La fête du premier mai

01 May 2013

On la fete du premier mai (1 May, Labour Day), we bought sprigs of muguet (lily-of-the-valley) and cards, in which we introduced ourselves and, armed with these tokens of friendship and neighbourliness, we went around knocking on the doors of our immediate neighbours in La Fromagerie. The gesture was very well received; most of our neighbours are elderly and all were chuffed to bits by our adoption of this old tradition of giving muguet.

Mme l'Echelle insisted on our coming in to have coffee in her hot, smoky kitchen. Her son, Jean-Marie, got out the china cups from the top cupboard and put biscuits on a plate, and we all sat and sipped on strong, sweet coffee and battled to understand each other's French. Then J-M took us across the road and gave us a guided tour of the fields around the barn. He seemed to know every tree, every plant, and it became clear that he was fond and proud of the place. He showed us the apple, pear, cherry and fig trees, as well as the walnut tree and grapevine, and he pointed out the rows of strawberries already showing tiny little fruits. He showed us how to prune the vine and the apple trees. And he suggested that the meadow could do with a trim!

Later that afternoon we were working hard on the ivy around the dependance; really working up a sweat, when the silence of the afternoon was disturbed by the voices of a bunch of people walking up the road. Several couples and a child working off their feast day lunch, we assumed. They stopped to talk to the neighbours and then, one by one, they came round the dependance to say hello. Turns out that one was Ivan, J-M's brother, and the second son of Mr and Mme l'Echelle, who, with his wife Edith and daughter Oceane, live in the next hamlet. They were all incredibly friendly and curious about our plans. I think they think that we're mad. Who in their right mind would spend money on a barn? Better to tear it down and build a new house!

Ivan insisted that we join them for dinner, to celebrate with them the holiday. So, after having cleaned up a little in the icy cold water of the puit nearby, we drove up the hill to the next hamlet.

That evening deserves its own post.

Getting to know you...

April/May 2012
G and I flew into Paris on Anzac Day (25 April) 2012. We stumbled our way across Paris to spend a very happy couple of hours (avec les viennoiseries) with our friend Christian before catching the lunchtime train to Brive. That train ride has become wonderfully familiar and strangely comforting after a long flight. We generally buy a sandwich (baguette with filling) and a drink from the station, settle back in our comfy seats, and, once the conductor has been past to check tickets, find the steady motion of the train soothes us off to sleep. The countryside slides by, and it's delicious. As is the baguette.

Once in Brive, we had merely to pull our trundle bags across the road to the Hotel de la Gare, where we spent the first night. Deep in the middle of the jet-lagged night, we woke to the sound of an alarm. Disorientated, I was sure it was G's phone. but it was in fact the fire alarm. We pulled on clothes and went downstairs to stand with the other bleary guests who were gathered on the street outside, smoking and discussing in quiet voices the possible cause. Meanwhile, the poor hotel owner/manager was dashing about, in and out of the kitchen. Eventually, the alarm went off and we all climbed the stairs to our rooms. I was a little concerned that just because the alarm had been silenced didn't necessarily mean it was safe...

We drove out to the barn the next morning and found it much the same, although of course Spring was in the air. The apple trees were in bloom, despite the assault of the ivy around their bases, the grass was tall and full of wild flowers, bees were buzzing and birds were chirruping. Mostly, though, it was the silence that made an impression. And at noon, the church bells of  nearby C completed my idyll.

We made the acquaintance of Manon, the fat cat who belongs to Mr and Mme l'Echelle (our name for the neighbour across the way, since we borrowed said l'echelle from them once upon a time). Manon loves to sleep in the long grass of our meadow, and she is most welcome.

Our days were filled with meetings (the plumber, the carpenter, the electrician, and two builders and Eleanor, who was drawing up our plans behind the scenes). We spent days in Mr Brico and LaPeyre, looking at doors and windows and baths and sinks and shutters and stuff. We collected catalogues to pore over at night in the Akena Brive (cheap, clean, comfortable, convenient - and free WI-Fi). We had a million picnics of beautiful bread and camembert, saucisson and fruit. We explored the area and fell in love once again with this beautiful corner of France.

We drove to Limoges a few times to sample the hospital system (long story - anti-rabies injections for me after an attack by a pack of dogs in Macau en route to France) and found it extremely efficient and reassuring.

We wandered around the Objat market, developed a nodding acquaintance with the guy in the Bar/Tabac in Objat, where we went for many a cup of thé vert. We ate at a great little pizzeria in Brive, hidden away down a cobbled lane. We explored le lac du Causse and met old friends for coffee.

As the weather started to warm up, we started to make an effort to clear the ivy from the little dependance at the side of the barn. We had been told by the agent that it was a four de pain, but a closer look inside revealed that it had been a chicken coop. It was difficult to see exactly what the structure was like since le lierre (ivy) had long ago smothered the roof.