Days 122-131, 12-21 October 2014, Clotures / Lussac-les-eglises / Magnac-Laval.
In Spain I led a quiet life for 3 months. Here in France, if life gets any quieter I'll need to install some form of life support that screeches loudly if my pulse drops. Having said that, there's a lot to be said for quiet reflection and not spending vital "gallivanting" funds prior to our reunion in December! In any event, it's not like I'm in the middle of nowhere - they even get post here - the dogs molested the postie in her van just the other day. All correspondence can be sent to "Pretty Little Cottage, Back-of-Beyond (aka: a*se end of no-where), 3 kms up the road, Turn Left, France). I am writing in comfort this morning having carted my toast, coffee, cereal and fresh grapes off the vine upstairs for brekkie in bed. Good time for reflecting on things that have made an impression. The stars for one. They have squillions of stars here. When I come upstairs to bed, the night sky is spread out in front of me as a massive cliche of tiny diamonds on black velvet. In fact it is so dark here and there are so few lights in my little hamlet that when I turn my light off I'm pretty sure you can see it from space. The days are still warm (though that's about to change... 28 degrees the other day - aiming for 14 tomorrow and down to 5 overnight). The warmth of the days means a lush perfume surrounds the grape vine, even after dark when the smell wafts through my window. It's an ongoing battle of the wills at the moment. Between me, birds, snails, massive hornets and generally speaking, bugs. Who can get through the grapes on the vine before the frosts start. I think I'm winning. Each morning I pop out and snip a few bunches, ensuring to use the scissors to knock off any tiny interlopers and snip the dodgy grapes off before going indoors. I really am getting quite tough in a Wild Colonial Girl meets Cinderella kind of way. I still won't be getting my fire making badge any time soon (thank heavens for petro-chemical fire-starters), but I don't run screaming into the mist at the sight of a tiny snail on my grapes anymore. I was particularly brave the other day - as anyone who knows me will attest, I've handled snakes, don't mind spiders (they eat bugs) and am quite an extreme sports woman having sky-dived, scuba dived to significant depths with sharks and turned my hand to skiing. But. I REALLY HATE SLIMEY THINGS. Earth worms included. Anyway, the other day there was a leaf on the kitchen floor. It happens. About 5 inches long. Brown. Curled up into a long slim shape. It was only a couple of hours later when I noticed the "leaf" had made serious progress across the floor that I looked closer (never, ever, look closer) and realised it was a slimey, slithery sluggy monster. ARRRGGGHHH! Then one of the dogs nudged it with his nose. Probably scared the slug more than it scared me but still. Ran screaming for the fire irons and managed to nudge this monstrosity onto the little shovel and up and out the door in order to heave it to the far distant reaches of the garden. Brrrr. On a positive note, snails and what not are much more manageable and I dropped some grapes down to my neighbour as thanks for the half dozen still warm eggs she'd given me the other day. They simply don't get much more free-range than here. Yesterday was trip to town for groceries day and my neighbour and I headed into Magnac-Laval (pictured) just 12 kms from home. I discover new things every day here - for instance, almost everything is closed on Mondays in this part of France. Even the Tabac where I was planning to buy my Euromillions lottery ticket (€180 million draw tonight!) Even, funnily enough, the town tourism office. Need to arrive on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Friday for tourism purposes. Did however find another Tabac that was open tucked in behind the church and also, joy of joys an open Boulangerie (Bakery). I requested a small quiche and an almond croissant and the almond croissant was lost in translation and when I got my bakery bag home found that it was a bready product with some strange, possibly pork, mystery meat tucked inside. But the quiche was scrumptious and went down a treat as a post-grocery/pre-dinner nibble with a glass of Moelleux - a white from Bordeux (via Magnac's Intermarche supermarket!) Magnac was so incredibly quiet that if anyone was planning a shooting rampage they would have to go door to door. I'm finding rural France to be very gray after the light, white and colour of Spain. Cars are mostly white or gray, buildings seem not to have changed since the war. Obviously very subjective and at heart I guess I am a town girl so it's lucky France has Paris and that's my next stop - the City of Light and Love and all that jazz and of course our reunion after almost six months. I've been utilising my limited French reasonably successfully - enough to eat, shop and be polite - a bit like an old bike, it gets me around. Still working on the Spanish which will come in handy as we're back to the Costa del Sol for six weeks in mid-February. I've just now lit the fire as the weather, wind and rain has blown in and the temperature has dropped. Going down to 6 degrees tonight. If it gets any colder I'll be counting the temperature on one hand.