Second hand stuff

Anyone familiar with this blog will know that we attempt to buy everything second hand - drawing the line at pants, pressure cookers and socks for Mark - as no-one else has feet as big as his, so not much of a S.H market.

I'd been checking 'le bon coin' for some weeks hoping to find an inexpensive, very small boat. We are fortunate to have a river that runs through our property - marvellous except it's impossible to clear away the brambles and dead wood that accumulate around the inaccessible river banks. Wading in isn't possible as there's a couple of feet of mud on the bed, so I figured the only way was said small boat.

After ignoring several ads for cheap but hole-ridden specimens I opted for a mid price fishing 'barque' at half the new price, and made by BIC - not remotely biro-shaped, luckily. I went to collect it, admired the blokes super upgrade to real fishing boat and drove back feeling accomplished,

It's probably one of the top five things we've purchased on the B.Coin - solid, double layered, stable and totally does the job. And it's made me recall how much I love messing about in boats . . . Hmm, house boat . . . not practical with 6ft 6 husband.

 

A december walk along the Canal du Midi

We parked at Le Somail, a tiny village about half an hour from Carcassonne, leashed the manic dogs and set off on a circular walk - or, actually, more elongatedly-triangular, taking in the village of Salles' D'Aude about half way round. Odd name - seems to translate as 'the rooms of the Aude', but maybe means something else . . .
A perfect winter day for walking - sunshine, no wind, and no other dogs about to provoke stress-inducing barking episodes. Sadly, quite a few of the plane trees that grace the canal banks have been cut (due to some malignant tree-pest), the dates off their executions marked in red on each trunk's sawn base.
About an hour into the walk the planes stop as the coastal influence starts and elegant pines appear - Alep, or umbrella, I'm not sure, but just the most beautiful trees.

                                

                                

        

We ate an appalling picnic (laughing cow cheese, white bread and chocolate mousse) and enjoyed the sun as it winked through the waving river grasses, then slightly more wearily continued on past rotting boats and gleaming cared-for boats, and turned right into the village which was completely deserted except for a few cats sitting about. The last section of the walk was through open fields with distant views of crinkly brown mountains; still no one about, and apart from an occasional farting moped or misplaced gull, complete and wonderful silence surrounded us.