Wednesday, 21 May 2025

Memory-provoking objects


Not the plate, although that does evoke a vague memory of a brocante somewhere, or the fruit - not often a memory provoker, or perhaps if you'd had a romantic episode under an apricot tree or something it might be. The knife is the souvenir here.

Ezra and I were down on the French south coast in our favourite place of that time - Cerbère. Having to drive back home, we'd decided to take the long rather vertiginous route up above Banyuls sur Mer and picnic somewhere. Food bought in a Carrefour on the way up there, I realised we hadn't brought a knife with us, so bought a pack of four cheap, wood handled knives - the sort a hunter might use to carve up a saucisson while perched on a rock under a cork tree, dog panting in the shade, cicadas rasping . . . 

No hunting dog, possibly the old Italian greyhound - can't recall which dog stage we were at at that point in time - but we had sought out the shade of a cork tree and armed with our new knives had proceeded to carve up fruit and cheese rather than charcuterie. It was probably the most perfect picnic, nothing exotic, no wild salmon or champagne - basic fare but heightened in taste because of everything experienced in that moment: a glittering distant sea, before which lay the orange and white hues of Banyuls; warm herby hillside breezes, stripes of vines, and silence apart from swallows and grasshoppers.

Three of the knives disappeared during various moves or over enthusiastic washing up sessions, but one remains in our new houses's cutlery drawer. I'll make sure it stays there, being used to cut up the occasional apple or pear; a little woody reminder of a favourite time and place.

Saturday, 10 May 2025

House archeology

Our new (old, 50s? 60s?/70s?) house is a maze of discoveries - some wonderful, some less so. From climbing about in the attic it seems as if the original building must have been a small barn or dwelling made of the local stone - Tuffeau', which was added onto at various times during aforementioned epochs. The electricians, on showing me a blunted huge drill, said it's extrêmement custo meaning blooming ek, it's solid, and not going anywhere - which is great news for us, less for them and their equipment.

During the signing for the place the notaire did mention something about a dispute between the owners before us and their previous owners do do with a pig and chicken outbuilding; no sign of it now but there is a large garage that dates back a long time, no doubt without planning. Talking of such a thing . . . these days to put so much as a new down pipe in you have to get permission, but this whole road including our house looks as if things just developed rather than being planned. 

There were apparently 32 windmills along this road, the area presumably covered with wheat fields not vines as is the case now. The vestiges of about five  mills are visible, and we have some very ancient garden walls which maybe housed one of the mills. When I've slowed down from painting walls and trying to arrange building works I'll go down to the archive office and enjoy poking about - love old maps!

    


             The reason why the windmills were up here - highest point around for some distance

An excellent DIY person and myself have been tackling the weird shower room/kitchen on the ground floor and its associated bedroom as I can see we'll probably need financially to start doing B and B again. Of course, in my mind I assumed this would take a day or two but during the house archaeology we have discovered prehistoric glue that refuses to come off under the vile plastic flooring, and hideous polystyrene ceiling tiles that I'd thought . . . yeah, they'll do with a good coat of paint, but they won't, and I remember my mother's daily occupation when we lived in a London flat years ago of re-gluing the various tiles that had gently spiralled down during the night. It's got to be wood which requires a frame, and so on . . .


It'll just take a a day or two . . .

Anyway, it'll all get done and one day the salon/hunting lodge will look great with everything back where it should be when I've finished the walls and the electricians have figured out how to rewire it . . .


temporary (sort of) chaos in the salon


Sunday, 27 April 2025

Guilty

Of eating in . . . KFC.

It was something I said I would never do again - the previous time was in about 1982 when I lived in Brixton. I'd just got mugged (very gently - someone carefully righting my little brown portfolio suitcase that had fallen over while I'd nodded off momentarily; he'd also managed to lift my wallet out of it during said righting) on a tube train. Anyway, I went into KFC as nothing else was open and discovered my wallet had gone, so bought chips and a greasy chicken portion with the cash I had in a pocket. Maybe it was my state of numbness but the 'food' was vile - mega salty and greasy, and led to me stating to myself, never again.

So, fast forward to yesterday.  We'd dashed about buying essential DIY stuff before the giant shed of Bricodepot shut, and then I had a choir concert in a wine/beer bar (odd) just down the road, and I hadn't eaten anything since a bit of cake several hours ago. No time to go home, so what was open? 'Nope, I said - not going in there,' as Mark suggested the eating experiment of going into Mr Kentucky's dive. 'Come on, it'll be . . . interesting, and maybe not as bad as the Golden Arches' - another fairly recent and regretted experiment.

'Okay', I said, 'but no chicken - you've seen the films.'

A bit daft as that's what they sell, but there was a 'veggie' option. We did the screen thing and waited at a grey plastic table in front of a frenzied wallpaper featuring the grinning founder at various life stages.

The stuff arrived. Not very fizzy Pepsi, and my veggie burger which actually tasted of nothing at all, apart from the salt I added and a pathetic lettuce leaf drenched in . . . something. Mark's was worse - a nan bread burger which actually didn't taste, really - no taste at all. I mean, chewing a very old cardboard box might have been more interesting. I suppose the word nan had conjured up a few vague nods to Indian spices. Nope. Nothing. And the fries . . . tiny, no salt and dry, like something you might have found while hoovering the car out.

And the atmosphere . . . hospital waiting room, with added people looking like they were waiting for test results not enjoying eating out. Weird. 

Not happening again. Ever. 



Sunday, 20 April 2025

Pond is where the heart is

Just about every place I've ever lived in - apart from a couple of flats . . . a pond has been added to whatever garden there was, or is - the new house has enough garden to put a small pond in, so we have. A way to go yet as at the moment it's just a blobby plastic shape but a few edging rocks, gravel, plants and welcome frogs/newts sign and it'll soon be adding to the biodiversity of our patch.

A giant honeysuckle bush had to be dug out - was in a very odd place; then I had a good hunt about for a second hand pond but the only ones were vast so NEW it had to be! hopefully it'll last many years/decades . . . Lovely friends came and helped dig/level with sand, and the water butts have been mended so we should be able to fill it soon, and, oh no, I'll have to buy plants . . . there's an amazing garden centre just nearby. I will be strong. Just a few essential things.

                                                     Rather overbearing honeysuckle bush



                                                  where bush was - thanks Phil and Alison

     


                                                        And pond in - thanks Hazel and Pierre



Saturday, 5 April 2025

Landed . . .

So, after many, many weeks of packing, sorting, discarding, arguing about what should be discarded, huge stress, sadness, and much excitement . . . we arrived in our new abode. Each move time we say never again, and this time, yes, NEVER AGAIN.

It was a very odd feeling to leave our beautiful old maison de maitre and its incredible nature garden. Here is . . . not at all beautiful, (the little garden will be), but very quirky, and on a smaller scale, allowing some rest for older person's joints/ back etc.


Chaos of early unpacking


Settled in dog


Our first eve in the house - I managed to get the open fire going.

I write this sitting on a sort of landing with a floor level window through which one can observe cyclists, walkers and luckily very few cars; and beyond, the Loire, the ancient fertile river bed lands, and onto the dark, long humps of forest. 


There is masses to do: unpacking, decorating, and more serious and essential work such as re-wiring, re-doing the stucco, painting etc, but as our friend Justine said over a coffee this morning at the market. Don't stress, just look at the views and it'll all come together - or something like that. He's a good calming influence!


Thursday, 27 March 2025

Walk catalogue

Before we left the South of France almost five years ago to come up to the Loire, I catalogued all our familiar dog walks. And here I am again - about to do the same as we move again. Only up the road fifteen minutes but the walks will suddenly all be different again. No doubt, we'll return from time to time and do some the favourite ones for nostalgia's sake, or not . . . maybe they will be just part of that particular chunk of time.

The walks are twice daily; usually not involving the car, unless the weather requires walking in a wood to escape heavier rain. A good source of exercise for us and dog, and time to think, compose stories/music, or just observe the local birds, seasonal changes, etc.


a few years back on the Vendemies walk.

These and the previous walks all have and had names. The Southern ones: The runny fields - where the dogs could really chase each other, run for long stretches, and be exhausted enough to flop to their respective sofas on returning to the house. Up top - a good half hour workout up a steep hillside just nearby. Up top - big: the long circuit with spectacular views and a vertiginous climb at the beginning, again from the door. Vendemies: a favourite walk which did involve a short drive up a small mountain and through a hamlet with the name - Vendemies. You might encounter Monsieur Oui, Oui, Oui, a delightful old guy who lived in the house on its own surrounded by vine fields. There's a whole post about him somewhere on this blog. Sand and Field: a local walk taking in a river walk, sand for Gala (now no longer with us) and across various fields. And several others, including more suburban ambles such as: The music houses walk.

The walks of around here are more pastoral, paths cutting through fields, views of distant lines of poplars, the further away woods and forest, and the cliffs on the other side of the Loire. 

Some favourite ones: The posh house walk - down the road circuit, taking in the posh house, chalky tracks, corn fields and virtually never any traffic. The dogs walk off lead on most of these walks (Or rather Bali does - we lost Gala a couple of years back). The posh house extension - longer walk involving more chalky paths passing through pasturelands. The Cow House walk: longish walk through woodland paths, past munching cows and horses, the ubiquitous tuffeau stone farmhouses, and eventually through the cow farm's land - not possible after a lot of rain as everything becomes pure mud. The Pumpkin field, more pasture land and a good place to nick a few discarded pumpkins/courgettes or whatever has been harvested that autumn. And, pictured below: the Moulin de Lécé - a walk featuring a hamlet which once had its own church, manor, and windmill; a great walk for imagining times before, the vestiges of life before cars, supermarket visits etc. on this walk we often encounter Jean Paul, my often mentioned hero of organic veg production, digging, weeding or preparing his produce for the next market. 







So, the next walks. These are to be discovered, although we have already tried a few out - long steep walks up and down from the Loire to our new house, walks through vine fields - pretty much as far as you wish to go, and walks into the town, past the chateau and with fascinating views across the river and distant woodlands. There will be a few car and foot walks but I think there will be enough just from the door to satisfy dog and ourselves.

Monday, 24 March 2025

Chickencarnation

Our latest short story production. Tale and narration by me, wonderfully inventive soundtrack by Mark Lockett. 

© Kate A Hardy 2025

Nathan, a worker at Smythe Poultry Products, discovers strange, thick hairs newly emerging from his chest . . .