A yearly migration

They're here! They've arrived! That amazing variety of migratory beings has been sighted , here, in Brittany.
They wear amazingly inappropriate clothes. They talk in VERY loud voices. They say things like 'Why isnt it like Sainsbury's?' or 'Where's the ******bacon, Tracy?' Bulging out of their shorts and stomach --revealing T shirts, they crowd up to the paydesk, not having weighed their fruit and vegetables, (it's what we do here). Very polite check out girl attempts to explain, using a litttle schoolgirl English. 'What? What she saying Mum? Why dont they speak ENGLISH, for *****sake?' Girl tries again, pleadingly , with hand gestures ( no not those, though wouldnt blame her). Finally gives up, to a chorus of 'Oh let her do it then', she politely , kindly, gets up and trots off to weigh their goods. Comes back with a sweet smile.
Yes, this amazing group is Touristus Idioticus, famous for having the worst manners in the world. They drive the wrong way round roundabouts, they swear at innocent shopgirls, they stagger out of supermarkets with 3 or 4 cases of beer, 24 tins to the case (gotta have a good time, see). They argue in restaurants, they refuse to listen to polite suggestions from the maitre de.....'Nah, just give me the steak and fritts'. They kick the self service petrol machine because they arent aware that British bank cards are not welcome.
Tell me why they come, please? Of course, we all know that there are charming lovely tourists, you all are, definitely. It just seems that we get the horrors in Brittany. Didnt seem to happen in the Gironde so much. I think we will spend a good deal of August at home, where we arent likely to bump into them.

Building/rebuilding.....

We never seem to be without a builder or two. Today I'm lying in wait for Godfroi the electrician, who has promised to come before the great holiday , August, when tradesmen disappear into the blue. Or actually to exotic destinations like Le Reunion, Martinique and anywhere that French is spoken. One can't , after all , mix with people who speak a foreign language.
We had, when we had this house built, an integral garage, very smart, electric up and over door, tiled floor etc. One end was fited with my laundry machines. The other part never saw a car. Somehow it just never got used. So we decided to turn it into a study, accessed from the dining room. It will be a room of about 3x4 metres, so plenty of place for computer, files, and even a pull out sofa for an extra bed.
All this should have happened in April, but, sigh, has only just been completed to the point where Godfroi can hopefully come and connect the electricity. Then it's painting the ceiling and walls, putting in shelving, putting up curtain rail, and finally moving in furniture. It wont be finished in time for family arriving next week, but it's not essential, so not to worry.
The smart garage door is now in place in a big shed, which could be used as a garage, in the garden.
One day, just one day, we will feel as though everything is finished, what relief!

5 things to beat a bad mood

There are times when I just need to be by myself, not necessarily because of a bad mood, but maybe a low feeling. Not quite depressed, but certainly negative.

What do I do to shake it off ?

I go outside wherever possible, and meander round my flowerbeds. By the time I've checked what is flowering, and had a word or two with the roses, I begin to lose touch with the me, me, me bit. When I look at the marvel that is a rose I am transported.

I ring a very good friend in England and we have a moan, which usually ends in a laugh. Sharing helps.

I go to my favourite big armchair and curl up with a book, a large bear, and a cup of coffee, and read my way into another world and out of the depths.

I contact a nearby lady who has more needs than I do, and see if she would like a visit, or a run to the shops.

I get involved in my cross stitch..creating something lovely always cheers me.

Very simple things, but ....that's me!

Auray

And here is one i meant to put on earlier...the Port St Goustan, Auray.

Oh, what to write?

I dont seem to have written anything for ages, not since I came back from my brief stay in England. It seems to be a bit like school homework, write what did you do on a day in the holidays. Why would anyone want to read my incredibly boring day....I got up, I had breakfast, I went to the supermarket...
Anyway, today we went out. We went to meet friends in a lovely waterside town called Auray. They have a cottage in Brittany so come over quite often, and they're the sort of friends with whom we always laugh. We met at our favourite restaurant in the Port area, overlooking the water, where there is a huge choice of places to eat, all with seating outside under parasols...and it was sunny!
Lovely lazy meal, nattering over aperitifs, ice cold champagne, bubbles, sunshine, mmm. The restaurant full of French, thin, chic women with big sunglasses, tanned men, gorgeous French babies in gorgeous French baby clothes. Madame, the owner's wife had a baby last year, and by the look of it, may be having another this year, but a bit impolite to ask, I thought.
Plates of seaweed with shelly things on, fish soup, canard, steaks, drifted through to coffee. And yes, we were almost the laast to leave, but no one worries.
So, that was our day. Home now. I have done the ironing. I am getting the supper. I will go to bed. The end.

A sad one

Sadly I fly to England on Wednesday, to the funeral of my cousin, who has died at 64, so much too young. Our mothers were sisters, and we grew up living on the same little Cornish lane, long before there were 'furriners' around. We moved to Cornwall when I was about 7, to live with grandparents who had a large house by a creek, my father having just died.
My Aunt and Uncle moved a year later just up the lane, so our days were spent running in between houses.
We both had sailing dinghies, but werent allowed to use them till we could swim to the middle of the creek and back. We were, of course, Swallows and Amazons. We spent so much of our time just roaming the beaches, getting to know the local fishermen, safe in the knowledge that it was a community. We collected shells together, we argued about whose turn it was to climb the old oak tree, we hid from our mothers when they called...did all the things children do - together.
As we both grew up we didnt see as much of each other, but whenever we met up, with , later families of our own, it was as if we had just continued the last conversation.
He and his wife came out to visit us last year, and I had the feeling, but hoped I was wrong, that he was making goodbye visits, having by that time been diagnosed with the evil cancer. It was a week I will keep close in my memory, a week of wandering along the river bank, laughing over childhood memories, eating crepes in the little local creperie, shopping for gifts to take home, and best of all, just lounging in the sun by the pool talking and more talking.
He was the brother I never had. I shall so miss him.

Sunshine

Sun, sun! At last!

We have had a lovely sunny day in this part of Brittany. We decided to go to the beach at Larmor plage and have lunch, just to celebrate husband being back home etc. Soon realised that it wasnt a good idea, the combination of sun, beach and impending national holiday meant that the road was solid. We managed to turn and came back to our hometown where we had a delicious lunch in the courtyard of a little hotel, shaded by creepers and parasols, and surrounded by locals. Probably much nicer than the beach would have been.

It is such a joy to go out on the terrace, to sit in warmth, at last. The neighbours tell me it's going to last.....I hope so!

roses...again

As I cant seem to add a picture in the common room I've come into my own little room to sigh. I do try with my homework...but it just doesnt come easy!

These climbing roses grew from a cutting that I took two years ago. I planted it in May 2006, so it has exceeded all my expectations.

My mother was an incredible gardener, and I havent inherited her flair for design, but I think I do much as she did - ignore lots of the rules, put plants where you want them to be, give them lots of love and chat, and they will not only survive but flourish. This rose bears that out! I think it is an Excelsa, and it has a companion white one which flowers earlier.

Out in the garden today,as we have the SUN!

Apricots!! Mmm, this is what I will be doing today, making Apricot jam. I think I can make jam nearly as good as Bonne Maman, using St Delia's recipe. I stone the fruit, leave it in a big pan and cover it with sugar. It can stay overnight, but I want to finish it today.

Whe we lived in the Gironde we had an Apricot tree in the garden which produced amazing fruit. It was a race to pick it before the ants found it...can you imagine a horde of ants scaling a 12 foot tree? But they did. The black figs on the two trees just got eaten by my husband.Maybe ants done like figs.

There is something about lining up jars of jam in the larder that is very satisfactory. Is it the storing up syndrome, the good housewife feeling, or is it just that you know it's going to give pleasure to everyone who eats it? Was it in Little Women that the 'jelly pots' were mentioned, I cant remember?

As we left the hospital one of the very charming female Drs came over to me and said..'Your huband is adorable, the nurses like to go in to see him'.! ( you have to think that said in English but with a French accent!)
Well, that's so nice to hear, and he is a bit different from many of the crusty old boys who were there.
It's even better knowing he is relaxing at home, though how he has the energy to even stand I dont know, after the delightful vampire nurse has been. Twice a day. Anti coagulant injections in the stomach mean that he is, as she laughingly says 'decorated'. Blue bruises. Further blood tests await results. Through it all he remains cheerful and positive....and cant wait to get into the garden. It is of course, raining this morning!
On a different note, I'm getting used to the new site, finding my way around the corridors, getting lost occasionally, as no doubt others are. Or is it just me?

A small PS.

Just a small addition to earlier witterings.

Alain-next-door started the grass cutting in his lunch hour..now that , for a Frenchman is amazing, it's normally sacrosanct.

When he had to leave he put his 2 boys on to the job. Benoit whose 11th birthday it was, and Samuel who is 16. It was priceless watching them. Samuel trying to be very much the older brother, but not able to resist doing a few twirls, and Benoit, like Piglet, rushing alongside squeaking. 'Samuel....SAMUEL!! You've missed a bit/ cut the wrong bit/ run over a daisy/not doing it like Papa asked....' etc etc. The darlings finished, the lawn looks, um, interesting, with lovely swirly patterns, but, oh, it's done.

I took a box of chocolates round ( not up to cooking cakes at the minute) and was reproved by Maman. 'Dont do this every time'. No I wont, promise, but we were so pathetically grateful that they had offered to do this for us. We are so fortunate to have such very kind neighbours.

What I should be doing is ironing. So far I've found several ways to avoid it, filling in the morning with really important other things.

I have opened the greenhouse and watered the tomatoes, just beginning to turn deep red. Weeded. Put a few slug pellets round some new lettuces. Picked 2 courgettes.Put new bark chippings round the base of 2 vines that I'm encouraging. Weeded a bit more. I think I could beat Bridget jones hands down in an avoidance match!

Finally I've come indoors and made coffee, hoovered a bedroom for my husnand's return, hopefully....and sat down at the computer. Read blogs, wished I was going to Menorca like Faith, oh for some sunshine! But now, back to the real world. The silly thing is, when I actually start the ironing I quite enjoy it. I listen to music, maybe Tina T. today, I think a lot, and it gets done quicker than I expect.

My delightful neighbour has offered to come round and mow the nearly 3000 metres of grass for me. I would do it but having never used our tractor mower I would proably end up in a wimpy heap crying for help.
Actually I am a very independent person, unused to asking for help. I hate to be seen to 'fail' at things, and I am a bit driven sometimes about 'getting it right'. Oh well, as you get older you let go a bit, and I'm happy if the lawn gets mowed by someone else, should the weather stay fine today.

People

Maybe you are like me, and have built up impressions of peoples 'appearances just from their writing? I have mental pictures of people who blog here, and having seen some of their photos it is surprising how wrong one can be!

Now, Crystal and Frances are exactly as I had expected, Frances slim, dark, chic as befits a lady who works with clothes; Crystal, petite , dark and kind of impish! The girls who had a meeting mostly look as I had thought they would.

Who else? I see Julie as dark and pretty, Faith, I think you are blonde, UnPeu, hmmmm, not sure yet, maybe tall and fair?? Pipany, definitely petite and with long dark hair. Is it something to do with their names, Pipany is such an elfish name?

Do you all do this, do you 'see' a person as you read their blog?

Hospital life here is interesting. My husband is in a public hospital, with a reputation for the very best coronary care. Private hospitals/cliniques are not so very different, maybe a bit smarter, and of course you have the option of a private room. Not so in Pontivy, but the good thing is that there are only 2 people in a room. There is a private washroom/loo to each room, but showers are down the corridor. No curtains divide the beds, altho they are a decent distance apart, and all discussions/ examinations are conducted within earshot of whoever shares the room!
Staff are great, friendly and they enjoy trying out their English.

Visiting is from 2-8pm and doesnt seem to be monitored, I guess one could have the whole family round if you felt like it. Mme next door brought her husband a large bowl of fruit, various newspapers and what looked like a baguette...just to keep one's hunger at bay.
Lunch was just a bite......Soup, Roast pork, potatoes, cheese, followed by fruit salad with naturally, the glass of red wine. Going to be a shock to come home to salad lunches! Supper follows lightly, more soup, fish finger, cheese, fruit, no wine. One cannot complain. It all turns up in airline mode with tear off tops, but tastes good. One misses one's cuppa however, so taking Mme's example I shall take a small flask in. (Could it have been Mme Grognonne, I wonder?)

The consultants want my husband to stay for another 3 days, so he will roll out weighing considerably more than when he went in.

Thank you

These are my self seeded poppies.

Thank you to all of you lovely caring people who wished my husband well. I went to see him this evening, and although much better, he is not being allowed out of hospital yet. Has to see the cardiologist tomorrow, so I hope we will know more then. You are all so supportive.

On a lighter note....I've been watching the concert for Diana tonight, in fits and starts. What wonderful links of film showing the difference she made to peoples lives. I was fortunate to meet her when she came to open a new wing in the school where I was teaching. Her eyes defied description, I've never seen such intense blue. She was, of course, charming, friendly and truly interested.

I could listen to Elton all evening, but maybe not so the rappers!

Health service in France

We are often told by those in the medical know that the health service here will come to an end, and, sorry ...'will be like in England'. Their words not mine.
It is a very efficient service at the moment, but , as they say, money may well run out etc.
I can only talk from the angle of a retired person and I know that those who are working pay a large chunk of their salary into the Social contributions pot. As retired people we dont have that constraint.
When one comes to live here, one registers at the local CPAM ..Caisse Primaire d'Assurance Maladie. Eventually one is given a green plastic card called a Carte Vitale. This needs to be guarded with ones life, as it contains all the medical facts, and gives one the right to claim back payments from the state. It is linked to one's bank account. When you go to see the Dr he puts the card into the computer to gather all relevant facts. You pay, at the moment 21 euros but soon to change to 22. Within a few days about 70% of that payment is repaid directly into the bank account.
One has the choice of taking up a further Assurance, called a Top up, which pays for the rest, and also covers ambulances, specialists, hospital stays, private rooms, and best of all, someone to go in to your house to look after dependent realtives/cats/dogs! Not everyone takes a top up insurance, and it is getting more expensive, but we feel is worth it.