Ich bin eine Berlinerin

Going through photos this grey Sunday morning, I rediscovered pictures of our trip to Berlin in June 2012. I've always had a fascination with the city, home of my parents. Henny very sweetly gave me this trip as a birthday present (yes, how lucky am I). We stayed six days and had an amazing time. The weather was on our side, which was unexpected from the forecasts.

We arrived the first day of Euro 2012. Spectators were coming in via Berlin for some of the matches contested in Poland, and the Germans are football mad anyway, so huge screens were set up all along the river Spree "beach bars". Even though we're not football fans, we parked ourselves with a few beers, mojitos and a currywurst. A convivial atmosphere pervaded as, unfortunately, we watched the Netherlands lose in the shadow of the Reichstag.

Henny and I easily found my grandparents' house in Tempelhof, the house my mother grew up in. Here's the city gate that spans the street almost next door. I remembered when I was last there even though it was circa 48 years ago.

Our friend Burkhard came from Hannover to spend a couple of days with us. He organised a very full programme which included delicious meals at some of his favourite haunts, a trip to the Neues Museum (the building is a beautiful marriage between preservation and renovation which houses treasures of the ancient world, including the bust of Nefertiti), a drink at Clärchens Ballhaus on tango night (one of the last surviving Weimar-era dance halls), and a trip to the top of the Reichstag. Erste Klasse, lieber Freund. Grosses Dankeschön und dicke Knuddel!

Pure glee at the sausage counter in the KaDeWe food hall.

Although we were busy the whole stay, we hardly cracked Berlin. There's so much going on and so much to see. I can't wait to go back. It's a city that will always hold a powerful attraction for me. Henny, you're the best. Thank you for an unbelievable birthday treat.

Some enchanted evening

For the past 6 years, Pézenas has hosted a festival that celebrates singing, Pézenas Enchantée. For a fortnight, there are daily concerts, and each year a well-known singer comes to pass on his knowledge by way of master classes for young singers. You can watch their progress in daily sessions. I've managed to miss it every year until now. I discovered early on, for the first time, they were offering a choral masterclass. Rossini's Petite Messe Solennelle, neither particularly small nor solemn, conducted by Michel Piquemal, renown in these parts.

Rehearsals began in late June. There were about 60 singers drawn from surrounding areas, but mostly made up of a Béziers-based choir. It was their conductor who whipped us into shape before the maestro came for two weekend rehearsal sessions earlier this month. Due to my house move, I'd missed 8 rehearsals. I wasn't sure I could show my face on masterclass weekend, but I went anyway. Glad I did. It was a worthwhile experience. I met some nice people, it was great to sing again, good for my French (and Latin), and slightly nerve-wracking. The two fugues are taken at a fair lick. 'Amens' for page upon page, but fun to sing once you learn it. The piece was originally scored for two pianos and a harmonium. Ali said, I wasn't expecting the accordion, the modern-day harmonium stand-in. It's a bit of a bonkers piece, really.

There were three performances, Pézenas, Ballaruc-les-Bains, and even the cathedral in Montpellier. We weren't recorded, but to give you an idea, here's the Cum Sanctu Spiritu conducted by M Piquemal with the same accordionist, sung by a different choir. The photo is of us. Spot my little white head.

Our Local

Our favourite café is in the next village 4 kms away. We eat there at least once a week and I always look forward to it. The food's good and so is the welcome. The other night, Nilda and José had a BBQ for their neighbours and regular customers. We were honoured to be invited. I've never had a local before, and well, now I get it.

Today we met up for lunch with our mates, Erica, John and Pudsey, possibly the world's most laid back Chow Chow.  John took the photo. A stunning October day. Another great lunch.

Double Rainbow

There was a double rainbow the other day. From the tower, we could see the glorious arc from start to finish. The colours at the end seemed to wash down close to our friends Hans and Christa at Domaine Bourdic. They were hunting wild mushrooms after the rain, but I'd also be keeping an eye out for that pot of gold.

The Move

On 13 September 2012 I moved out of the London apartment I'd lived in for 25 years. The new owners wanted possession far earlier than expected, but after an exhausting few weeks, it happened on the appointed day. Here's the before shot.

And here's moving day. Going, going, gone.

Shopping Trip

Summer parties are in full swing. Ours is Saturday night. 90 people. We've just seen storm clouds and lightning bolts on the Méteo app. Fingers crossed folks.

The Queen's New Throne

Many of us find ourselves in this little village because of Nicola and Teddy. They owned the biggest house in town for over a decade where they ran courses and created fantastic events. People fell in love, with them, with each other, with the village and its surroundings. I think of them as the trunk of the family tree, and we're their branches. Lizzie and Ali attended a wedding there, bought the big house 'round the corner. I bought the house above, negotiations assisted by Nicola and Teddy. The English class they ran for local people accelerated my meeting Henny...the rest is history.

We were dumbfounded when they announced they were going to sell up and move back to the UK. It's been a tough decision for them, and we're all silently weeping into our pillows at night. Nicola gave Teddy a birthday present this year. 3000 sqm. of river land just outside town. Now he can always wiggle his toes in the local earth he loves so well.

Today the mates were summoned for a work party on this exquisite, tranquil patch. The weather's been dreadful for weeks, but today the sun shone, just the right amount. Not too hot to be productive! We cleared, chopped, slashed, burned, planted and created. These beautiful steps appeared.

And they work, as tested by Teddy and Ted.

We cleared an area for the eco-latrine, complete with privacy screen, the bambooloo. Here's Nicola on a dry run.

Teddy and Nicola have generously urged us, one and all, to use the land whenever we like. I can see myself dangling my feet in the cooling stream after a bike ride. A superb day.

Proof cats smile

Short back and sides

Henny cut the vines back further than ever before. The freezing temperatures had left everything rather bedraggled. The new crew cut had the added bonus of making our architect Christine's measuring yesterday a breeze.

The Cammock

Anticipation

We've been dreaming of putting in a wood burner since we tore the old one out 5 years ago. We finally got around to ordering one just before the coldest protracted temperatures this region has seen in years. Yesterday it was installed by the very affable Jérôme Coq.

Now we have this on the roof...

and this in the living room.  We're not allowed to light it for 24 hours while it cures. So we just stared at it. Daytime temperatures are predicted to hit 18 today, but no matter what, matches ready, tonight's the christening!

Cat's fancy

Pou doesn't often hop into my arms like he does daily to his true love, Henny. But today he did, and when we had company, so it made me feel extra special.

Merry Christmas!

Since our kitchen installation in 2008, two ceiling lights have remained as bare bulbs glaring away on electrician's wires. Recently, in a fit of bravura, I promised Henny there'd be proper light fittings up by Christmas. They arrived just in the nick of time.

We've had a superb run-up to Christmas. We've sung carols, drunk mulled wine, played games, laughed ourselves silly, received sweet gifts and dined gloriously. Thank you one and all for a great week. To those further afield, we wish you the happiest of holidays. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good light.

Devil-in-a-Box

Fab Five in Montpellier

GT's love of Mahler provided an excuse for us to go the symphony in Montpellier. We sat in the gods at the Corum, where the temperature was more hellish than heavenly, but we all really enjoyed the concert. It was Mahler's 3rd which has a choral movement, meaning about 200 people were on stage to entertain us. Here's Alex's iPhone picture as proof. Eleven double basses. I like that the Montpellier audience appreciates a good concert or opera and pays the performers a proper tribute with long applause if they've earned it. I guess it's different than London in that way, no rush to catch the last train.

We made a weekend of it. Dinner after the performance. A nighttime stroll through the cobbled streets. Breakfast the next day. A mooch around the Christmas market, followed by lunch at an outdoor cafe, in the sunshine of the Midi, on December 10th. 

The boys stayed at the apartment of friends, which couldn't be more centrally located. Here's the scene from their balcony. I'm glad we've ended up near this vibrant city. I feel like we had a real little holiday.

Pyro Day

Today the annual visit of the tree surgeon, the aptly named Simon Wood. Here he is up our splendid olive tree. This tree is actually about 4 olives planted so closely together they behave as one. Probably 60-70 years old. We worship this tree as we snooze in its shade in summer, hear the sound of its leaves rustling in a breeze, and watch the way the leaves part and flow like a silvery green wave. Today it had a good going over, taking away the dead branches at its centre. The guideline to proper pruning, a swallow should be able to fly round in the middle. It looked mighty pleased after Simon's considered pruning.

We spent the entire day dragging cut branches and leaves from all over the garden to burn. Our bonfire was roaring away for hours. The garden's nicely tidied for winter. We're the good kind of exhausted and have almost gotten the smell of the wood smoke off us.

Master Baker Taylor

Today, my actual birthday, our beloved friends Greg and Alex came bearing cake. And what a cake it was!  In a restaurant from my distant past I remember a dessert called Death by Chocolate. This beauty coulda been a contender. Mr. Taylor, the improbably svelte patissier in the grey turtle neck, says there is a full kilo of chocolate involved. It was amazingly delicious! We enjoyed it with coffee and Grand Marnier. I'm still on the sugar rush 8 hours later. Thank you darlin' GT.

Birthdays-by-Sea

Margaret and I are the Sagittarian girls, our birthdays 5 days apart. Some years we're very fortunate when our celebrations are combined and we're taken to the coast to scoff shellfish. This year we were treated to La ferme marine where they have a help yourself buffet of oysters, mussels, crab, prawns, little clams...well, you get the idea. Margaret and I took up the challenge to eat our weight in crustacea. It helps to be properly attired.

A warm and gloriously sunny December day, the restaurant overlooks the blue étang where the stuff you're eating just came from.  A fabulous lunch, topped by flaming sundaes for the birthday girls. 

Finally, a word of thanks to my darling Henny, who'd practically cross the street to avoid an oyster, yet annually suffers this feast, dodging stray lemon squeezes, just for us.

Eleven eleven eleven. It's official!

Pou enjoys a little Face Time

Sunny Lunch

It had been grey and stormy for days, but yesterday was perfect. We took full advantage and headed into the foothills of the Cévennes to the Auberge de Combes for lunch. We ate outside, basking in the sun. The other guests chose to eat indoors. Crazy, but it meant Henny and I had the terrace all to ourselves. Delicious and interesting food. Great view. Perfect timing. Today the storms are back in full force. We're on orange alert for two more days. Hard to believe yesterday looked like this.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Never been there before. Why today? Why ever? He's not telling.

Montpellier Opera Chorus

The Choeurs de l'Opéra National de Montpellier were practically around the corner yesterday, giving a concert at the church in Fontès. 32 voices under the direction of their splendid conductor, Noëlle Gény. Opera choruses suffer slightly from being taken out of context. They usually require the entrance of a heroic soloist sooner or later, so now and again, the program felt a bit disjointed. However, the choir make a wall of sound with which we were well-impressed. Their Turandot, Carmen and the almost obligatory encore for this type of program, the chorus of the Hebrew slaves from Nabucco, were stand-outs.

Henny got us tickets right up front. It was fascinating to watch them so closely and see how they relate to Mme Gény. They all seemed to have a great time and so did we!

Again: sold!

Five years ago, I moved a few pieces of furniture here from my London life, notably a big sofa and an equally large antique Chinese coffee table. They stretched the limits of our awkwardly shaped living room. Now, as we're combining the effects of 3 homes into one, they're just too big. We decided the table should go. Efforts were made to sell it, no dice. I wrote to every dealer in Asian antiques I could find. I had some interesting correspondences, but not a glimmer of hope. Lovely piece, it was agreed, but bon courage trying to flog it during the crise financière.

A friendly British mover was passing through with an empty return van. A keen price was agreed to repatriate the table to London. I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of having it languish in my apartment, especially as it's in the throes of a re-paint. So, table back on ebay, for about the fourth time. Sigh.

Blow me down, there was an offer within a few hours that ended up being genuine! Better yet, the buyer was in North London. The table was sold before it ever left our house in France, and when it did, it was delivered directly to its new owner, never having to be set down in my flat after all. The charming Mr Chen paid cash as his insistence, thus avoiding fees. Does it get any better than this? As Henny says, 2011 is our sales year. I hope the karma continues for my ebay Christmas push!

Baez in Béziers

On one of the many, many trips to Béziers for Henny's dislocated shoulder physio, I spied a little advert: Joan Baez at the Salle Zinga Zanga. I ordered two tickets. What the heck. I'd last seen her in Toronto with Bob Dylan in 1975. Though never my favourite artist, she was certainly part of my formative folkie years. And besides, how often does a legend hit Béziers? I'd tried to see her in London. Sold out in seconds. When she played in Montpellier two years ago, our plans got scuppered at the last minute. So October 6th was finally the night.

Fifth row seats, how fantastic! Joan sauntered on stage, no introduction. Gave a little bow. Picked up a guitar and off she went. In younger years, her voice was almost too much, too clear, sometimes even piercing. At age 70, her gift has diminished somewhat on the top notes, but it's no bad thing. Her voice has mellowed yet the clarity of her diction remains unparalleled. She's a generous performer who'd soon won over the entire house. We all sang along to the refrains of Dona Dona in our best voices, just like Joan, out of sheer respect.

Two years ago in Montpellier, Baez was the closing act for the Festival of the Guitar. Her free outdoor concert drew 19,000 people. There, it was Marianne Aya Omac who opened for her. They've since become friends and collaborated on a duet for Marianne's new album. In Béziers, Baez invited her on stage to do a couple of numbers together, which brought the house down. In support was Baez's formidable 'band' of one, Dirk Powell, who played every stringed instrument from banjo to mandolin to fiddle and keyboards.

But often it was just Baez and her guitar. She was mesmerising. And she doesn't seem to stop touring. If she comes your way, don't miss her.

Avignon

We've had our new (for us) car since May and haven't yet gone on a field trip. Our friend was showing her Saluki at the dog show in Avignon, which provided the impetus. It was an 'animal and nature' show, so all manner of domestic and a few farm animals were represented, including chinchillas, fancy ducks, tortoises, a tame wild boar, cute small goats, the list goes on. We were impressed by the size of Maine Coon cats and had fun watching the dog agility trials. 

Enough of the dogs and on to the popes. We made our way to the centre of Avignon, where we were staying the night. The weather continues to be glorious. We had cocktails on a terrasse while watching the world pass, followed by a delicious meal on a cobbled square. Avignon is firmly on the tourist trail, but it's late in the season, so we had some of it almost to ourselves. We scrambled up the papal palace, strolled to the Pont d'Avignon, marveled at beautiful old stones and graceful spires, and just plain enjoyed a change of pace in a remarkable place.

Bush Fire 22 September

Shortly after lunch, Henny remarked from the courtyard, isn't it getting cloudy? In the same instant her sense of smell kicked in -- it's smoke. Soon we heard the distinct droning of the fire-fighting planes. We followed the scarily huge plume of smoke up a nearby hill. We were the first up, followed closely by an elderly French lady, and soon enough by many others. The smoke, aided by winds of 50 km/h, could be seen for miles around, yet much of the fire was right outside our village. We haven't had any significant rainfall of late. The countryside is tinder dry. The orange flames and the mammoth effort to fight them unfolded before our eyes. More and more planes were arriving, flying closely overhead. As they dipped into the valley to pour water on the fire, they seemed near enough to make you duck your head. I've never been closer to a plane of that size flying overhead. Not just the usual Canadairs either, there were Dash-8's which look as big as the 737 that's my regular ride home.

From Midi Libre

The effort to combat the fire was immense. Pompiers from throughout the region came. Sirens, helicopters, and at least a dozen planes. They continued battling for five hours. The fire destroyed about 50 hectares (c. 123 acres) of garrigue. There are some homes scattered in its path, but fortunately none of them were damaged and no one was hurt. The brave firefighters worked hard. Their annual Christmas calendar will sell well 'round these parts; they take good care of us! As I write this account the next day, there are still regular passes of helicopters making sure all's well.

J de P's picture from Chateau de Cassan