Prologue: I couldn't think of any photos I may have taken this month to cheer up this chunnering so I went to Picasa and typed October 2012 in the search box. An amazing (but obvious! ) thing happened it threw up any and everything vaguely reminiscent of that search and I saw ten plus years of things all of which were only linked by the word October.... my new granddaughter, a holiday in Cape Cod, six (!) houses I no longer live in, my mom and my dad (old scanned photos), my sister and her husband visiting us in France and so much more.... such a life.... and we all think it is so ordinary and boring. I recommend a random trip through your photos, it will surprise you.
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October is all about getting ready to decamp to the sun. This 'getting ready' is one of the aspects of my not enjoying our peripatetic life any more. For four individual months of each year we are either moving in or moving out of a home. I have no idea why men and women are engineered differently but, if Ken and I are a sample, we certainly are. Ken sees it all as as couple of days each side - just doing a few jobs - bing, bang , bosh - done. For me it is like an extended unravelling of my two lives.
All month before leaving the UK I am mentally wittering about must do this or that, catch up on this or that, not forget this or that. Then there is the actual practical stuff. Every day consists of working out how best to use up every scrap of food in the house because I so hate wasting stuff. There are doctors and dentists and opticians to check in with before decamping as none of that can be done in Naples. I need a very last minute hair cut to get it how I want it before I get hacked somewhere else. All this and more, plus the worst part of decamping - the last seeing of various friends and my daughter for another six months.
Then we arrive in our other life and spend a couple of weeks setting that routine back in action.
So....... I've pretty much covered what we did in October then?
As I said amongst other things we did the obligatory visit to the optician for our eye tests just to have her confirm we are getting older. Thanks! A cursory look around the shop and we decided to buy glasses in Naples.... or not at all in Ken's case. The woman serving us in Boots rudely said - it is a good job we don't depend on you for our living. Even more offensive as, on the optician's recommendation, I had just bought some eye spray/drops for an extortionate fifteen squid because I was too wimpy to say no thanks I will get them from the doctors for free! Humph! not a successful trip.
As for the doctors.... I promise I'm not going to put you through that total confusion and useless set of outcomes. Suffice it to say what should have been a single trip to the doctor followed by a single trip to the chemist, which (fortunately) I had arranged for the 3rd in case of a hitch, took four trips to the surgery and half a dozen to the chemist and lasted over three weeks!
The month did begin well though with a lovely trip to Kinross in Scotland. We had rented a cottage called White Wisp (named after a bit of the local geography) which was really lovely. (Not the greatest photo I'm afraid but the best ones have folk in them and I don't broadcast those).
The cottage itself was a brand new refurb and was gorgeous and the views even more so. Nice owners on site, couldn't wish for more.
It was hellish to find as it was truly tucked away in the back of beyond and Esmeralda (our GPS - named for ''the bells, the bells" movie) insisted that we needed to cross a farm and a river (no bridge) to get there. The funny thing was I had ordered a Tesco delivery - am I efficient or what - and we had been there about half an hour when it arrived. Ken said, rather sheepishly, did you have a hard time finding us - ''No, not a problem". Hardy bodies these Scots!
This was our only visit to Scotland this summer to see my daughter and her chap. They have been great at visiting us each month, so it was the least we could do. They came to stay for the weekend and we all had a really lovely time mooching around and eating out.
In the eating out category we did have a bit of a glitch in that we thought we understood the meaning of Sunday carvery. Off we went to the local lakeside restaurant - The Boathouse Bistro. The whole experience was very strange. We arrived at the Green Hotel in Kinross who boasted five restaurants including this one, to be told that its bistro and carvery was a couple of miles down the road! I am sure I had read in its blurb that the romantic bistro by the lake was a gentle stroll from the hotel. I thought it meant through its grounds, not a full blown two mile cross country hike. We found Loch Leven - too big too miss - then drove almost the whole of its perimeter before locating what to us looked like a very tired park cafe (read caff not café). The décor was distinctly seventies orange and brown fabrics and cane furniture. The carvery itself was pretty poor and the system to actually get it was even worse. No one greeted us or explained what to do. Eventually we discovered we were supposed to report to someone (?) and then sit down and wait for the chef to call you. The chef didn't call us, so after a very British long wait I sorted that out. We then had to ask for cutlery - you don't have it on the table nor are you able to get it yourself! Why? The person I asked never appeared. By the time our meal had congealed a little more I managed to get one of the bar staff to get us some eating irons. An all round dreadful eating experience and for this you pay £8.99. Our £3.99 local one in Bury looks pretty good in comparison. It was obviously an exciting novelty in Kinross and its environs as the place was packed to the gunwales. I am cross with myself for moaning about anything on this trip as it was all lovely. To be honest even the stupid carvery was just plain funny at the time We got a lot of laughs out of it. I wrote the best Victoria Wood sketch ever in my head.
In comparison the previous day we had a great lunch at The Grouse and Claret. I had the best soufflé ever and that was just the starter. Then a night at the movies in Perth - 'Looper'.
Too soon the 'children' had to go home - one to work and one to crow about having a day off. Those who know us will guess which was which!
On Monday we nipped over to my daughter's for Ken to do his step-dad handy man bit and fix a light. Her chap stopped by at lunchtime so we said our goodbyes to them both and took the slow road home through the borders. We stopped off in Langholm at a sweet little café/bistro/restaurant (not sure of its qualifications) called Truly Scrumptious and had an excellent meal.
Our 'growed-up' outing for the month was a meal and play at the wonderful Octagon theatre in Bolton. If we were home all year I would definitely have season tickets. Pretty much always something worth seeing. We always eat there too before the performance and the food is good and great value. This offering was 'Light-hearted Intercourse' - not as shocking as it sounds. It is part of a funny line in the play - maybe not easy to share without the whole production under your belt - but, basically, a staunch catholic (with all the attendant the guilt) is trying to avoid sex with his wife and offers the explanation that light-hearted intercourse should not be what it is about. My little Octagon friend accompanied us and we had a lovely evening with D and I supplying more laughs than the play perhaps. I did say Octagon friend, not octagonal, she is not eight-sided.
On the very same day I decided I had to have a winter coat - (a) I was freezing and (b) I was going out at night. There are women reading this who when I say I hadn't got a coat, think I mean I hadn't got one I liked. No - I actually did not have any warm coat other than one of those three part ski coats jobbies, which is miles too big any way. Off Ken and I went to Tesco - I shop in all the best places. No joy! I then remembered two doors down was a Next - in we go out we come seventy-five quid lighter and it looks like a donkey jacket! That's what you get for not being a proper woman. I really couldn't face the prospect of trawling the land for a coat I liked so I settled on one that was serviceable and fits me and wasn't one of the puffa jackets (make me look like Michelin man), double breasted army coats (make me look as though I run a POW camp with an extra wide chest) or duffles (make me look like I still think I am fifteen and listening to Bob Dylan) which seemed to be on offer.
I may have been jaded by the couple of weeks of casual searching for warm trousers (again - I literally don't have any warm ones). I could apparently have leggings, jeggings, schmeggings (think I made up the last one!) but nicely cut, warm fabric trousers?... I think not!
All this came about because we stayed home an extra month and a combination of September, that I generally just put up with, and an even cooler October pressed me to look for warm clothes. Now there's a novelty and an expensive one.
October 14th was a trip to a Dolls House Fair, even better for being local (Handforth, South Manchester). I seem to be able to do one each month in the UK but I won't be doing any for the next five months in the States. There just aren't any to do. I have been to the couple which happen in Florida during the time I am here and neither are really worth travelling for. I may check out the Sarasota again though as our friends are interested in a short stay up that way (maybe) when they visit us. I must see what I said about it last year but I pretty much think the game wasn't worth the candle.
Looking through my diary I've just reminded myself about a funny thing at the doctors on one of the many trips back and forth. I saw a little Irish boy of about ten - he purported to be the doctor! What a sweetie. At one stage of the proceedings he was sitting on the floor groping my feet. Now either he had a serious foot fetish which, lets face it, he wasn't old enough to have or he 'knew his place' relative to me. Any way the funny part was - he couldn't find a pulse thereby confirming what I have long suspected, i.e. I am dead. This, of course, led to an extra visit to the surgery for a Dopplers test to disprove this. Described as a test which entails no discomfort I am able to tell you they lie. Wrapping a BP cuff around your calf and squeezing you to death is surprisingly and incredibly painful.
By mid-month I was struck down - almost literally - with the stinkiest of colds. The full monty - fever, cough, sore throat, runny nose, the works. It is still slightly with me in that I have the occasional coughing fit and I am typing this on 3rd November; so I am a bit cheesed off with it. Having been so blighted there is a bit of a gap in the month as I missed a couple of planned outings due to been horizontal.
On the 22nd my first dolls house project left home. A very nice couple picked up the Wentworth. They seemed very enthusiastic and happy so I felt heaps better about letting it go. I really hope they have a great time with it as I did. Life moves on even in mini world.
On the 25th (just about vertical again) I went to the most amazing exhibition at the Art gallery in Manchester - they do have good stuff there and the building itself is a joy - if you ever get the chance ....... etc
It was called The First Cut. Obviously it would appeal to me for all sorts of reasons but it was so much more than just cute paper cuttings outs. Some very dramatic pieces and some fun things and many very beautiful and super dooper clever things. How about that for an erudite critique of an exhibition - missed my calling?
Here's a link to a huge piece of work which I thought was incredible Andreas Kocks. Take a second and have a look. If it grabs you here's a link to a TED talk by another artist who's work was in the exhibition, Beatrice Coron.
Incidentally if I haven't mentioned TED before I should have done. My son directed me to it when he gave me my iPad - yes, it has an App. I can always find something there to while away a moment or two.
The last six days was a mad whirl of sorting and cleaning and eating with friends. Indeed at one point on our last Saturday, my friend was visiting to say cheerio, my daughter and chap arrived from Edinburgh and our good friends P & S arrived. Bit like buses - none at all or they all arrive at the same time. It was very nice to have a room filled with people you care about. After the extra bods departed, daughter, chap, Ken and I toddled off for a great lunch at The Shoulder of Mutton and the next day we all had breakfast together at our house and a trip to Currys for them to buy a GPS for Henry (their car!) followed by a bit of playing with the gizmo and a bit of a natter. When they left at 1.30pm we left with them. They to go back home to Edinburgh and us off to a birthday lunch with P & S at The Sykeside. An all round great weekend. Wish we could do it every week.
Monday I was up to my armpits in last minute laundry and making a left-over roast chicken pie and rhubarb crumble - yes, all about finishing off the flour, butter, sugar etc etc etc. Luckily our two mates stopped by in time to help us out otherwise that would have been another half of everything in the bin.
Last day of the month and we were off on our trip across the pond.
The day began at 5 am (UK time) and finished at 3 am (UK time) the next morning - so, yes, the trip is always pretty whacking, for some of us! Ken, the robot, just keeps going until its done.
We always elect for low fat or low salt meals (they are usually the same incidentally) on the flight. Mainly because I hate the wodgy 'snacks' (hot rolls with meat and American slime cheese for example) and breakfast egg/bun thingies. We get a really nice fruit selection instead. This time it didn't pay off that well as the dinner part of the meal was a large blob of very wet slimy spinach accompanied by baked beans, half a tomato and boiled mushrooms. mmmmmm, yummy! I did see the funny side. As a woman who has eaten, goat, lard and donkey I cannot be described as picky; there is very little I don't like - lets think... oh yes, over-boiled spinach, cheap baked beans, boiled mushrooms and dead tomatoes. Actually it isn't really a problem as I always take a Boots meal deal on board so I have a snack and a drink when I want them and the sandwich or salad (sometimes sushi!) comes in handy to replace the airline 'dinner'.
Our flight was on time and we had a smooth ride. I was a bit concerned about the latter as we were pretty close behind Hurricane Sandy which had devastated a lot of the east coast - New York and New Jersey took a big hit. We had a four hour gap between flights. This gets reduced by the one hour it takes to get through customs, security and recheck the baggage. As it was a long time we treated ourselves to the Sky Lounge which is a much nicer place to spend the time than in the general area. Oh to be rich! First Class travel and the lounges between flights.
Onwards and, in this case literally, upwards. An hour and thirty-five minutes on the flight out of Atlanta into Fort Myers, pick up hire car, forty minutes drive to Naples and we were in home number two. For me that pretty much meant bed. Ken did a few bits and bobs as always.
My body clock - as of 3 November is considerably out of whack. The weekend before we left the UK the clocks went back an hour. We then get here to a four hour difference backwards. This will be followed by another turning the clocks one hour back over here this weekend for their 'Fall backwards' (Spring Forward - neat eh?) adjustment. Confused, moi? Oh, I almost forgot to mention as of Tuesday we will be in California which is three hours back on Naples. I may as well kill myself now.
I know it is a well-worn phrase but I make no apology for wheeling it in....
I have no idea where my time goes. I seem to do very little and when I turn round whole weeks have fled by. I had every intention of staying on top of my journal (Clavering) and when the calender clicked into October I remember thinking I really must get on with recording September.... then thoughts became, oh well, a couple of days late won't matter and then - good grief it's a week and I still haven't done it and now, finally, here I am - three weeks into the month and still not done. Actually I have just figured out what happens to my time .. I've just spent ten minutes blathering and achieved nothing. Into the breach.....
Any month which begins with a trip to Ikea and making a flat pack cupboard can only get better. My move back into the house from the shed (only my hobby stuff not a complete banishing) meant I needed another surface area for one of my 'projects'. The wonderful Expedit filled the spot. It only took me twenty minutes, sore hands and a ruined screwed up blouse that I wrapped round the Allen key to prevent more raw hands (and yes it was the one I was wearing) to insert two of the six bolts. Ken arrived to see how I was getting on and tightened the ones I had done and did the other four using the self same Allen key all with his bare hands ( his blouse never came into play). This took him about five minutes!! Brain v. brawn... winner is?
Week one's treat was a girlfriend-trip to the movies to see 'Brave' preceded by a pizza with a deliberate hole in its middle - how cute is that? These treats were amplified by qualifying for 'senior' rates and getting a two for one on both deals, courtesy of Orange Wednesdays. Don't you just love it when someone pays you to go out.
My daughter arrived at the end of the week with her half of a new car - her first! Luckily her partner came with her and brought the matching half. It is lovely to see your kids doing their thrilling 'my firsts'. She was so pleased with it. That said it is a lovely, happy looking Henry (its name) Hey, you are reading a woman who calls her waste disposal Oscar, so I have no issues with the car being Henry.
The following day, we had a meal booked for them, us and my sister and husband who were coming for lunch to say goodbye to the four of us before they emigrated to Canada. It was something I really hadn't wanted to do and was glad when she came to the same conclusion and cried off. The remaining four of us had a lovely meal and a great weekend and the snivelling was cut to a minimum. If I had to have done an actual goodbye to my sister and her husband I would have fallen apart.
None of this is based remotely on logic. We haven't seen all that much of each other since my mother died in 2004. Indeed they have only been to our current home once in the years we have lived here and that was five years ago. We have been to visit them a few times a year but since we sold the caravan last year that has also got less. We do keep in touch but I suppose our day to day lives trundle along pretty independently of each other. Nevertheless it felt as though the last rug had been pulled out from under me. As I am officially an orphan, my elder sister is the only person on the planet who has known all the various forms of 'me' from day one. She is my bond to family history and stories of my childhood and, being six years my senior was for a lot of years almost a second mom to me - the indulgent one. Losing her (and her husband) to the wilds of Vancouver has been, and will continue to be, a wrench.
I wish them and all those I love, the very best of life but why, oh why, can't they all do it round the corner from here. I was cooking a chicken roast dinner and all the trimmings and a Bramley apple crumble here today and I had the, not unusual, thought.... wouldn't it be nice if I could just ring my sister or son or daughter and say bob round because I've cooked too much as usual.... and we could all catch up on what's happened since we last saw each other just a few days ago.
Any way, on Sunday, a late breakfast/early lunch at Falshaws (the ice cream farm) was followed by another goodbye to my little girl and her bloke for a while as they returned to Edinburgh and their lives.
One of our outings this month was to Gorton Friary. Part of the Manchester Tours I mentioned in August. It is an astonishing place and so a huge well done to one ordinary bloke who decided it should be rescued and has spent years and years doing just that.
I must try to remember to catch an event there next year.
We followed it with lunch at the Mark Addy. Horrendous to think it was forty years since I last ate there!!!...... and I remembered it like it was yesterday. Now Mark Addy is a character worth reading about.
September is the month for one of the Old Langworthians' meals. A few of the staff who worked at Langworthy Road get together a few times a year to keep in touch. I miss a couple of these because of my peripatetic existence, but it is nice to catch the occasional one and see how everyone is faring. We all look a damn sight better than we did when we were teaching and for some of us that's more than ten years ago. Well done you chaps... you know who you are...
The 23rd is the big day in my calender. Miniatura. As usual it is written about in my Bentleys Blog but needs noting here too as it is a major event for a tiny nutter. I had a great day... and I do mean day. I was there a little after they opened at 10.00am and stayed until they closed at 4.30 pm. Ken trotted off to an NT house for a walk and long lunch and back in time to pick me up. I was happily shattered by the time he scraped me out of there. Imagine winkle and pin.
My grand-daughter (also in Canada) had her second birthday on the 27th. I can only repeat the way I began - where do my days go? and why is my family scattered to the four winds?
July's last post left us in the rain and hey, guess what, hello to August... in the rain. This summer must have broken every wet summer record in the book!
Before we went away at the end of last month I had a list of garden chores as long as your arm. This was already backed up because of the bad weather. On into August and I still couldn't do do them when we got back to our Northern rain from our mini break in the much drier South.
The month started brilliantly with the arrival of my daughter and her partner. They had stopped at the Lakes on the way down to celebrate her birthday and arrived in time to continue that with us. To use a very well worn phrase , where do the years go? As a parent it I find it impossible to see through the welter of imprinted memories and take on my children as fully fledged adults. My logic knows that they are, but every interaction immediately returns to me-mom and them-child. I do my best to advance but fail miserably and sink into pride and worry and joy in equal measures as if they were six.
The weekend was filled with chatter and food and trips out for good ice cream. Perfect.
Tuesday 7th and we were out with 'The Secret Seven' doing 'Seven go Town Halling'. Just in case there is a massive government computer which filters all emails for suspected terrorist groups I should explain the seven are in no way secret. It is just a group of Ken's 'diving' friends from years back who I glue together now and then as they have now become my chums too.
This time instead of just arranging a meal somewhere I thought we could go and get 'cultured' (a bit like germs?) and I suggested that we did a tour of Manchester Town Hall. The added lure was that it would still include a meal afterwards. It is hosted by Manchester Walks and is to be recommended. The guide was good enough and the building itself well worth the effort. If you live within hailing distance of Manchester click on the link to see what else they do. Everything from walking tours to coach trips to canal trips. Something for everyone? We are doing Gorton Priory next month.
The meal was at Wings. My criteria for deciding where to eat was somewhere with a range of choices for everyone and as close as possible to the Town Hall as it would almost certainly be raining. It was the usual Chinese meal - not outstanding but it did the job.
The following week was given over to removing my raised veggie beds and putting a flower border back in the garden. As with all things gardening you can go to the garden blog if you want the trials and tribulations of the remake.
It was also the week which builds up to Ken's birthday and I always spend it thrashing around trying to decided what to buy him and what to do with him on the 'big' day. Also, pretty much as usual, it ended up being a damp squib. I had a two for one deal at a restaurant we hadn't tried, so that seemed like one problem solved. They were closed on Tuesday! Hey, ho we just had to go and do it on an 'ordinary' day. Good job we did as it was a bit underwhelming. Pub/Italian food finishing with mom-goes-to-Iceland profiteroles. Mmmm! as in mildly grumpy not as in yum.
Birthday lunch was moved to The Crimble. A place that has always had a bit of a bob on itself and was good in its heyday (the last time I went there!). Sadly time and I have moved on and it hasn't. Ken was a happy enough birthday boy so I gritted my food critic teeth and he/we had a nice enough time. His present is the real nightmare. I am sure most women reading this have the same problem - the blokes they buy for ''don't want anything'', ''don't need anything'', ''don't bother I'm not bothered"..... sound familiar. The truth is most of them really aren't bothered and I still don't know why I make such a big deal out of it. Why is it I can't get to the same place?
Just as we have done many times before we settled for the fall-back position of his deciding on a piece of electronic gizmo for the computer. Thrilling. Marginally better than the touch-screen stylus for his phone for £1.99!!! that he really wanted. Even more exciting we continued what is now turning into a family tradition - a tour of Staples.
To explain...on my mother's eightieth birthday, we took her to visit my sister in Cheltenham. We were staying at a hotel for a couple of nights and on the day of her birthday were driving mom to P's and we happened to pass Staples. Ken wanted to nip in for something, so mom and I went with him and spent a jolly hour trawling what is in effect (for mom and I) a huge stationery store. Being fans of pens and papers and things of that ilk, we were quite happy bunnies. As we were leaving she was all smiley and saying how good that was and we laughed about knowing how to show her a good time and celebrate an eightieth in style.
A couple of days after Ken getting older we were off on our August jaunt - this time a nine-day trip to France with a friend.
Talking about it all later with my friend, she and I agreed that in advance of doing it we were wishing we hadn't bothered when we thought about a two day trawl from our homes 'up North' to the gite in the heart of France. As it turned out it was just fine and the journeys down and back seemed to be entertaining enough in themselves for the hours to just fly by.
We had an early start (7.30 am) to allow us plenty of time for our drive to Portsmouth. As it happened we only took a short break en route and our packed lunch got eaten on the terrace (well at a table on the terrace) of the Terminal Building in the port. We had arrived in plenty of time and settled down for a nice relaxed meal in the sun. Before we got to the cherries we had a moment's panic as we saw the queues of cars being moved from the car park to the going-through-the-customs waiting area. We dashed off to rejoin our car and began the car ferry shuffle. Our car was one which got stopped for a cursory customs check with my friend's small bag being taken for an X-Ray. It was declared free from chest infections and broken limbs and we moved on to the boarding-the-ship waiting area. It is worth noting here that we left Manchester in pouring rain and arrived in Portsmouth in baking sunshine. How in heaven's name do you dress for this? We simmered gently in the car, relieved only by a giant bag of assorted sweets.
We eventually took proper advantage of the sunshine and spent most of our time on the 'Normandie' on the deck. It was a lovely, calm (nearly six hour) crossing and we had an excellent first French meal in the Cafeteria (!). What a pleasant surprise. Offloaded at great speed but then a long wait in a queue of cars to get through passport control. Ten minutes drive to our functional overnight stay in an Etap (part of the Ibis group) in Herouville. I'd heartily recommend this group of Motels/Hotels. They are very basic but very cheap and very well-maintained and clean!!! Turned in for the night early(ish) ready for our trek through France the following day.
We had breakfast at the Etap, taking the only available seats in the corner of the conservatory. They were available because already the sun was up and doing its thing through the two windows. We were totally fried, having forgotten what sunshine was. This was an early warning start on the 41 degree day which was to come. Again, we decided not to break our journey down to Masbonneau by too many stops (which we originally thought we would do) and pretty much bombed down to the Chateauroux area where we used to have our farmhouse. We stopped at our 'usual' (from those days) motorway services and had a coffee. Our lunch was at Auberge des 2 Cedres in Cormery. To describe it as eclectic is an understatement. The décor was underpinned by inherited wallpaper and furniture from grandma. This was then overlaid with African and middle-eastern masks and all kinds of trinkets. There were butterflies pinned on the lace curtains and all manner of pictures on the walls, culminating in a huge framed (15,000 piece) 'religious' jigsaw. Just wonderful. The owners were a joy and, it seems, as always in these places, the service and food were a delight.
On to revisit our (brief) home in France - Les Roches. It looked terrific all tidied up and I was thrilled to see it had become the proper French family home for the young couple who bought it from us. Their names were on the mail box (which we bought) and the swing had been retrieved out of the barn and put under the old pear tree. I sneaked a few photos as a reminder. Someone there is keeping up my good work. I hacked back a monster of a wisteria and some neglected climbing roses - they are all lovingly pruned and tied in. You might spot all the shutters are closed, this was because it was around forty degrees centigrade.
We arrived at our lovely gite some (long) time after 4 pm as arranged. Ken and I then drove to the nearest Supermarket which might still be open at around 6.30 pm. This was some twelve miles away so I was soon sharply reminded of the draw-backs to living in Les Roches.
Back to the gite and the first of our cold suppers (and breakfasts) all to be eaten outdoors in the balmy air. It was accompanied by wine and a cake left for us by our kind hosts. The huge pineapple upside down cake was to be hauled out on many more occasions.
I promise you our gite did not slope at this angle! Strange photo. Yes, all that property was ours. In addition to the space, we had enough dishes, cutlery pots, pans, glasses et al to feed twenty people right down to eight of them being able to enjoy their lobster using their own set of picks. Really, really good place and excellent owners. They struck precisely the right balance between friendly and helpful without being intrusive in any way. I just felt bad that we didn't do justice to the food processor and its twenty blades, the espresso machine or the six large frying pans.
For our first day (and, in part to enjoy the car's air conditioning!) we decided to get the flavour of where we were by doing a circular tour of the area. Our major ports of call were St Benoit-sur-Sault, Argenton and St Gaultier; not that this stopped us looking at virtually every village and church and petit château en route.
We had lunch in Argenton sharing the peace and quiet of even the largest French town during Sunday lunchtime. Somewhere between 12 and 4 and everyone is eating.
This photo is where we ate, the Cafe de la Place. This is the absolute hub of the city and there is usually traffic in all directions and crowded pavements. It made me long for our old-fashioned Sundays back in the UK when the world had at least one calm day a week.
The approach to St Gaultier is pretty spectacular. The church (built in 1050) and its surrounding school and other buildings are huge and immaculate and they cling to the hillside above the river, seeming to defy gravity.
The church is fairly simple but enormously soothing. It is cool and dark and calm, with that familiar musty smell that always serves to remind me that my tiny point in time is so insignificant in the life of this building and, strangely, I find I am OK with that. Churches weave a magic for me and yet I don't have a religious bone in my body.
Monday was our trip to a glamorous building day and we headed out for Chenonceau. If you have the even the faintest interest in French History this is a place to go. The story of Henry II and his mistress Diane de Poitiers and his wife, Catherine de Medici, is all very much intertwined with this place. Indeed Catherine, as Regency, ruled France from here after Henry's death. It is the most wonderful Soap/saga and knocks Coronation Street into a cocked hat. The link I have given you here doesn't tell you much of the story but it does have photos of the beautiful Chenonceau.
We also managed to do the trip on the river so we could really appreciate the château straddling the Cher. You might also notice the blue sky? Yet again, a baking hot day. The week we were there did manage to cool a little day on day; by the time we left it had got down to about 34 degrees.
The next day we were ready for a contrasting château and we set off for Sarzay. Yet another fascinating story of a different kind. This time it is of someone buying a dilapidated castle and spending his (and his family's) life renovating it. The article I have linked here is also amusing to read as it points up the incredible machinations and red tape of officialdom in France.
I loved Sarzay for a myriad of reasons, not least of which is the reminder of the tenacity of some humans to pursue their dreams. We were lucky to briefly meet the owner, Richard Hurbain. EDF meter reader extraordinaire.
We sort of ate and drank our way around this day's tour beginning with an excellent lunch in the restaurant directly opposite the château; photo on the left. Aptly named Bar Restaurant du Château.
Just to give you an example of our culinary experience ... on that day... in that unprepossessing place.... we had an eleven euro table d’hôte lunch which consisted of four courses and a two glass pitcher of wine each.
I had hors d'oeuvres, followed by a good roast pork dinner, then a large cheeseboard selection. I chose a Rhum baba for dessert. Ken's choice instead of the cheese board was was fromage blanc (something like Greek style yoghurt but still retaining all the goodness of the milk - made by a different process to yoghurt). The surprise was it came with four peeled cloves of garlic.
The picture on the right was our view from inside the restaurant. All included in the price!
On the way home we stopped at the Hotel du Lac for some cool drinks - how resonating is that? It overlooked the lake formed by the Barrage d'Éguzon.
The next day we decided to give up on châteaux and go and treat ourselves to one of the 'beautiful villages of France'. Les Plus Beaux Villages de France is an official designation for 157 villages in France in the hope of preserving them without turning them into tourist traps or museums.
Our choice was Gargilesse.
The village was indeed very pretty and had several interesting little shops. It has always been, and remains, an artists' community - the pivotal one being Georges Sand. The 11th century Romanesque church was unique to me. It has wonderful 13th - 16th century frescoes in the crypt. I have never been anywhere which has so many in one place and in such near perfect condition. Quite remarkable, and like everything else on this trip, it was all totally accessible to you. There are no ropes or barriers or people standing guard. You are treated with respect and trusted to behave appropriately and, seemingly, people do. What a joy. I was also totally blown away by some musicians and a singer in the church. She had the sort of sound which not only came from her but, somehow, the building itself as well; it was a truly incredibly moving moment hearing the melding of singer and stone.
The castle in Gargilesse - yes, it is impossible to avoid châteaux - doesn't have much château remaining but what it has is beautifully preserved; again, by a private owner. She has renovated it to use as a small art gallery. A gem of a place with a wonderful space behind it overlooking the river.
This isn't the entire gallery (!) just me in a corner of the garden waiting for the two intrepid explorers to return from whatever intrepid explorers do. Thanks to my chum for the photo.
Sadly our last day arrived and we trotted off to Argenton for a repeat visit when it was open! Mostly we were straining at the leash to get our hands on a French market and this was the only one we could find listed for miles around. Woops... we wandered around forlornly and eventually ended up in the tourist office who told me there hadn't been a market day in Argenton for years - out of date information courtesy of the world wide web. Nothing new there, then.
We consoled ourselves with a good lunch in a shaded patio at the back of the creperie. (sorry, can't find the circumflex on my machine) One of my companions took it literally - guess who - and went for a killer crepe. (that 'e' looks positively naked without it's hat).
The ladies were consoled by a bit of shopping - chocolates and a handbag being my choices.
As it was officially our last evening of our holiday in Masbonneau we thought we ought to scrub up and go out for dinner at night like fully fledged 'growed-ups'. Huge searching and head scratching ensued as we were in the heart of nowhere land and didn't want to travel miles for a meal. Finally we settled on Le Petit Roy in the hills of Menoux just outside Argenton.
I had the best quail ever - no, really, I did. Everyone's meal was lovely and it was a nice enough setting as we were able to sit outside on the patio at the back of the restaurant and gather up the last of our French evenings in the garden. Good food in a good setting, yet again.
Well stoked from a week of French eating we waddled back to the UK. The reverse two day trip was pretty uneventful. This time on our first day up through France we stopped off in Chatillon for a look round the town and a coffee at the back of Le César Brasserie. Sadly the wonderful Chocolaterie/Patisserie and a few other shops have closed since we lived there but the town is just as nice.
We lunched at a different and poor quality motorway services and hurried on up to Caen/Ouisterham/Herouville for our Etap overnighter. We arrived in good time for a walk on a blustery Ouisterham beach where we experienced our first few drops of rain for a week.
Dinner was in an incredible restaurant. It was utterly Barbie meets Elton John. Imagine pink and silvery grey and anywhere it could be done the the silver/grey was velvet and/or sequins, right down to the velvet covered menus. Add dresses and bows to the chairs and then throw in some beach themed objects such as bits of driftwood also tied to the chairs and the window blinds. Please trust me on this, my description is a very calm understatement of the surroundings. Neverthless it was an odd delight and the food, as ever, was great.
Nighty, night in our motel, with an early (no breakfast) start in the morning. I had a full English on board the Mont St Michel while my two companions did their usual continental minimalist thing.
The crossing was a bit choppy and there were a lot of very poorly travellers - not us. My bacon and eggs and I remained firm friends.
Our first English food was Marks and Spencer sandwiches (or, in my case a crayfish salad) on the motorway on the way home. I couldn't face the though of motorway food after a week in France.
Guess what... we met the rain north of the Midlands. We were back!
A couple of days later, on the 27th, we had a meal and movies with our mates and it was like we had never been away!. We saw 'The Bourne Legacy', which a critic described as being an 'over a two hour chase with no plot or characterisation'. That just about covers it for me.
Tai Chi on Thursday and then Friday the 31st wandered in. This last day of August was spent moving me back from my garden work room which we created back in April to my office/spare bedroom in the house. This saga is in the Bentleys blog (or will be soon) if you are curious as to why.
All my Clavering chattering is done. There is a Masbonneau photo album for a flavour of our trip but it is really hard to choose a couple of dozen photos from about 200 so I am not sure it is a very rich view of our time there. The flowers are separated out into another album for the benefit of my ramblings in my garden blog - in the new few days. This is the first of a lot of writing catch-ups I want to do.
It feels like July was a really busy month but I suspect as I trawl through my diary it will turn out to be otherwise.
In the writing up of the May/June 'events' I left you round about the end of the first week of July when I was just about recovered from being poisoned. So, already a quarter of this record is written!
The first weekend (7th) we did an overnighter in Cheltenham to visit my sister and help celebrate her Golden Wedding Anniversary. How great to be able to do that these days (!) and lovely to see her and husband and both her children and their partners and children - just terrific to all be together for once. She, like me, has children who are scattered all over the planet, so the chances of us ever being in the same place at the same time is pretty remote.
Thank you P and K for making it possible.
The next weekend we did a great Garden Trail. Every two years the Edenfield Horticulural Society oganises a trail of 14 gardens for people to visit. We managed only eight I am afraid. As always you need to visit Bury Gardeners if you want the details of the day. It was really good and we look forward to the next one, where we shall be perverse and work our way numerically backwards in hopes of doing the six we missed.
We took the leaflet's advice and ended up having a late lunch at The Eagle and Child. We had a long wait for a table - handy hint if you go on Sunday book first. It was OK as it happened as we had to wait for a friend to join us.
The food was good and they have a brilliant garden being developed at the back of the pub. This turned out to be a good excuse for another meal there on Wednesday as we took them a load of cloches and stuff I wouldn't be using any more now my veggie garden is defunct.
19 July might turn out to be a marker day somewhere in my future - or a damp squib .... I decided I fancied doing Tai Chi in the vain hope of being mobile for longer. I suggested to my other half he might want to give it a shot as he would otherwise just be hanging around for an hour for me. Two friends decided it sounded like a good idea and so four of us are now strutting our stuff..... or stretching our stuff. I am totally useless. It is all like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time and I can't do that either. I have never learned to dance so the 'choreography' of it all has me completely beaten. I can proudly claim to be the worst in the class - I have always wanted to be the best at something and it would appear I shall be the best at being the worst. There is a lady I copy (not the instructor) who tells me she has been going fifteen months and that I am not to despair with only three weeks under my not-so-black belt. I am an instant gratification person. If I can't do it first time in two minutes then I don't want to. I also hate looking like an idiot! It is a good job that three others joined me, otherwise I certainly would not have gone back after session one. This way I have no choice but to keep on keeping on..... and we do have lunch afterwards!
Third weekend in July and, guess what, more garden visits. This time to the fabulous Jefferson and Susan garden. As before track down the visit in the garden blog if you are interested. As ever it involved two friends joining us, tea and cake and lunch out afterwards. I love my English life.
The garden is a two day event and we chose to do it on the Saturday as I wanted to go to a new dolls house fair on Sunday. Yippee, at last, a local one. Mecure Hotel, Bolton. Good stuff. it was an OK affair but it only took me a little over an hour to cover; so we pootled off for a Chinese Meal.
I am getting so professional about this dollhousing game now, I just know which stalls I want to look at in an instant. I exercised proper restrain and I only bought a few things, all of which I really needed/wanted. No more buying on a whim and then having to sell stuff on.
On which note, the next day I was busy listing stuff (previous whimsical purchases) on E-Bay. I did very well this time - twenty out of twenty-six things sold and some actually at a profit. That said, of course, when I have paid E-Bay and Paypal charges, packaging etc etc etc , not to mention the original cost of the object it is always an overall loss. At least I managed to retrieve about seventy pounds which is better than handing it all over to the charity stall at the next show, which I have done in the past.
Indeed this was the month for making money out of my hobby as my first article was published in Dolls House and Miniature Scene magazine and I was asked to send an Invoice for my fee. Deep joy all round. Mind you I haven't actually been paid yet!
The very next day after the fair we were off to Nottingham to pick up my next project. Yes, I know, totally crack pot.... but ..... trawling E-Bay I saw this lovely build. It is a defunct Dolls House Emporium property - O'Rouke's Post Office. It doesn't appear very often. In fact in my two years doing this I haven't seen one. So how can you not? This time you need to go and look at Chocolat if you are curious as to the source of my lust.
Its very kind owner also gave me the stables to go with it, but I didn't really have room for it to go beside Chocolat or a reason for it to be there. On the way home I felt bad about taking it because I thought I would have to sell it or also pass it on to someone else; then suddenly it struck me that it would make a terrific beach cottage... so there's 2014's project then! Do you think the miniature God is trying to tell me something?
As always we managed to build in a decent lunch to the day out by stopping off at a National trust place on the way home. Bit of an oddity this one - Kedleston Hall. It was somehow an arid sort of place. Being Robert Adam's first major commission (1760s) and not a penny was spared on its realisation it should have been beautiful but it is so full of showing off that it misses the mark. I think it was Samuel Johnson who said on his visit there - it would make a wonderful Town Hall. I couldn't agree more. Worth seeing if you are in the area just to see how you feel about it.
The next day we had a change in the hellish weather we have been having and my attention switched to my much neglected garden. Newbank delivered some trellis and a tree ready for the great border re-do, but then this went on hold in favour of meals out, tai chi and finally the last few days of July being spent in Much Birch near Hereford.
This was another one of our cheapie trips; this time courtesy of Mighty Deals (a sort of Groupon thing). The Pilgrim Hotel was very nice and the restaurant and its food very good. Much Birch is between Hereford and Ross-on-Wye. We made a pleasure trip out of the journey down and tried not to use more motorway than we needed, stopping off at Attingham Park for an NT lunch and tour of the house.
The next day we did a bit of a tour of the black and white towns taking in Hay, Ross and all the other on-Wyes. Our main stop was in Hereford so Ken and our friends could cram in some culture in the cathedral and I could go to The Pedlars Tray (you guessed it, a Dolls House shop). I did get to meet my companions back at the cathedral for cake and tea though. Best carrot cake ever! My claims for having seen it all before on a family holiday when I was seventeen didn't go down well.
Being a Midlander by birth and therefore an 'expert' on the area I proposed that the next day we went home via Powys Castle as it had spectacular gardens and great views across the Menai Straits. Some of you may have spotted the fatal error. I was remembering Plas Newydd! To be precise I was correctly remembering the lovely terraced gardens at Powis but I had managed to mentally transport them to Plas Newydd's setting. It is very confusing being me.
We had done very well for good weather during our stay but began to run into the rain on our trip back. This started at Powys, so our friends toured the house and Ken and I imitated mountain goats and shinned up and down the fantastic terraced gardens. By the time we were on the motorway it was a truly dramatic downpour. I was truly glad to get home in one piece. So the last day of the month saw itself out like most of the others this summer - with rain.
I have two months to catch up but it still won't fill a page I'm afraid. As I said before because I now run three blogs (four if you count Wentworth) there isn't much left for this one. I no longer keep a personal journal and I never did do much of that on-line so this space is really a record of things we have done and if you remove gardens and dolls house to the other blogs we don't seem to be doing very much. This is driven more by me than by Ken. I am perfectly content pootling around my home and am very reluctant to leave it even for small trips out. Not sure if this is the first sign of impending old age, clinging on to Bury because I am made to live in the sun all winter (!) or just plain laziness. Whatever the reason home seems to supply my needs. I love my doll-housing and garden and small domestic stuff and alongside reading, writing, talking to friends, meals out, visits to gardens and things to see my days are filled.
So, here's a quick flit through May and June to record any markers I might want to recall some time.
The first week of May and my daughter and her chap came for a brief visit which was a real joy. Even with phones and email and Skype to keep in touch with the people who matter in your life, its nothing like the real thing. She got in some driving practice by taking us to all the ice cream places within striking distance - and one in another universe. As always the time flew by and we were soon back to just us two.
May seemed to be filled with the chores of life - banks, dentist, hospitals, hairdressers and such like. With the exception of the hairdressers they all had positive outcomes.
We had a catch up with 'The Seven' and tried a new restaurant near us - Gatapardo - not overly impressed, so that doesn't go on the 'again' list. I missed the catch up with the old (in more than one sense nowadays) Langworthians as I wasn't well; I will get them again before we fly back to the US of A.
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| This is not Ken and me |
My best friend and I went to the Bolton Octagon for a very well done production about Pat Phoenix (Queen of the North). It was certainly well acted and not badly written but it did feel like a documentary which is an odd sensation to watch on stage. Ken joined us for the pre-show meal but decamped before the play as it was decidedly 'weemins' stuff.
I didn't manage to get in any garden visits in May as it was back to back rain. Neither did I do a dolls house fair - Kensington is in May but it is too expensive for us to get to and it is massive and heaving and I am saving myself for the NEC for that.
June trickled in with more and more rain. I think, ultimately, it managed to achieve the accolade of the wettest June on record.
My reference when writing Clavering is my desk diary. It is used to note any ongoing chores that are then kept from day to day for the ultimate satisfaction of being able to tick one off now and again. I also keep 'appointments' listed there so it is a useful point of reference for these meanderings. June is page after page of dolls house things I need/want to do, so clearly that's how much of the month was spent.
We did go to the York Dolls House show on the 10th and luckily the weather held sufficiently for Ken to sit in the sun while I did a morning's traipsing round. We then drove over to Beningborough (NT place) for lunch as the food at all the shows is pretty wretched. Someone could make a bomb catering those things - captive eaters with money to spend! Then again, I suppose for the very same reason they don't have to make an effort as they are still madly busy selling their grotty stuff.
I delivered my second article to the Dolls House and Miniature Scene magazine stall but didn't get to meet my editor, Lucie Roper. Got a bit paranoid as the four times I passed their stand she was nowhere to be seen.
On the 13th we went to our lovely dinky theatre in Ramsbottom to see 'Annie'. You have to admire their stamina and sheer hard work, especially this time as it was a never-ending production - one and a half hours to the interval! We are wicked in that we manage to get laughs from all sorts of unintended things and keep ourselves amused for days with stuff like the Mrs Danvers housekeeper character and three singers in red sequinned frocks which my friend described as looking like Easter eggs. It is very wicked of us and I need a good hiding. So a good evening was had by all even if it wasn't for the right reasons. Well done those chaps!
Weekend of the 17th and finally a glimmer of sun (sort of) so off we tootled for a trip round the village of Bretherton and five of their excellent little gardens. Good lunch, nice walk, pretty stuff to see and home tired. Definition of a good day out.
June 25th and we had another trip to the Octagon for 'Little Voice'. This time Ken joined my little friend and me but I have come to the conclusion that plays have too many words for him/most blokes(?). D and I enjoyed it though. I am convinced all the rubbish TV and movies we are inundated with which have minimum dialogue (cheap writing) and maximum background music and 'action' sequences and are written by men for men as they don't 'do' talking and listening, they just do 'doing'. Venus and Mars for sure.
Unhappily the last week of the month I was horribly poorly having been poisoned by something - possibly the meal at the Octagon (!) It is the 6th July now and I am just about getting back to right but still a bit low and floppy-doppy. That's my excuse for writing this boring ten-year-old's 'this is what I did on my holiday' type piece.
