🎶Into each life a little rain must fall🎶

When thinking about my next blog I realised that my offerings were becoming a bit like Facebook;  I was in danger, latterly at least, of presenting our lives as a hedonistic idyll.   I’ve  even photographed meals for god’s sake!   My intention was always to tell it how it is  and not give you the impression of never ending outings, with a never ending procession of visitors and never ending jollity.

(Jan being not jolly)

Whilst it would be boring for you to read about them,  we do have periods without guests, when we stay at home, do washing and ironing and shop for food    I still have days  of terrible homesickness and a physical ache for my family and friends.   ‘It ain’t all beer and skittles, know what I’m sayin’?

It is such a day today and it’s hot as Hades outside.   So I’ll tell you about, and remind myself of, some more of the lovely stuff.

With most of our guests we do visit the village of Neffiès, only 5 minutes by car from here and a pretty, hilly, arty little place.   It has enough shops and two restaurants and some interesting murals.  A lovely place to live methinks.

Murals and trompe l’oeils

and garage doors

and doorways

In between visiting more distant places, we are still finding delights  on our own doorstep.

Recently we booked to go, on our own, to a wine tasting at the local village of Laurens where our friend Ginny lives.

There was to be a five course taster menu, paired wine with each course, and a singer from the Montpellier Opera Company.

”Sounds like  our sorta gig, Gaz”, says I.   As you know my word is his command, so he booked.

On the afternoon of this much anticipated occasion, as we watched the rain tear up paving slabs and the wind scoop up small people and deposit them inconveniently distant from their homes, Gaz asked me what had attracted me to this event.

“Opera singer”, I said.   He nodded.   “Wine”, I said.   He made a strange wiggly sign with his hand.   “Food,” I said more quietly, as despite my size, it is not one of my over riding interests.

Pouring more cold water on the event than there was outside, he intoned:

“Wine will come a thimbleful at a time and at least two of the courses will be with red.   Which you don’t drink.   Those two courses are pork and then duck, one of which you don’t like and the other of which you would never let into the country,  let alone your mouth.

“Opera singer?” I said faintly.

”You might be alright there,” he said.

Well, my bloggees, you know me.    By the end of the evening I was drinking red wine like a red wine drinker facing a red wine drought.  I even  did a bit of begging for other people’s dregs.   I made several new friends and Gary had met four new golfing buddies so he doesn’t have to play with  himself anymore.

(And Gaz said there wasn’t enough wine!)

i went home sober, hungry and with the prospect of losing Gary to golf three or four times a week.   The opera singer was, well, the brother of the vigneron.    Who was, incidentally, a woman (obviously, the vigneron not the singer ).   Oh and a thimbleful is hardly enough to be able to savour and judge a wine.   In my opinion.

An aside:   the next book to read and discuss at my Book Club is “The Sober Diaries”.   Honestly I’m going to enjoy that one!

And so.   The Pezenas Brocante Festival   or Antiques Fair    Instead of taking over a handy field, this takes place in the avenues and alleyways of Pezenas.   There was a carnival atmosphere with live music and sunshine and an air of bonhomie.

The antiques are, naturellement, very French and exhorbitantly expensive.   Lovely to look at and to wander amongst though.

 

A yummy plate of paella (we are very near the Spanish border!) …

…. and then home.

Off to the Frog Fair (Fête de Grenouilles) at St. Genies de Fontedit today.   Legs will be eaten.    But not by me.