Day tripping

20 August 2016

My days have been dominated by digging holes for new plants and planting lots of shrubs, both in the new rockery around the terrace and to fill in some gaps in the peripheral plantings. I've got scrambling roses and lavender installed in the rockery, with blue hydrangeas near the oak posts, and I've put in a glycine too (think cascading blue blossoms in spring). The plan is to use two old metal straps we found in the barn to offer support as it climbs skyward. Yesterday I planted a white buddleia, a pink hydrangea and a yellow/red broom around the periphery of the property.

G has spent time lagging the ballon (buffer tank) with fibreglass, while daughter C is on permanent tea fatigues in between applying for jobs in London and flicking through Paris Match. As usual, our outdoor activities end long after the 7pm bells and then we enjoy an obligatory cold beer and nibble before settling down to making a simple meal at 9pm or thereabouts. I don't think I've read more than a page of my book since we arrived. I've got the rest of the year to do that, after all.

On Thursday we had our now-annual get-together with a branch of the family living in France - this time chez nous. A lovely, relaxed lunch and the obligatory self-timer photo afterwards, for prosperity (as G likes to say). Even Big Matt was included in the frame (though our feet were not).

Yesterday we gave ourselves the day off and headed for Cahors, a city of special significance for me as it was there that I stopped for a rest day on Le Chemin (GR 65), what was it? - three years ago? I stumbled into town on that hot July afternoon after a monster day of walking 35 kms across the Causse du Lot in mid-30 degree heat, to receive a warm welcome and cool drink from the volunteers who man L'Octroi at the south entrance to the city. They called a few hebergements on my behalf, organised a night's accommodation for me, plied me with glass after glass of cold lemon squash and, in the cool of that tiny building, I was gently pulled back from the brink of heat exhaustion.

The next day I could not keep still, despite aching feet, so explored the centre ville incredibly slowly, courtesy of painful feet. Then I discovered Cahors plages and spent a couple of happy hours dozing and reading on a sun lounger under an Hawaiian fringed umbrella on the river bank. Bronzed, unsupervised children leapt in and out of the river, swam to the centre pontoons and cavorted in youthful summer exuberance. It was wonderful to observe.

Cahors is fascinating and photogenic and is pleasantly busy without being overrun with cars and people. The main road is lined with tall poplars and plane trees and the white-paved boulevard Gambetta is a-sparkle with fountains and rose gardens. Yesterday I took G and C on a guided tour of 'my Cahors', retracing my steps and rediscovering, with them, the medieval vieux ville and the hidden picturesque delights of this characterful city. It was wonderful to share it with them, and also slightly unsettling. I had the urge to once again lace up my boots, heave my pack onto my back, pick up my walking poles, and be off up the trail, following les balisages en rouge et blanc...

Miamm Miamm 

Pont Valentré

It was hot; what can I say?

We enjoyed lunch and Pelforths in a simple cafe before heading over to the cobbled Pont Valentré, where the GR65 heads up and away westwards. We watched as several pèlerins made their way up the steep rocky path and were quickly lost to view.

One day soon that will be me. That's a promise.

Boot camp

16 August 2016

Are you Penniless in Panama? Destitute in Dubai? Sick of Spain? Down on your luck in Dublin? We offer residential Build Your Self-esteem and Our Barn workshops to suit even the most desperate circumstances.

Workshops can be tailored to suit your skills and interests, as long as they coincide seamlessly with our needs. For example, should we need a fence to be stained, you could spend all day in the hot sun, with only a Huckleberry Finn hat for protection against style, applying a first coat of incredibly messy, sticky, difficult-to-clean-off-your skin stain ('chêne ancien' colour for certain ruination of your last remaining decent clothes), only to begin again the next day on the second coat.

Still smiling - the tedium yet to set in

Humming wee songs

Très elegante, n'est pas?

You might be lucky enough to score a trip into town. If so, don't expect to spend time sightseeing in one of the many pretty villages you pass through on the way to the largest hardware store anyone could ever need. Content yourself with browsing the aisles of Leroy Merlin or Brico Dept or Mr. Bricolage - a photographic memory may come in handy if you become lost in the maze of tools, thereby prolonging the visit unnecessarily - and there's always a cosy Free WiFi corner with vending machines that refuse (in French) to give up your chosen item. Don't say you haven't had the full French cultural experience, when it's been laid at your feet.

Midday bustle in Vignols - you'll only be getting out of the car for long enough to take a quick snap

Culture stop in Orgues-Sur-Vézère - so you don't have to

Accommodation is simple and comfortable, especially if you are nimble and sure-footed: there's a ladder to negotiate when you head for bed in the renovated goat/chicken shack. There is power, a window and a door. We think that pretty much covers your every need. Oh, the bathroom? Inside the barn itself. I mean, what else did you expect? Chickens don't do en-suite. There's also the tent (under the walnut tree) which has LED lighting and you do eventually become accustomed to lying diagonally across the slope :)

Food is plentiful and nutritious, if a little heavy on the cheese, bread, saucisson and tomatoes and a little light on roasted vegetable stacks drizzled with balsamic glaze or smashed avocado on sourdough with crumbled feta. Stay in Sydney if that's your poison. There's generally a cold beer to be had at the end of every day, a very welcome reward after a long day's hard graft in the heat. But only one, mind. We're not catering to alcoholics here.

After-dinner entertainment is cosmic, haha. This is big-sky country, the stars are very clear, and we have a nifty app. that allows you to see the constellations overhead, as well as those lurking beneath the underfloor heating. Which is not yet working, but that's another story.

The occasional picnic is not unheard of. Usually when the rest of France has shut for a holiday and/or there are no hardware shops open. The picnic site may be either a) at the top of a hill overlooking the French countryside, villages and chateaux; Limousin cattle dots with horns way below or b) a shady riverside spot, where an 16th Century bridge spans a chilly but inviting river. Inviting a paddle, that is, not full immersion, silly.

Picnic option a)

Picnic option b)

Music is not optional. It's a steady stream backdrop to every day. Your turn to choose comes round regularly, so choose wisely, or you will be subject to the musical taste of your hosts and the best and worst offerings of the 80s, 90s and beyond. You have been warned. There are even some 'What was the name of that album/artist/song' evenings, when Google is not allowed to come to the rescue and everyone simply tries to remember (it's a retro thing that you may not understand if you are under 30).



Conversations range from the banal to the heavy, via interesting and fun. We laugh a lot. Unsolicited advice is free. Prejudice and bias may even be in evidence on occasion. Hey, we're human.

If you are fortunate enough to be here for your birthday, you may be lucky enough to receive a tarte au framboise to remind you of the dismal state of baking back home.

Nothing like cake for birthday breakfast, served on a map to imply impending adventure and excitement

But once the unseemly snacking is over, it's back to work again, building and painting a shed, or digging holes and planting shrubs in 35-degree heat.

I'm sure they don't expect you to build and paint the thing simultaneously 

These photos do not do justice to the three holes dug earlier...

...or the shrubs planted skilfully by the photographer 

So, Jobless in Seattle, Direction-free in Goa, Fresh out of ideas in General, consider a La Fromagerie workaway for your next adventure. We'd love to have you.

Wheeling and dealing

12 August 2016

Yesterday went by in a bit of a blur. In what has become our customary send-off, we drove at speed across hill and dale to get M to the airport, assuring him of an early arrival this time, but still the journey took nearly 90 minutes and the conversation had faltered by the time Bellegarde hove into view.

Then it was a mad dash to the east of Limoges, past St Léonard de Noblat, to collect the newest member of the MacGregor fleet: a still pretty, though elderly, Renault Clio that we had found on a For Sale and Swap FaceBook site. It was a very hot afternoon, the unfamiliar paperwork took the vendor and G forever to complete, and we were both feeling a bit hot and bothered by the time we set off again in convoy - me behind the wheel of the new car following G with Google maps on his phone in the hire car - in search of a petrol station in the middle of nowhere. We were once again under huge time pressure: daughter C was arriving off the train in Brive at 6pm and we had to drive like the wind to get there in time.

 Unusually, the train was delayed and so we were standing on the platform all cool, calm and collected when she stepped onto the platform under the considerable weight of her backpack!

This morning we set off for Tulle to do battle with the Carte Grise at the Prefecture. Registering a change of car ownership is French bureaucracy at its very best - a list of documents needs to be submitted, fee paid etc, before the whole caboodle is sent off to Paris for validation. Then, we understand, the CG will be returned by registered mail et voila! Yes, well, let's not hold our collective breath, people.

In the meantime, however, we are pleased as punch with the wee car. She is going to be very useful, and a much cheaper alternative to hired cars...

It's wonderful to have C here with us - we have lots of time to relax, chat, catch up on each other's lives, laugh, gaze at the stars (did you see the meteor shower?)...and share the must-do/wanna-do list :)

Starwalk2

A break in the deep and meaningfuls

Quel bonheur.

Kick-ass kitchen

10 August 2016

The kitchen just gets better and better. The kick board was always going to be a challenge - uneven floor, mismatched cupboards - but M brought his own brand of obsessive perfectionism to the task, and the results are amazing. There's something unsettling about stepping over and around one's guest  lying stretched out on the kitchen floor. But we managed to suppress the discomfort long enough to let him finish the job, and he seemed to revive quite quickly after a hot shower and a cold beer.

Here's a man who can turn his hand(s) - and feet - to anything

Slip slop...

...slap! It's important to keep the sun off indoors

Guests lying about, getting in the way of the kettle

Happy camper. Britain's best DIYer

Today, we spent a while trundling around the local Troc, looking in vain for a likely cupboard to disguise the Chas-manifold-mess in the corner. I think we will have to custom manufacture something. Then we went for a walk around the medieval town of Donzenac, and finished with a cup of tea/coffee just off the square - at least M will now be able to say he's done something other than DIY and renovation work during his week in France ;)

Oh, and we did document M indulging in a spot of reading and hammock-lounging. Just saying.

Tea and a book in Spanish - what else could one ask of a holiday?

Sloth in the hammock

Then it was back to work at La Fromagerie. G went off to the déchetterie and M and I began to move rocks from B to C (he and G having moved them from A to B last year). It's amazing M came back this year, when you come to think of it.

We spent the hottest part of the day building rock edging for the new terrace, to stop the travertine casting (gravel) from sliding down into the Objat valley. G brought wheelbarrow loads of large stones, M tackled the edge of the terrace facing the valley, and I, the other edge, facing the apple trees. The rocks now form a robust edge, drawing together and connecting the new gravelled terrace and the stone terrace. Tom assures us that the travertine will bed in with the help of some moisture, and should set hard.

Well-earned dinner al fresco 

There's none like us...

M. Delbos away at the bottom of the field in his little green van; gone to feed the cattle

Aah, France, je t'aime beaucoup.

Tomorrow, M leaves us - he needs to recover somehow - and daughter C arrives. There's plenty to do: stain the fence, plant lavender... On Saturday we hope to collect our new abri, in which we plan to store our garden/DIY tools etc. It will be nice not to have to share the lounge with toolkits and paint tins, off-cut bits of wood and tiling paraphernalia.

I know, what a princess.