STALLED and biting the bullet(s)

Blogging has stalled for a while as I have been in the UK for one of our routine visits this week and before that we were very busy with entertaining, gardening and other stuff.

This visit I have done the usual stuff such as cutting the grass, tidying the garden, tidying the house following our earlier exit in July and, importantly, I have been on a mission to buy myself some new clothes and shoes.  I am desperate for new shoes, most of mine being years old and worn out (or no longer comfortable for my poor old abused feet).  I also need new sandals but they will have to wait until next year as by now there are none in the shops.

I dread going shopping for clothes and shoes but dread even more the hassle of buying them online.  The waiting in for the parcel or having to fetch it from the corner shop, the trying on to find the fabric is nothing like I expected and the shoes don't fit, followed by the packing up and returning using the various methods dictated by the supplier.  Then the checking of my account to make sure the refund arrives.

I had been to one of the retail parks a few miles away and bought a couple of dresses and a jumper in the Weird Fish sale, plus a raincoat from Cotton Traders.  The only shoe shop was Pavers but the only shoes that looked suitable were not available in my size.

So, I bit the bullet and went into town.  First stop M&S who have moved from the town centre into a new store in a retail park on the edge of town.  I queued to get into the inadequately small car park and slid into the only inadequately small parking space I could find, a long way from the shop.  At least the parking was free but limited, of course, to two hours otherwise you risk a hefty fine from the people who own the car park.  You can't visit all the shops on the site in two hours - unless you are very focussed and don't enjoy browsing.

I was lucky to find jeans and trousers in my size plus underwear in stock.  I bit the other bullet of trying them on in the shop, which always seems to be a faff but avoids the inevitable return to the shop if they don't fit when trying them on at home.

I also nipped into the food hall (always a joy) and picked up some small chocolate gifts to take back to France.  When we are invited out to lunch we take some chocs for the hosts and M&S chocs are always well received.

Next I went into the town centre and parked in a central car park.  By then I was hungry so I popped into the Post Office.  The building that used to be the Post Office is now a bar restaurant.  I hesitated but thought how bad can it be?  The décor was a cross between Frankie and Benny and an old railway station caff.  This surprised me as I thought that kind of thing had gone out of fashion now.  Having paid £8.60 for a very dismal bacon sandwich (just two small slices of unbuttered toast and two minute rashers of bacon) and a small bottle of mineral water I ventured out to the shops.  I am out of touch with how much eating out costs in the UK.

There used to be two Clarks shoe shops in town, plus others such as Lilley & Skinner and a huge shoe department in the Co-Op.  The Co-Op, our wonderful department store, closed several years ago and there is now just one Clarks shoe shop and two that seem to sell cheap trainers.  I was out of luck.  

However, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed wandering around the town.  The weather was fine which always helps but somehow it didn't feel quite so down at heel as it has felt lately.  There are still plenty of empty shops and too many nail bars* and vape shops for my liking but on the whole I thought I could come to like the place again.

The indulgent wandering around town added time to my car parking fee which was £4.60.  So by now I was £13.20 out of pocket and only a very mean bacon sandwich to show for it.  (We rarely have to pay anything at all for car parking in our part of France.)

My plan was to head to yet another retail park way out of town where there was a Hotter shoe shop, a drive which took forty minues.  If I was unlucky there I would have to go to the dreaded Meadow Hall - the massive shopping centre on the outskirts of Sheffield - which would involve at least a forty minute drive up the M1(depending on the time I hit the motorway and if there had been any "incidents").  In Hotter I hit gold and came away with a selection of shoes, boots and trainers that will see me through several winters.  

Changing the subject, I have been trying to eat very healthily while chez nous uk as all that socialising and enjoying life over the summer chez nous fr has taken its toll on the waistline.  I have had huge success with poached eggs.

You may laugh but poaching eggs is, IMHO,  a black art and over the years I have tried a number of methods with mixed success.  I have tried microwaving them (Nancy Birtwhistle's method) often resulting in exploded egg, the silicone egg poaching pods (eggs stuck like glue to the pods), steaming them in a tea strainer over a pan of simmering water (stuck like Gorilla glue to that), and, most successful so far, sliding them into a large shallow pan of barely simmering water from a small cup (Nigella Lawson's method).  This would produce eggs that varied from perfect little balls of deliciousness to something that looked like a strangled jelly fish (but still tasted good).

More recently I have bit the bullet and done it the old fashioned way with HUGE SUCCESS.  Sliding the egg from a cup into a small but deep saucepan of just simmering water containing a splash of white wine vinegar has worked for me.  I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the freshness of the egg but when the white is just no longer transparent the egg seems to have that oh so perfect runny yolk we all aim for.  A thing of joy without a doubt.

Last but not least, I have just finished reading this book.  I started it on the aeroplane (or rather, while waiting for the one and a half hours delayed flight in the dreadfully uncomfortable and greenhouse-like waiting room at Limoges airport which they euphemistically call the "departure lounge").  Once chez nous uk I couldn't wait to carry on reading it.  Set in the era of coach and horses and parlour maids, it was a bit of a slow start but very worth sticking with it to the end.  If you like a tale with unexpected twists and turns you would enjoy it.

As a post script, Blogger seems to have thrown a wobbly yet again and no longer updates my reading list or the blog list on my sidebar.  Does anybody have any idea how to fix this?

* As a further post script I recently stumbled across an article which refers to the invasion of nail bars into towns all over the world.  The writer refers to the nails as "acrylic claws".  They definitely would not suit my lifestyle and I often wonder how people manage with them!

AN EYE, A TOOTH AND A POP-UP

All over our part of France pop-up restaurants called "guinguettes" open for the summer months.

They are very popular often hosting musical evenings as well as serving food and drinks.  Our favourite is one calle "La Halle" at Boussay and a couple of weeks ago we went there to an excellent concert featuring the blues/rock singer Angie Palmer.

First the tooth story.  While Nick was in the UK at the end of April I started to feel a mild ache in one of my back teeth.  This tooth has been a problem for many years, three of its four cusps having been broken in the last ten years and the last repair was a big job.  My dentist in the UK said it might not last.

The toothache became more persistent so I popped into our dentist in Ligueil to ask for an appointment.  Even though I said I was in pain the earliest one they could give me was four weeks away, at the end of May.  Finding a dentist in France is not easy and we were relieved to become registered with one locally, thinking that if ever we were in trouble we had somewhere to go.  It seems we were mistaken.  What's the point of being registered with a dentist if they can't see you when you really need them?

The toothache became severe and our French GP prescribed strong antibiotics which settled it fairly quickly but I then developed an allergy to the tablets; a horrible rash and other symptoms.  It seems it is not uncommon to become allergic to penicillin later in life having never had a problem with it before.

Two days before my dental appointment was due the surgery phoned to cancel it and put it back another three weeks.  I was not best pleased and would have told them to stuff it if I had known how to say that in French.  I phoned my old dentist in the UK and they could fit me in much quicker than that.

A few days before I was due to fly back to the UK to see my old dentist Yvonne went missing one evening.  She is usually around us and not far away all the time so this was unusual.  When we went to bed we found her hiding in a corner with one eye clamped firmly shut.  She would not let me examine her but I could see blood on her face and she was clearly in pain.

We had a difficult night with her and in the morning took her to the vet.  She is not easy to examine and the lady vet who normally manages her (we call her the cat whisperer) was off duty so we had to leave her behind to be sedated and looked at later in the day.

I was worried that she might have been in a fight with the most recent visiting cat and that the eye was permanently damaged.  That would result in hard decisions having to be made.  Our previous cat Daisy had to have a number of serious operations for a tumour on her face and looking back we vowed never to put a cat (or dog) or us through all of that again.

When we collected her the vet showed us something like this that he had removed from her eye, an arrowhead grass seed.  No wonder she was in pain.  He gave us some antibiotic ointment to put into her eye twice a day, which was rather a challenge but within a couple of days the eye was fully open and her behaviour was perfectly normal.

The day before I flew back to the UK we went to La Halle hoping for a late lunch but the kitchen was by then closed.  Instead we had a delicious selection of local cheese and wine.

There was hardly anybody else there and the place was calm and peaceful.  We shall go more often.

Once back in the UK I was please to find the garden looking tidy and positively delightful.  How lucky we were when the previous neighbours (an odd couple) moved out and a young woman who is a gardener moved in.  She is doing a great job.

The day after I landed I saw my dentist who said the abscess is still present and prescribed a different kind of antibiotic to be taken for one week with an appointment to then have the tooth removed.  He said I won't miss it and I shall surely be glad to get rid.  I don't ever want to go through all of that again.

And so, with the cat now better and a plan in place to get my tooth dealt with I have been able to relax in our lovely little UK garden in fine summer weather - although feeling a little guilty that poor Nick is sweltering in France in the current heatwave.

A visit to the local charity shops has been fruitful.  These two cookbooks seem brand new and at £1.50 each real bargains.

A set of ten of these small glass dishes will come in very handy the next time I make lemon syllabub for a lunch or dinner party.  

OLD STUFF

 

This is a selection of stuff from recent brocantes.

Some of it is old, some not so old.

On the day of our own village brocante the weather was terrible so there were not many stall holders.  This was good news for the lady holding a "vide maison" where people could browse indoors so she had a steady stream of customers.  She said this set of playing card stainless steel dishes had been a wedding present.  Guessing her age I would say they were probably from the 1970's.  I bought them as a gift for some friends who occasionally hold card tournaments.

She also said her house was for sale, or would be once she had cleared out all the stuff (there was a lot of it).  I gave her my number as it could be exactly the kind of small house we're looking for.

This pretty set of espresso cups came from the brocante at Neuilly-le-Brignon.  When I got them home two of them were chipped so I swapped them for some I had already.  It was still a bargain for 2€.

This unusual chandelier came from the brocante restaurant in Pleumartin, the one where everything is for sale, including the dishes you eat off and the chairs and tables you sit at.

It took me a while to find some candles slim enough to fit in it.

This pretty dish is probably fairly modern but it's proved very handy for serving bread or a few biscuits.  A bargain at 1€. 

I got these Pyrex cups from the vide grenier at Le Grand-Pressigny, perfect to supplement my collection of small cups to serve chocolate mousse or lemon posset.  They remind me of the glass cups and saucers that were used to serve coffee in the coffee shops that were all the rage when I was a teenager in the 1960's.

This pretty green plant pot holder looked as though it had never been used.  In fact the price label was still on the bottom of it.  Although the price was not legible I bet it cost a lot more than the 1€ I paid for it.  The pineapple plant is a recent purchase from Ikea.

A WEEK OF VILLAGE CELEBRATIONS

 

On St Patrick's Day, 17th March, there was a celebration in the village bar, the PreHisto.

The PreHisto gets its name from the château in the village, which is the French National Museum of pre-history.

The local musicians were there to play Irish music and everyone had a good time.

On the Thursday of that week I went on a girls' shopping trip to Tours.

We went on the bus, which takes an hour and costs 3.40€ each way.

(Less than the cost of the petrol and car parking for the same trip.)

I bought a set of lovely coffee spoons, small enough to be used with the daintiest of espresso cups.

I celebrated my purchase with a nice cup of coffee when I got home.

On Friday 20th we were invited to a cocktail party in the local garage.

This was a first for us.

It was to celebrate the end of the first year of trading for the new garage in the village.

As one of their earliest customers we received an invitation.

It was a very nice thing to do and very convivial.

After the cocktails we repaired to the PreHisto again to continue the celebrations.

Ayo, the bar owner's cat was there to greet us.

He was an abandoned stray kitten, adopted by the proprietor more than ten years ago.

He's turned into a beautiful cat, very friendly with the customers.

While we were in the bar the newly elected Maire arrived with her team.

In France you vote for the whole team and for the first time (I think) the village now has a lady Mayor.

There was a good deal more celebrating still going on when we slid away and headed home.

In "other news" we still have no idea what was going on at the neighbour's house a week ago.  He turned up as usual on Friday teatime, with a friend.  A camper van with two more people arrived soon afterwards.  They stayed the whole weekend then left as normal.  There was no sign of the Mayor or gendarmes this time.  

In more "other news" we are still waiting for the SMS summoning us to collect our cartes de séjour from the Préfecture.  It's more than three weeks since we were told our application had been approved.  My mum used to say "don't count your chickens before they hatch" so we're not celebrating just yet.