AUGUST - A DIFFERENT KIND OF LOCKDOWN

It has been incredibly hot here in the middle of France for most of July and August.

We have just had our fifth heatwave of the summer.

When the forecast says it's going to be 37°C it often turns out to be 39° or 40°.

That's very hard to live with.

We have learned to adjust.

Up early to get dog walking and other jobs done then stay indoors in the afternoon.

A friend described it as a different kind of lockdown.

Unlike 2020 we have been able to get out and about with a bit of careful planning.

The Paulmy brocante was early in the month.  It was buzzing.

I did buy a few things........more about them another time.

August is a time when a lot goes on and we have to find crafty ways of enjoying it in spite of the  baking hot weather.

At the beginning of the month we lashed out on a couple of extra outdoor tables so we could entertain a good number of our friends all at once, especially as we had been out of action for so long and me literally out of the country for over a month.  A lot of our friends are part timers - people who have second homes here and are only around for a few months of the year.  We didn't want to miss them.

It all began when a friend gave me a stack of matching plates that she no longer wanted.  There were twelve each of dinner plates, salad/dessert dishes and side plates.  I also spotted outdoor table cloths at less than half price (5€ each) in Centrakor.  Perfect for a large group.

We invited the crowd over one not so roastingly hot day.  Apéros were possible under the shade of our lime tree before moving over to the table for lunch.  The French for lime tree  or linden tree is tilleul.

Later that evening we went over to the next village, Barrou, for a very special concert.

Local singer/songwriter and musician Polo with his children and friends performed French and English songs under the shade of the linden trees at the restaurant called "Les Tilleuls".

It was a truly magical evening, rounding off a wonderful day.

Nick has managed to play golf a few times by going early in the morning.

That means I'm on dog walking that day, a joy in the cool of the morning at the lake at La Çelle-Guenand.

12th August was a very special day.

Never mind it being the "glorious twelfth", the start of the grouse shooting season, it was Eclipse Day.

We had invited a few friends round for dinner and a bit of an eclipse party.

It was so hot that we decided to eat indoors.

It was a cold menu, gazpacho soup, quiche, salads and raspberry trifle.

Armed with a few pairs of special eclipse glasses and a couple of colanders we braved the tremendous heat and stepped outside to enjoy the view.

We had set up an "observatory" for six people in the garden in the ideal spot to view the spectacle at the right moment.

To our complete amazement the colander trick worked.

To our disappointment at the critical moment the sun went behind not just the moon but a very inconvenient tree.

So we retired indoors to the cool of the house to continue with our dinner.

Two days later we were out again for a "moules et frites" evening.

We have been to a few of these over the years.

Trestle tables are set up outdoors to serves moules and chips to a large number of people.

On this occasion the music was provided by the rock band "Hot Doctors".

A very apt name considering the weather!

The moules were great, the music brilliant.

The dessert was delicious.  Apple tart.

And so the fun continues.

At the weekend we went to Montrésor for an art festival.

In theory the weather was cooling down a bit.

In reality, down by the river in all those little tents it was baking hot yet again.

Our pets are coping with the heat in their own way.

Yvonne has barely been into the house for weeks, preferring to find her own cool spots around the garden.

I gave Hugo a shower to fluff up his fur a bit and make him feel better.

He wasn't especially dirty but very gritty and full of seeds.

He's getting a haircut later today.

With Nick off to the golf course early yesterday morning I took Hugo to La Çelle-Guenand for his walk.

We were disappointed.  The gypsies had arrived en masse and taken up residence around the lake.

So we went a little further to the plan d'eau at Le Petit-Pressigny.

The hazy sunshine was much cooler and more comfortable, if a little weird.

It has been a difficult summer but, as my mum used to say,

"where there's a will, there's a way".

We have not missed out on much, in spite of the ridiculous heat.

HONFLEUR, DAY THREE.

 

On day three, the last day of our little holiday, we went on a road trip and took Hugo with us.  After a slow morning start and Hugo’s usual walk we headed south to Pont-L’Évêque, the home of the famous cheese.

We remembered, many, many years ago, going on a day trip to London and having a guided tour by our friend Gerry, who knew London like the back of his hand.  A Derbyshire lad born and bred, he had been a student in London in the 1970’s and earned a bit of pocket money by leading tourists around the principal landmarks.  Later in life he gave up his teaching career to make his passion for tour guiding his main source of income and a great job he does too.

One of the places he took us to was a cheesemonger in Old Bond Street.  The shop was supplier of cheese, hams and wines to Buckingham Palace and we learned that the late Queen Elizabeth’s favourite cheeses were Livarot and Pont-L’Évêque, both fairly pungent cheeses from Normandy.

We had intended not to fall into the tourist lunch trap this time, being so far over €160 down for very disappointing food.  We thought we’d get a sandwich from the boulangerie then pick up supplies on the way home to cook our own dinner.  That’s when we stumbled across a small bar doing snack lunches and we went inside, with Hugo.  Even large dogs are welcomed in most French restaurants and these days Hugo is incredibly well behaved.  On top of that, standard poodles are not at all common in France, very much a novelty and he attracts much fuss and attention from everyone including restaurant staff.  He politely enjoyed a tickling of his topknot by the waitress while our orders were being taken.

And so, we had one of our favourites, croque monsieur, with a topping of Pont-L’Évêque cheese, excellent chips and salad for lunch.  With a refreshing panaché (shandy) and delicious coffee the total bill was €30.  Our faith in French restaurants was restored.  You just have to know where to go and how to avoid the tourist rip-off traps.

Back at the gîte, Nick cooked us a delicious pork and mushroom dish with fresh vegetables, a decent red wine to go with it, followed by our duo of local cheeses and a small glass of calvados, the other specialty of the region.  That’s how we spent our third and last evening, under the canopy for the bbq, listening to the pitter-patter of very welcome rain.

We played another game of Scrabble and this time Nick won, by a narrow margin.  We have reinstated our “championship du monde” where we have kept the score cards of all the games played all over Europe on our numerous holidays over decades.  It makes a good reminiscing read…."do you remember that time when you beat me at Scrabble on the campsite near San Gimignano?"  We now use French rules, where French and English words can be played.

The next day we had a good run back home and arrived soon enough to collect Yvonne from the cattery a day early.  She settled back in straight away.

The house was very warm inside.  We opened all the doors and windows to let in some air and watched as the sky grew greyer and rain began to fall.  The temperature dropped by about fifteen degrees and we stood in the doorway to feel the cool air and listen to the rain.  What a joy that was after weeks and weeks of endless hot weather.

YVONNE and the case of the wrong staff

Yvonne and Nick in pensive mood.

Yvonne has been with us for nearly three years.  She is 12½ years old.  Some of you may remember her story.  She had been dumped with someone who never really wanted a cat but who agreed to look after her for two weeks while her owner went away.  He never came back.  She had been kept in a barn for two whole months, with occasional walks outside on a lead.  With winter coming word went round that Yvonne needed a new home.  We had just lost Daisy so we adopted her.

The herb bed is one of Yvonne's favourite hiding places.

She emerges smelling sweetly of tarragon.

She is officially a tortoiseshell cat.

Waiting for us to join her at apéro time.

6pm sharp.

Dreamy time again.

Always on the lookout for a passing mouse.

Another favourite hiding place.

Always the explorer.

And an opportunist.

She was terrified of Hugo at first.  He was, of course, the perfect gentleman.

He gave her space and now they get along fine.

Another favourite hiding place.

When I was in the UK recently, our lovely neighbour Malcolm passed away.  He was 92 and I'm glad I was around to be on hand for his wife Janet to help with preparations for him to spend his last days at home, where they both wanted him to be.  They didn't want him to end his days in a hospice but at home.  

All the time I was in the UK, two whole weeks, Nick reported that Yvonne was hardly eating anything.  She would go through the usual routine, waking him up early to demand breakfast, nudging him for more treats, but after a couple of nibbles wouldn't eat any more.  He threw away more food than she ate - it didn't keep well once opened in the tremendous heatwave.  He wondered if her appetite was affected by the heat.

When I got back to France she made up for it, tucking into each bowlful with gusto and demanding more.  It seems it was nothing to do with the heat, just the wrong staff feeding her! 

This made us realise that leaving her unattended with someone calling each day to feed her wouldn't work for Yvonne.  She likes company and is clearly out of sorts unless we are both at home.  This is the main reason that we now travel back to the UK one at a time.  One of us stays in France with Hugo and Yvonne while the other visits the UK for a week or so.  (There is also a huge difference in cost.  We can make three trips by air for one person for the cost of one round trip en famille by car.)

I returned to France for just four days before we set off back to the UK for the funeral, this time in the car with Hugo.  When Daisy was with us we would bring her too but Yvonne is not a good traveller so we can only travel by car if there is room for her in the cattery.  We were in luck this time, the holiday season not really in full swing yet in France - had it been August there would be no chance at such short notice.

When we got there we were amazed to find it had gone through a huge transformation.  It was previously a rather scruffy place but we were always happy to leave Yvonne there (and previously, on many occasions, Daisy) because the staff were lovely and we knew she would be safe and well cared for.  Now it is definitely five star accommodation.

Each pen has its own cat adventure playground and we left her there wondering where she would climb up to and hide first.

"Can I go with you?"

Leaving Yvonne in the cattery is always bitter sweet.  We are glad she is safe, comfortable and well cared for but know that she will miss us.  She's not one of those cats that plays hard to get for a few days when they get home.  She always gets straight back to normal, a quick sweep of the property to make sure all is well, a dish full of her favourite food with treats and she's ready to sit with us for cuddles.

Whenever I go away I am always glad to get back home and make our family complete again.

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.