I wasn't going to bake a Christmas cake this year, as I would just be hauling it to Durham over land and sea at Christmas. But Christmas cakes are a well-established and essential element of the Taylor-Tyler Christmas experience, not to mention my family's Geordie/Scots tradition of giving visitors their 'New Year drink' accompanied by a slice of home-made Christmas cake when they first visit your house in the New Year and give the New Year toast of "Health, wealth and happiness - here's wishing you all the best!"
So, today, armed with my Old-fashioned Christmas cake recipe from a 1970s magazine (they said then that it was a much older recipe) I set off on the journey. Even though I've been using this recipe since the late 70s, every time I make it, it is a new experience, and I manage to forget every year what size cake tin I used previously, how I calculated amounts of necessary ingredients dependent on tin size(s), how I calculated variable cooking times.
The recipe states that preparation time is 30 minutes - huh! We don't have any labour-saving gadgets like food processors, more's the pity, but can say we appreciate life in a Downton Abbey type of kitchen, but unfortunately without the essential staff (can't get them these days). The problem is when you have to mix large quantities of butter and sugar - to arrive at a white colour - never managed that - stone, then chop a kilo of dried prunes, add and mix with a kilo of sultanas, plus almonds, beat eight eggs - all to be mixed by hand, then that preparation time of 30 minutes needs to be trebled. The process included calculations by the scientist/mathematician in the household on cubic capacities of cake and other kitchen containers to make sure I had got it right.
I also made the mistake of measuring out double quantities from my recipe, then realising that no way would they all fit in one mixing bowl, and would they fit in the tins we had organised? I then had to divide everything with the added complication of being 'down' on some ingredients, therefore having to substitute with others. Anyway, I need to acknowledge here that I was ably assisted by Harry who did lots of enthusiastic stirring and mixing, and the cakes are now almost there.
I am happy to report that the smaller cake (which will probably travel the 800 miles to Durham and beyond) is now cooling happily and the larger cake is just about ready and both will receive their first dose of brandy or armagnac later as we're out of brandy I believe.
(The old-fashioned bit of the recipe apparently is the inclusion of the prunes, which were used in cakes before raisins and sultanas and glace cherries became so popular. Please feel free to ask for the recipe and to ask for a taste when we see you!)
© Marie Tyler, 2014
Yes - it has felt like autumn morning and evening, and sometimes during the day!, for at least the past week and our central heating which is set to come on at minus 17 has been coming on early morning and sometimes staying on during the morning - the outdoor thermostat is at the back of the house and in shadow until the sun moves round at about 11.00 am. We've also noticed some of the leaves are turning to their autumn colours as well.
In August here, everyone starts thinking about wood supplies for the coming winter months. Most houses in our area have a wood burner, une poêle à bois, possibly as the only source of heat or, like us, in addition to heating with oil - very expensive. We are on the lorry and tractor route through the village as the road narrows on the other through road and tractors and trailers have been going back and forward loaded with wood for the past few weeks.
A friend of ours had rescued some wood last year from an English couple who had cut down a number of trees, and she offered to bring it over last week. On our job list was 'sorting out the woodstore'. This is open fronted, built of breeze blocks with a corrugated roof supported by various old wooden joists, old tree trunks and old broom shanks. In one corner are all sorts of ancient agricultural and gardening tools imaginable - mostly rusty - , various sticks and stakes in a ancient stout wooden crate which possibly housed sewing machine parts originally. (The house originally had a hairdresser's, sewing machine shop and tailor's and the original sewing machine and other sewing paraphernalia is still in the attic - beautiful wooden templates for suits, silk threads and hundreds of buttons.)
There is also the stack of wood from last year which has to be moved in rotation nearer the front of the store for easy access during those cold dark evenings. We have lots of sticks, old rotten wood and smashed up fruit crates for kindling, along with pine cones and the remains of the pine needles from last year's Christmas tree which produce great sparks and scents as well as getting the fire under way.
Two wheelbarrows also live in the woodstore - a modern metal one that we bought here new and an ancient wooden barrow, with useful detachable sides - very sturdy, but it weighs a ton before you even load anything on to it. Some of the plastic garden chairs are often put in there, along with vintage parasols and parasol stands which weigh a ton and were originally the bases of the 1960s hairdryers from the haridresser's.
So, we cleared everything out of the store, Kay arrived with the wood and that is now all stacked in there - and hopefully will be suitable for our woodburner, as we realised that some woods give off no heat but lots of resin to tar up the chimney! So, now we need to finalize the order with a local farmer for two stères (think that's about two cubic metres, but possibly more) and await the main wood delivery in September or October when it'll be 'Wagons, ho!' with the two wheelbarrows pressed into service.
© Marie Tyler, 2014.
One of the six associations (or community groups) we belong to is Les Collectionneurs de Treignac. Treignac is about 10 kms from Chamberet and we joined the Collectors' Club there a couple of years ago.
When we asked about joining, there was no problem, but they asked what we collected. Anyone who knows me well knows that I collect anything and everything - some things I have in the past bought because I reckoned someone had to save them for the nation, so they were never really for my personal collection of whatever. (I do collect ceramics, particularly Scandinavian, also wooden figures and trinkets.) Harry has in the past collected stamps and there's a large cardboard box to prove it, then in recent years - maybe the past 10 years - he has collected pressed glass, and there was an awful lot of that in the North East.
So we joined the Collectionneurs and every few weeks in the summer we hold what are called 'Bourses' which are a bit like mini car boot sales, with members selling, buying and exchanging from their collections. The bourses are held in the middle of Treignac in the 14th century Halle, which is an outdoor covered market hall (like the one in Hexham but much bigger). There are collections of old postcards from every region in France, stamps, beer mats, badges (known as pin's), miniature cars, boxes of matches, books, old papers of every description, keyrings and the most popular - champagne capsules. These are the little metal caps under the wire on a bottle of champagne. Like stamp collectors, capsule collectors - which seems to be everybody except us - bring along and pore over catalogues. These are probably the only things exchanged at the bourse and their popularity is phenomenal. They don't change hands for much - usually 50 cents, unless very rare. You can buy special flock covered trays to store them in and most people seem to have lots of trays.
The bourse morning ends at about midday, when everything is cleared away. Then all the tables are put into a line for the repas. The meal is usually brought in from La Brasserie, a small hotel and restaurant and is always excellent, costing about 10 euros per person. Before the meal, however, one must have the apéritif. Bottles are produced from a battered cardboard box and always on offer is whisky (a favourite), pastis, port, rosé wine and to accompany the rosé a favourite is grapefruit syrup. The apéritif is essential and can last up to half an hour, then the meal is served. Starter, main course, cheese, dessert, then coffee - all for around 10 euros, and we haven't been disappointed yet. There's always plenty of wine with the meal - usually red, and the whole event is always very convivial and noisy, and finishes around 3 o'clock when everyone helps to clear away and to do the dishes.
Two months ago, as the only non-French members, we were asked would we cook an English meal for the last session this year on 23 August. We laughed and agreed and said we could cook toad in the hole for them. This was a great joke. As the time approached we reconsidered the menu as we would have to cook here in our kitchen on our standard size cooker for about 20 people - French people at that, for whom food is a serious part of life, worthy of lots of discussion, comparison and analysis. Then we would have to transport whatever we cooked to Treignac to be ready and hot for about 12.30. Ah - logistics! (I should say that an English couple we met recently who live just near the Halle offered the use of their cooker in their kitchen, but in all the worry and concentration as the time approached, we forgot all about it!)
We eventually decided on the menu, with soup as a starter as the weather has turned autumnal and the forecast for the 23 August, even a week before, forecast a cool, rainy Saturday. The main course would be Cornish pasties, with mushy peas and carrots and onions, then two traditional steamed puddings and custard - sauce anglaise, with tea to follow for those interested. Our friend Marion (see her blog Tres calme in the Correze on AngloInfo Limousin at http://blogs.angloinfo.com/tres-calme-in-the-correze/) offered to do her world famous cheesecake, and Chantal, one of the French collectionneurs said she would make a cake and a tart.
Two weeks before, Bernard, the president of the association, said he thought the maximum number would be 20 - ha! As the week went on he phoned to confirm: 21, 24, 25, 26, 29! Each time this caused us some consternation - one of the reasons being the size of our oven - would it accommodate 29 Cornish pasties in one go? Harry was making the pasties (his idea), so he put his artistic skills to the test, making a paper model of a pasty to ensure we could cook all 29 in one go!
Stress mounted in the week in the lead-up to the meal and Jess, our daughter, even considered coming over for Bank Holiday weekend to help out. A very tempting offer, especially since we haven't seen each other since Christmas - but we decided that it would be nicer to see her for a longer stay, at a less stressful time, and a trip back and forward to Limoges airport would put extra strain on the cooking timetable!
So, on Thursday 21 August, we went shopping at Uzerche, which is a smallish town with the choice of two large supermarkets and a smaller Netto, and is about 18 miles away. We decided to look in Netto's first and there we bought some quality beef and vegetables for the pasties. Over the road at SuperU we got the rest of the ingredients, including about three tons of turnips/swedes, known here as rutabaga. Harry had said 'I love swedes' - thus the choice of the Cornish pasties.
Friday was spent peeling, and cooking, mainly the three tons of swedes. Our choice of soup was from Delia Smith's early cookery book which we still refer to, and was called 'Punchknep soup' being based on a Scottish dish, punchknep, where turnips and potatoes are cooked and creamed separately and combined. It did cross both our minds, mine certainly, that the starter and main course were heavily turnip or swede based, so if anyone didn't like them, we might come in for a bit of criticism. It also crossed my mind that turnips are used as winter feed for sheep in England and Scotland, and it might be the same here which would not go down well. We decided that we would say that the pasty contents were meat and vegetables if asked!
So cooking began and continued for most of Friday. Marion and her husband Peter arrived with the raspberry cheesecakes and we laughed about my version of a project management chart - at this point we had numerous lists and charts hanging from the metal shelves fixed in place via Harry's patent recycled wire clips. The raspberry cheesecakes had also been transported in a coolbag on ingenious wire racks and the cheesecakes looked amazing - so tempting!
Cooking on Saturday began at 8.30, with me making the two steamed puddings - one with raspberry jam and the other with a few raisins - and checking the soup which had been made the day before. Harry made his pastry and chopped the meat which had been cooked in the slow cooker and combined it with the cooked and cubed potatoes and turnips. I forgot to mention that we had also had to borrow extra large pans from friends to accommodate the cooking of the huge quantities of soup and veg, also a large camping stove, as there are no cooking facilities at the little kitchen next to the Halle. As we all know, or at least what I have for a long time believed, based on my experience, is that everything always takes longer than you think, and so it did on this occasion.
So as well as there being lots and lots of steam, there was also lots of stress. Bernard called to ask about progress, so we decided to ask him to come and collect the large pans of soup, and various dishes and tureens. He was given instructions to reheat the soup very slowly and not to add anything to it. The turnip and potato ingredients had been blended and resembled porridge or maybe a baby's pureed meal, even after large quantities of milk and water had been added. We said we'd be down in about an hour (12.30), which eventually was the time that the puddings would definitely have finished steaming and the pasties could all be removed from the oven.
Harry had come up with another food transport method to keep the pasties reasonably warm and intact, inside a rigid cool box we have, and the puddings and cheesecakes were all loaded up into various coolbags and off we set at about quarter to one.
On the way to Treignac (about 10 minutes away) the heavens opened with torrential rain, the STOP light came on the dashboard, and the temperature gauge soared way off the scale. We carried on and eventually the STOP light went off.
When we arrived at the Halle, everyone was sitting with their jackets and coats on, finishing what turned out to be their third apéritif, We were immediately applauded, and congratulated then the serving of the food began. I got quite emotional at our reception - partly relief as it had been so stressful, the fact that we had managed to do the meal without being too late, but also the continuing concern that they hadn't actually tasted anything yet and might not like what they tasted!
So, the meal got underway - first of all Bernard made sure that we had an apéritif of choice, then there were questions about the soup and whether it should be so thick. I explained that it was a Scottish recipe, destined to warm you up in Scottish climes, and ideal for the day as it turned out as it was pretty cold by this time. The Cornish pasties were served with our French version of mushy peas, plus the carrots and onions. Everything was eaten, again with lots of questions about what was in the pasties, what was it called, etc. Harry had made gravy, transported in a flask, and there was more than enough to go around - something else that I had been concerned about - that there wouldn't be enough to go on everyone's pasty or veg.
Then I made custard (Bird's of course) which turned out really thick as I had kept adding more custard powder when it wouldn't thicken. Because I was busy making the custard, I was concerned that I might miss out on the cheesecake as it looked so tempting and delicious, bu someone had kindly made sure Harry and I had a slice. It was a great success and much appreciated by all, except one unfortunate member who can't have dairy products. There had been questions when we were planning the menu about the cheese course and Harry had explained that it was not traditional for us to have a cheese course, thus the cheesecake would fill that gap! The other puddings and custard also went down well, plus Chantal's delicious lemon cake and apple tart.
We then had champagne - provided by the association as it was the last bourse of the year - followed by tea or coffee. I had four takers for the tea which went down well - no pun intended - Yorkshire Tea which we can buy here and which is far superior to any French teas you can buy.
Harry had planned to do produce a printed menu, but that had gone by the board with so many other things to do, so at the very end I decided to give an explanation of what they had eaten and why we had chosen that particular menu. I also explained that normally, you wouldn't eat five different desserts, including a steamed pudding and custard. Everyone listened attentively, then we were applauded and thanked again. Individually people were thanking us as we moved around and chatted so at the end of the day, after all the stress, it was very gratifying that it had all worked out so well and that it was so appreciated - especially, dare I say it, by French diners!
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PS - The car. I mentioned to Bernard when we were chatting at the end about the STOP light coming on in the car. He immediately walked us over to the car and started checking under the bonnet (he used to be an aeronautical engineer). To our embarrassment the problem turned out to be not one drop of oil left in the engine! I usually check the oil regularly when I check and top up the windscreen washers, but the pump hasn't worked for months, so I hadn't bothered checking for screenwash and had completely forgotten to check the oil. They insisted on one of the members driving Harry straightaway to the supermarket about a kilometre away to get some oil, then filled up to beyond the max to ensure we got home safely. Could have been a very, very expensive and regrettable mistake and an even more memorable cooking experience!
© Marie Tyler, 2014.
Two years ago we provided lodgings for barn owls and their two chicks and black redstarts and their four chicks. The barn owls nested in one of the chimneys and the redstarts in the redundant satellite dish on the balcony. Harry rigged up a webcam on the redstart chicks, which provided us with hours of entertainment, especially when there were four of them contending for space in the little nest, then watching the relief at having more space as each of them flew off.
Last year we were disappointed that neither owls nor redstarts took up residence, but this year both are back. We often see the adult owls flying around or hear their screech or become aware of them quietly gliding from our roof over to the trees or other rooftops. Just like a couple of years ago, we would hear a sort of screeching complaining sound when we were in the garden late in the evening and we decided that there was an owl's nest with hungry chicks nearby. Then, just about three weeks ago I worked out that the noises weren't coming from the neighbours, but from our same chimney again. Now when you go out and peer up at the chimney, there are two little Ollie Beaks staring down at you!
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed an adult owl high on the top of a big cherry tree which is lit up by a street light. The owl and I had a staring match for a good quarter of an hour, and I spoilt things by opening a window and scaring it off. Just now we had another bit of a stare with the owl perched high up in the same place. We've also seen them perched on next-door's chimney with a tasty morsel, ready to give to the babies in our chimney. (And there he or she goes now, giving a bit of a screech somewhere nearby.)
As for the redstarts quite a few weeks ago now they started off with a nest in the empty garage next to us, flying in through a crack in one of the broken window panes. Then we saw the parents regularly in our garden and flying in and out of our woodstore which backs onto the neighbour's garden. We thought this was maybe a short-cut to the garage, then last week I noticed bits of dry grass hanging out of an orange corrugated plastic tube, which Harry had put on a long old ladder which is suspended from the corrugated metal roof inside the woodstore. It looks a bit precarious, but sure enough there have been chirping noises coming from the tube, and that is where the redstarts are nesting.
They seemed to be getting used to us as we are often working or sitting in the garden, then today I noticed both mum or dad being very noisy with a blackbird-like warning call and flying and sitting very close to wherever I went in the garden. Then tonight - lo and behold! - we see a little fluffy chick perched on the balcony railings and trying to fly into our window. The window was closed and probably looked quite dark from the outside, so confusing for a little chick new to the world. After a few attempts, it was rescued and put on the right track by one of the parents. Another chick then appeared and there seemed to be quite a lot of flying lessons. We were a bit concerned that the chicks would be back under cover before the owls arrived, but hopefully the parent redstarts know what they are doing!
So, when all the chicks have flown, life will be a bit quieter, but there's still the other bird wildlife, plus the little dark red squirrel that occasionally dices with the traffic on the road, and of course the bats that we see and can track on the bat detector now on loan from friends. Other entertainment is provided during the day by numerous lizards, but thank goodness, the large grass snake hasn't put in an appearance this year.
© Marie Tyler, 2014.
Last weekend we residents of Chamberet had the Fete de la Cerise - The Cherry Festival. The weekend just gone we had the first Festival Africain - African Festival - and this coming weekend we have the Fete de la Musique - Music Festival, which promises a mass Zumba on the Champ de Foire.
The Champ de Foire is the large open space, with a large grassed area where the animals would have grazed or been tethered and markets would have taken place in the past. Every village around here (and probably lots of other rural areas of France) has a Champ de Foire. For Geordies who read this, and even adopted Geordies and even Mackems, who know Newcastle, the Champ de Foire in Newcastle is the old Cattle Market where there was a large car park, near the Arena(if that's still its name, but that may well now have gone).
From what I know, the Champ de Foire has also been the large area in a village which also accommodated the Fete Foraine - the Fun Fair, also known in Newcastle as The Hoppings or The Town Moor, and in Durham as The Shows. Often when there is a communal celebration in a village, such as the Cherry Festival, there will also be a Fete Foraine, with all the gaudy shows such as the Dodgems, candy floss stalls, Hook a duck, the Ghost Train and its many variants, and The Big Wave which involves participants being hoisted up-a-height, then plunged suddenly downwards, accompanied by lots of screams!
In Chamberet tomorrow night and the following night, there's the Cirque Européen - the European Circus - which arrived this morning. That's the second circus in as many months. I'm not sure what this one is about, but I noticed in passing soon after they arrived that there were a couple of donkeys and horses grazing on the aforesaid Champ de Foire grassy area. This circus was down the road from us at the weekend at Treignac and they had a very impressive Big Top. I need to go and check that out as it's not quite visible from our house. (Also need to check if they are asking people to remove the manure which their animals deposit on the grassy area and which will all go to help our veg! The camel, zebra and alpaca dung from the last circus a couple of months ago seems to be helping Harry's veg.)
The Fete de la Musique looks interesting - this coming Saturday evening (21 June - isn't that Midsummer Day? I'm never sure about that) there will be a mass Zumba plus other music activities all for free on the Champ de Foire.
Then during the summer we have Les Heures Musicales (Musical Hours) with music in churches and our local Salle de Fetes, les Marchés Festifs, with local producers selling wine, cheese, meat, etc, which you then can cook and eat on site, with friends and neighbours, as you wish, the Vide Grenier (Village Car Boot Sale), 2 free concerts with Dance and Folk Music Groups from anywhere in the world, all accompanied by that great French institution, La Buvette - the outside bar, staffed and provided by local volunteers.
And during the summer, also there will be Exhibitions/Expositions, including an exhibition by artists who are members of Chamb'ART. The exhibitions will be at the newly restored Maison St André which is next to the church in Chamberet. (The church has some interesting relics on display in the porch, including a fabulous chasse/casket from about 1500) Harry Tyler is a member of Chamb'ART, moi aussi, but only as a supporter/committee member, not as an artist, as my talents lie in other directions!
The diary is filling up - Famine (often) in winter, Feast in summer! Let's feast!
© Marie Tyler, 2014
Aah. Sunday! What to do? Even though we are not working, as in working in a job, Sunday is a day of rest. So - how did we spend this Sunday afternoon? That's right - gathering manure from a camel, a zebra, a llama, an alpaca, a couple of donkeys, Shetland ponies and pygmy goats, which must mean the circus is in town! About three circuses a year come to Chamberet - of varying sizes, with some Big Tops not much bigger than our old purple family tent which nowadays I think does an annual Glastonbury trip.
Last Thursday I was delighted and excited to see a procession of assorted show vehicles with trailers and caravans passing our windows, on its way to the Champ de Foire, next to the Salle de Fêtes (community centre) about 100 metres from our house. As I mentioned in a previous blog, it made me think of the Hoppings on the Town Moor in Newcastle, also 'Something wicked this way comes' a great story by Ray Bradbury. The procession was the Circus Vazatta - in town for two shows on Saturday and Sunday. The Big Top was soon erected, with flags flying and the trailers and vans encircling it like a wagon train crossing the American plains.
We debated what the attractions might be, and whether there actually was a tiger as shown on the poster. We had a late night walk to have a look. There wasn't much to see - the trailers like the usual show caravans with fancy lace curtains and mirrors and fancy ornaments inside, but there was an open-sided trailer with metal bars and lots of straw. No sounds of lions or tigers though. On Saturday morning we noticed various animals grazing on the Champ de Foire. Most French villages have a Champ de Foire - it's where the monthly animal markets were held, until when I'm not sure, and ours is only used now about once a year at the Cherry Festival for a sheep show. There are still the hitching rails and a grassed area with trees. We had a word with an old gadgie who was sitting on the steps of the 'box office' then spotted a notice saying there was free manure for the taking. He said that before they left they had to clear away any animal droppings, bedding hay, etc., so they were more than happy for us to take what we wanted.
So, this afternoon, alongside the alpaca, goat and donkeys who were all still grazing, armed with my dad's garden spade, two small shovels and a rake, we filled two barrowloads of assorted manure. It's been warm today, so that was a good hour's work. The elderly woman who turned out to be the box office assured us that we could expect excellent results for all our fruit and veg, and flowers and trees and shrubs. She told us that the animals feed naturally, so there aren't any nasty chemicals in the manure.
Meanwhile, the circus show was getting underway - we saw the elderly man and a slightly younger man, both in ringmaster-type tail coats which had seen better days, one woman, probably of pensionable age and a young man, also in red tail coats. That appeared to be the circus personnel, plus our friend on the box office. The zebra, the llama and the camel were lined up outside the Big Top, but quite what the performance consisted of I'm not sure. The usual circus music and a commentary lasted for about an hour or so. We reckon there were no more than twenty adults and children in the audience so at 10 euros for adults and 5 for children, they could hardly be covering their costs.
There's plenty of gardening work ahead as none of the veg has been put in yet, but roll up, roll up and roll on an abundance of fruit, veg and flowers. Like flowers, shrubs and veg from cuttings from friends' gardens, they will be a reminder of the showfolk and that we live in a part of France which still has its culture and its rural travelling showcircus tradition.
© Marie Tyler, 2014
Chamberet is often like many French villages around here - as you walk around or drive through there are probably no signs of life - not a soul about. Visitors and other English residents we know here often remark on this. Lots of villages are like English villages and have lost all their services - post office, shops, even the bar or café. So, unlike a busy town or city, there's no reason to be aout and about, other than on a stroll or walkabout. Also, if you happen to pass through after midday, lots of villages still have the holy hour, or rather two hours, when shops close for a long lunch break and the only signs of life might be at the boulangerie (open all day) or the café or restaurant which provides lunches, particularly 'formule' lunches - three courses, usually at a reasonable price and aimed at workers of whatever description.
We live about a three minute walk from the centre of Chamberet, on the official lorry route through the village. When traffic comes in on the back road from Limoges (60 kms away), arriving at the little mini roundabout, heavy vehicles are directed down our street, rather than straight ahead on a shorter route to the village centre where the street narrows considerably. So on most weekdays, we have all manner of cars, lorries with huge quantities of large tree trunks, tankers delivering oil for domestic and farm use, mobile shop vans, and all manner of agricultural machinery of all sorts of weird and wonderful ages, shapes and sizes. Depending on the time of year, there are pedestrians. At the moment, with typical winter January weather with grey, lowering skies and maybe rain, there are occasional pedestrians - a little old lady who goes past every day with her shopping trolley after her visit to the village supermarket, neighbours off to visit other friends and neighbours, residents out for their daily stroll, and kids from the village school on their way to do some activity up at the Salle de Fetes (community centre). And particularly on better weather days cyclists of course - this is the country of the Tour de France after all - usually small groups of men, chattering away in all their helmet and lycra glory.
This afternoon Harry remarked to me that there hadn't been any traffic since the siren and the Angelus bells went at 12 noon. I realised this was right - not one car, not one pedestrian. I ventured out a little while ago to take the rubbish and recycling up to the communal bins and listened to the silence! There were actually maybe five cars passing through and a lone cyclist and me - the only pedestrian.
Such a change from our former life with cars racing up and down a narrow back lane not intended for the purpose in a Durham pit village, then constant traffic ignoring the 30 mph speed limit, with the traffic noise from a busy bypass always in the background. And now, at 8 o'clock on a Saturday night, the occasional car until the occasional Sunday morning traffic from around 9 am.
© Marie Tyler, 2014
Today, 10 January 2014, in Chamberet, Corrèze, France, it was 20 degrees centigrade in the shelter of the canopy over our front door, and 15 in the shade! Luvverly! You imagined yourself in a warm spring or summer's day.
We made the most - doing some weeding, but couldn't dig too far as the ground is still cold, or maybe just beginning to be cold - and having coffee in the warm sun, and taking the opportunity to do some washing which hopefully would actually dry before the old evening sun went down. Our neighbours have a big garden (here called 'un parc' a park) with some wonderful tall pine trees on sloping higher ground and the sun goes behind them at this time of year at about 15.30, 3.30 in English-speak. Wit the shortest day now gone, it's light until about 18.00.
Sitting in the warm sun and feeling the heat refreshes the spirit, warms the soul and the cockles of heart, but in case you think we're smug or complacent, we know that it's too soon to last, with rain and snow on the radar in the next few days.
© Marie Tyler, 2014
And a belated Happy New Year to all my readers!
Or, as we say here - "Meilleurs Voeux" - 'Best Wishes', sometimes "Bonne Année" and added to that everyone seems to add "Bonne Santé - surtout Bonne Santé, parce que ça c'est la plus importante" - 'Good Health, especially Good Health, because that's the most important.'
The first person who wished me that, I thought that was their particular good year wishes, but I soon realised that everyone added the good health above all, stressing it with absolute sincerity and seriousness. Maybe there's something I haven't discovered yet about keeping good health locally. Mind you - having suffered from a cold which lasted about five weeks without relenting - also passing it on to Harry who never suffers colds - maybe there's something in the Chambertois air that we haven't yet discovered.
When I was growing up in the North East, there were various New Year customs. Apart from celebrating the New Year with friends, family, song, dance (everyone doing their bit to contribute to the entertainment), food and drink, there was 'first footing'. The first person into the house after midnight had to be possessed of a lump of coal which was to bring you good fortune in the sense that you would always be able to keep warm - the 'Long may your lum reek' idea imported from over the border. If there was a celebration in the house and people were impatient for the first foot, some unlucky person - preferably a dark-headed male I seem to think as they brought better fortune - would be sent out, maybe just before midnight, to lurk about in the cold back yard, and knock at the door with a lump of coal just after midnight. On New Year's Day, called 'Newres Day' by my dad and still now by a lot of people in the North East - you would be asked 'Who was your first foot?'.
The other tradition that persisted where we lived until a few years ago, was that where you saw a light on in someone's house on New Year's Eve or after midnight, you could knock on the door, or maybe just go in, and join in their celebrations with a New Year drink, whether or not you knew them. I suspect that particular tradition has now gone in most places.
Another tradition in our family and community, maybe now gone was to offer a New Year's drink with a slice of Christmas cake to anyone who made their first visit to your house in the New Year. Children were included and their drink would be a small glass of home-made ginger wine. The toast was 'All the best! Here's wishing you all you would wish yourselves .' Sometimes with the addition of ' . . . health, wealth and happiness.' A tradition I love and we still keep up the tradition, asking New Year callers what they would like for their New Year drink.
And so to other New Year wishes in Chamberet - last year in early January we noticed there was to be some sort of event at the Salle de Fêtes (Community Centre) which we knew we had missed out on our first January here. (We live about 100 metres from the Salle de Fêtes so often notice if there's a happenning there.) This was and is a celebration where the Mayor and councillors of our commune (a sort of equivalent of the Parish Council) present their good wishes for the New Year to the local community. It was a lovely event - everybody and their granny seemed to be there, wishing each other 'Happy New Year!' or maybe "Meilleurs Voeux!" with the usual kissing on both cheeks and shaking of hands. The Mayor then spoke for a good 45 minutes on the past year's events and forthcoming events and projects. Everyone listened attentively to him, then another speaker from the Conseil Général (like the County Council), and then there were drinks and snacks, and more kissing and shaking of hands with people you might have missed before the speeches.
We live now in very much a widespread rural community, where most events are well attended and supported. We are also now members of two community groups ('associations') in our village, so now will be greeting more people than last year and looking forward to the forthcoming New Year wishes community celebration.
© Marie Tyler 2014
