelopes and let her weigh it. Better to have too much postage than too little, especially as one of them was going to contain my £150 worth of certificate of conformity.

When I got back to my little house up the hill, I put the kettle on for a reviving cup of tea and flopped into a chair on the terrace, completely exhausted.

This whole process had taken two days of driving from Loches to Tours and back again, twice, cost two good lunches, and even taken almost an hour to get a few photocopies and a couple of envelopes. I checked, double checked and checked again the pile of documents before I stuffed them into my non-soufflé envelope, with the additional return envelope and put it on the mantlepiece ready to drop in the post box the next day.

On Thursday I woke up early and felt relieved that our visitors had been and gone, we had done all we could to organise my carte grise and at last I could feel I was on holiday. As I pushed the envelope into the yellow box outside the post office I breathed a sigh of relief and thought that all I could do now was wait – what ever happened next would be in the lap of the gods. Well the Préfecture in Tours actually.

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There’s still time to treat yourself to a bargain break.

For further details, click here for a 4-person gite with €100 off or here for a 5-person gite with €150 euros off.

A PUZZLE FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-07-02T09:50:00.001+01:00

Does anyone know what this is?

It is on a stone post at one end of this bridge.

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There’s still time to treat yourself to a bargain break.

For further details, click here for a 4-person gite with €100 off or here for a 5-person gite with €150 euros off.

A QUITUS FISCAL AND ANOTHER GOOD LUNCH

2011-06-29T21:27:00.001+01:00

After our nice breakfast in the Bar de la Préfecture, we headed back to Loches, having no idea where we might get a Quitus Fiscal. We deduced it was some kind of customs document and thought it might be worth asking at the Tourist Office where to get one.

As we got nearer to Loches and nearer to the dreaded witching hour of 12pm when everything packs up for lunch, I remembered that it was Wednesday and that was market day. This meant that the town would be very busy and parking would be difficult at this hour. So Nick dropped me off at the Tourist office doors while he went off to find a parking space.

The boulangerie in Ligueil

I asked the very friendly and helpful young lady on the desk if she knew which office might provide this document and she began directing me to the Sous-Préfecture. I grimaced, thinking I was fairly sure she was wrong, and she obviously had second thoughts, consulted her colleague and pointed out the Hôtel de Finance on the street map. That definitely sounded more like it.

I dashed outside and found Nick waiting just around the corner, engine running, complaining that he could find nowhere to park. I jumped in the car and we sped off along Rue de Descartes to find the Hôtel de Finance. It was 11.45am.

The Pizzeria in Ligueil

So he dropped me off again at the doors of the building and I dashed inside and stood at the reception desk in the deserted entrance hall. Eventually a very helpful man appeared and I explained that I needed a Quitus Fiscal. We then had one of those bizarre conversations where I spoke in my best French and he spoke in his best English. He directed me up the stairs to Room 33 on the first landing. Just at that moment Nick burst through the front doors and we both leapt up to the first floor, two steps at a time.

Room 33 also seemed to be completely deserted until a woman poked her head around a screen and smiled at us. We uttered the words Quitus Fiscal and she smiled again and beckoned another jolly and friendly person to help. A quitus fiscal is a customs document which determines if there is any duty to pay when the vehicle is imported to France. This depends on the age of the vehicle and how many kilometres it has done. The person that appeared in front of me inspected my UK registration document, driving licence, the EDF bill and ten minutes later, we walked out clutching the elusive Quitus Fiscal. What a relief. We were now in possession of all the paperwork we needed.

So we made our way home via the pizza restaurant in Ligueil, the Mandoline. Lunch was a fraction of the price of our fancy meal the day before but we enjoyed our pizzas just as much.

We treated ourselves to pizza, tiramisu for dessert and coffee. Then we went back to Le Grand-Pressigny to check our paperwork and tie up all the loose ends before posting our application for a carte grises back to the Préfecture in Tours.

We needed to get photocopies of my passport, driving licence and the inevitable EDF bill. We also needed to buy two envelopes.

Now how hard could that be?……you will be surprised!

AN EARLY START AND A NICE BREAKFAST, BUT STILL NO CARTE GRISE

2011-06-26T19:30:00.001+01:00

We set our alarm for 7am on the Wednesday of our week’s holiday. The next day was a bank holiday so we had only two working days left to get this thing sorted before we had to go home.

A building in Rue de la Préfecture in Tours.

Tours is about an hour north of Le Grand-Pressigny and we were slightly concerned about arriving in the city centre at rush-hour. We needn’t have worried – our trusty tom-tom took us straight to the same parking spot as the previous day without any hold-ups at all. If only it were that easy in the UK.

At 9.20 am we paid three euros for two hours’ parking and again marched to the public entrance at the back of the building. We walked along Rue de la Préfecture and passed a very inviting establishment on the way, with a lovely smell of coffee wafting under our noses as we hurried by. We had not had breakfast yet and were tempted to nip in – but common sense prevailed.

We passed the number plate shop and arrived at the entrance of the Préfecture to find half a dozen very glum and anxious looking people outside having a cigarette break. Nick and I glanced at each other – a sort of “oh dear” glance, half knowing what to expect when we got inside.

Sure enough, the waiting hall was heaving with people. Right at the top of the stairs was a ticket machine. It would have taken me several minutes to suss out what to do next but Nick, with his experience of queuing in foreign embassies for visas and suchlike, knew instantly that the sooner you took a ticket, the better.

We looked around us and most of the seats were taken with more glum and bored faces. People were called to a window as their ticket number came up. The numbers being called were about 90 ahead of ours – groan.

Then we found we were actually standing in a queue. As the queue shuffled forwards we saw that we were heading towards a window where you could hand over your dossier for checking and at the window was a very jolly lady, all smiles and animated helpfulness. Brilliant !!

The overhead screen announced which number was next and which window to go to – the turnover was very slow, but our queue was moving forwards quite steadily. However, the screen also pointed out at regular intervals that one in five applications failed for incorrect documentation. We somehow knew that would be us. For one thing, you seemed to need an envelope, presumably a stamped-addressed envelope so the documents could be posted back perhaps. Everyone else seemed to have one. This was something that had never occurred to us. If only the notice on the door of the Sous-Préfecture in Loches had said “only from 8.30-12.30 and don’t forget your envelope”.

After 30 minutes we got to the window and explained our needs in our best French to the very smiley and helpful lady. She indicated which bits of the application form I should fill in and said the only item of paperwork I was short of was a customs form – a Quitus Fiscal. We asked her where we got this from and she simply shrugged and said in Loches. She also gave us the address to where we could post the whole lot back to save us yet another trip to Tours.

We thanked her and left, emerging into the beautiful bright sunshine and headed back to the car. Back to Loches it was then, although goodness knows whereabouts in Loches we were meant to go to get a Quitus Fiscal.

This time the wafts of coffee were too much to resist. We had a lovely breakfast of coffee and croissants which possibly tasted even better because we were flushed with success – no carte grise yet but at least we knew we were only needing one piece of paperwork – a step forwards for sure.

By the way, as we left the building after our half an hour queue, the next number being called was still 80 people in front of ours. I wonder if they missed us?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex and Nicole have asked me to mention that they still have some availability in their lovely gites at Les Limornières in Le Grand-Pressigny for July. They are offering a reduced rate for anyone who would like a last-minute booking. So if you were thinking about spending some time in this beautiful area of France but weren’t sure – now’s your chance to treat yourself to a short break at bargain rates.

For further details, click here for a 4-person gite with €100 off or here for a 5-person gite with €150 euros off.

SOMETHING FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-06-25T12:51:00.001+01:00

A cottage in Rue du Château, Le Grand-Pressigny.

For further details, click here for a 4-person gite with €100 off or here for a 5-person gite with €150 euros off.

A GOOD LUNCH AND A TOASTED FLY BUT NO CARTE GRISE

2011-06-22T10:09:00.001+01:00

We set off in the direction of the hospital in Loches in search of the Sous-Préfecture. We found it without too much difficulty - it was in a grand old building in an equally grand garden in the suburbs of Loches.

When we got to the front door there was a notice saying that cartes grises could no longer be obtained there but were now issued at the Préfecture in Tours.

By now it was almost 11.30 am and we realised that we were unlikely to get to Tours in time to find the Préfecture before everything closed for lunch, which might be at 12.00 or possibly 12.30 if we were lucky. So we thought the thing to do would be drive to the centre of Tours, have a spot of lunch and then go to the Préfecture.

As we drove along the road from Loches towards Tours, we spotted a sign indicating a restaurant down a road to our right. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere but we do like an adventure that might lead to a good lunch and drove down a tree-lined lane with elegant lamp-posts to find this:

The restaurant “La Couture” at Courçay.

We arrived on the dot of 12.00 and although the restaurant was completely empty it soon filled up – well maybe to half full.

It was one of those places where you just know you are in for a special treat. The restaurant was beautiful inside with a huge fireplace, oak beams, polished tomettes and lots of crisp white linen and sparkling wine glasses.

The menu indicated a “menu du jour” at 17euros but there was no specials board or anything to say what that might be. A waiter with a severe hairstyle and equally severe spectacles said he would send his colleague to tell us what it was. An older and very smartly dressed waitress arrived at our table and rattled off a confusing list of choices, most of which we didn’t hear or didn’t understand. So we decided to go “à la carte” and treat ourselves to a really special lunch – feeling somewhat battered and bruised after our experience in the Hôtel de Ville in Loches that morning, we felt we deserved it.

There was a platter of delicious amuses bouches to nibble at with our apéritifs. However, Nick decided he would act as designated driver and just have a fruit juice to begin with and maybe one glass of wine with his meal.

Next we had a quail’s egg baked in ratatouille as a pre-starter starter. It was delicious too. The rest of the meal was fabulous, although I didn’t take any more photos until it came to my dessert, which was “omelette Norvégienne”. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect but it turned out to be something like a baked alaska, with ice cream, cake and sorbet, covered in meringue and baked.

For a finishing touch an extra little detail had been added:

Presumably the offending insect had landed on the meringue just before the blowtorch was applied. I scooped it up with a spoonful of the meringue, put it on the side of my plate and enjoyed the rest of the dessert.

I didn’t see any point in making a fuss – maybe I should have – I expected that all that would happen if I sent it back to the kitchen is that the fly would be removed and the dish returned to our table. And in any case, I just didn’t fancy any more confrontations in a language of which I had only a slim grasp – once so far that day had been enough. However, I did get the satisfaction of the raised eyebrows above the severe spectacles when the plate was taken away.

We settled our bill and, many euros lighter in the pocket, walked out into the sunshine to continue with our quest - it had been an expensive lunch but we enjoyed it – although I’m not sure we would rush back.

Fortunately our French road atlas had a small, basic street map of Tours and Nick spotted that there was a “Place du Préfecture” in the city centre. We put this into our Tom-Tom and it took us straight to the very grand entrance of the Préfecture itself. How easy that was. We had both been concerned about the prospect of finding our way around in the traffic but it turned out to be an absolute doddle. Once again we were reminded of one of the many things we love about our little corner of France – however bad the traffic is, it’s never as bad as at home in the UK.

We paid one euro to park for 40 minutes and approached the elegant and imposing gates, only to find that the public entrance is in another street around the back of the building.

So we marched round there and passed a shop selling vehicle number plates. Now we were getting really excited – once we had our carte grise we would need a new number plate and then we were nearly home and dry.

Except for this:

If only the person responsible for writing the notice and putting it on the door of the Sous-Préfecture in Loches had thought to add the words “but only from 8.30 until 12.30”, it would have saved us a lot of trouble. And a very expensive toasted fly.

On the way back home, we were stopped at a police road block in La Celle- Guenand and Nick was breathalysed. We had failed so far in our quest for a carte grise, but our new policy of absolutely no more than one small glass of wine when driving had paid off.

THE QUEST FOR A CARTE GRISE

2011-06-20T07:57:00.001+01:00

Once our visitors had gone it was time to get on with some business that was pressing. By now it was Tuesday and Thursday was a public holiday for Ascension Day so we only had three working days to get the job done before we went home.

The château with a badly parched field of failed sunflowers in front.

We had decided to keep my motorcycle in France to save having to ride it back to England for an MOT every year. (For non-UK readers, an MOT is a Ministry of Transport test carried out on all vehicles over three years old, once a year. It is a legal requirement.)

In France there is no MOT test (Contrôle Technique) for motorcycles at all. All we needed to do was get the bike registered in France so it could also be insured there and that’s that. We wanted to get this done before the existing UK MOT and insurance expired, so that meant this week. The first step was to formally export the bike to France and get a French registration document, a “carte grise”.

One of our favourite views in Le Grand-Pressigny.

We just knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Even though we had bought a house in France, we had never tackled French bureaucracy by ourselves before. Previously we had been steered through it by the estate agent and the solicitor – we just signed where needed and they did all the work. Even when we had to have planning permission to reinstate our ground floor window and replace the broken skylight in the roof with a Velux, all dealings with the Mairie were handled by our friend and architect, Barrie. We just paid the bill.

This time we were on our own.

Lulu sniffing something interesting in the breeze.

Someone who had already exported a motorcycle from the UK to France had given us some ideas on where to start. Also Nick had done some web research and the people at Harley-Davidson had also given us some tips but when it actually came down to it, it was things like where do we actually present ourselves and where do we park that were puzzling us.

There seemed to be fewer poppies than in previous years.

To begin with, we knew we needed to take with us the UK Registration document (V5) and something called a “certificate of conformity” from the manufacturer of the vehicle. When Nick applied for this for his BMW motorcycle, he filled in an online form and it arrived in the post two days later, free of charge. Mine took took two weeks to come from Harley-Davidson and cost me £150. Still, that was going to be cheaper and a lot less trouble than ferrying the bike back to the UK every year.

Nick had also found an application form for a carte grise on the web and printed it out.

Lulu getting comfortable on her bed.

So, armed with my V5, certificate of conformity, passport, driving licence, application form, an EDF bill and cheque book, we set off in search of my carte grise.

The EDF bill is an electricity bill in my name which proves we actually live in France. Friends say this document is actually more use than a passport and they always carry a spare one with them, just in case !!

One of Mme André’s flowers after a rare shower of rain.

We assumed there must be somewhere in Loches, maybe the town hall, where we should start or at least make enquiries. Most of the official stuff we do gets dealt with somewhere in Loches so that seemed logical. We parked in the town centre outside where we thought we had seen the Hôtel de Ville, only to find it was the Palais de Justice instead.

So we headed off on foot and followed the tourist signs pointing us in the direction of the Hôtel de Ville. It was quite an imposing building when we found it. In fact I had taken a picture of it only the day before when we were doing our tourist bit with our visitors.

The Hôtel de Ville in Loches.

Inside, the building was magnificent. A wide oak staircase and panelled walls with sombre pictures of presumably former “persons of great importance” in the town.

There was a long oak counter and on the other side of it was Mme Sourface, positively the very image of everything you dread in a French official. Still, we straightened our backs, clutched our dossier with sweaty palms and smiled at her confidently. The worst she could do was kill us.

She was on the phone but luckily there was no-one else in front of us, although a woman came up the stairs behind us with her own dossier under her arm and stood a polite distance behind us at the counter, waiting her turn as we waited to be noticed.

Mme Sourface put down the phone and without smiling uttered a grudging “bonjour” and looked up at us. We explained our situation in our best French and she gave us the classic grimace that parents usually reserve for irritating children. A kind of screwing-up of the eyes and baring of the teeth at the same time and said something that I presumed meant “you want WHAT?”.

In my line of work, if I reacted like that every time some one asked me a daft question, I would be sacked. However, we re-explained ourselves and she corrected our French, hissing the proper pronunciation of the word “grise” as GREEEEZZZZ” through clenched teeth. OK, we said it like “gree”. Oops. Anyone would think we were aliens landed from another planet asking for her leader. Perhaps she thought we were.

Mme Sourface snarled that we were in the wrong place and directed us to the Sous-Préfecture, saying it was near the hospital. The lady behind us gave a little smile and a nod as we turned to leave the room. We weren’t sure if this was in sympathy or apology for the way we had been treated or if she thought we were aliens too. We also felt the eyes of all those pictures looking down on us, whispering to each other “stupid Brits”. In French of course.

So we headed back to the car and set off, following the tourist signs out of town towards the hospital.

The quest for a carte greeeezzzz was under way !!

SOMETHING FOR THE WEEKEND

2011-06-18T09:25:00.001+01:00

Last month the Derbyshire Food and Drink Fair was held at Hardwick Hall, not far from us. It was a huge event and we had a great day out.

If you would like to read more and see lots of photos, click here.

LUNCH IN LOCHES

2011-06-16T14:00:00.001+01:00

Loches is fast becoming my second favourite town in the Loire, the first being Chinon.

It’s only a 30 minute drive from us in Le Grand-Pressigny so we can go there often without too much effort. It has beautiful buildings, a great market on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and some lovely shops and restaurants.

When our visitors were with us on the Monday of our holiday, we decided to take them to Loches to show off how lucky we were to live in such a beautiful area of France.

Typically, it being Monday, many of the shops and restaurants were closed. I dare say that later in the tourist season, most of them would have been open – though not necessarily !!

Still, even with many businesses closed, it is a lovely place to do the touristy thing – maybe even better for not being so busy.

Three of our favourite restaurants were closed. So we looked around for somewhere new and found a little creperie in a side street called “La Crépicoise”

We all had delicious galettes and then had a brief walk around the town.

This is the town hall – Hôtel de ville – it features in my next post !!

MORE CHÉDIGNY PHOTOS

2011-06-10T11:45:00.001+01:00

As requested, a few more photos of our afternoon at the Festival des Roses at Chédigny.

These were some of the beautiful hydrangeas that were on sale.

I think I probably chose the best ones first time around but that’s the lot !!

CHÉDIGNY

2011-06-08T23:14:00.001+01:00

We arrived in France the weekend of the Festival des Roses at Chédigny.

It’s a pretty and picturesque village and all the houses seemed to have roses climbing all over them.

Of course, the roses are there for weeks, not just for the festival. But for one weekend there are craft stalls, food stalls, musicians, artists and people selling…….roses.

Also hydrangeas, some of which were just as beautiful as the roses.

It was a lovely warm and sunny afternoon. We had spent the morning shopping as we were expecting visitors – they should have arrived by now but were a day late. We had intended to take them with us to the Festival des Roses but they missed it. Quel dommage !!

The flowers were beautiful and the air was filled with fragrance, music and happy voices. It was a wonderful way to start our holiday.

MOTORWAY MADNESS

2011-06-07T22:24:00.001+01:00

On our way to our little house in Le Grand-Pressigny on the Saturday morning we encountered hundreds of police and army personnel on the motorways.

As we travelled south, there must have been at least 50 vans full of police, dozens of police motorcyclists and scores of army vans travelling in both directions.

What was that all about?

We were particularly interested in the riding skills and the antics of the police motorcyclists. Not to put too fine a point on it – they were rubbish.

We have, over the years, spent many, many hours riding in groups with HOG (Harley Owners Group) and we were much, much better at it. We rode in tight formation with anything from 20 to 200 motorcycles for long distances and little or no aggravation caused to fellow motorists. All it takes is practice and the desire to ride safely, get it right and enhance the reputation of the club.

This lot were a complete shambles. They exceeded the speed limit by a huge margin, were all over the place between other vehicles and at one point caused chaos and confusion with the potential for a massive crash by diving suddenly into a lay-by to allow those lagging behind to catch up. Half a dozen of them very nearly had their own personal pile-up as they braked furiously trying to avoid each other and not over-shoot the lay-by.

We were not impressed, nor were the car drivers that found themselves doing emergency stops to avoid police motorcyclists that were all around them then suddenly lurching to the side of the road. It was absolutely ridiculous and very dangerous.

Apparently it was all because President Obama was in town somewhere. I hope it was worth it !!

CATCHING UP

2011-06-06T13:41:00.001+01:00

The early morning sky at Eurotunnel as we left for France.

Well it hardly seems five minutes since I was uploading (or is it downloading – I’m never sure) my photos from our Easter break and here I am doing it again, after another super week in Le Grand-Pressigny.

The inside of the roof above us as we ate a very nice lunch in Pouzay.

Here I am with lots to tell about our last week, yet I never finished what I started telling you about Easter. Perhaps that’s too old news now. Or perhaps I’ll tell you anyway, in due course.

The wall behind our excellent lunch.

We did all the usual stuff and had a very exciting time, getting to grips with some French bureaucracy, all by ourselves. Needless to say, we almost failed, only time will tell.

The steps down to the four banal, in Rue du Four Banal.

We also had amazing weather, finished off by an amazing thunderstorm. It was shocking to see everywhere so parched and the crops in such a poor state. I was actually pleased for everyone else to see some rain at last.

The steps inside the four banal.

But it was great weather for our holiday, which I will tell you all about soon, I promise. Hopefully in some kind of sensible order.

BY THE WAY

Has anyone else had trouble leaving comments lately?

I have spent what seems like hours today, trying endlessly to leave comments on my favourite blogs, sometimes succeeding but mostly just being asked to sign in (although I was already signed in) over and over and the comment not being accepted.

Very frustrating.

I solved the problem by un-ticking the “stay signed in” box on my Google account. Goodness only knows why. Once I had done that, the comments worked. (Thanks to the person who left this tip somewhere, sorry but I can’t remember where!)

DESCARTES IN SPRINGTIME

2011-05-20T11:41:00.001+01:00

Every holiday, we always make time to visit the park and the Sunday market at Descartes, which is just a few kilometres north of Le Grand-Pressigny. The park is free to wander around and we are nearly always there all by ourselves. Over Easter we were obviously too late for most of the daffodils but there were still plenty of tulips basking gloriously in the spring sunshine.

We came across this little seating area where the wooden bench seat was under a canopy of wisteria.

I sat under it for a while and enjoyed the heavenly perfume of the flowers.

Nick made a pilgrimage to the fishing tackle shop, which is part of the fishermen’s café, to seek out a new landing net, then we wandered up into town to pick up a few essentials and enjoy the sensory delights of the Sunday market.

There were rows and row of lovely plants for sale. We managed to resist this time.

I don’t know why, but everyday vegetables always look so much more appealing on a French market than anywhere else.

I confess I was unable to resist buying a scarf. So many pretty colours to choose from and only 9€, a bargain.

We went home the back way, taking a bit of a detour along the almost deserted roads. From here we got a good view of the troglodyte village called Ethni Cité. We keep meaning to pay it a visit and see what it’s all about.

There are also troglodytes dwellings in Le Grand-Pressigny and one afternoon when Nick was down by the river fishing, Lulu and I walked up to them and took some photos. Well obviously, I took the photos while Lulu did lots of important sniffing !! You will be able to read all about it soon.

PINK SNOW, HOLES AND FLOWERS

2011-05-16T13:21:00.001+01:00

When we arrived in Le Grand-Pressigny at the very end of April our judas trees at the back of the house were in full bloom.

The trees produce masses of little pink flowers which are so pretty. Unfortunately later on they produce masses of ugly seed pods which pile up on the garden and terrace, blow under the kitchen door and generally make a mess. They are also the trees that caused us a spot of bother with the neighbours.

But at this time of year we can enjoy them for what they are. When there was a bit of a breeze (we don’t often get really strong winds, we have noticed) it snowed pink snow. The snow formed drifts where the grass meets the tiles on the terrace and formed puddles in the leaves of garden plants.

When I took Lulu for a walk behind the château, we came across things I didn’t remember from previous visits, including holes in the ground. Some were very small, presumably made by an insect or other creep-crawly. Others were much larger, big enough to take a mole or other little animal.

There were also lots of catkins. My heart skipped a beat when I first spotted the ones on the left – at first glance they looked like processionary caterpillars. Thank goodness they weren’t – we were too late in the year for those, I think.

We were delighted with all the flowers everywhere. The climbing rose on the front of the house was in bloom and there were lots of lovely flowers in our little back garden.

These irises appeared on our doorstep on the second day of our holiday – left there for us by Mme André.

This fabulous poppy was in flower in Alex and Nicole’s garden at Les Limornières. All in all, we had a very floral and fragrant week.

AS ONE DOOR CLOSES, ANOTHER DOOR OPENS

2011-05-14T18:31:00.001+01:00

Not long ago, I posted about the Auberge du St Rémy, which was closed for alterations for most of last year. Well, I am happy to report that it has re-opened as a restaurant and bar. Naturally, we just had to give it a try.

We thought the name of the restaurant was a bit strange, something to do with a seagull. Inside it looked very new and clean with incredibly bright colours on the walls.

The regular cheap lunchtime menu was not on offer, presumably as it was Easter Monday, so we decided to push the boat out and go “à la carte”. We were not disappointed.

We had starters of goat’s cheese salad and fois gras, mains of fish and pork and desserts of crème brûlée and chocolate with banana. It was all delicious, beautifully presented and sensibly priced. Definitely worth another visit to ensure they are maintaining standards !!

We are however, sad to report that the little restaurant at Barou, Les Tilleuls, has closed. Apparently there has been some family trouble and the owner’s parents kept it going for a while but have now given up.

Which just goes to show that as one door opens, another door closes.