Last day of 2006

Up early again and fiddling on my computer. Sun pouring in through Mother Superior's window beside me. This is the time of year that I do the major updates to the Le Couvent website This morning I've been creating one of those tiny icons that comes up next to the site name - called favicons. It takes ages and is completely pointless, but there you go.

Josh just phoned to say he wants the key to the top-top garden to do some hoeing and tidying up. He's fourteen. Why isn't he molesting girls and pushing drugs? The price of living in a small french village I guess.

Typing can get so dull

Wow! Where did all that time go?

Here we are on the 29th December, a whole month since I lasted wrote anything here. Well, I hope everyone has had as good a Christmas as us. We stayed here at the lovely convent and did a hundred practical things and read brilliant books. (I have just finished We Need to Talk About Kevin which is just too good not to read.) Ali had a wonderful time prancing round the new ancient floor with a huge tin of wax and an old electric polisher. Now her floor looks like this:


To really appreciate these tiles you have to know that every one (over a thousand) was taken up, the floor beneath them removed (it's one floor up), the beams beneath replaced, a new concrete floor poured, all the tiles soaked for weeks then an inch of hard mud was chipped by hand from the back of each one by Ali, then cleaned and stored. 60 square metres was relaid by my brother, Justin, then sealed and polished by Ali. A labour of passion. And don't they look magnificent?

OK - so that's it for the tiles for another 400 years. END.

While Ali was doing that Josh and I made solitaire puzzles out of a bit of old french door - the one to Jean de Pouzolle's grenier, in fact. (The rest had been used to make the blue shed in my garden last spring) Josh was suitably pround of his, and this is the one I made and gave to Poppy for Christmas. Needless to say she learnt how to solve it flawlessly in a matter of minutes.


Whilst on the subject of making things, Justin (AKA Freddie) and I had a go at making a Christmas decoration out of some lights and a couple of wire coat-hangers. Of course it looked like coat-hangers and lights when we'd finished but it used up an hour very pleasurably.


Come Christmas Day the dogs and I woke early, as usual, and Kit was insistent on getting Ali up early too. Though not as early as nephew Josh, who, despite being nearly 15, took his parents tea at 3.30am, coffee at 4.30am, did the spuds and made a yorkshire pudding, then fell asleep on the sofa until 9.30am when the rest of the house got up.


Niece Poppy took a shine to a Ralph Lauren brown pinstripe suit of Ali's so spent Christmas looking rather too smartly dressed for a 12 year old in a tiny french town.



Gouttiere, the cat, however, took a shine to the geese which we shoved in the oven before she could haul them off.


Somewhat worryingly, since she's not a very affable cat, she's also taken a shine to Flynn the husky's bed. As you can see he's none too keen on chucking her out. He values his eyes too much.

Moving 10,000 books

What do you do when you have 10,000 books to move, like our friends Nicola & Teddy who are in the process of selling their enooooormous house? Yep, you get a team of eleven willing women to form a chain gang. That was us yesterday. French mingled with english and laughter was in its own language. Lunch was luscious and huge fun too - thanks Nicola.

Ali on the phone to her mum in Australia

This one's just for you, Pam & Don. xxx

The best gardening gloves in the world

Ali's lovely mum, Pam, gave me some fantastic gardening gloves for Christmas - yes, I know, I shouldn't have opened them already. Anyway, they are the first gloves I've had where you still feel like you have working fingers. They're Spandex & leather in funky purple & I love them. They came from a superb garden centre called Zanthorrea in Perth WA. Thank you Pam.

Bed no2

Today we attacked the second vegetable bed in the top -top garden. After hoeing all the weeds in the first bed and spraying against thousands of caterpillars that were threatening to eat all the cabbages we began digging and weeding. Two hours later we hade a perfect, raked bed. We planted another 40 red onions and 6 artichokes.

Written by Josh.

The tiles

Well, my lovely, if currently cross, brother Freddie (Justin) did lay the floor tiles while we were on our hols in Perth. And a very fine job he did too. These were the original terracotta tiles that we took up some four years ago, then Ali painstakingly cleaned every single one. And here's the end result - with Josh writing this blog and Kit the dog in her bed.

Hens & bread & seahorses

It's 25 November & still jolly warm here in Roujan, France. Yesterday we finished mosaiicing the table up the garden. It was made by the lovely Teddy from LMV for Ali's 50th birthday in June. Friends who came to the week-long party started a mosaic of a seahorse on the top, but festivities took over and it couldn't be finished. But, finally we've done it and Ali's just off up the garden to grout it in what looks like an impending thunderstorm. Here it is ungrouted.

Outside I hear the hens shrieking their socks off, trying to make us believe they've all just laid double-yolkers. We know it's a ruse to get more chocolate cake, as all but one are off the lay. Our usually fat and handsome girls look like shabby urchins having lost both their feathers and their looks. They're eating like there'll be none tomorrow. It obviously takes an enormous number of calories to make feathers.

Yesterday I had another go at making bread. Not so difficult in theory as I have my trusty breadmaker. However, although I've made dozens of loaves over the past 5 years since I got the machine, none has been very satisfactory. I have come to the conclusion that it's too sweet and too heavy - a verdict Ali cast after the first slice. So yesterday I tried a different recipe out of the book that came with the machine. It said French Bread and I believed it. WRONG! After nearly four hours it came out like this:

Now, I live in France and none of the bread here looks pale, weedy, close textured and heavy - in fact perfect for toast. So where am I going wrong?

My lovely nephew Josh has just turned up. He's keeping his head down as his Dad is just fitting a new kitchen window and has realised it's the wrong size, and Saturday, and the store is closed this afternoon and he's cross, to put it mildly. So Josh & I will form our dream partnership and do lots of small jobs around the house. He & I work brilliantly together. We get loads done and don't fall out - in fact we usually end up laughing our socks off.

Mad November weather

I'll write more about our fab trip to Western Australia in the next couple of days, but I just have to tell you about our stupid garden. It doesn't realise it's winter. We have at least 24 degrees today and I've just taken a trip around the garden. This is what I found. We have roses in abundance, japonica in flower, canna lilies out, begonias looking like it's July, two types of abutilon dancing in the sunshine, salvia looking delightful in pink, and bearded irises lining all the paths as if it was April. But the real fool is the vine which is sporting lime green new born leaves. It's going to get a shock when the temperatures finally plummet. Oh, and I forgot to take all the clematis standing up for Jesus on the balconies.

More Perth

It’s a funny place this. Ali & I took a trip to Cottesloe Beach yesterday – a sparkling 30 degree day. We drove over the massive Swan River and along the riverside past the most modern looking city in the world. Huge elegant sky-rises soar above clean, heavily glazed office buildings. There is a great deal of grass lawn in Perth and the municipal planting is exquisite. We also passed schools and colleges that looked straight out of the 1960’s – everyone in school uniform and an abundance of grey shorts and candy striped cotton.

There’s something very obvious about Perth. By that I mean that things seem very straightforward and unsophisticated. You come to some traffic lights and there’s a sign saying Red Light; shops are named after people – Ted’s Bikes, Elsie’s Tea Rooms; a cut down tree at the historical village is labelled Stump. It would take patience to live here. People speak incredibly slowly.

The beach was fantastic – everything an Australian beach should be. Rolling surf hit long sandy stretches. Kids hurled themselves at waves on body boards. And the 1960’s feel continued with wide greenswards all along the seaside paths set with lots more municipal planting.

The food in the Blue Ocean café was excellent though. We had the best hamburger in the world and very good chicken Caesar salad. I had an interesting beer too – a Rogers, which tasted kind of fruity or flowery.

Checked my e-mails this morning to discover two more goldfish have snuffed it. So it isn’t just me.

Blue langoustines

It’s Sunday afternoon here in Perth and as we’ve been out for a very good lunch everyone else is snoring away. I’m still all over the place and fell asleep last night at six this morning, if you see what I mean.

It’s spring here – the equivalent of the first week in June for us in France. So I was a bit taken aback to see waves on the swimming pool yesterday morning and again today. It’s warm and humid during the day and pretty perishing at night. We have sheets, blankets and duvets – yikes.

Yesterday we went into Kalamunda to a once monthly craft market. MMmm, lots of household objects caught bored people’s eyes during the winter and just cried out to be decorated. So the result was around fifty stalls, the vast majority selling delightful objets d’art such as saws, both hand and circular, painted with snowy scenes of huskies or cottage gardens, papier mache mushrooms painted neon colours and sold in families of five for 30 dollars – to serve what function I could not guess. In amongst the doll peg bags and doggy door stops were many stalls selling jams, pickles, imported spices and things based on olive oil. The difference in attractiveness seemed always to come down to the packaging, some simple and elegant, others basic and off-putting. My favourite stall sold blue, I’m not kidding, blue langoustines and things called marrons which looked like crayfish. We bought three in spite of their 35 dollar per kilo price tag. They’re in the freezer having an extended sleep and will be hurled cruelly into boiling water tomorrow for supper. Apparently they’re cooked in water flavoured with both salt and sugar. Can’t wait to try them.

Got onto the internet for the first time today to check e-mails and upload the first episode of this trip on the blog. The first e-mail from home tells me that I have two goldfish doing the swimming upside down thing. Now, why am I not surprised? It’s just a relief to know it isn’t the way I look at them that does it.

Last night T&T made us a barbecue despite the howling gale and lashing rain. Yumm. And today we went out to lunch and ate far too much luscious seafood. I guess this trip is all going to be about meals. Our poor hosts.

Finally got the mobile phone working. Only had it five months & never managed to make a call as it always seems to be in a no signal area. Now, here in the most remote city in the world, I have a signal – clear as you like.

Lovely e-mail arrived from my niece, Poppy, enquiring whether we’ve got through a hundred books yet. If we continue not sleeping like this we should hit the hundred by Friday.

Perth, Western Australia – The trip here.

Today’s our second day here in Perth. The jet lag monster has us in its grasp. We were both wide awake at 5 this morning, Ali having only just got into bed, and me having slept for a couple of hours. I read all the magazines Pam had kindly left for us – Australian Vogue full of very improbable fashions highly unsuitable, however much adapted, for my fat mid-fifties. There was this month’s copy of Bien-Dire, a magazine giving French news and commentary, but with handy translations of idioms or less common words. I found myself having a lesson in my home tongue whilst lying in a bed the maximum number of miles distant. Excellent. There was one other magazine that I couldn’t force myself to read thanks to the promise of an article on the magic of peas and beans invitingly placed on the front cover.

Our journey here was perfect. Erzsi turned up in her car, the one that’s pristine on one side and scraped senseless on the other thanks to a kind insurance company and a too-small garage, to take us to Montpellier railway station. There was a lizard etched on the window of the restaurant. Ali’s sister Trisha has a lizard tattoo. It seemed fitting that there would be lizards at the beginning and end of this journey.




Then onto the fantastic TGV that sped us up through France to Lille. Entertained most of the way by a young boy with colossal eyes and a gappy grin, who, about ten minutes from the Disneyland stop, looked at his naked wrist and declared that they were going to be late. We swapped trains at Lille, hauling our two cases and the heavy box containing the pottery Trisha had bought while in Roujan – before she knew it would cost more to ship than it was worth. Do you know? There are only four baggage trolleys in the whole of Lille station. A fifteen minute schlep had me one bagged though and we scuttled off laden but happy. I found a copy of La Reine d’l’Idaho in the bookshop which appears to be the first book I shall ever manage to read in French. After four years of living in Roujan I have yet to accomplish that, so I’ll be delighted if this absence lets me do it. I can actually understand it – all of it. Hooray.

The Eurostar train whisked us into Waterloo where we were met in the chilly gloom by our great-mate-Kate who, with little constructive help from the sat-nav woman in the car, got us to Heathrow through all the rush-hour traffic. A reasonably quick check-in was followed by an interminable crawl though the ‘fast-track’ security clearance. They were busy hoiking all the forbidden items from people’s hand luggage. It was ranged threateningly on a table as we filed past – good job it wasn’t lethal – and included such items as two cans of evaporated milk. Now a) with what was it going to be opened? and b) why would anyone need it on a flight?


After a hasty stop in the jam-packed club lounge for a glass of wine – lamentably no French red – what has French wine marketing come to to allow this to happen? – and on to our whopping 777. Now call me old fashioned, but I thought travelling on planes at all was something exotic not many years ago, and travelling business class only for the jolly well off. Well, I can tell you that there must be gazillions of jolly well off people because both business and first class were bursting at the seams. Our bit looked like a hospital plane with an entire ward of beds with televisions to occupy the sick and wounded. But those beds are a masterpiece of engineering. Each person has an individual pod which keeps everyone as discreetly separate as possible in about a square metre and a half. It’s odd, this travelling long distance. I guess it suits people who can sleep for hours on end. I get bored stiff after waking and want the day to begin. It was a bit frustrating to know it was daylight and clear outside. Had the shutters not been down I could have looked out for the Mouths of the Irrawaddy again. Anyway, after a few hours I realised we would only have 45 minutes in Singapore before the next flight took off. After landing we just ran to the next check-in and arrived just as they we beginning to load people on. Amazingly they managed to get our luggage off the previous flight and on to the next one in that time too. And the next plane was a corker. Quantas have fantastic business class seats. Like massively high tech prams and TVs with a colossal choice. I watched a touching French film – Joyeux Noel about the one night truce called between Scots, Germans and French soldiers on Christmas Eve 1914, and then another slightly odd Australian film – 10 Canoes. Not sure what I think about that one.

We arrived in Perth at 1am, tired and relieved to have arrived, but facing the most colossal queue for passport control. Jeez, they’re picky. And the bloke behind us sniffed for the whole hour while we waited, inching along and standing the entire time. My mum couldn’t have done it.

It was fantastic to see Trisha & Tam waiting for us – back to their fab home for a glass or three of wine then finally into bed after about 40 hours of travelling.

Hair disaster

No photos on this one. Ali & I have the very merest sprinkling of rather light hair in our otherwise dark and lustrous mops (we're going grey), so decided to chuck on a bit of colour to cover it up before our hols. Ali's turned out a treat.
Mine went the same colour as Kit the dog - I looked like a syrup pudding. In deepest misery I phoned my Mum who stopped being a hairdresser in 1958 but gives good advice. "Chuck on a darker one" is the precis of a long phone conversation.
We had a spare in the cupboard, but Ali thought it too dark. I didn't want to be seen out so she sweetly went to the superdupermarket for me. And came home with EXACTLY the same one as we already had after hours of deliberation in the shop. Never mind said I. So we did it. And now I look like a toffee apple. Which is better than a syrup pudding. I'm hoping it will tone down in the next 48 hours. Eeeeek!

Too busy to write

Gosh, I realise it's been ages since the last post. What have we been doing? Well, finally Ali, Erzsi & I have finished cleaning all baked on mud and clay from the ancient tiles that came from the chapel bit of the house.

As Ali's done 99% of the work on these tiles, over the past three winters, she is justifiably delighted that they're done. There were thousands, so don't think we're making a huge fuss over the few you can see in the photo.

Justin, my lovely brother (also known as Freddie), is going to be re-laying them while we are in Australia.

And we leave the day after tomorrow. I'm so excited. Thanks to our guardian angel M, we are being air-miled club class on BA all the way to Perth where Ali's family live. We are taking the fab TGV train up through France, then hopping onto the Eurostar in Lille. From there it's a short ride to London where our great-mate-Kate is giving us a lift to Heathrow. Next stop Singapore, although for only a moment, then on to Perth where we hope to be greeted by Ali's parents Don & PAm & her sis Trisha and her partner Tam. Then I suppose we'll sleep for a fortnight before heading back.

Meanwhile Lee, Zoe & Ioan get to look after Le Couvent and all its ailing animals. Because we are going away, Tabloid the fish looks close to death, the hens have all gone off the lay, Gouttierre the fat cat has decided to stop eating for the first time in her life, Kit looks miserable and Flynn didn't bother with breakfast. Oh, and the hot water boiler's gone on the blink - as it always does while we're away. Our phone hasn't been accepting incoming calls for nearly a fortnight thanks to a France Telecom cock-up, so everyone thinks we haven't paid the bill. Fortunately we can still phone out and have internet access. But apart from that everything's hunky-dory. And we're in excellent spirits.

Perfect October

It's one of those absolutely perfect days. On the hill in the vineyards today, around midday, I was cycling with the dogs. I could see the Black Mountains and the Pyrenees in a 180 degree sweep, with the coast to the southeast. It's deliciously warm in just a polo shirt & summer trousers. I could smell the warmth and took huge lungs-full of sweet early autumn air. The dogs were running free and beside me, obviously enjoying it as much as me. I stood on my pedals, free-wheeled and yelled YIPPEE!! at the top of my voice. No-one called back. They were all missing the pleasure whilst getting on with their Saturday morning lists. Lucky, lucky me.
The old convent smiled back when we arrived home.

Aphrodisiac Quince Marmalade

Well, I was in the mood, so I've made the marmalade. Quince from the vineyards and lemons from our trees. And it's absolutely delicious. Lucky us & lucky guests next summer.

Please find attached - two dogs

I mentioned in an earlier post that I cycle with the dogs in the vineyards each day. I use two fantastic contraptions called Springers on my bike that mean I can keep both hands on the handlebars whilst the dogs are attached. [You can click the photo for a closer look.] On occasions I take Flynn the husky & Kit the labradorable for a quick whizz around the village. We stop traffic.

Quincy, fruity gorgeousness

These are quince. I picked them in the vineyards yesterday and intend to make some quince marmalade with them in the next few days. Meanwhile they are making the kitchen smell wonderful. Apparently they are a symbol of love and happiness and were used as room fragrances by the Victorians. I like them because they are beautiful, smell like highly scented apples, have pretty pink flowers in the spring and are free. No-one else seems to pick them, so there are hundreds for the gathering.

Back to the garden

One of the best bits of the season changing is that I can get back to our lovely garden. When it's hot for weeks on end the garden looks as though it's holding its breath. When the rains finally drop a little relief in September the garden starts to grow again. So having looked flower-less for weeks we suddenly have zillions of roses, canna lilies, and oleander in bloom. And with all that come the weeds - with a vengeance.

We have two windows of perfect gardening weather, October to mid-November, then again from February to the end of May. Yesterday it was so hot whilst weeding that I was down to my bra. A visiting friend asked if I garden naked when it's really hot. Who gardens when it's really hot?

You have to laugh. All the gardening books tell you that vegetable plants generally need well drained, highly nutritious, ph-perfect, well watered and mulched soil. Unbelievably we have stonking results with tomatoes, aubergines and courgettes on heavy clay into which I sporadically dig home-made compost, and which is watered in great slooshes when I backwash the swimming pool. Fortunately the water's treated by ultra-violet light, so no chlorine or salt which would harm the plants. One of our guests during the summer said she was amazed that our tomatoes appeared to be growing out of concrete, yet were groaning under the weight of fruit. I guess they like clay.

So yesterday I planted celery, broccoli, cauliflower and blette. The books said they need very particular conditions and I'll do my best, but I know it won't be perfect. For example, celery needs long cold growing weather, which we don't normally have. We'll see. I'll keep you posted.

Unbelievably the two remaining goldfish, Tabloid and Honda, look very chipper this morning. I'd like to be able to relax about the fish, but they make me very nervous.

Meze in October

Ist October and sunshine so warm you'd think it was June. Fab oystery lunch, snooze on the rocks, collect some small pieces of driftwood for a totem and home to find no further goldfish have died. Honda & Tabloid remain. All's well with the world.

Last day of the season

We finish the 2006 season today when our last guests leave. It's been fantastic. When I look back to the start last April it seems like last year, but I'm not completely exhausted, so it seems short too. We've had so many wonderful people to stay and more laughter than one can imagine. I feel extraordinarily lucky to live in this beautiful house that other people are happy to come to share with us.

TripAdvisor has been fantastic for us this year. I didn't know about it until one of our guests wrote us a very kind review, after which many others have too. The reviews are completely independent; we have no idea what people have written until it's published. So that makes me nervous too in case we get a bad review. So far we've been lucky but, quite rightly, it keeps us on our toes. Lots of people who've come at the latter end of this season told us that TripAdvisor sealed their choice on where to stay during their holiday.

As for the winter, we set to on all the thousands of maintenance and improvement jobs around this kind old house, take a bit of a holiday in Perth, Western Australia, and spend lots of time bringing the garden on. I'm in the middle of doing us a new website. I didn't realise how big the current one has become until I started anew. But there'll be lots of fresh stuff on the new site, so if you've stayed with us before do take a look in a month or so.

Next year is shaping up very well indeed. We have a stoolball tour coming to stay in May, and the lovely Pete Churchill's course. We also have bookings from travelling Australians right up to the end of September 2007. I've never booked a B&B a year in advance - have you?

And if anything was needed to mark the end of the season, it's lunch in Meze with our pals. Which is just what we're off to do. Cascades of shellfish - yummy!

Barthez the ex-fish

We are sad to announce that Barthez the Blackmoor died last night. He'd been swimming in a very lacklustre fashion and eventually looked so unwell that Ali did the decent thing and put him in the freezer. (We'd read that was the kindest way to put goldfish out of their misery - I hope so)

I'd grown very fond of the little chap who looked more like a black cat than a goldfish, so it's sad not to see him there any more. I think he was blind and was just not finding food like the others - but unfortunately I noticed too late.

There, I told you fish were stressful.

All our guests are leaving today, so we have a big changeover to do before the next ones. We have just over a week until the end of the season, so my fingers are crossed that the rain will hold off until October.

Normal service resumed

Jessica, Ali & Christophe

Well, we woke up this morning to clear blue skies. No more silver linings needing to be invented as the forecast clouds had rolled on by. Two of our guests this week were Christophe and the photographer, Jessica Antola, who's been commissioned by the American magazine "Travel + Leisure" to shoot various locations in the Languedoc. To our amazement Le Couvent was one of them.
"When's the best light to shoot the house?" she asked yesterday. "First thing in the morning," said Lizzie peering gloomily into the thick skies.
Jessica doesn't just take photographs, she makes art. Talented and lovely with it, I reckon the world can't help but smile with her. Today the sun couldn't resist her either and rose with a grin on its face.
Happiness all round.
She started snapping.

The guests are lizarding beside the pool now, and we can't wait to see what Jessica saw.

Thank you, our Lady on the roof.

It's raining.

Yes, it's raining. I can't believe it. We have had no rain for months on end and today our guests have decided to go to the beach. Jeez, they'll drown, poor souls. I explained that they did not need to stay away if it rained. We're not like normal B&B's. They could come home and read, or play table tennis, or practice their ballroom dancing (they're experts) or I could give them a box of acrylics, some easels, brushes and board & see how they get on. I do hope they're not miserable.

I'm thrilled however. No garden watering to do and I have the perfect excuse to stay in and update our many websites - including a new one which will give info on stuff to do, see and eat here.

End of the season

We have just three weeks to go before the end of our season here at Le Couvent. It's been great. We've met so many new and lovely people. I'm constantly amazed that we haven't had any absolute rotters come to stay. Everyone's been completely charming and a real, real pleasure to have in our home.

Next week we have a fab photographer Jessica Antola coming to take photos of Le Couvent and surroundings for a piece for Travel + Leisure magazine. Her photos look absolutely wonderful so I can't wait to see what she makes of these beautiful old walls.

It's bright and gorgeously sunny again today. All our guests have gone off to Pezenas market. I'm going to do some weeding.

More fish

So there I was in the pet shop, looking for a tank, when three more fish tapped me on the shoulder and implored me to take them home. So now we have five. Honda & Barthez have been joined by Rula (flowing red tail), Kipper (looks like one) and Tabloid (red-top on white body).

I'm told goldfish are soothing. Well my stress levels have gone through the roof because I've read too much about keeping fish. I fear they have every disease possible, that I've got too many for the tank, that they'll be diseased, that the water has no oxygen, that I'll over/under feed them, that they'll be bored. All this because I was given two goldfish for my birthday. Nothing's ever simple is it?

Oysters and lamb

Yesterday was a real treat. I was given a bike computer to go with my new birthday bike. I know I'm 54, but I like gizmos. I was also given two goldfish in a round bowl with lots of bright blue stones in the bottom. Now the computer bit I can do, but I'm a bit flummoxed with the fish - Barthez the Blackmoor, after the French goalkeeper who always wears black and has similarly bulbous eyes - and A Fish called Honda who is a Ryukin I think, from the pictures on Google. I can't bear to see them swimming in circles bored stiff, so I'm off to the pet shop for a new house, filter, playthings and art for the fish as soon as M. Lafitte's delivered 500 litres of oil for the boiler.

Frankly the best bit of yesterday was watching Josh, my 14 year old nephew, wolfing down oysters. I don't think that would have been on the cards if he was still living in Southampton. Poppy my niece couldn't be tempted by anything spookier than a prawn. I'm disowning her.


It's a day for wildlife. Each morning I cycle in the vineyards with the dogs. I have attachments on my bike to which the dogs are harnessed, so that I can keep both hands on the handlebars. This morning at 7am I decided to take a slightly different route with them, and whilst cycling along quite merrily we came upon a good number of chickens. Flynn the Husky's seen off two of our hens, so I was very wary. Whilst trying to cycle on through and discourage Flynn from taking up the chase I realised I could hear a plaintive bleating. I looked round to find a tiny lamb hacking along behind us as though we were his long-lost family. And behind him was his mother looking like we were lunch. Suffice it to say that a momentous tussle and a great deal of swearing saw Kit the Labradorable and Flynn and I on our way again leaving all the wildlife behind us. A different route tomorrow eh?

It's my birthday...

...so the good camera's developed a fault which means it has to go back for repair in England. That means we're down to using the camera that failed in Guana but was revived by bashing it. So sorry about the quality for a while.

I love this time of year here. It's full speed ahead on the grape harvest (le vendange) so the misty early mornings are full of tiny tractors whizzing about ferrying grapes to various places. The grapes are either picked by hand if they're smart wines or by huge machines which straddle the vines and tease off the grapes with mechanical fingers.

Justin, my brother, and our friends have been doing their bit helping mates pick their grapes. The chemists are selling industrial quantities of special ointment for agonised backs. The best bit of grape-picking seems to be the luscious lunch many of the kinder domaines put on for their pickers. I'm almost tempted.

However, as it's my birthday I get to choose supper. As usual I've gone for gazillions of local shellfish. So this morning we went off to Meze to buy oysters, palourdes, mussels, bulots, violets, crabs, prawns and extra oyster shuckers as Justin, his wife and my niece and nephew are coming for a messy supper. Yummmmmm.

Here's Nicola from La Maison Verte looking suitably peasant-like whilst grape-picking.

and Christa from Domaine Bourdic

Kit the Dog

We have two dogs. Kit, a labradorable for whom I paid rather too much money believing her to be a real Labrador when she's patently crossed with a ferret. And Flynn the Husky, who Ali bought when the garden centre didn't have the wheelbarrow we'd actually gone for. Kit has a passion for food. Any kind of food. I'm told to exercise portion control for her, which I do - religiously. However, what am I to do when the vineyards are currently ankle deep in figs, which she loves, and grapes, which she munches straight from the vines? That's not counting the almonds that are carefully crunched out of their shells, and the blackberries that are hoovered from their spiky branches. She's a happy girl on it though.

I love the change in seasons

One of the most wonderful things about living here is that we have real seasons. Having had a fantastic summer, it now feels slightly autumnal. There's a real nip in the air in the mornings and during the night. Don't get me wrong, it's still warm enough to use the pool, the days are a good 26 degrees and we can still take a glass of wine outside in the evening.

It's just that sense of change that made me order 4 steres of wood earlier this week. It didn't come at the best time since I had just had a wonderful relaxing massage and then had to move it all by hand - rather counteracting the benefits of the massage. Nevertheless I'm thrilled that it's here and stacked before the rains come. It's the first time we've managed to order it soon enough. Wonderful, no lugging sodden logs up to the woodburner, only to have them fizzle slowly and produce lots of tar and precious little heat.

Another lovely day in Paradise

How do I get to be so lucky? After a few murky looking days, today looks like being a stunner. Although there is an early morning nip in the air it is just wonderful being in the vineyards with the dogs at 6.30am. I have the best of starts to the day. I bundle the dogs silently into the van then drive a few hundred metres into the village. A quick nip into the baker's and the grocer's sees me with a basket laden with melons, apricots and pears, two baguettes, a pain de seigle, two noix de pecan, an almond croissant and five butter croissants for the guests' breakfast.

Back into the van and a 500m drive into the vineyards on top of a hill where I park under a huge old fig tree. A vineyard worker's van is already there - they start work early here. I put luminous collars on the dogs (so I can see them more easily in the vines) and let them out to run. I haul my bike from the van, pump up the tyres for the umpteenth time this week and head off for a twenty minute pedal through the vines. I have a 360 degree view and this morning it was so clear I could see the Pyrenees which are a good two hour drive from here. For once the dogs were perfectly behaved - Flynn the husky didn't go walkabout. Dogs back in the van, a quick drive home and then to lay out the breakfast and wait for guests to lift their refreshed heads from dented pillows. Lucky me eh?

Blue Damson & Armagnac Jam Day

Well of course I hadn't used up the plums (which I now realise are damsons) but I had run out of jam jars. This morning I took a quick trip into Pezenas for Le Parfait jars. As is often the case, everyone wants to know what you are going to do when you buy 18 bottling jars, so when I said I was making jam I had an uninvited, but welcome, lesson in bottling from a random french woman in the shop, then I was on my way again. Even as I left the store someone wished me bonne confiture. This afternoon's batch seemed to go pretty well again. The guests were complimentary about yesterday's efforts, pronouncing it excellent with this morning's pain de seigle - rye bread.

And plum jam too

Yesterday I picked half the plums from the trees in the top garden. I guess there are about 12 kilos on the two young trees that we've been trying to revive for the past three years. Now this is a slight problem, since here in France at this time of year there is always a jam-sugar crisis. Hence Ali coming back from Champion-the-wonder-store this morning beaming because she'd managed to get the last 5 kilos in the shop. Now we have to find a source for the rest. I think I'll leave the remaining plums on the tree until we've found more sugar.

Nice plums though.



And the result - 16 perfect jars of tart plummy jam - unless it sets like glue as the strawberry jam did earlier in the year.

Here's what's cooking

Veg from the garden, which becomes lovely ratatouille like this......

Le Couvent harvest

Today we picked kilos of tomatoes, aubergines, courgettes, plums and blackberries. Tomorrow we'll make jam and ratatouille. The latter for the freezer and winter and the plums for jam for the guests' breakfasts. Three eggs from our hens today. One hen is broody and the others just can't be bothered.

It rained this evening for the first time in three months - lovely for us but rotten for the tourists and wine-makers. Our friend Hans who makes wonderful wines at Domaine Bourdic says any rain now will be too late and could just burst all the grapes - which would be a disaster for them and the region. Let's hope not.