Marine Le Pen wins

 It is with a heavy heart that I read this mornings results for the departmental elections. The Front National - the Le Penist lot - won in Esperaza.
Very small margins; 285 people voted for her lot, 242 for the socialists, 210 for the UMP( plus 37 Blanc - a protest vote - and 31 Nul - a cock-up)
Only 56.81% of the population turned out which is both bad and good. Bad because it indicates they don't care. Good because actually the departmental layer of administration isnt taken very seriously and there have been calls to disband it.
So perhaps the whole thing is a sort of protest against the Hollande administration.

Not a hatred of foriegners.

Sunday, in reverse order -

 Cassoulet - see Toulouse sausage, below - with duck fat, duck, beans and duck fat with garlic sausage and duck fat. This was intended as a farewell to all who go tomorrow, Clive, Sari, Dick and Bonnie - come back soon :)

Toby made the salad with a dressing of balsamic and olive oil and a mousse of mustard.
Kat made the fruit salad with (amoung the traditional fruits, plus pineapple) lychees and ginger.
Leo bought the framboise flan and the scottish Daves bought the ginger nuts.
Everyone brought wine.
Great effort, team :)

 Here is apero commencing in my study when the night was young and below is Marie, en route to selling wild leeks in the market. Met her on the way back and she'd flogged them all. Was carrying a box of organic artichokes instead.
 And the market - not large but cranking up. In a few weeks we'll be something else.

Toques...

This smashing pic is nicked from Max on facebook and shows all the team in very good  form :) I bottled out on account of pathetic health but my energy is now restored, mostly. All reports from the event are very enthusiatic. Will no doubt hear more tonight... see you all soon, folks.

If you can vote in these Municipal elections, please do: Nadines lot have been knocked out in the first round leaving a clear fight between the LePenists, the merely rightish and the left. Voting is brisk. Go make a difference-

on y va # qui mal y pense

 Toques et Clochers commenced with the vernisage of the arts show tonight.
No-one we knew won anything - indeed, hardly anyone we knew participated - so I snapped Kat in front of her pic not even waiting for the speeches and the free drink before leaving for Esperaza and the house of Max.
There a gaggle of international travellers assembled until hunger drove us out. The Normandy Moules Frites called and we ate massively and cheaply and not too badly. (The TyRex is closed; work is being done on the structure so with luck its going to be open again soon)
Conversation was broad based across many disciplines.  Marvellous to have such quality visitors.

There was an alarmingly sad note tonight. Jim Hankinson, friend and philosopher par excellence - who spent xmas with us - is in hospital, not having reached the airport for his return trip to his university in America. Car smashed and himself in it, two to four weeks in hospital. Will visit next week and report.

Clan gathering

Max was first in though still waiting for his luggage to catch up - The Scottish Daves drove down with their dogs - Toby and Leo flew from Amsterdam to Toulouse as did Dick and Bonnie (from Chicago) Not sure about the rest though Roy and Jo and Kat were already here, preparing the way...

We had the traditional brilliant first night at the creperie, with long-suffering Nightingale coping beautifully as ever.  Afterwards we went to Scottish Daves and continued being convivial.


---so, yes!! Its the Toques et Clochers weekend!! 

End of Limoux Carnival and end of Georges

Last day of Limoux carnival.


Some fairly random snaps... it was Etiennes first carnival and sad to say, the noise of the band upset him. He's probably a music lover.

 It was a jolly affair with some amusing spectacles. We got out just before the rain kicked back in.









Back at the ranch, I bunged on the TV to see the news and to my astonishment, there was Georges Pierru. It seems that he did kill his wifes' lover, strangling him before hanging him as if it was a suicide, see posts passim. Still find this hard to believe and was too surprised to follow the programme, which I'd come onto half-way through anyway. Helene Marty - estate agent goddess - was interviewed (he owed loads of rent) and pictures of our lovely town featured. Scottish Daves house was there as Georges lived in the house next door. An art agent lady was interviewed saying that she had begun by liking Georges' painting but ... she had some sort of personal problem with him though really she meant his work was patchy.
The programme concluded by saying that Georges will spend the rest of his life in prison. Let us hope that there will be a successful appeal.
------------ so sad, for everyone concerned.
Snapped this off the tele - Georges and wife plus the allegedly murdered lover.

elections and departures

 Its the time to elect the departmental leaders - jolly important, I would have thought, but us lot of foriegners are not allowed to vote. Local and European but not the layers in between. Why not? No-one I've asked seems to know. Will keep enquiring.
Should you not be foriegn and therefore able to vote, take a look at Nadines team, the Aude. Nadine is a tireless campaigner for green issues and a sensible woman.

Below are John and Margaret, off to Ireland till May. Bob left yesterday. I don't approve and its raining.

gate thieves

Whilst in Morrocco persons unknown stole our garden gate - here it isn't, gap-toothed in the fence at the top of the land on Mont Marot. Annoying for many reasons but firstly because now the hunt can easily swarm over our land killing what they will and my dear dog Lily looks like a young boar. One of the reasons we bought the land was so that she could have a safe haven.

 It wasn't insured so it'll have to be fenced across, which isn't the end of the world - but maybe it can be found? Its exactly the same as this one below, which is the lower entrance to the land.

If you see it lying around or are offered a cheap gate, will you let me know? Can easily test if its mine - I have the key.
Many thanks to Lou and Andy for the photos, I can't get up there at the moment on account of bad breathing with asthma.
---And a nod to Jean-Louis who installed the gates with Jenni; dead but not forgotten.

Thursday night, Friday morning....

  Louise at her sewing evening last night, which was as ever a gorgeous experience. Women chattering, mending and making - and drinking and eating and being occasionally daft (see above). Much gossip caught up with.

Below is a snap of todays eclipse, taken through the clever eclipse glasses I'd saved from the last one. Margaret and I were out drawing in our extensive landscape above Alet les Bains when it occurred - chilly morning but the day both brightened and warmed as we bashed out yet more art to an indifferent world.

 We saw goats and sheep and cows and raptors and tiny tiny daffodils and many unidentifiable flowers - and these two -

Slow update

 Been a bad blogger - missed noting Bobs arrival, Margaret and John's arrival, dinner at St Gobains; and the death of Gilbert Toustou.

Gilbert was an old friend, a Frenchman who made me welcome when I arrived here donkeys years ago. Charming and thoughtful. Our relationship was very challenged when Lily tried to kill him, about 7 years back - she leapt at him in the course of our morning walk on the mountain and he stepped back to avoid her, falling into a hidden crevase which closed over him. Shocking and terrifying. One minuite he was there, then gone. He was a good 6'4, so disappearing wasn't easy. His 'hareme', the half a dozen or so women he walked with, came into view and I ran to them asking if anyone had a mobile and to call the emergency services. I told them what had happened, they dug around, found him and pulled him out (with me screeching no! Dont touch him! His neck might be broken etc etc ) They clustered round and went off down the road half dragging him, leaving me trembling and in shock.

When I got home I had to know to worst so I looked him up in the phone book. He answered. Very glad I'd rung, he'd been trying to contact me - I'm  listed in the phone book under my married name and he didnt know what it was. He'd been trying to call me, worried because I had gone white and was obviouslly worried. There was no damage, he said,  just some bruising.
PHEW.

Then the mayor, General Lafite, caused a bridge to be built over the crevase, rendering it safe for future walkers should they be attacked by a manic dog. Gilbert and I would laugh when we bumped into each other there; I called it Pont Gilbert, he called it LilyBridge.

A couple of years back his son died of cancer and that knocked him for six. He stopped walking in the mornings. All the life went out of him. I suppose that 90 is a decent age but at the funeral today everyone, like me, thought that he just gave up after that.

The church was packed, there was a choir -!- and only one taped song, a rather tremulous tenor Panis Angelicus. Abbe Bigot did the eulogy with great affection and fond reminicences... all most touching. Gilbert did a lot of charity work and was known hither and yon for quiet good works. I'm not the only one who'll miss him.

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This lunchtime Ryan and Alecia, Bob and I took Ettienne out for his first resturant lunch. Naturally it was the child-friendly and arty Creperie that had the honour of hosting him. 

He seemed very taken with Titas little girl in her new make-up (note Tita's new glasses, aint she glam??)

Personally I was taken up with my roquefort, ham and chip crepe. Below is Kevin in the kitchen...

 Cant resist showing off this egg  whisk. It was a gift from Andree this morning; it is an english egg beater from 1904 that used to belong to Andrees grandmother. Lovely - and functional - stylish machine.

dismal day

 Its a dismal Sunday, grey and wet - heres an early photo taken as the traders were setting up - but still good humoured with friends pottering about. Vandals at work in the night though, below are the bollards from the Rue de la Republique, famous as the street of Kats gallery. Is it art???

 The graffiti below is definately art:) A bit of a shock though, we just dont have graffiti. One would expect it to be properly spelt however. Dont they have spellcheck on their airosols?

         Weather notwithstanding, the Mimosa was on sale. Brightens up any dull day.

Paddys Night

Dennis writes that Paddys night is happening on the 14th in Esperaza - always ahead of the  times we are.

....  Le repas est à 18€ (soirée et danse compris) , la soirée seule à 8€.
                                           Nous avons un groupe irlandais et... une tireuse à Guinness!
Réservation au 0652908847.

Les 'funny hats' will be worn, natch.

Its thurday so ....

 .... started the day at Limoux hospital where I'd been sent to see a pneumnologist on the off-chance that my breathing difficulties were caused by allergies. Took the 53 bus at 8.30am - what a great bus!- and there was Ferren Macintyre, a treat to catch up with his news. Anyway got to the appointment in good time and here is a picture of the old doorway that is set into the new entrance.

The specialist marked out my arm in biro and then put drops of stuff on the marks, which she proceeded to prick with a pointy thing.

Whilst waiting for reactions I breathed into a mouthpiece with a fancy clothespeg on my nose.

Often and in different ways, as instructed, I puffed away. The specialist shouted at me a lot in an effort to communicate; not comfortable. Then she squirted stuff into my lungs and breathing was a lot easier (though alarmingly I started to shake.)

My arm started itching, then swelling. Hurrah, an allergy! This might be straighforward. But no, alas. It was the control that reacted - the control always reacts, shows your arm is OK. No allergies then.

No allergies, she said. What you got is chronic bronchitis and asthma. Heres a letter for your doctor.
Oh well.
 Quite unlike the NHS. I had an appointment within a few days of asking; there was no reception nor any sign of a nurse, the specialist just comes and calls you out of the waiting room; you take the outcome letter back to the doctor that sent you there. Lean and effective.

Home easily in time for rendez-vous with the bank. They were powerless in the face of Andree, who was good enough to come with me. It was enormous fun - the young woman who is in charge of my few assets was in stiches and the three of us generated enough laughter to occasion scowls from the queue when we got out. Result; a rebate of the stolen dosh and a new card, both to arrive in the fullness of time.

Cafe in the square at l'Occitan afterwards where many old friends of Andrees were taking the sun...

Back at home - Oswald is out:) A month later than last year. What can it mean? And heres little Jessie posing with some jonquils. He/she has eaten most of the jasmine.


,

 

Misson Accomplished

The view outside the police station at Quillan, where I had to go to get the  letter for the bank that establishes a bonna fides theft, as it were. It was difficult to get into... a gate and intercom before they let you in, followed by an interview with a geezer on the desk which led to another with a geezer in a room. From there you can see the camera on the gate - they must have been hooting at my attempts to push it open, climb over it, tunnel round the side. So embarrassing.

After a not inconsiderable interview when my use of the bank card was quizzed and every item clocked it was agreed that whilst in Morocco I probably wasn't gambling in Paris.  My passport has stamps in it proving I was out of Europe. And after the embarrassing gate episode they must have thought I was too stupid for that level of crime; with reason.

All the entries that could not have been made by me were slowly itemised, dated, sourced - I was getting bored until the bloke explained that no longer was I 'The Victim' but this letter showed the bank was in fact The Victim. Wow. Poor bank.

Kat and I took coffee at the square and I  photographed Shuffs house for him. Voila! The blossom is out!

Home again whahey

 Made it back yesterday and here's a handy hint for you public transport lovers; DO NOT TRAVEL FROM GIRONA ON A SUNDAY. Its possible - I'm living proof- but it ain't easy. And its mighty expensive, cost more than my flights to and from Marrakesh.
On the other hand, stopping at Narbonne made it possible to visit my favorite pagan deity, see below.

They dug him up when they built the station and hes stayed there (in the waiting room) though from time to time he gets to travel and expose elsewhere. Hes been slightly restored since I last saw him, looks less bad.

Ate pizza and drank red wine with Kat last night, just to make sure I'm really home.

So far today have reconnected the electricity in Bobs house - thank you to Graham who explained how. Been to the bank to try and reclaim the money stolen from my account and have  papers to take to the local police. Its a crime, we need crime numbers to set about reimbursing me. Have been to the doctor to make an appointment with a pneumonologist who will also test for allergies to find out why I'm breathless... no end to the excitement :)

And the weather is gorgeous, daffs are up, violets and snowdrops and such like sitting about doing nothing. Wonderful place, Esperaza.

More of Annie and Petes Palace

 Here is Annie in her natural habitat, installing a new wall with windows and doors...

...one of several interesting staircases and a proper table, specially bought over the rooftops to get into the house.

 -and of course no living room is complete without a corner where lime must be beaten and mixed with stuff to make plaster.

I'm very sad to be going. The changes they've made in the short time Ive been here are wonderful; would like to see more.  I've learned to enjoy this culture and appreciate its priorities (Morocco, not Annie and Pete - already appreciate them)

Like the joined-up thinking here. So for instance the hammam - communal baths - are heated by a fire out the back that never goes out and that burns local rubbish (though alas, a deal of that is plastic.) Communal baths too - how sensible and fun is that, why don't we have them?

The emphasis on alms-giving is dignified and courteous and an essential rung of the life-style.

The mosques have three balls on top, under the moon-shape - they stand for generosity, welcome and peace.

Went to the synagogue too, currently being restored as Jews begin to move back after the exodus to the state of Isreal. They started Essouria up - when the king of the day decided to build a port he moved 10 of the big Jewish Morroccan families here to  facilitate trading and there was a large community living happily with the Muslims. Then it was called Mogador and subsequently Timbuktoo - anyway. I promised the guardian I'd blog his website so here it is...
www.asl-mogador.net

Off tomorrow, get to Girona late, wend my way back to Esperaza on the 8th. The electricity has failed in Rue St Saens so I wont have internet. The bank has stopped my card because some internet nasty has stolen it so I won't have money. And I have to see the gendarmes to report that the big metal gate on Mont Marot has been stolen.  Turn your back for a minuite...