Kentish catch up

Because of not having a landline (we've only signed a six month contract at this house in case we are not that happy) we are on some mobile roving set up for internet access and I am on a limited amount each month. I only realised this when a screen came up the other day telling me I was out of internet credit. Mr FF had tried to explain this to me on the first day here but there was so much going on I did not quite take it in. I'm limiting myself to just now and then in the old blogosphere, so that is one reason I am not very good at keeping up to date with your entries. Another reason is that I am just enjoying being back in the UK and am out a fair bit.

Immediate impressions of being back:

I am no longer the plumpest person in town - there are some hefty people around and I'm very happy about this.

Everyone seems to have tatoos (I hate them), especially round where we are living

Some of the local kids seem quite brattish which was never the case where we lived in Brittany. I have already caught our phantom doorbell ringer (done to make the dogs bark which indeed they have been doing). I shouted at him and his two mates and then took their photos - now they scuttle past and avoid eye contact when I pass them on dog walks.

Traffic is horrendous and everyone seems to delight in cutting up someone they think is a French person (my car has French plates)

My love affair with Tescos is developing into a true passion. I'd never eaten pak choi until this week - not to mention all the millions of items you just do not see in a French supermarket. I'd also forgotten how English supermarkets encourage their staff to be friendly and helpful - again, a no-no in France.

Bold 2 in 1 washing capsules are rubbish and smear soap all over clothes.

Things on the horizon:

Further bonding with our lovely neighbours who say they do not mind the dogs barking as much as they do. Even though we are in a cul-de-sac we are on a pivotal corner with lots of foot traffic to the local shops. Two floor to ceiling windows mean the dogs have too perfect a view of people to bark at and sitting with the curtains drawn is a bit depressing.

I have an interview on Wednesday morning in Tunbridge Wells and will not say more until I know whether or not I have the job.

Getting UK plates for our cars - not because of the road antics by other drivers. I think we are going to be here for the long haul and it is law to have the plates of the country.


Back later in the week with hopefully positive news to report about a job.

Paris old and new

It was quite odd being back in city life this past weekend. Normally I just go and visit the old buildings I love, but this time we also took in the financial centre of Paris called La Defense. The skyline around here looks more like Tokyo and I hadn't realised that there was indeed a modern side to Paris that dealt with Wall Street and Square Mile matters.





After all this modern architecture (incidentally in France the word architecture is pronounced with the first part being like the man's name Archie - the French feel that if there is an *h* in a word then pronounce the thing) a trip to my favourite area Madeleine was called for. I stared longingly in the window of Fauchon, my favourite foodie shop (just see what that link reveals - it really is a gourmand's paradise). Don't these cakes look gorgeous? I didn't eat any though - in fact I walked more than I thought I would and ate less than I'd planned.


Then a short stroll led us to Place de la Concorde which I mentioned in my previous post. I just did a few random shots - there was too much to go and see without thinking about carefully framing the photos.



Then another saunter to look at my favourite Paris department store Au Printemps


All that was done on the Saturday and then Sunday saw me coming home to my Valentine's Day bouquet one week old - the tulips are now standing tall.

If you click on it though you will see that some of the roses are fading fast so, after transplanting what was still thriving to a proper vase, this is what they look like now (and the two mini clothes pegs with the paste ruby hearts on will be put into my sentimentality box)

The nervous tummy of excitement

When you first fell in love and had to be away from your adored for a day, days, weeks - and you were going to be seeing them in eight hours, do you remember the little knot of excitement that gradually built up in the days preceeding your reunion? That is me today because I am off to Paris in a few hours.

I've dusted off my Mulberry bag, not seen out of the cupboard for years, the Rocket Dogs have been abandoned for Roberto Cavalli boots* (also covered with dust despite being in a wardrobe) and my favourite gloves have come out of their box (black calf with a scarlet lining and cuff). I am going to the capital 1.7kg lighter than last week (3.75lbs) and my m-i-l is kindly doggy sitting. All this makes me feel a bit like a nervy teenager. I know it's silly but I've just got out of the city mode, despite a few trips to London and Paris over the time we've been here. Today just feels different.

The photo above is of my favourite thing in the whole of Paris (although there is much that almost rivals it in my mind). It is of the fountain in the Place de la Concorde and I have a similar shot (but without the people and the buildings and including the other fountain with the woman figures as well) as a huge framed poster in our hall. I can walk round this fountain for a long long time and never get fed up seeing it - just click on the photo to see a magnified version of OTT brilliance that to me symbolises Paris - the most beautiful city which I have ever seen. It far surpasses my home town of London, which has become cluttered with ugly buildings in the centre. Paris is open with its huge boulevards and avenues and - despite the odd modern monstrosity - has kept its C18/19 charm intact.


*Oh no they haven't - my feet must have spread because after two hours of wearing pointy black leather boots with heels my toes are hurting. Rocket Dogs back on now and at least they are colourful and comfortable.

Jim Haynes and After Eights

I was recently watching some rubbish or other on television and I happened to catch an advert for After Eight mints. How odd, I thought - that looks like Jim Haynes. So I turned on the volume (I always mute the ads) and yes, it was this well known name from my very early years. The point of the advert was that Jim always serves these mints at his Parisian parties and the guests just do not want to leave.

Who is Jim - I hear most of you ask. I first encountered him when I was a precocious young teenager bunking off school to go and see what city life was like in the West End. He'd just run a successful arty place in Covent Garden (before it was a trendy area) and after that he divided his time between various cool places in London and Amsterdam. His was quite a legendary name and my friend and I felt very grown up as 14 year olds pretending to be 17 and hanging around on the fringe of his circle. In fact he became a sort of protector to us, two silly schoolgirls who used to change out of their uniform in the footpath near Highgate station and carry it around in an old bag. We thought we were so flash and sophisticated and with hindsight we must have just looked like young girls wearing a lot of badly-applied make up.

I've tracked Jim's escapades over the years and for a long time now he has become very well known in Paris literati circles as the host of the afore-mentioned dinner party. Anyone can turn up here for a Sunday meal- you have to email him to be put on the list and nobody is ever refused. I recently mailed him and tried to jog his memory about these two young girls who he looked after so gallantly and I got a very warm and welcoming reply. Urging me to come along to one of the Sunday meals to talk about old times I thought about it for a moment or two and then decided that some things are just best left in the past.

It was only a week but it felt like a long time

It's so strange that a week without blogging should seem so weird but that is just what happened - I had a strange and not very nice time. I'm not intending to go into details of what happened; I did pull the photos from Lille - I had my reasons and I might put the pictures up at a later date although, obviously, the one of the main street first thing in the morning is back on here.

When I first blogged about a holiday to Venice I did say that one of the downsides of booking a trip so far ahead is that there is a possibility that it can get cancelled. That is just what we have done - it would have cost about £3000 all in and we just can't manage that on luxury items at present. Like everyone is finding, times are hard and we're just going to stay put and have days out together and get some long-overdue DIY jobs done around the house.

In just a week I can see that I've missed a lot of posts that I do intend to catch up on; I've been occupied on other things - and I can't even include my studies in that. My current book is a wonderful biography of Byron; this is something I bought for pleasure and is not part of the OU course but it is giving me a really good insight into the man and his motivation - something that will form part of the last essay of the course (due 15th May).

At Lille station I picked up a paperback of which I had heard glowing reports - A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. I've just finished it and I going to upset people I am sure by saying this but I think it is one of the worst books I have ever read. The background is interesting - set in Afghanistan and covering the subject of female oppression - but the prose is clichéd, I guessed the plot quite early on, the metaphors are tried and trusted and for this writer to be compared to Dickens has upset me greatly. It is like comparing Heat magazine to Private Eye.

Anyway, enough mini-ranting for now. Thanks for all the lovely comments you left on my previous post - even though it was a very short time I did miss you.

Going native

For a long time I have been stuck in a bit of a rut with certain items I buy on a regular basis from our local supermarkets. Because in the UK I always bought Kellogs cornflakes, Kleenex tissues and Heinz tomato ketchup I carried on doing so out here, despite the increased cost of these non-homegrown products. It was an automatic thing and I never stopped to think about the fact that there were French equivalents until a little while ago when I read an article discussing the question of additives in food. It turns out that far fewer additives are allowed to be, well, added out here and it made me take stock really - it was time to explore French alternatives. I switched to La Reva cornflakes, Lotus tissues and Bouton D'or ketchup and guess what - the sauce and the cereal taste better. Really they do and they are loads cheaper.

Talking of cheaper I've also begun to have Lidl love. For a long time I didn't go to our local store thinking because of its reputation for low cost food it meant that the item would not taste as good as 'regular fare'. How wrong I was - some of their products* have now become staple items in our shopping and the freezer is packed full because once they sell out of a particular line it seems to be ages until they get stocks back in. There is an aisle of ever-changing things for the household/garden/leisure pursuits and even though I never thought I would end up as someone cruising for a bargain, that is indeed what has happened.

So if you are lucky enough to have a Lidl store near you go and embrace it - you'll be surprised and, if you already shop there, please leave your recommendations below.

*Lidl items we now make a point of buying are Bellarom Café Expresso ground coffee which is the loveliest coffee that I've ever had from a cafetiere; marinaded lamb steaks from New Zealand which are delicious cooked in the griddle pan; their Swiss muesli bars which are just €1.22 for eight bars;their locally-sourced chicken fillets at €4,40 for 600 gr and their fruit and veg which seem to be fresher than even our local market.

Five Reasons why 'Life is Grand'

I have been tagged by justme
to list five reasons why 'Life is Grand'.

When I was first tagged I thought I would need to hold the tag in abeyance because I wasn't feeling particularly cheerful at the time but, since then, the sun has come out and I'm sure that has lifted everyone's mood, as it did mine. so...

1. Having worried about over-decimating the front garden when I recently went on a Lopping Attack, I am happy to report that the almost ground level stumps of hydrangeas are now bearing fronds of brown with green shoots at the end; likewise the Passion Flower has a few tendrils and looks in good health. It's too early to tell about the Hibiscus, but it is a moody shrub at the best of times and doesn't really begin to thrive until about July.

2. Being initially daunted by the reputation of Goethe's Faust (and the endless moaning about it on the Open University student forum), I am happy to find that it has some very funny moments. Mephistopheles has some great lines - he is witheringly sarcastic with much use of irony. It would be very exciting to see on the stage because there are lots of magical effects, although the scene when M - in the guise of a big black poodle- first approaches Faust might be a bit hard to recreate on the stage (unless one had a dog a bit better behaved than Misty and Poppy bichon). In short, Faust is a cracking read and the thing is that at the time that plays like this (and Shakespeare and his ilk) were written they were not considered highbrow, they were just regular 'things on at the theatre'. It is only in our chavtastic times that the reading of good literature is considered an intellectual pursuit. More about this when I post the result (for which I am still waiting) of my last essay - the Davy/Marcet chemistry one.

3. I recently blogged about the fact that I had become addicted to biscuits and I was going to give them up. Guess what - I did. I have not had a biscuit since then and,despite the fact that the bichons have a canister of Petit Beurre for their treats,not one has passed my lips. If I'm peckish and fancy a snack with a cup of tea I might have a dried apricot or an apple. It does make it much easier to stick to my regime.

4. After six years of living here and an ability to speak passable French, Mr FF and I have now enlisted the services of an excellent French teacher in order that our French goes from passable to really good. He is from Paris, has an accent and teaching method that is clear and easy to follow and we are having two-hour lessons every Friday on a one-to-one (strictly speaking it's a one-to-two) basis. We don't sit writing things down from a board, it's mainly conversation and we are learning lots of things about France and the French and being constantly corrected when we hit a bit of poor grammar. Our neighbours and French friends are lovely but, with the exception of our hairdresser, nobody corrects us when we speak even though we have asked them to.

5. I recently thought we were going to have to get the plumber in because our sink had a major blockage and simply refused to drain. Mr FF dismantled the U-bend (why does that always sound cue for a silly gag) and found a large amount of ancient pasta that seemed to have slipped past the little strainer that I am not always very careful about placing 'just so'. I have been since then (you can imagine the conversation).

The image for today is one of my pairs of Rocket Dogs (called for some reason Tugboat) and if I could buy a pair of every design that they produce I would. My foot looks enormous in the photo but it is a size 3. I find that Rockets are the most comfortable footwear I have ever had and all I seem to have on my feet these days are one of my eight pairs, despite having a cupboard full of other shoes and boots.

Now, with this tagging lark...my new philosophy is not to tag people any more. If you would like to pick it up you are most welcome and I'd love to read your five reasons why 'Life is Grand'.

Merry Christmas to all bloggers everywhere

I had such a shock this morning. I pulled up at one of our supermarkets (we've got four in our little town, yes, get us - four), expecting the usual Chrismas Eve turnout of not many people...and I had to go into the overflow car park.

Now, bear in mind this is rural France and even at Christmas - especially with four supermarkets to choose from (I know I said that already but our town is relatively small and it's a big deal to have so many - okay, I'll shut up about it now) there are never that many people and shopping is a real pleasure.

So I went in, dreading the fact I was going to have to push my way through throngs of people - but there was nobody there. It was like a ghost town and I wondered what on earth was going on. I sauntered about, buying my fruit and veg, my cakes, pastries and bread, my last minute bits and pieces, - then I remembered that I needed some kitchen roll - that's in the far corner near the fish counter. I went towards there and all of a sudden stopped dead in my tracks - there were dozens and dozens of people in this particular corner. There might have been hundreds really - all queuing patiently for something. That's where everyone was - waiting to be served with their selection of sea food for the Christmas Eve feast.

It is a French custom to celebrate Christmas very late in the evening on the 24th December. It is a feast called le réveillon and consists of oysters, snails, various sea food delicacies and of course everyone wants to buy the freshest available. Following that there is a goose, duck or the like and then after that a chocolate log called La Buche de Noel. Yes, this happens at something like 10pm. It used to follow midnight mass but less and less people are attending this late night service and I don't blame them at all; otherwise you wouldn't finish eating until about 3 or 4am and you'd be very tired. The French then spend the 25th recovering and taking various potions to help their livers recover.

Anyway, I had to forget about the kitchen roll - it was impossible to negotiate the throngs of people wating for the fish counter. We're not having this sort of feast tomorrow - I'm beginning with a small fish platter, this is true, but it's coquille st Jacques (scallops in a creamy sauce), followed by turkey with the roasted vegetables I recently blogged about followed by a cheese platter (in France the cheese comes before the dessert) and then lastly my favourite quickie dessert I also recently blogged about (I'm in a rush so can't do links to them).

So all bloggers everywhere, I hope you have a lovely time at Christmas. If you are with other people I hope there are no petty squabbles and if you are on your own - just think, you can eat and drink and watch whatever you want whenever you want.

Merry Christmas everybody.

Living in the French countryside

If you live in someone else's country there are always going to be things that you think are better in the country of your birth. Likewise there are lots of things that France and the French could teach the people the other side of the Channel. It is now six years since we first saw our house, our pretty house in Brittany - which is in the north-west of France (about a six hour drive to Calais and a four hour drive to Paris). For the first couple of years I wasn't too sure that I was going to like living here long term.Now - well I love it.

The thing is that however nice our way of life here is, there are still things that can irk me. Some of my personal gripes are probably due to the fact that I am quite an impatient person and we live amongst a rural community where the pace of life is quite slow and serene, not as it would be in a very large impersonal town. So, here we go...

If you are in a supermarket queue be prepared for quite a long wait. The people in front will be either related to, or a close friend of, the cashier and will want to catch up on things. When asked to pay for their shopping they might look a bit surprised and then have to have a long search for their purse or wallet and, oh look, they've also forgotten the loyalty card - hang on a tick, it's here somewhere.

You will be driving along an empty road at a fair pace and all of a sudden a car in a driveway will decide that now is the time they want to pull out in front of you, causing you to jam on your brakes. They will then turn off a little way along. I think it's a local sport actually, as is tailgating you to the extent that the driver behind can almost see the colour of your eyes. It's not because I'm driving on UK plates either - I bought my car here and our other UK car is French-plated.

Most of the shops close for lunch between noon and 2pm. It's something we've got used to over the years but, occasionally, at 11,55 you think 'oh bugger, I should have got x,y,z'. Having said that, since the Brit invasion here the supermarkets (and we've got 4 in our town, she said proudly) have now decided to remain open all through the day. For the French however, these two hours are sacred and you'll just find the Brits in the shops at that time.

Then there is the local chasse - the hunt, which takes place on Thursdays and Sundays during the season. I hate the thought of hunting; I know all the arguments for and against but it is not something that I could ever do. However, it is a local sport (sport, right - arm the foxes with guns and then it might be considered a fair sport) and, as our garden backs on to a wood, we see and hear the hunters quite often.

I shouldn't go on about these little things really, it is part of what living in the French countryside is all about. It's just that sometimes one can get a bit irritated. Look, if I was in a big city I'd be moaning about the fast pace of life because that's what I'm like.

(the image above is from a great book I've just bought so I don't feel too guilty about pinching it for here)

mud mud glorious mud - not

2002 - Iggy Pop; Marianne Faithful

2003 - Pretenders; Supergrass; REM

2004 - Starsailor; Patti Smith; The Streets; Kings of Leon

2005 - Deep Purple; New Order; The Stooges; Franz Ferdinand

2006 - Pixies; Placebo (yes, again);Tracy Chapman

2007 - Peter Gabriel; Bryan Ferry; Kasabian

2008 - The Kooks; Ben Harper; Motorhead; ZZ Top; Duffy; Morcheeba

Listed above are some of the acts that have played at a summer festival that is held very near to where I live. I've listed the ones that I consider famous, but people that prefer rap or French bands might find some of the other acts that I haven't listed more their sort of thing. David Bowie was meant to play in 2004 but he had his heart problem and had to pull out.

Now wouldn't you think that I would have gone to see some of the best bands around today? It is a 15-minute drive from our house to the festival ground; it is well run and people come from all over France to be part of this event, the largest festival in France. It is called Vieilles Charrues which means Old Ploughs.

So why haven't I gone? I guess I like my comfort too much and little things would irk me somewhat, such as queuing for less than clean loos, being part of a huge crowd, the dirt and mud, if the band wasn't great live I might moan a bit - in general I've become a bit fixed in my ways.

When I was young and wayward I would hear my parents tell each other 'she'll get over it - it's only a phase'. Well, they were right - parents usually are but you never think so at the time. Years ago I went to quite a few summer festivals, usually having to travel a long way to get to them. I'd have been overjoyed to have one virtually on my doorstep.

I really must try and make an effort for 2009*. I could even get myself one of these, but imagine how I'd feel when they checked my bag at the entrance.


*Edit - I'm going to go to the festival this year and you can read about it here

Revolutionary fact number three - yes, there's plenty more

Another change to the French calendar in post-Revolutionary times was the renaming of the months. The autumn months were changed to Vendémiaire, Brumaire and Frimaire - harvest, mist and cold. The winter months were changed to Nivose, Pluviose and Ventose - snow, rain and wind.
The spring months became Germinal, Floréal and Prairial -seed time, flowering time and meadow. Finally, the three summer months became Messidor, Thermidor and Fructidor meaning summer harvest, summer heat and summer fruit.

Now the Brits thought this was all a load of bunkum (there's a surprise!) and some bright spark produced a satirical version of these new names, calling them:

Slippy, Nippy, Drippy; Freezy, Wheezy, Sneezy; Showery, Flowery, Bowery; Wheaty, Heaty, Sweety.

Everyone must have been very anxious not to be the one to make a mistake with the new system of hours in a day, days in a week and days in a month, new names for everything. It's hard enough sometimes to remember what day it is, let alone if everything has been completely changed.

However, as ' the secret of being a bore is to tell everything' (Voltaire 1737), I'm going to save the rest for next time.

Revolutionary fact number two

In France in October 1793 it was decided that there would now be a new way of marking the passing of time. A calendar based on a 10 hour day in a 10-day week was introduced, with every month made up of 30 days - the extra days being added on at the end of the year.

How confused everyone must have been and it's no wonder that in 1806 everyone decided they had had enough and reverted to what had been before.

Revolutionary fact number one

I've been reading about the French Revolution and one of the fascinating things I discovered is that the political terms left and right date back to that time, to 1792 to be precise. A fringe group of radicals chose to sit together on the left side of the National Assembly and everyone else crossed the floor to sit on the right. The rest is history.

If only she'd mentioned Chopin just once

My mother was a fascinating woman who left me a real mix of personal treasures. As a young adult she had spent a lot of time living in Paris and her war work had her based there doing things that she never talked about. However years later an American friend of hers told me that she had been involved with the Resistance, something my mother always refused to corroborate. There's nothing more alluring than mystery, don't you think?

Now this picture below is not my mum. She was far prettier than this lady here who is actually someone that most French people - and quite a few others as well - have heard of. It is a picture of Aurore Dupin who was better known as Georges Sand (1804 - 1876). There is so much written about her that I won't tell you very much here. I'll just tell you a few salient facts.

She was a writer and a feminist; if there had been paparazzi around in her time they would have been stationary outside her house snapping the rich and famous that clustered around her. She would sometimes dress as a man and had a string of lovers, both male and female. However, the love of her life was the composer Chopin. Trust me, if you stopped a French person in the street and asked them who George Sand was, they would know.

Now, you ask yourselves, what has this to do with my mother? Well, one of the things she left me (how glad am I that I don't have brothers and sisters) is a letter written by Georges Sand. As I grew up it was always in a frame in the corner of our living room and I took no interest in it. In fact it was only when I went through all my mother's possessions - about 13 years ago now - that I truly looked at this letter. Since I've been in France and have found out a lot more about French culture, and have also started studying times gone by, I now have an idea of just how famous George Sand is. So, I thought, I can sell this letter for vast sums and make a collector happy.

Well, wouldn't you know it. It turns out that this lady-about-town spent a vast amount of her time writing letters. Unless it is written to, or mentions, Chopin or somebody equally famous then the letter just has interest but no monetary value. There are hundreds of these letters out there. My letter, which is on monogrammed notepaper, is just chit-chat about a holiday, although her writing is hard to read.

Oh well. It will be in my box of treasures for someone else to sort out one day.

French documentaries

I recently blogged about how irritated I was to continually hear background music intruding during British television documentaries. Not only that, the format these days is so unsubtle - you'll get the talking head walking to camera or you'll get one of those ghastly re-enactments with actors in period dress.

So, it was a real joy for me to discover French channel 5 who have a host of well made docs and - bonus of bonus - they have subtitles, albeit in French, but it does make it easier to properly understand what is being said. There are no breaks for pub (adverts) - they come at the end of the programmes, which are straightforward and very informative.

So far I've watched progs about Karl Lagerfeld(it even had lots of old footage when he had a beard and did not wear those infernal dark glasses), Egyptian mummies, The gardeners at Versailles (it followed their different work according to the season) and the French during WW2 (quite a short programme that one - bad joke, sorry).

French customer service

Now I'll start by saying that I am somebody who loves living in France and I often make excuses or stick up for the French way of life against Brits out here who criticise some aspect of it. But there really is an occasion when the English way is far superior - when it comes to the question of customer service.

I'll spare you the tedious saga that has prompted this entry - it involves organic dog food that I've ordered over the internet. Actually I won't spare you but I'll give you an outline - I ordered the said dog food like I have done for the last year or so. It's organic venison shipped in from Australia (who says our bichons aren't spoilt) and it usually comes from a French importer about two days after I've placed the order. Well for the last week or so I've been chasing this order and been told that the delivery company were holding on to it for some reason. I've just rung the delivery company (which was something I was putting off because complaining phone calls are much harder in French) and it turns out that they have not delivered it because the box was broken.

Wouldn't you think that there would have been a bit of liaison between the importer and the delivery company? But no, it's left to the poor old customer to chase it and this has made me cross. One of the dogs has a stomach upset from having to go back on to home cooking instantly (dogs need a few days of slowly introducing different food into their system, well bichons do anyway or there are repercussions ) and the other - Poppy with all her allergies - is struggling on something the vet sold me which is not really doing her much good.

At the other end of the spectrum you get wonderful British companies like Lakeland who will do anything to keep the customer happy. Something I boughtt four years ago happened to break due to overuse. i sent them a mail and got an instant refund.

So there is not much entente cordiale in my house today.

Just in case it looks like I am making a fuss over this one instance - I could give you at least five other occasions when French customer service made me want to scream. I won't go on - I'm boring myself.



A few hours later..well, I've received a reply from the importer. Apparently I can get a refund if I can return the broken box (which is lying in a warehouse somewhere in France) back to them. You couldn't make it up, could you?


A day later...I have just written to Cornelius Patt who is CEO of Zooplus in Germany - the parent company. I'll keep you posted.

Well... just as well I've not been to the post box yet because Re-sult, I've been given a refund. My 23 emails of complaint obviously worked. Mind you - one of their mails to me was sent 11 times just to pay me back.

Paris

My cousin who lives in Paris stayed with us last week and even though I've had a few short breaks there I've not taken many photos of any of the beautiful statues and buildings that are to be seen. I've cheated a bit here as the photos that follow are actually from her camera but, hey, they are the sort of photos that I take.

When we went to Annecy last year

I've only just realised that I never actually posted any pics of one of our holidays from last year. Annecy is such a lovely town; it's near to the Swiss border and is a place where many of them go on holiday. It's sophisticated, luxurious and much too expensive for the average person to live in. We've talked about popping over there for the weekend which, in theory, would be a possibility as there is an airport just on the outskirts which connects with our nearest airport (about 45mins away).

Some photos from last week's holiday in the Loire Valley

AZAY-LE-RIDEAU



MONTRESOR


SAUMUR CHATEAU


SPOT THE LIZARD


BEAUTIFUL WISTERIA

ANOTHER SHOT OF MONTRESOR - ONE OF THE LOVELIEST VILLAGES IN FRANCE

MONTRESOR CHATEAU

It was a good week, although the weather was a bit iffy. I suppose if it had been sunny every day we wouldn't have moved very far from the vine-covered pergola and the bottles of champagne and wine (which is how we spent Thursday and Friday).

May Day

There is a lovely custom in France that on 1 May ( a bank holiday over here) you buy or give to a household a little bunch of lily of the valley. Known as porte de bonheur - bringer of happiness - a few sprigs of this little flower means that your year ahead will be full of good things.