There’s always a place for celebration here. Last night it was the tenth anniversary of Monsieur and Madam coming to run the village shop. We guessed that flowers in the French style would not offend and were really happy when we were proved correct by the wall of bouquets at the Maison Communale.
One piece of advice – be on time. There was already a gathering when we arrived and that turned into a crowd, which as the only speech of the night finished was spilling out onto the village street.
Another point – everybody shows up. So, after the conversation with the Mayor’s wife and the Mayor (he’s newly returned from discovering English beer), we spoke or tried to speak to a few of the throng, and that’s another thing – if you’re going to live here then suck it up and learn the language!
It’s the weekend so unlike the U.K. where nothing would stop the show other than the wrong leaves or strange snow, there’s nothing happening on the harvesting front, although that’s not to say there’s nothing happening in the vineyards. It’s hunting season and for those of us with dogs it means careful where you go – not all the woods are for walking in and that tranquil Sunday stroll amid the still to be collected (this week according to the Mayor) red grapes is punctuated by gunfire from all directions and the occasional gun dog zipping through the vines. Mr. Cedric and I met one of the older hunters this morning and I’d like to tell you I understood all of the conversation but, old bloke, Girondin accent and the low mumble that seems common with the older end means that the gist is he hadn’t seen anything when I passed him, although the loud crack of his shot gun a few minutes later says I was his lucky omen. The only way we’ll find out how they all did is at the hunters ball in a month or so – tickets available from the Mairie or Monsieur and Madam at the shop.
We’ve got used to strolling the ‘red route’ with Mr. Cedric. The whole thing is a little over 10 km but there’s a section that goes past our gate around the vineyards to the local winery and back to our gate – we have to make the last section up a bit to get it to a manageable 3.5km, and it sums up in my mind everything that I have learned to date:
• The place is staggeringly beautiful. The view from the Vaure amid the cyclamens – I’ll say no more.
• Animals are looked upon in a totally different way.
• Health and safety does not exist (see my roofer).
• Hugh Infernal-Witterystall could forage forever – walnuts, figs, peaches falling from every other tree and rotting on the floor.
• The growing of grapes and the making of wine in this country will never be understood except by someone from this country – see Michel – although you won’t understand a word.
Ruby&Ruch 