tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66935326944776226982024-03-05T10:28:21.280+01:00Landing in NormandyPersonal views and experiences of time in Normandy, and France in general. In 1990 my wife and I bought a little cottage in Normandy (one room, loo a hole in the garden), for holidays, renovated it into a very pleasant two bedroom house. We retired in 2010, and have now moved to a bigger house, still in Normandy, about 20 miles from Mont St Michel.
All photographs ©ManchePaul - all rights reserved, contact me for permissions
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-10647703847988843022013-11-10T19:21:00.000+01:002013-11-10T19:21:42.238+01:00Workers menus<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I first started coming to France often, in the early 1970s, finding so many good, cheap restaurants serving fresh, interesting food was a constant surprise. At that time, Britain was only just beginning to contemplate the idea of food as a pleasure, rather than a refuelling exercise. <a href="http://books.google.fr/books?id=5PbUYzYe-xMC&printsec=frontcover&dq=elizabeth+david&source=bl&ots=U3wKkm8TSv&sig=NnaOJTqMEb6m5rZ0toJdJNdHACE&hl=fr&ei=fYmwS6LdDMit4Qah4IzFDw&sa=X&oi=book_">Elizabeth David</a>'s books had started a trend, but there was a long way to go.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apart from Chinese and Indian places, a few Italian restaurants and the Berni Inn steak houses, most towns had no restaurant at all, never mind one worth the name. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There were the hotels catering for commercial travellers, and the places that catered for weddings etc, but the food was boring, overcooked, and unimaginative. A few pubs were moving on from the stale sandwiches and plastic pies, but then only into simple grills and fry ups. Having to move around the country for my work, I despaired of ever finding any reasonable place to eat with good food anywhere in the country. Even in London, there were not that many restaurants, other than in the very grand hotels like the Dorchester and the Ritz, way outside my income.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was a feed back loop going on, of course. Because there was no British tradition of eating out regularly, there was no demand for restaurants. Because there were no restaurants, no one went out to eat.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I remember at that time a German firm was looking at various places to set up a new, large factory, and Birmingham council was trying hard to attract them there, rather than somewhere in Italy or France. One of what the council saw as a strong attraction was the low wages that would have to be paid to get the right staff. The German management looked at the figures, and said 'But how can one of the workers afford to take his family out for dinner on Saturday night on those wages?' Birmingham said that no working people would do that, or want to, or expect to be able to. The Germans said that they did not want to be in the business of exploiting people, and that they wanted employees with more ambition and life, and set up their factory somewhere else.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the 70s, most British Francophiles knew about the <a href="http://www.relais-routiers.com/">Relais Routiers</a> organisation. All the lorry drivers (<i>routiers</i>) used their guides to the best roadside restaurants catering for them, by having very large car/lorry parks, and providing very good lunches at reasonable prices. The idea that lorry drivers would expect to have a good quality, freshly prepared three or four course lunch every day was pretty extraordinary. That most of the meals cost very little in Brtisih terms, and usally included wine in the price, was a revelation. As was the fact that the drivers wanted to sit down at a table with others, and take two hours over their lunch. For us deprived Brits, particularly as for part of the 70s we were only allowed a very small amount of foreign currency each year (you collected it from a bank who recorded how much in your passport, and there were no credit cards), these relais were enough to justify a visit to France in themselves.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Relais Routiers organisation is still going strong. The difference these days is that wine is not always included. The same tradition of good, fixed price, cheap meals of course is still important in France. Every where you go, there are bistros, cafés, auberges and restaurants with signs saying '<i>Menu Ouvrie</i>r' - workmens' menu - usually at around 8 to 12€ all in. Because of the catastrophic exchange rate, prices in France seem high to us, but are not in terms of French earnings. 8-12€ is in French terms really equivalent to about £5-6 - the same as a takeaway sandwich and coffee in London. But what you get is a choice of starter, such as a goat cheese salad, paté, hard boiled eggs with mayonnaise, or similar, or a buffet of all of them, followed by a choice of a steak, or pork chop, or beef stew or regional specialities, then two or three pieces of different cheese, then a dessert such as créme brulée, chocolate mousse or apple pie. Of course as much fresh bread as you want. In many places there are bottles of wine on the table, usually ordinaire, and you pay for (approximately) how much you drank: can be as much as 3€ for the whole bottle. Compare all this with a plateful of crap 'n' cholestorol for the same price in a greasy spoon truckstop in the UK.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Britain has improved beyond anything I could have contemplated thirty five years ago. There are many good, decent restaurants serving real food almost everywhere. Of course there are chains of rubbish places selling artifical pizzas, microwaved and boil in the bag ready meals, and other pretend food (tip: avoid places where you see a Brakes Bros or 3665 lorry making a delivery - they will be serving mass produced stuff in most cases). An aspect of this is that you can now eat as well in England as France, if you are careful, and at the same prices. That is a miracle.</span></span></div>
</div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-42253811796330205612013-11-10T17:11:00.000+01:002013-11-10T17:11:47.123+01:00Remembrance Day ceremony in a small village<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">In
France, as in the UK, there are local commemorations of those killed
in wars, in most villages. November 11 is an official public holiday.
French administration is organised at its lowest level in communes,
which can be as large as a major city, or as small as a village: the
smallest near where I live has just 74 people., and ours now has
about 260. Each commune has an elected mayor and council, a budget,
and some significant powers. The mayor is the first port of call
about any issue, from planning to roads to neighbour disputes.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Today,
Sunday 1</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">0</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
November 2013, I went to the wreath laying ceremony in the commune in
which I live. The actual ceremonies start with a mass in the church
in the nearest small town, organised for all the small villages
around. Although every village has a church, there are no longer
priests. Even thirty years ago most of them would have had their own,
powerful, cu</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">r</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">é,
</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">but
as the old priests died they were not replaced. Now, there are some
priests – mostly from Francophone Africa, </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">interestingly
-</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
who serve half a dozen or more parishes, much as vicars in the UK,
and hold masses, conduct funerals, christening</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">s</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,
marriage ceremonies, wherever and whenever they can. I did not
attend the church ceremony.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">From
the church, </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">the
next step takes place at the war memorials in the individual
villages. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
is a guard of honour, made up from </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>anciens
combatants</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
(former soldiers) </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">from
the commune,</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
with flags of their regiments, or in one case, that of the group of
former prisoners of war, who stand to attention facing the memorial.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">These
guards of honour also attend </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">the
</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">funerals
of f</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">ormer
soldiers. When our friend Robert died in 2003, there were fourteen
flags carried at his funeral, but each year there are fewer old
soldiers left, and fewer of them who can hold up a heavy flag. There
were six at a funeral of a neighbour that I attended a few months
ago, and only two today at the commemoration. There is no one left
from the first world war, and as we get to the 70</span></span><sup><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">th</span></span></sup><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
anniversary of D-day and the battle for Normandy, all those who
fought then </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">are</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
in their eighties and nineties. Even those from the Algerian war are
now pensioners. Soon, there will be no flags.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
mayor said that we are there to honour those who died, and read out
the names of all those from the commune who were killed in 1914-18.
As he said each name he paused, and everyone murmured '</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Mort
pour la France</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">',
died for France. There are 29 names, including four from one family.
At the time the commune had a population of about 600, most of whom
were agricultural workers, and many of those were exempt from the
military because of the need to keep producing food, so the deaths
were a </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">high
proportion of those who went to war. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">He
read out four names from the second world war the same way.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">One
former soldier laid a wreath at the foot of the memorial, the mayor
asked for a minute's silence, and then it was over.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">T</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">here
were 21 people at the ceremony, mostly elderly, a few children. We
then went to the </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>mairie,</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
the town hall, across the road from the memorial, for the traditional
</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>vin
d'honneur</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
, a glass of champagne. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
few minutes later, the people from the ceremony in the next commune
arrived to share the wine; next year </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">we</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
will go to their mairie. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">T</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">onight,
as every November 10, there is a communal meal in the </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Salle
des F</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>êtes,</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">used
for all sorts of official events like voting, for celebrations and
private functions. Most of the</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">m</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
have stages at one end, and are used for theatrical and musical
events as well. Ours is the former school, and large enough for about
120 people to </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">s</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">it
down to eat. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
meal will be an aperitif, probably a kir, an entree, a main course of
grilled ham in a chive sauce, a wedge of camembert, and a dessert. It
costs 13 euros, under £11. You have to take your own plate, cutlery
and glass. There will be live music, and dancing until very late.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There
is no tradition of wearing poppies in France. There is therefore no
absurd pressure on everyone in the public eye to start pinning them
on themselves from mid October. But the commemorations are sincere,
and matter even to those who do not go. This was occupied France, and
that time, and the subsequent battles and destruction of many towns
and lives, is still felt.</span></span></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-9514557061473219132013-10-03T17:39:00.001+02:002013-10-03T18:47:24.860+02:00 A thing that goes beep in the night<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">A
couple of months ago we had finished dinner with some friends who had
arrived for a visit, when we heard an electronic beep, which repeated
regularly every five seconds or so. Not too loud, but insistent.
After 10 minutes we started to think it must be some sort of
electronic alarm, and that we should perhaps pay attention to it.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
beeps seemed to be coming from outside the house, but we could not pin
point exactly where. We suggested to our friends that it might be some sort of warning
alarm on their car, which they had only recently bought, and which
was parked right beside the house on the drive. So we got them to go
and check it, but couldn't find any cause. A few minutes later the
beeping stopped, and we all relaxed.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Next
night it started again. Perhaps it was somewhere inside the house?
Someone said that smoke alarms beep when their batteries are running
low, so we took the batteries out of all of them. Still the beeps. We
switched off every electrical thing that was running, except the
lights. Then we switched them off one by one. Still the beeps. Just
as we were about the switch off the electricity at the mains, the
beeps stopped.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
next night was silence. The following night it started again. Still
impossible to pin point the source location, but there it was,
beep....beep...beep... Walking around outside it appeared that the
noise might just be coming from a loosely covered concrete box sunk
in the ground below a tap beside the front door. When we bought the
house, the previous owner had suddenly abandoned a very extensive
renovation and extension of the house half way through, several years
earlier. This box had pipes, and also a bunch of electrical wires
which were apparently intended to supply power to a building
replacing a barn down the garden, a shed/workshop, electrically
powered gates and other lights. It looked as if the wires led under
the garden, but they went through the wall into the house and then
disappeared; we never found out where they went. But perhaps those
wires were connected somewhere, and the beep was coming from that.
Looking in the box showed nothing but concrete, gravel, pipes and
earth.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
following morning we spoke to the electrician who had done the work
for us on the house, and asked if he had any thoughts. He said 'it's
a toad'.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Didn't
believe him. Could not be a live thing,, it was electronic. He said
it was, and that he had other clients with the same toad in their
gardens. I bet him a bottle of decent wine it was not a toad.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
next night, the noise was back, and a bit louder. I looked in the
concrete box again, and this time I saw it. A tiny toad, about an inch
long, lurking behind a stone. It was raining, so I was not going to
lie on the gravel and reach down to catch it. But the following
night, the beep was back, but even louder. As I opened the door, there was
the toad, on the bootscarper. I picked it up carefully, and put it in the hedge a hundred
yards from the house. Two nights later it was back, and this time I
put it in a hedge several hundred yards away. I gave the electrician a
bottle of good claret.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
bit of subsequent research showed it was a midwife toad, a species
where the male attaches the spawn to his legs and carries it around
until the eggs are ready to hatch into tadpoles, when it finds some
water and lets them loose. No, I had never heard of it either. It is
fairly common in France, and since then I have heard them at other people's
houses.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As
a postscript, there is now another one – or perhaps the same one,
not possible to tell – in residence in the rockery by our back
door. We hear it most nights, but now we know what it is take no
notice. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You
can find information about the toad here:
</span></span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_midwife_toad">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_midwife_toad</a>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">and
if you click on the video on the left half way down the page, you
will be able to hear it. There is a lot of other background noise on
the sound track, but the beeps start at about 25 seconds in.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Related posts: <a href="http://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6693532694477622698#editor/target=post;postID=8734294619775325336;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=15;src=postname">slow worms, lizards</a> <a href="http://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6693532694477622698#editor/target=post;postID=3193923489414135361;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=42;src=postname"> </a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><a href="http://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6693532694477622698#editor/target=post;postID=3193923489414135361;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=42;src=postname">Salamanders </a> and toads</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: s%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<br />
<br /></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-79670564291429064432013-09-30T18:15:00.000+02:002013-12-04T17:04:59.078+01:00History and heavy metal in France<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">It
seems to me to that wherever one goes in France, there are causes for
astonishment. If it is not a sudden view of a huge chateau, still
privately owned and not open to the public (almost everywhere), it is
a village you have never heard of which is still entirely medieval
(like </span><a href="http://www.mayenne-tourisme.com/Decouvrez/Villes-et-villages-de-caractere/Sainte-Suzanne" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">Sainte
Suzanne</a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"> in Mayenne), or a tiny little place with a three times
life size </span><a href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tourville-sur-Sienne" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">statue</a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">
of a 17C man in a huge wig called Anne – the man, not the wig
(Tourville-sur-Sienne, Manche). But there are other surprises as
well.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">If
you keep off the autoroutes, and stick to the N and D roads, you will
encounter places well worth a stop. We were returning north from a
holiday in Provence, and stopped for lunch in a town called <a href="http://www.mairie-clisson.com/">Clisson</a>,
in Loire Atlantique 44, 15km to the south east of Nantes. We chose
it because we came to it en route, and it was lunch time. What we
discovered was a splendid old town, beside the confluence of the
Sevre Nantaise and Moine rivers. It has one of the best preserved 15C
covered markets, where the woodwork causes keen carpenters to come
over a bit faint and dizzy with admiration. It also has the remains
of a very imposing castle, which is open to visit. The town was
damaged in the 18C in the war of the Vendee, and has an interesting
history.</span></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXN0F8J2oeCe3ln2pycBYnc2tL1x48D4aZRGetCbv5D6DE2igf63O9Es0xu4jbDlLH5QNkBTaAvaalxIBx1NyUvnBB9xl4ZKEJ8R9UWIRa0u-hi3xh3VKti2cweD4raKeZwuKt6i5RBmM/s1600/Clisson+09-11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXN0F8J2oeCe3ln2pycBYnc2tL1x48D4aZRGetCbv5D6DE2igf63O9Es0xu4jbDlLH5QNkBTaAvaalxIBx1NyUvnBB9xl4ZKEJ8R9UWIRa0u-hi3xh3VKti2cweD4raKeZwuKt6i5RBmM/s640/Clisson+09-11.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 15C market hall at Clisson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcqhQnCcs4jhZ1bt9LGMBPvPZ7RMkCrEBRSiw1bySf_KaA4DxQEWwgGLVF9U8ThGTYIAqTJSCgPHMcJF5_f2y_S0AjomLFbuCkdp3lhENuY8pPlhnI6Rf8DLyqEnperBccNebmJiOlp4/s1600/Clisson+09-24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcqhQnCcs4jhZ1bt9LGMBPvPZ7RMkCrEBRSiw1bySf_KaA4DxQEWwgGLVF9U8ThGTYIAqTJSCgPHMcJF5_f2y_S0AjomLFbuCkdp3lhENuY8pPlhnI6Rf8DLyqEnperBccNebmJiOlp4/s320/Clisson+09-24.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The castle ruins at Clisson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfR3XZ7yuPUrHH6I-QfYjxHIlZx-_NgHc1JW5jkKkzOlyva1RiDM_m4fF-YAjxgWMcKkAuxgKSqyCwb71M7AVMgpefgLUHKlho_xx5hxO54x016LbPibkrNvihh8eXhVpqw_fBogOAsg/s1600/Clisson+09-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfR3XZ7yuPUrHH6I-QfYjxHIlZx-_NgHc1JW5jkKkzOlyva1RiDM_m4fF-YAjxgWMcKkAuxgKSqyCwb71M7AVMgpefgLUHKlho_xx5hxO54x016LbPibkrNvihh8eXhVpqw_fBogOAsg/s320/Clisson+09-49.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgUB0p87zhfYcwEmgdaFLBeM1MoMPkLyi_cYXndwBYZhoPDe5F5HPihCrCYLi8RMkIIZ8EqPPT7fD9wwG3Ms8hPE2gXJAt7_p6K3UD8pRTPfhyKTR_MR1ocaEhZWeAVM8ubUQeePls1c/s1600/Clisson+09-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="clear: left; display: inline !important; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;">W</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;">e went through Clisson again in June, and stopped for a coffee. As we entered, there were a number of signs saying roads were closed. There were also signs advertising a three day heavy metal rock festival in Clisson that weekend.</span></div>
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
festival is an annual event, and is called <a href="http://www.hellfest.fr/artistes">Hellfest</a>.
This year, the top of the bill bands were Kiss, ZZTop, Def Leppard
and Whitesnake. There were nine stages, and about 100 bands in all,
so serious stuff. There were a lot of hairy heavy metallers wandering
around, many of them carrying tents and bags.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">We
sat outside a cafe looking into the market hall, and ordered our
coffees. A group of half a dozen men walked towards the cafe. They
all had long straggly hair, long straggly beards, torn jeans, dark
t-shirts with band names, and a real swagger. I hoped they were not
going to stop and sit at the other tables at the cafe. The last time
I encountered heavy metals fans in the UK, there was a lot of
swearing, abuse, and threats of violence. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">But
these were French heavy metal fans. As they got to the tables, they
all said 'Bon jour, monsieur-dame' and sat down. They ordered,
between them, two coffees, one beer, two of those horrid looking pink
alcoholic drinks the French like, and one glass of rouge. They
chatted away about bands, the festival, the weather, and their
friends. When we left, they all said 'Au revoir, bon journee'.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Another cause for astonishment.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><b>Update December 4, 2013:</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">The line up of artists for Hellfest 2014 was announced today. Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Aerosmith and Deep Purple are the main attractions (?), with 130 odd other bands, or 130 odd bands as the case may be. The dates for those interested are 20-22 June, tickets on sale but apparently going fast.</span></span></div>
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ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-3461301772480769922013-09-04T18:58:00.000+02:002013-09-29T15:50:59.303+02:00La Rentrée – Back to School<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">In
the second half of August, all the French supermarkets suddenly have
vastly expanded stationery ranges, and are full of mothers and
children clutching lists and walking up and down the aisles with
anxious expressions. This is La Rentrée, the start of back to school
in a couple of weeks.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
reason this is a huge issue is because French schoolchildren have to
provide their own notebooks, pens and other materials. Central
government issues a list specifying the minimum, of at least 25 things in varying quantities depending on the age of the students and each school adds
its own requirements. The shops have huge huge banners on the
subject of La Rentrée. Not just the supermarkets, but the sports
goods chains. The thick weekly catalogues that the postman/woman put
in our letter boxes every Monday are the same. Click here to see a
<a href="http://catalogue007.com/e.leclerc/Catalogue-Leclerc-Rentree-Scolaire-2013/index.html">weekly
catalogue</a> from LeClerc, the equivalent of Tesco. Many supermarkets have schemes for parents to send the lists provided by their children's schools, and then cost them and package them for collection.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This
year the typical minimum cost of everything each child needs is about
135€, well over £100; there are grants for people on low incomes,
but it is still a burden.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And
on the subject of burdens, it is astonishing how much stuff French
kids have to carry to and from school every day. Not just a simple
satchel. Nor a lunchbox: all children must eat school meals and lunch
boxes are not permitted. Materials, notebooks, text books, equipment
and other things, adding up to a fair weight. Even five year olds in
their first year have backpacks. Increasingly, children are using
wheeled luggage bags. The fourth page of the LeClerc catalogue
illustrates this. There is a campaign to try to reduce the amount of
stuff kids have to carry, prompted by the number of children
developing back problems.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
does seem to me a bit unfair to have children concentrating on the
start of school weeks before they actually have to do it, and it is a
cost for families. But maybe the system also teaches children to
value and look after their school stuff.</span></span></span></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-11876678825280215792013-08-06T14:44:00.000+02:002013-09-05T02:30:39.100+02:00Swallowtail butterflies and a fennel bush<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">A
few years ago, I bought a bronze fennel bush at a garden centre
specialising in herbs, near Chesterfield in Derbyshire. We kept it
in a pot on our roof terrace in London, where it quietly survived. We
then then took it to Normandy when we moved here, put in in a proper
garden, and it has thrived: this year it reached nearly two metres.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70Y93_xlL67euvClRi9UJG6OiWr8JVZSrPQ5Z7EIV4KBdnHf5pycPDFIG8z49DWw0otRr5qfnCFVK8fx-uK9TtCRFWz2x-OFMncXwSekJoS93Ro0LReE5l7lSdIPDR8Ly_mNE2sQ0tJM/s1600/Fennel+bush.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70Y93_xlL67euvClRi9UJG6OiWr8JVZSrPQ5Z7EIV4KBdnHf5pycPDFIG8z49DWw0otRr5qfnCFVK8fx-uK9TtCRFWz2x-OFMncXwSekJoS93Ro0LReE5l7lSdIPDR8Ly_mNE2sQ0tJM/s320/Fennel+bush.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It
is not the bulb fennel, sometimes called Florentine fennel, sold in
supermarkets and elsewhere for use in salads and with fish. This one
starts with intensely bushy stalks, thickly covered with fronds; bit
like dill on steroids. Gradually the stalks get longer and the fronds
more separated. Eventually, it produces a host of yellow flower
heads, flat with a mass of tiny flowers, like all the umbelliferae
plants. These flowers are covered with bees, hoverflies and other
insects. Finally the flowers turn to seeds. I gather these and keep
them for cooking. Their liquorice taste adds a deep flavour to
stocks, soups and sauces, to some salads, and as a component of any
spicy dish. I probably use them at least five times a week. In
winter, the plant just dies back to the ground.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Each
year, for a day or two, in late may or June, we have a swallowtail
butterfly or two flying in the garden, and always ending up on the
fennel. Then we have caterpillars, starting as small, dull things a
centimetre or two long, but within days becoming three times the
size, and turning black and green. They sit on a stalk and eat the
fronds until all that is left is the stalk, and they move to another.
They don't damage the plant; unlike some pest species, there are
usually only up to a dozen. Three weeks later they have all gone,
each turned into a chrysalis out of sight. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVy0mQqudh1Mp0MLBR4YufZ119N060nuYmHDPkgVDhrd2S9ZFtZZhuAPTQ3Hf28S2RKhaMVpZIOvsAVpTKGwShyphenhyphenBX1XLPY3lEMfaJ7k4MASuo6WcJAQfDyMf1ERvElqIfX2LnEjAyQigg/s1600/Swallowtail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVy0mQqudh1Mp0MLBR4YufZ119N060nuYmHDPkgVDhrd2S9ZFtZZhuAPTQ3Hf28S2RKhaMVpZIOvsAVpTKGwShyphenhyphenBX1XLPY3lEMfaJ7k4MASuo6WcJAQfDyMf1ERvElqIfX2LnEjAyQigg/s640/Swallowtail.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9JuQQVhB7Je_o4fy34spwqJ3VN9OwlWr4zQBsYdjO9bqAbA36_3jy117CNrLub9hekLHZn93Q3O1SM3BYjburZd2s5HGZu4Tf3wjnF6T9trIhtypr_YFJzcXER0p_4Jh-lHN8MXhRDA/s1600/Swallowtail+profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9JuQQVhB7Je_o4fy34spwqJ3VN9OwlWr4zQBsYdjO9bqAbA36_3jy117CNrLub9hekLHZn93Q3O1SM3BYjburZd2s5HGZu4Tf3wjnF6T9trIhtypr_YFJzcXER0p_4Jh-lHN8MXhRDA/s400/Swallowtail+profile.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtG_rl52o36X62_hzKxbtatDVkP2NMDu5tv27AswyuN84zKlT0VPnOM1PtRFVNF8_YjC5m46hUu6-gKX7hmlbpQx73FufjqQvLELPlYDqL89U_ZWVBYZ4IsO4qCPczxak5PFDEtwaRT0/s1600/Swallowtail+caterpillar+on+fennel+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtG_rl52o36X62_hzKxbtatDVkP2NMDu5tv27AswyuN84zKlT0VPnOM1PtRFVNF8_YjC5m46hUu6-gKX7hmlbpQx73FufjqQvLELPlYDqL89U_ZWVBYZ4IsO4qCPczxak5PFDEtwaRT0/s320/Swallowtail+caterpillar+on+fennel+1.JPG" width="274" /></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This
year This year (2013) there has been a second brood, with four more
caterpillars on the bush in August.</span></span></span><br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">All photographs </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 18px;">©ManchePaul</span></span></div>
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ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-4899444008784471572013-08-04T19:55:00.000+02:002013-08-05T02:02:54.273+02:00Ecological beach cleaning<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">St
Martin de Brehal is a seaside resort near Granville, in the Bay of
Mont St Michel. It has a couple of miles of sandy beaches, a
restaurant, a bar/brasserie, and a standard bar, plus a couple of shops
selling beach stuff. At one end of the beach there are commercial
mussel beds, which are visible at low tide.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNQ6oFnR-HKD3v_aoD2LsRTd-keGNuXfn8CxysLw_Lia3x0JffIe3mBsiuK8o8c2Y5jX7Hm-14duHBR0FneajSkoPrEGmwtoSmxhWyuhMKpRmAqNAY1biQEueVAjtN7tAEDo7_6K1XSQ/s1600/St+Martin+de+Brehal+01-08-13+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNQ6oFnR-HKD3v_aoD2LsRTd-keGNuXfn8CxysLw_Lia3x0JffIe3mBsiuK8o8c2Y5jX7Hm-14duHBR0FneajSkoPrEGmwtoSmxhWyuhMKpRmAqNAY1biQEueVAjtN7tAEDo7_6K1XSQ/s640/St+Martin+de+Brehal+01-08-13+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Martin de Brehal looking towards Granville, August 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Like
most French beaches, local equivalents of bye laws forbid playing
radios, and taking dogs on the beach from May to October. Unlike many
British beaches, St Martin de Brehal has no litter problem. This is
partly because in general the French take their rubbish away with
them, and the French are very keen on keeping everything <i>propre –
</i>clean and tidy.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Nonetheless,
in high summer when there are a lot of people on the beach, some
litter does appear. Some of it is odd bits of paper that blew away
unnoticed, some is just odd items overlooked in the chaos of a family
with a couple of young children trying to gather up all the clothes,
toys, and other stuff they had to bring, and some of it is brought in
from who knows where by the tide. The rubbish has always been
collected at the end of the day, not a big job.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A
week ago, when the temperature was over 30 degrees in the shade, and
the summer season is well under way, I was sitting on the beach while
my wife and a friend paddled in the sea, after a good dinner in the
restaurant. Behind us, the few bits of rubbish left on the beach were
being collected.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Each
piece of litter was put in the appropriate dustbin on the donkeys'
backs – the recycling rules are followed everywhere.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8Y6O63-e1RMybqbGPsLCsJY8pG7OwyRD6whEfkVs1Dj6bMrSN5WXozAY28tNjTr59FujTBo_01sXAM6MSr1SS6pmqVEylB1RufYwM4so6hMVYDbShLxrn-59NKbFZGwyRZftrzOrD0g/s1600/St+Martin+donkeys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8Y6O63-e1RMybqbGPsLCsJY8pG7OwyRD6whEfkVs1Dj6bMrSN5WXozAY28tNjTr59FujTBo_01sXAM6MSr1SS6pmqVEylB1RufYwM4so6hMVYDbShLxrn-59NKbFZGwyRZftrzOrD0g/s640/St+Martin+donkeys.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">(There
are other references to St Martin de Brehal, including pictures, on
this blog: <a href="http://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6693532694477622698#editor/target=post;postID=2396805804159419977;onPublishedMenu=overviewstats;onClosedMenu=overviewstats;postNum=66;src=postname">Here</a></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.35cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-22850491593418466522013-04-28T15:09:00.000+02:002013-04-28T15:09:12.382+02:00April 2013: spring may or may not be here<br />
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
winter of 2012-3 was of course pretty dreadful: continuously colder
than usual, and very much wetter than average for Normandy. The snow
in March was so bad that the Ouest France regional newspaper
published a special supplement of facts and photos, with the cover an
aerial picture of the closed A84 motorway with the roofs of abandoned
cars poking through the snow.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">It
was beginning to look as if there would be no end. Until last week.
Sunday was warm, almost hot, the next couple of days back to cool,
then two more hot days. In those two days spring arrived. Primroses
that had been lurking in the hedgerows stood up in everywhere, the
winter skeletons that were blackthorn trees turned white with
blossom, like candy floss, lawns grew two inches. A mistle thrush
built a nest in the cherry tree 20 feet from our door, in a tree that
had no leaves to hide it, but which was half obscured by cherry
blossom the following day. </span>
</span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The delay in spring's arrival has compressed a month or six weeks growth into a week. The pasture beside our garden went from tired dull green to almost throbbing bright green in a day, and turned yellow with dandelions the next, and off white with dandelion seed head two days after that. The usual pattern of primroses, then violets as they fade, then early spotted orchids as they fade, has been overthrown, with all of the spring flowers in full display at the same time.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVLaxtfaxHhY998gEj8UdJYG_kfawA7ODx1TleubS9-mseoyvK2iAIUd9iPnd7YgKHWkchDc_7iPgY8lZymfkE4JuTsys-QE8nc7-DiMYlkPTCVBDu0Ngsa4fDFgaWV1nerjxRAKJvPA/s1600/Pasture+spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVLaxtfaxHhY998gEj8UdJYG_kfawA7ODx1TleubS9-mseoyvK2iAIUd9iPnd7YgKHWkchDc_7iPgY8lZymfkE4JuTsys-QE8nc7-DiMYlkPTCVBDu0Ngsa4fDFgaWV1nerjxRAKJvPA/s640/Pasture+spring.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pasture with dandelions</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWYnLzj2LJ9JFtZduxYFQdfXY5ZAX3odH6LN-Yh5HIHLHtx-jSkgKV4bWLRVuCjQrf8BDBq_yDZI0VLzGv709aXVKS63NZK7LyC6xfLO8s80fbIneTyl82Gg8leVj_T6SPruCnXSp37Q/s1600/Spring+flowers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWYnLzj2LJ9JFtZduxYFQdfXY5ZAX3odH6LN-Yh5HIHLHtx-jSkgKV4bWLRVuCjQrf8BDBq_yDZI0VLzGv709aXVKS63NZK7LyC6xfLO8s80fbIneTyl82Gg8leVj_T6SPruCnXSp37Q/s640/Spring+flowers.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Primroses, violets and dandelions together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZWF_A_dNSwrn1jyoiNy4J-kFwVhIzkP13v4bLWErZaQ4DUpyUbG-gst9n0mdHYmwQh1VhUbC8ROqJdue0NfyFYvT61nQLHPHWEew3Dwyj80cR_qGFqM6I-unzk6U0aJXZPbdg_vIcTs/s1600/Orchid+early+spotted+.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZWF_A_dNSwrn1jyoiNy4J-kFwVhIzkP13v4bLWErZaQ4DUpyUbG-gst9n0mdHYmwQh1VhUbC8ROqJdue0NfyFYvT61nQLHPHWEew3Dwyj80cR_qGFqM6I-unzk6U0aJXZPbdg_vIcTs/s400/Orchid+early+spotted+.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early spotted orchid<br />The leaves, close to the ground<br />have the spots. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An odd effect is that this year, the early spotted orchids are everywhere, not just in ones and twos, but dozens in a square metre and groups over a hundred metres of hedge. This is very pleasing, because over the last few years there have been fewer and fewer orchids appearing.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
quiet of the days has been replaced by the noise of tractors, as
farmers, plough, chalk, harrow, muck spread and sow seeds to try to
catch up after weeks of inactivity in the fields.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It
was a bit strange. After that week the day time temperatures have
been around 10-12, with as low as 0 at night with frost. It may be
that the cold nights will affect this years crops, with the soil
unexpectedly staying too cold for seeds to germinate. Last year,
haricot beans were sown three times, before a crop could be
harvested, and fruit trees produced very little. We had in total one
cherry (a starling actually ate it) on two large, long established
cherry trees, a handful of apples on a tree that the year before had
branches breaking from the weight of the fruit, and a few pears. The
same went for commercial growers: cider apple crops were terrible,
for example.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This spring although there is blossom on some trees,
there are few bees. Normally, the buzzing around a tree in flower can
be heard from yards away. It does not augur well.</span></span></div>
<div class="western">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-29666137396281635022013-02-24T17:56:00.000+01:002013-04-28T15:32:26.794+02:00Lac de la Dathée revisited<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My post in January 2010 about the<a href="http://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6693532694477622698#editor/target=post;postID=9102860932753110719;onPublishedMenu=overview;onClosedMenu=overview;postNum=19;src=link"> Lac de la Dathée</a> has had a lot of visitors, so I thought I might add a bit to supplement it.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There is a golf course on one side of the lake</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> about which I can say nothing because I do not play golf, but I am told it has a good cafe so I might one day call in...</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There have been a lot of floods in this part of Normandy this winter. I live effectively in the valley of the <a href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%A9e">River Sèe</a>, which descends through the hills from<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sourdeval"> Sourdeval,</a> to join the sea at Avranches. Its last 15 miles or more via Brécey and Tirepied is a meander through a long established flood plain.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Most winters there are several occasions where the entire valley turns into a lake 50 miles long by up to 500 yards across. The Lac de la Dathée also flooded again this year, with water flowing over the dam.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, when I went in Autumn, it was calm and very pleasant. Here are some pictures. It is well worth a visit.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nUEhxj6ve6y-flT3iLkGTbmlU7AvgdhgcBNP6SSspgcGeXSOslquAi0mxAXiPh6nBIc91MAcbgkyn96rIjDt-SJXaIo9rJo7mhzfVjCOYdccOued_lujIzcmeRo_4F7DuRIXORrTT3A/s1600/Dathee+autumn+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nUEhxj6ve6y-flT3iLkGTbmlU7AvgdhgcBNP6SSspgcGeXSOslquAi0mxAXiPh6nBIc91MAcbgkyn96rIjDt-SJXaIo9rJo7mhzfVjCOYdccOued_lujIzcmeRo_4F7DuRIXORrTT3A/s640/Dathee+autumn+1.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgazaB3yj-NEC7fdIOM0xKeuxNvpcrk06s6YwhgvEAXsxczT5CDndQNeMeGhqpRorfjHa-T9tbDxbTxmsCsOtm0BJD02Mj92YuUOUN7EIx7TkTnRy8kvlDhDqUiCyYf3e-q9OtNNetDU/s1600/Dathee+Autumn+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgazaB3yj-NEC7fdIOM0xKeuxNvpcrk06s6YwhgvEAXsxczT5CDndQNeMeGhqpRorfjHa-T9tbDxbTxmsCsOtm0BJD02Mj92YuUOUN7EIx7TkTnRy8kvlDhDqUiCyYf3e-q9OtNNetDU/s640/Dathee+Autumn+4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhhFn5D5dWdWzGMecJuX59eDtgZuIH9peFIxdgvIQPlZRx4LkjlOCz5USQ4BQHccThZSqvViOOVhKzCpRxm396cAz8UOMmMyoEEDV1cnnGvGP5MiMgR4qv56UL6mXVkSsYjqaf2RJwy4/s1600/Dathee+Autumn+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhhFn5D5dWdWzGMecJuX59eDtgZuIH9peFIxdgvIQPlZRx4LkjlOCz5USQ4BQHccThZSqvViOOVhKzCpRxm396cAz8UOMmMyoEEDV1cnnGvGP5MiMgR4qv56UL6mXVkSsYjqaf2RJwy4/s640/Dathee+Autumn+6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-44951345846765356782013-02-18T18:37:00.000+01:002013-04-28T15:34:59.759+02:00Fishing on foot in France<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">The
French love of sea food is emphatically demonstrated by the
popularity of</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><i>
la pêche à pied</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">,
literally fishing on foot, every time there is an exceptionally high
and low tide. Thousands of people descend on beaches at low tide,
armed with a variety of tools, and rake and dig and scratch to
collect a bucketful of shellfish, shrimps, crabs and even proper
fish.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">These
tides –</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>
les grandes marées</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
– occur a varying number of times every year, depending on
alignments of earth, moon and sun. There was one on February 11,
which happened to be the first sunny day for weeks, and a Monday when
many people are not working. And best of all, the low tide time was
about 4.00 pm, so that it did not interrupt lunch.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
</span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.france.fr/en/sites-and-monuments/bay-mont-saint-michel"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Bay
of Mont St Michel in Normandy </span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">has
the highest tides in the world – up to 15 metres difference between
high and low. As a result, there are huge amounts of sand and rocks
exposed along the miles of beautiful sandy beaches at the very low
tides. </span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.frenchconnections.co.uk/en/guide/city/119453-st-martin-de-brehal-manche"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">St
Martin de Bréhal, </span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">just
north of Granville is typical. There are commercial farmed mussel
beds apparent at normal low tides, but at les grandes marées the sea
retreats far further out.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So,
after lunch on Monday, hundreds of people went to the beach, men,
women, families, old and young. By mid afternoon there were more
people along the water's edge and in the shallows than on a hot
summer weekend. The sound of the raking could be heard from hundreds
of yards away.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomjvhoAAH3NU72QpZm59Oue6RLYhdJMhuy5p5aLwL8I9znhYWRMdgx1S0LOttLbu3SZmZTs-nc7_wYiqWcayhjAfwkQUUl5ba_s5p65TNeViAi443pL3qX9YhaEPUoGooZ4nI8U5HHdQ/s1600/Peche+a+pied+begins.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomjvhoAAH3NU72QpZm59Oue6RLYhdJMhuy5p5aLwL8I9znhYWRMdgx1S0LOttLbu3SZmZTs-nc7_wYiqWcayhjAfwkQUUl5ba_s5p65TNeViAi443pL3qX9YhaEPUoGooZ4nI8U5HHdQ/s640/Peche+a+pied+begins.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">People of all ages arriving at the beach, armed with special tools</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"> The
Bay here has whelks –</span><span style="color: navy; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.granvilmer.com/granvilmer-english.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
Granville is the biggest whelk producer </span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">in
France – and scallops, both of which are quality controlled and
protected. There are also clams, queen scallops, flatfish such as
flounders, and round fish like sea bass (hard to catch without rod
and line), but also crabs, lobsters, oysters and many other
crustaceans, shellfish, and fish.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6x_grQia_4b5VzlvZo72YAZG0Od8o2-eH3-5skiyrUwvamHBRV4xAeFms1oDL0W1uSmEwXsBkfjOnRFtOMNcX7E8Y_5vC8hmY6yXie5P5agEeMruE05245sW3xGN9y0xskPKceYm23E/s1600/peche+a+pied+group.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6x_grQia_4b5VzlvZo72YAZG0Od8o2-eH3-5skiyrUwvamHBRV4xAeFms1oDL0W1uSmEwXsBkfjOnRFtOMNcX7E8Y_5vC8hmY6yXie5P5agEeMruE05245sW3xGN9y0xskPKceYm23E/s640/peche+a+pied+group.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wading, digging, scratching and raking for a host of creatures</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>la
pêche à pied </i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">is
a long established tradition, but now has to be </span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://www.developpement-durable.gouv.fr/Peche-de-loisirs.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">controlled</span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
to protect resources (link in French). There are limits on how many
of each species can be collected, and on the minimum sizes. One can
buy plastic boards with holes labelled with the species: if an
example goes through the relevant hole, it is too small and must be
put back. The range of species, and the limits for each, at Granville
are in </span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a class="western" href="http://cpagranville.net/cpag-page-220-nav-La%20p%C3%AAche%20%C3%A0%20pied.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">this
table</span></a></u></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
(in French).</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPZCq5FlkUIXKeyWcXu0GTniUDym1inJ43DLaQcNUulhhT7U8uL5T-DOGenuDgiHbFk4ETb6cNquxh4tYM25wdhR_Eb5fJai_FnTPd__2b_4lSoMFWKNxU0AM7oTizJCcJe9F716FPfc/s1600/Peche+a+pied+Granville.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPZCq5FlkUIXKeyWcXu0GTniUDym1inJ43DLaQcNUulhhT7U8uL5T-DOGenuDgiHbFk4ETb6cNquxh4tYM25wdhR_Eb5fJai_FnTPd__2b_4lSoMFWKNxU0AM7oTizJCcJe9F716FPfc/s640/Peche+a+pied+Granville.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">By full low tide, there are thousands of people on the edge or in the water mall along the coasts, as here at St Martin de Brehal, with Granville in the background </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
being France, where laws are obeyed and are enforced (or repealed
after </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>manifestations</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">
– protests, demonstrations and civil disobedience) the vast
majority of people comply with the restrictions. However, some don't,
and the police do carry out raids; the penalties for too much or too
small include fines of up to 22,860€, about £20k . Last year at
several beaches a couple of hundred police, customs and ministry
officials descended and checked every basket and creel. A large
number of people were charged, and had their catch confiscated. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Although
the majority just get enough for a family meal or two, there are some
who are effectively commercial, taking things to sell, and they are
the real target of the rules.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">If
you ask anyone why they do it, there are three main explanations: for
the fun of the outing, for the reward of the hunt, and for the
freshness of the food. Quite right, too.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.4cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Three
hours later, after everyone had gone home, the tide came back and all
but the a ribbon of sand was under water.</span></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-44677568835819511222013-02-10T17:08:00.000+01:002013-04-28T15:11:53.975+02:00Wine and the French<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Everyone knows that
wine is very important to the French. Not only as a valuable industry
in its production and sale worldwide, but in its consumption: the
French drink 47 litres per year each on average, compared with 20
litres in the UK. Just how deeply embedded wine is in all aspects of
life is shown in all sorts of ways that are surprising to people from
other countries. A meal without wine in France is almost
unthinkable, a social gathering without wine is not social, and a
visit to a friend or acquaintance will always start with a glass or
two wine.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My house insurance - a
normal, everyday policy – includes under its list of things covered
automatically <i>votre vin</i> (your wine) to a value of 1782 euros,
because most people will have a stock of wine in their cellar or shed
or a back room.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Every year in January
the mayor of every commune holds a public meeting, to wish everyone
a happy new year, and to report on what happened in the previous
year. In our little commune of 260 people, over 80 turn up for the
meeting, which takes place in the Salle des Fêtes, the meeting room
used for everything from grand meals, private receptions, clubs and
societies, arts and exercise. After his speech, champagne is
served. Similarly, after the Remembrance Day ceremony, and any other
public events, there is a <i>vin d'amitié </i>(wine of friendship)
afterwards. The cost of these wines comes from the local funds, and
the electorate consider it an essential use of taxpayer money. Any
chance of the same thing happening in the UK?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The famous <a href="http://www.relais-routiers.com/">Relais
Routiers</a> – restaurants with enormous carparks for lorry drivers
throughout France - provide three or four course fixed price lunches
for around 8-12 euros. This usually includes a quarter of a litre of
wine (or in Normandy cider as well). When I first started coming to
France in the 1970s, at a time when British food was at its worst but
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_David">Elizabeth
David</a> was having a big effect, the RR were a revelation.
Interesting, varied high quality food, and nothing fried in grease.
They are still enormously good value. In towns, where there is no
space for lorry parks, many small
cafe/bar/bistros/brasseries/restaurants offer a <i>Menu Ouvrier</i>
(workman's meal), essentially the same concept of at least three
courses, usually wine included, for the same sort of prices. Often
the wine is in opened bottles on each table, and you help yourself to
what you want.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Wine buying is an
everyday process, for everybody. Supermarkets have extensive wine
sections , often with wines at several hundred euros a bottle, as
well as cheap everyday quaffing wines. In October, most supermarkets
and wine merchants have <i>Foires au Vins</i> (wine fairs) where they
have a huge range of wines in six or twelve bottle cartons at good
prices. This is because the wine producers have to find room for the
new wine from this year's grape harvest, so sell off existing stock
that is left or reaching the point where it is about to pass its
prime. Many excellent bargains to be had, but you have to go quickly
because all the best wines and best deals sell out very rapidly:
every French person knows a lot about wine.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In common with many
traditional farmers in Normandy, which of course has no wine
production, a friend of ours buys his wine direct from a producer in
Bordeaux. Once a year a tanker turns up, and runs a hose into one of
his outbuildings where a couple of barrels are filled with the
current year's wine. This is drawn off into bottles as needed, and is
not at all bad.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Another local family
has its next generation producing wine in the Loire region, and each
year they come to the village and provide a buffet meal and wine for
all comers, in that village's Salle des Fêtes, with of course
<i>dégustation</i> (tasting) of the currently available wines. A lot
of people turn up, and many order cases for delivery later. The wines
are very palatable and good value.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To look at some more
figures is informative. The British consumption of actual alcohol is
virtually the same as France, 13.37 as opposed to 13.67; alcoholism
rates are virtually identical. The key difference is that the French
virtually always drink with food, even if it is just nibbles with a
glass of white at 6.00pm with a friend, and drink small amounts each
time, whereas the British seem to drink to for its own sake or simply
to get drunk.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Another set of
interesting numbers: the USA average wine consumption is only 7
litres per year, but they consume 216 litres of soft drinks like
colas. This undoubtedly explains their social problems and the bad
tempered aggressiveness that is so prevalent. It certainly can be no
coincidence that their obesity rate is 30% compared with France at
9%.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-53116782527265436492012-12-10T16:05:00.000+01:002013-04-28T15:12:31.289+02:00Abbaye Blanche, Mortain 900 years old<br />
This year is the 900th anniversary of the founding of the Abbaye Blanche in Le Neufbourg, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mortain">Mortain</a>. Unlike the Abbey at Lucerne d'Outremer, which I wrote about in <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.fr/2009/02/abbaye-de-la-lucerne-doutremer.html">this blog </a>post, or the Abbey at Hambye, this is a relatively little known historic place. I only found it because I had a meeting at the nearby bar restaurant, and saw a sign pointing to it down a little road.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegNVIJxrehpPA1RQT8s3RyQYOc3c4wAqRyDNbbh6Dz9xUEIUivyWnCZ4BhDquGJ3tdRHgiNTJvIwaOz0kc17L2kGVNO2259qJ5EIET8uuSO1hIrocOMpY-kP3j82EoIoD5n4_wmR5uI0/s1600/Mortain+abbey+07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegNVIJxrehpPA1RQT8s3RyQYOc3c4wAqRyDNbbh6Dz9xUEIUivyWnCZ4BhDquGJ3tdRHgiNTJvIwaOz0kc17L2kGVNO2259qJ5EIET8uuSO1hIrocOMpY-kP3j82EoIoD5n4_wmR5uI0/s640/Mortain+abbey+07.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L'Abbaye Blanche, Le Neufbourg, Mortain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mortain itself was once important, but is now known for two things: the cascades on the River Rance, and the virtually complete destruction of the town in 1944. Its history has effectively been overwritten. The Abbey survived the war, although the Battle of Mortain was a critical moment when the Counterattack by Germany was halted, mainly because it was beside a key US army control point. A mad US officer had demanded that '<i>Mortain be totally destroyed, so that nothing can live there</i>', and that was very nearly achieved. You can find information from one of the US Army unit's <a href="http://www.737thtankbattalion.org/Mortain/photographs.htm">records</a>, including <a href="http://www.737thtankbattalion.org/Mortain/MortainBW2.gif">photos</a> of the destruction, one of which includes the comment that '<i>now you know why some Frogs (French) hated us: we tore the Hell out of their cities</i>'. For a more unbiased and reliable description of this battle and the whole campaign, Antony Beevor's <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/D-Day-Battle-Normandy-Antony-Beevor/dp/0140285865">D-Day </a>– The Battle for Normandy has the definitive information; this <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/10/09/AR2009100901723.html">Washington Post review</a> is helpful.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdpL5NwFv6S-cJvrt5jnYquUz9Fd_VG4GMPID7Qq1oHwtGlDPXLia91rVAngnbCwbKT72pxIGsusdbxeTtM2qvsFPPZwZEaNwcWJ-ONsZw2cfplZ7qEQBjyKR2Fk4ydUdEFHxeuxGgvr0/s1600/Mortain+abbey+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdpL5NwFv6S-cJvrt5jnYquUz9Fd_VG4GMPID7Qq1oHwtGlDPXLia91rVAngnbCwbKT72pxIGsusdbxeTtM2qvsFPPZwZEaNwcWJ-ONsZw2cfplZ7qEQBjyKR2Fk4ydUdEFHxeuxGgvr0/s320/Mortain+abbey+10.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The seminary (not even all of it) at l'Abbaye Blanche, Mortain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Today, the Abbey is effectively abandoned. The huge seminary still stands, in good shape apart from a couple of broken windows, but has had no priests in training for over 30 years. It is a lovely building, but what purpose could be found for it today? It is just too big for any conceivable use, and in the wrong place for a massive hotel.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzbp93HG3a1ETNoxI83CIbnmabSRapUArP7rwVcb8cy9rvebKq3X4Nm0aIJZnbtn988lp9yi8MVmno3M_eBBtNUuLMyq6PVVjENYVQDlv8QPEbrzo2Id8I1ZlohDFeSCd1mzEhvLyyog/s1600/Mortain+abbey+20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzbp93HG3a1ETNoxI83CIbnmabSRapUArP7rwVcb8cy9rvebKq3X4Nm0aIJZnbtn988lp9yi8MVmno3M_eBBtNUuLMyq6PVVjENYVQDlv8QPEbrzo2Id8I1ZlohDFeSCd1mzEhvLyyog/s320/Mortain+abbey+20.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The cloisters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The abbey church is still used occasionally, like most churches these days, and is open, so one can just walk in and look around. The exterior has cloisters that are very similar to those of the Abbey of Mont St Michel, and may have been built by the same people. Because of the seminary having closed so recently, comparitively speaking, the outbuildings, kitchen gardens, pathways are still there, though decaying.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgC9YKAWaXkjaXLtkKn0fy4qhCi7ji9gIUXhFfMLWgi0PS68TCTXXMwU9NUG8ftbsEJVdUBphRSOyOzfaNPN6JCeRiuVRGEyjEhMks0gHvZ1iEslGtGi3b_la8R_VsFeFeAdHFp1GasU/s1600/Mortain+abbey+19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicgC9YKAWaXkjaXLtkKn0fy4qhCi7ji9gIUXhFfMLWgi0PS68TCTXXMwU9NUG8ftbsEJVdUBphRSOyOzfaNPN6JCeRiuVRGEyjEhMks0gHvZ1iEslGtGi3b_la8R_VsFeFeAdHFp1GasU/s320/Mortain+abbey+19.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The church at l'Abbaye Blanche, Mortain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The interior of the church is elegant, clean, and very unfussy. Interestingly, there is a Green Man carved into a misericord under one of the choir stall seats, only the second have seen in France.<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1Hx-GeGvwKx1_aJkBKb4V8VyZWlt2iXd6Xs5z8RRcY53XffG8nnLOO71DXwUoe6AV-47t1_ltbamxLUDuH2B3IcHwkP-qMTx0ueSs0gtcdTCsavYo5QduFGDb95J_gZW_q9Cobew10Q/s1600/Mortain+abbey+14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1Hx-GeGvwKx1_aJkBKb4V8VyZWlt2iXd6Xs5z8RRcY53XffG8nnLOO71DXwUoe6AV-47t1_ltbamxLUDuH2B3IcHwkP-qMTx0ueSs0gtcdTCsavYo5QduFGDb95J_gZW_q9Cobew10Q/s320/Mortain+abbey+14.JPG" title="Green Man at l'Abbaye Blanche, Mortian" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">A Green Man carved on a misericord</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-55774593452252886922012-11-17T18:15:00.000+01:002012-11-17T19:54:51.912+01:00Cycling in France<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You will have read that
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bradley_Wiggins">Bradley
Wiggins,</a> winner of the 2012 Tour de France, and Olympic gold
medal, was knocked off his bike and <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2012/nov/08/bradley-wiggins-witnesses-shock-collision">injured
</a>earlier this month (November 2012), while training. Of course,
there is always the risk of a crash while on the road, and I cannot
comment on the details of the incident. But what horrified me, and
many others, is the level of absolute hatred directed at cyclists in
some of the UK Twitter and other social communications. This was so
awful that the Guardian <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/nov/08/bradley-wiggins-cyclist-haters-cycling">ran
a piece</a> on it. Some of the comments that this article attracted
continued this irrational and disgusting hatred.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
What is wrong with so
many British people?</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Cycling in France has
always been a respected and shared activity. Not just the
professional sport, but ordinary people of all ages are enthusiastic
and active cyclists. I have never encountered anyone disliking
cyclists for cycling. All motorists in my experience slow down for
bikes, give them time and space, and are aware of the risks to them.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It is clear that
cycling is very important in France, and seen as such. There are
over 2,500 cycling clubs, most of which have their own club uniforms,
and local sponsors. Over 2.3 million bikes were sold last year. There
are about 500 organised cycle races every year. There are about 60
velodromes. There are even 73,000 trips every day by <a href="http://en.velib.paris.fr/">Velib</a>,
the original in Paris of the BorisBikes in London. Driving around you
will see bike riders every day, not just the smaller number using
bikes as transport, but people in club colours, in ones, twos and
groups, riding a hundred kilometres or more, for fun or for training
for competitions.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBImhr5LbNwmxhFSFD2TMVsToYWJJ7YZFXe3DDHj39XSFGxpnjw1b4bpa7P3HxyV3lANVUD5Tec1yfkJUo532h5QdYjnFs-v-07Y2bQOsR7DXNujRaCvn-Vl0oRT3kxYcNcxvtwwR1vKw/s1600/Tour+race.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBImhr5LbNwmxhFSFD2TMVsToYWJJ7YZFXe3DDHj39XSFGxpnjw1b4bpa7P3HxyV3lANVUD5Tec1yfkJUo532h5QdYjnFs-v-07Y2bQOsR7DXNujRaCvn-Vl0oRT3kxYcNcxvtwwR1vKw/s640/Tour+race.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011 Tour de France racing through Brecey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In 2011, the Tour de
France passed through Brécey, near where we live. People started
forming crowds three or more hours before the race was due to pass.
An hour before the <i>caravan</i> arrived – an hour of sponsors'
and promoters' vehicles: specially adapted and transformed lorries
and cars, with people throwing goodies like sweets, bags of
croissants, flags and banners, whistles and toys, into the crowd.
Five minutes before the race arrived, the sun disappeared and
ferocious rain started. The bikes whizzed past in a couple of
minutes, and it was all over; the rain then stopped.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There is also the <a href="http://www.velowire.com/UCIcyclingcalendar/race/1110/tour-of-normandy--tour-de-normandie-.html">Tour
de Normandie</a> which is a similar race, but is accompanied by a
randonnée cycliste, a non-competitive open to anyone ride through
Normandy. Last year we encountered the randonnée unexpectedly. To
get to our house one has to go along a number of roads which are
basically one lane wide. We turned off a two lane road into a one
lane, having seen quite a few bikes crossing ahead of us as we
approached. Once we entered the narrow road it was obvious that we
were on the route of the randonnée. This was because as far as we
could see there was an endless series of cyclists approaching,
individually or in groups filling the road.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was no point in
trying to proceed, so we just parked in a field gateway and waited
for them all to pass. This took a couple of hours: there were about
3000 riders formally participating, but many others joined in for the
fun of it. There was no racing, just an endless stream of bikes,
ancient and modern, racing bikes, granny bikes, mountain bikes,
vintage bikes. Riders of all ages, male, female and indifferent. And
because this was France, every one of the riders said 'Bonjour' as
they went past us.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYRB09fit5zG6Xpbn4jffXm7tQMrBspSNsD4Acww83Vie2yhyphenhyphenWSWxJELt4v4534-jKfx76RA0R4LGwnCsaMEZD52CHbbwMP8mZV-2vYOZGs78-HK9RAOTKAHUhwjWbeJYfOSgCd2dSrc/s1600/Lande+DAirou+2012+04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYRB09fit5zG6Xpbn4jffXm7tQMrBspSNsD4Acww83Vie2yhyphenhyphenWSWxJELt4v4534-jKfx76RA0R4LGwnCsaMEZD52CHbbwMP8mZV-2vYOZGs78-HK9RAOTKAHUhwjWbeJYfOSgCd2dSrc/s400/Lande+DAirou+2012+04.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young riders waiting for the start</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJd6bFD_R0phDvabbfeRj3mutzeGUlRP_3N-JQe2goFj0xX5A0l-GiRJg9wwAkvPaTZDLQURyujP8jsfGNBG-sR-apdVYyELYf8NQvexRGoq77xXL96jDVkpGuxHTysyrhYEy0Mzdn3OM/s1600/Lande+DAirou+2012+team.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJd6bFD_R0phDvabbfeRj3mutzeGUlRP_3N-JQe2goFj0xX5A0l-GiRJg9wwAkvPaTZDLQURyujP8jsfGNBG-sR-apdVYyELYf8NQvexRGoq77xXL96jDVkpGuxHTysyrhYEy0Mzdn3OM/s400/Lande+DAirou+2012+team.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teams from all over the region</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPXJ8qlzOvRQmqDok4p-ml5J3Qpa8K64hewaHthS-9zzH25alLAb-cw-F-qCT4nBV9PADtKJT9UNlV_6HL3jaDC2UZlVZXBPrydMjEr0tiGJGNezCaGctc6CnOf7f7BS5OvaxTT6NZi4/s1600/Lande+DAirou+2012+18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPXJ8qlzOvRQmqDok4p-ml5J3Qpa8K64hewaHthS-9zzH25alLAb-cw-F-qCT4nBV9PADtKJT9UNlV_6HL3jaDC2UZlVZXBPrydMjEr0tiGJGNezCaGctc6CnOf7f7BS5OvaxTT6NZi4/s320/Lande+DAirou+2012+18.JPG" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family affair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIi7LIq0K-Q8vGXuWOtJYWRhIHkQi0knzBNboVeI_UCQytHA8lETkkkEOK_DcGFT27tSY6S1h5ZFCYw4DFJq0VD7Ff2LjauLD8a4U_d4KVpRJSb2ajkLKzOVKGUvbjVz1kZWxyo3Eojno/s1600/Lande+DAirou+2012+10+bike+race+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIi7LIq0K-Q8vGXuWOtJYWRhIHkQi0knzBNboVeI_UCQytHA8lETkkkEOK_DcGFT27tSY6S1h5ZFCYw4DFJq0VD7Ff2LjauLD8a4U_d4KVpRJSb2ajkLKzOVKGUvbjVz1kZWxyo3Eojno/s400/Lande+DAirou+2012+10+bike+race+kids.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And they're off</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cycling is for
everyone. We had a load of gravel delivered, and gave the driver a
cup of coffee. He told us he cycled about 150km every weekend, but
250km the previous one for a club competition. He also said he was
retiring in a couple of weeks. Then there is the annual fête at a
little village called <a href="http://www.cdc-villedieu.fr/spip/spip.php?rubrique5">La
Lande d'Airou</a> (population 509) which includes cycle races that
attract competitors from all over Normandy. There are races for all
ages, from five year olds, under 10s, 11-15, and adults. It is all taken very seriously, with roads closed, cups and trophies for winners, and pretty good crowds of spectators. The four photos show a bit of what it was like.<br />
<br />
Cycling is indeed part of the French identity. Their poor performance in the Olympics, and the failure to win the Tour de France for many years, is a huge embarrassment.</div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-70346377757716880202012-11-17T16:28:00.002+01:002012-11-17T19:50:25.563+01:00Back again<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There has been a bit of
a gap in posts to this blog. What happened is that my wife and I
retired, and decided to live in our house in Normandy for a few
months, renting out our flat in London, while we made decisions about
the long term. In the event, the estate agent handling the rental
found a cash buyer who made an offer we could not refuse. So we
didn't. The only catch was that the sale had to be completed in three
weeks, which meant disposing of almost all the furniture, sorting out
documents and other bureaucracy, and moving to Normandy.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Which we did. However,
we soon found that our house was great for holidays, but not really
big enough for full time living, especially as we both had various
little continuing obligations that really required a bit of desk and
filing space. We started to look for a bigger house, and found the
ideal one about 10 miles away. Needed completion of renovations, and
other work.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So, we sold our London
flat, moved from London to Normandy, bought a new house, sold the
original house, and are now very, very content. But during that time,
there seemed little opportunity to keep posting to this blog. There
are plenty of other blogs about the issues and problems of moving to
France, finding and doing up properties, and I did not have the
enthusiasm or energy to add to that. Of course, there were other
things I did and other things I wanted to talk about, but the blog
just got neglected.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So why have I decided
to start again? Firstly, I was greatly encouraged by the very
interesting web site, Normandy Insite, reprinting a number of the
earlier pieces here, and secondly, we are now pretty firmly
established exclusively in Normandy, and I have time and energy to do
so.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I will try to add what
I hope are interesting and/or informative blogs regularly. Please add
any comments you like.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-53608918366923871972010-07-17T19:22:00.001+02:002013-04-28T15:39:55.631+02:00The issue of the bees<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The concern at the loss of bees is becoming widely known. From <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science_and_environment/10371300.stm">press articles</a>, and television coverage such as <a href="http://www.arte.tv/fr/Comprendre-le-monde/Le-mystere-de-la-disparition-des-abeilles-_7C-Les-dernieres-revelations-d-ARTE/3170218.html">this</a> there is a lot of interest. Unlike the 100 square kilometre monocultures of the USA, like for almonds, which require the transportation of bees all over the country for the flowering season, Normandy is mostly natural. There is not (yet) a disaster. But rears are growing, and explanations <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2010/jun/22/chemicals-bees-decline-major-study">being sought.</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is partly because there is still an enormous number of cattle and other beasts which graze, and are fed on hay in winter, so that wild flowers are everywhere, and of course the apple and other fruit trees. In April, the apple tree over our terrace was in full flower, and a short spell of warmer weather meant we could have our lunch outside. The apple blossom was covered with bees, the noise of their buzzing constant. A bit like the World Cup vuvuzelas. As far as I could see the bees were mostly honey bees.</span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViXktL27obfj_krdMGbFBAuenRIcV2K-6t7Fio9YAmpSjZ1LBBQja96HCXdo1P662RtYVjdz3_jzgulReVqHY8ck62FXCOz5NCPYkd201rp2i3pseVQj-qnSQtlgcaT7Dx8iF5Ma3xU0/s1600/Terrace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViXktL27obfj_krdMGbFBAuenRIcV2K-6t7Fio9YAmpSjZ1LBBQja96HCXdo1P662RtYVjdz3_jzgulReVqHY8ck62FXCOz5NCPYkd201rp2i3pseVQj-qnSQtlgcaT7Dx8iF5Ma3xU0/s640/Terrace.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The bocage also - even though it is becoming less - is still a huge reservoir of trees, bushes and flowers. The local authorities in the country carry out <i>'fauchage' </i>twice a year: a process of cutting the vegetation on the verges and the high bocage hedges. One man on a tractor with a sort of enormous beard trimmer attachment can do kilometres in a week. The result is that there is a continuing series of flowering plants: primroses, violets, orchids, cut down after going to seed, and then followed by foxgloves, scabious, knapweed, thistle etc. with ferns and grasses for seeds coming up in profusion. Recently, in many places they have delayed the first cut because the winter was so bad, and all the plants are late.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bees, and all forms of wildlife thrive. No pesticides, no flailing to smash trees and shrubs, and respect for the cycle of the seasons.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Honey bees are not as common in general this year as the several varieties of bumble bees, but they usually appear in large numbers in late July and August. Apple trees are mostly laden with fruit, as are other fruit trees. All flowers are blooming and dying back very quickly, because they are very rapidly pollinated, which is a good sign in general, although indicative of a bad winter.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We have a path to out back door through a near jungle of herbs - mint, oregano, lemon balm, lavender, rosemary, tarragon, which will take over the path when they all flower in a couple of weeks. Apart from the wonderful scents when you walk along the path, brushing the plants, there are great clouds of bees and butterflies which rise up and settle back as you pass.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHTYpwZxG8JY2ZQ-1oKI7pvVIibgUQ24jO7-C0Ab41bk9CsR4WU8ulhfoh3WptavWr_J6GWiqck0TnvBr8SCEV7MVzQqJjHfdZvFACsdflA_O75YZ3TJq5oBT6N-GLeIK7USNvB83mKM/s1600/LabBag0809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHTYpwZxG8JY2ZQ-1oKI7pvVIibgUQ24jO7-C0Ab41bk9CsR4WU8ulhfoh3WptavWr_J6GWiqck0TnvBr8SCEV7MVzQqJjHfdZvFACsdflA_O75YZ3TJq5oBT6N-GLeIK7USNvB83mKM/s320/LabBag0809.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We are doing our best to help the bees, growing trees, bushes, plants with flowers throughout the summer, and for the solitary speciies placing bamboos and other open tubes around the garden for overwintering and spring nesting. No pesticides, herbicides, or paranoid weed free cultivation. We have hedges on all four sides of our garden (1700m2), with hazel, beech, oak, medlar, blackthorn, hawthorn and holly. We have two big patches of garden that are not mowed, just left to nature, and they are full of flowers at the moment. In winter, we can often see goldfinches hanging off the knapweed seed heads from our bedroom. We also have three fields, which are used for grazing by a neighbour, with a family of cattle there for two or three weeks, then moved elsewhere, to return in a couple of months when the grass has regrown.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Virtually a paradise, which will end if the bees go.</span>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-11236087367070556572010-07-17T19:14:00.000+02:002013-04-28T15:40:53.167+02:00Another Fete<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We are well into the season of village fêtes, vide greniers and celebrations. See <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.com/2009/06/fetes-foires-and-food.html">previous post</a> for more information. Bastille Day, 14 July, sees festivals and events everywhere. We went to one, and as always, encountered a few pretty unexpected incidents which we would never see in the UK.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Usually, the fêtes include a communal meal, most often served in a canteen style - line up with a tray and pass along the servers to get a starter, main course, piece of cheese, and a dessert. You then find a place on any of the long trestle tables under very large marquees; it rains sometime in Normandy. There will be a 'bar' where you can get bottles of wine at three or four euros, mineral water, and of course cider. There are variations, some feature mussels and frites as the main course, some grilled meat, some start with a rough - in the sense of not smooth, not low quality - pâté, occasionally served in very large terrines on each table to help yourself.</span></div>
<div>
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</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The fête we went to was called a '<i>mechoui</i>' which strictly speaking is a word for a whole roast sheep, but locally is often used for a feast which may or may not include lamb. Here it did. There was a small vide grenier which was literally stuff from attics, and a bouncy castle.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The village has a population of just over 600; there were 731 lunch tickets sold. When we arrived, there was a huge modern marquee set up. No guy ropes and tatty canvas, this was a light weight state of the art metal frame with canvas stretched over it. It has a proper wooden floor. There were two rows of tables, each table seating 20 people. This was the first time we have found proper plates and cutlery - usually it is all disposable stuff. Though at one you were supposed to take your own couvert (plates, cutlery etc) which we had not realised. Fortunately near enough to the home of one of our party to drive back and get enough for all of us from her house. Like all French people she had enough stuff to cater for twenty or thirty at a meal at home. Here there were glasses made of glass, and paper napkins of superior quality, and all the places were laid out before anyone got there. Top stuff all round.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the food was served to the tables, starting with a rosé wine based aperitif. The first course was one of those sort of fish terrines on a bed of macedoine veg, and mayonnaise. Taken out of a refrigerated lorry at the last minute, and brought round to the tables. This was followed by huge platters of barbecued sausages, traditional herb and spicy merguez together, with really excellent frites. Next were grilled lamb chops, followed by slices of roast leg of lamb and more frites. The lamb was probably the best, most tender, lamb I can remember. We had earlier seen the meat being grilled behind the marquee. a dozen or so big square barbecues for the sausages, and two huge rotisseries for the lamb, each with I think eight spits, each of which had seven or eight whole lamb legs over fires of large logs. They were hand cranked, basted with home made basters made from long poles with a metal cup or bowl attached to the end, and a large tray under the meat to catch all the juices. The meat was also basted with a broom made of bunches of beech leaves tied to a pole.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After that, a little portion of camembert followed by an ice cream (industrial, but French catering quality). Not bad for 15€ each. There were 61 volunteers setting up, cooking, serving and washing up afterwards.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The after lunch had finished (about 4.30) entertainment was the donkey races. These donkeys are not the tiny things at English seaside resorts, or wavering under huge loads or very fat men in the Middle East, but <a href="http://www.lexiqueducheval.net/lexique_races_a.html">Normandie donkeys</a>, of which there are two races: the âne Cotentin, from the Cotentin peninsula (you probably guessed that) which is pale with a dark cross of St André on its back, and the âne Normande which is browner. Both are threatened species and you can - apparently - receive a subsidy for keeping them. These donkeys were ridden for four laps round a little oval hippodrome type circuit, with volunteers riding them. These jockeys were adults who had clearly enjoyed their lunch, and had taken some wine with it. The donkeys were like donkeys always are, reluctant to co-operate very much. The result was that half the riders or more fell off, and by the last lap the donkeys slowed down, sometimes turning round and going the wrong way. The fallen riders seemed not to get trampled, even when they fell near the beginning when the donkeys were trotting along at a reaonable pace. There were no helmets, no saddles or reins, no liability disclaimers to be signed, no elfin safety of any sort. No one was hurt, and everyone laughed.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A couple of other things were going on, including a raffle where everyone got a prize (otherwise it was gambling and required a licence), and something described as a lapinodrome. This was a low wooden circle with numbered holes cut in it. Inside the circle were some rabbits (lapins), and the public bought tickets with the same numbers. The winner was the one who held the ticket with the number of the hole through which the first rabbit emerged. Similar games in the UK. The difference here was that the winner kept the rabbit. The event continued until all the rabbits had been won. They were not taken home as pets. Many country people keep rabbits as a food supply. They know how to deal with a live rabbit.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The other similar thing was fishing for ducks. One sees this at many events, lots of little yellow toy ducks with loops attached being caught by very young children with sticks with little hooks. At this feast, the sticks had three inch rings on the end, and the ducks were live. What they call cannettes, young ducks. And, as you might now guess, if you got a ring over the neck of a duck, you won the duck. One boy of about ten announced that he had just got his third duck, and ran off with it to put it in his parents' car. There was no likelihood that the duck would do any damage. Or indeed, anything by then.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-9268936563053921942010-05-27T17:40:00.002+02:002013-04-28T15:42:11.474+02:00Holidays, coaches, peasants<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The older generation of - what they are happy to call themselves - peasants in France never had the chance, time, or reason to travel much. Many have never gone more than a few kilometres from their home village. We know quite a few people in our corner of La Manche who still take their annual holidays in caravans at the nearest seaside camp site - about 35 km from here, a little town we often visit just for lunch. Now there is a splendid health service, a lot of people have gone further afield for medical attention, to see specialists in the big towns, or have operations. Not travelling for fun and adventure, though.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It took a lot longer for the French economy to progress after the war than it did the British. This was particularly so in the rural, agricultural areas, such as Normandy. As late as the 1970s it was possible to see horse drawn ploughs and other implements occcasionally. Of course, the French standard of living is now well ahead of the UK in subjective terms, though UK, Germany and France are 19, 20 and 21 in the world by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_GDP_(PPP)_per_capita">Gross Domestic Product per capita</a>, adjusted for relative purchasing power, according to the International Monetary Fund 2009.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, in the last 10-15 years, many people who previously had neither the money nor the inclination to go anywhere, have discovered it is not only possible, but fun. With reasonable pensions, improved life expectancy, and families who have moved away, to other regions of France, or even other countries, a lot of the older people have begun to do a little exploring. Not by themselves, admittedly, but none the less going on trips. This has been facilitated by travel companies, so that it is easy, safe, not too expensive, and reassuring. In general, the travel companies organise one day coach trips to a particular destination, either a specific town, or around the region. These are arranged locally, and often start from about 6.00am with the coach going around several villages picking up the pre-booked customers. And off they go, returning at about 10 in the evening.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Being French, the price includes all meals. The first stop is for breakfast in a cafe on the way. We used to travel overnight to Caen-Ouistreham or Cherbourg from Portsmouth, and arrive about 8.30 at Villedieu-les-Poêles where we would have breakfast in a café. Most times, there would be a sudden influx of 30-50 elderly people, arriving at the same time, and obviously expected. They would be served café-au-lait or hot chocolate, a croissant or two, and in ten minutes they would all be off. Back to the coach. Lunch is usually at an auberge in the country - there are quite a few that now rely on pre-booked coach parties to keep going - with three or four courses and wine. Dinner will be somewhere else, and something similar. The expectations are that there will be proper meals, with proper traditional French food, at proper meal times.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In between the meals, the coaches will visit whatever places of interst are the apparent object of the trip. We were in Rochefort-en-Terre, in Brittany, when three coaches suddenly tirned up, and hordes of elderly French country folk descended simultaneously, and divided into two groups - one to queue at the public toilets, the others to rush into the village to see everything and buy souvenirs. The noise was incredible. A hundred people all chattering at once in what had a minute or two before been a quiet, hot place. The sound was a sort of loud twittering, impossible to hear any words, because every one of the people was talking at the same time. The only time I have heard something similar was when a huge flock of starlings finished wheeling through the twilight sky like smoke and all settled into the same group of trees at the same moment. Within an hour, the coaches had left for the next site.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Most of these travellers are women of a certain age. Men in general, and farmers in particular, do not last as long as women when they retire. The coach trips allow groups of friends to go on a trip together, without having to worry about making complicated arrangements, or finding places to eat, or having to drive. And being used to organised lives, they have no problems in starting before dawn.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There are also more and more package coach tours to more exotic places, lasting a week or even more. These work in the same way, but go to the further regions of France, and even other countries, and have hotel stays included.. The wife of a friend of hours finally made her husband go on a holiday to Provence this way, with some other friends, and it was the first real holiday away they had ever had. They were both over 60. When they came back, Yvon and Yvonne had different views of the experience. She enjoyed every minute. He found it interesting in a way, but was shocked that there were no cows, and that the land was all rubbish dry, stony, no grass. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In fact this was their second long coach trip. When the euro was introduced, there was a period of a bout a year for people to change their francs into the new currency, which could only be done at banks, and who recorded the details of each exchange. This created an immense dilemma for farmers and other country people. Many of their transactions are cash based - buying and selling animals, fodder and so on, and the money nver goes near a bank.. They do not appear in any documentation, and of course do not get included in tax returns. That is one reason why France has a higher standard of living and more actbve economy than appears in the official statistics. The difficulty was of course that the state would want to know where they got all these francs from, and demand taxes. The tax demands would be calculated on the asumption that whatever cash was found now, it was only a fraction of what had not been declared in the past, and the tax demands would hurt.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The tiny republic of Andorra, between France and Spain, presented a solution. There were no border processes, and the banks there would exchange francs for euros with no questions asked. Very many rural French people suddenly discovered that they had always wanted to see the wonderful sites and people of Andorra, and there was a constant stream of coaches visiting there for one day holidays. I have no idea how news of this benefit was circulated, but inevitably the French government realised what was going on, and started making spot searches of coaches along the road to Andorra. Anyone found with more francs than a short stay needed, was faced with a tax demand, and a fine. The trips carried on for a while, but when one coach was stopped and all the luggage searched, and a number of suitcases opened to reveal bundles of francs which nobody on the coach claimed, the risks became too great.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But it introduced a lot of people to the idea of travel and visiting new places. One of our widow friends last summer went to Spain, the Costa del Sol no less, on a coach trip for a week. She went with three of four other people from the village, and they joined forces with some from another village. They had many interesting evenings planning the holiday, and discussing arrangements over dinner at each other's houses. The holidy itself started the evening before, when they all gathered at two of the houses, so they would all be collected together. The coach began its collection of passengers at 3.00 am, and then went all the way to Spain, arriving in time for a late dinner, stopping only for meals on the way. There was a toilet on board, of course. The coach apparently had two drivers who took it in turns to drive. A week in Spain in a decent enough hotel, organised excursions and two good, proper meals every day. It was perfect. </span>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-87342946197753253362010-05-16T17:22:00.001+02:002013-12-04T17:11:18.755+01:00Slow worms, and other lizards<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Slow worms, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/species/Anguis_fragilis">anguis fragilis</a>, are legless lizards, about nine inches/24cm long. I can only remember seeing one in the UK, where it seems to be getting rarer. Here in Normandy a couple of weeks ago I saw this slow worm in our garden, moving very casually through some grass. This is the fourth time I have seen one here, each time in a different corner of a half acre garden, so I think I can assume that there is a colony living here.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DfCJhw3Cw9Ns0b_hhVe-CfAKcFIF2BRpDe_x7A7ZDCdEimVj_nNLrtDSomPc6JaNp-6q_-HjKMh51AWTxM8hbZqm9u2q8CpDqykYkVUBKJDhMwkmzd4g_E0Fxh66968pVniJ0ow8xp8/s1600/slow%20worm%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DfCJhw3Cw9Ns0b_hhVe-CfAKcFIF2BRpDe_x7A7ZDCdEimVj_nNLrtDSomPc6JaNp-6q_-HjKMh51AWTxM8hbZqm9u2q8CpDqykYkVUBKJDhMwkmzd4g_E0Fxh66968pVniJ0ow8xp8/s640/slow%20worm%202.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looking at it clearly, it is easy to see that it is a lizard, not a snake. Its head is lizard shaped, and although it moves like a snake, it does so because any creature with no legs and a long body has to move that way. It flickers its tongue, but so do most lizards. Despite their name, they can move quite fast, and can disappear into a hole or under rocks pretty rapidly.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We usually find <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/wildfacts/factfiles/282.shtml">common lizards</a> in the garden at some time during the year, but not very many. We are not only fairly far North, but also our area is quite high above sea level, so we do not have as many as one would find around the Baie de Mont St Michel locally, and certainly not the numbers of individuals and different speciies that are common further south. The other reptile that we have is the <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.com/2009/06/salamanders-and-toads.html">salamander</a>, and there is more about that <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.fr/2009/06/salamanders-and-toads.html">here</a>.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I also saw a quite large lizard, about 8 inches/22cm on a path by the sea on Morbiham, Brittany, a few weeks ago, but is scampered off into the undergrowth. It emerged a few minutes later, but imposible to get near. This photo is an enlarged detail, and not very good, but the best I could do. I do not know what species it is. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(There are related posts <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.fr/2013/10/a-thing-that-goes-beep-in-night.html">here</a> and<a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.fr/2009/06/salamanders-and-toads.html"> here</a>.)</span></span><br />
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ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-74209372980386422332010-05-07T17:43:00.002+02:002010-05-07T17:55:08.915+02:00Birds in spring<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On a cold, but bright, afternoon in April, we were walking along the promenade at the beach at St Martin de Bréhal. There were very few other people about, and the wind blowing off the sea was fairly vicious. The tide was incoming, nearly high, but with a low coefficient, so a lot of sand was still exposed. In the distance, it looked as if there was a cloud of pale smoke drifting along the beach. As we got closer, it was clear that it was a large group of something running about on the sand. A bit like an enormous number of very large spiders. Closer still, and it resolved into about a hundred and fifty <a href="http://www.rspb.org.uk/wildlife/birdguide/name/s/sanderling/index.aspx">sanderlings</a> chasing almost in unison along the beach. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sanderlings on the beach at St Martin de Brehal, Manche</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Normally these waders run along the shore, following each wave as it recedes, and then scampering back as the next one arrives. Because the wind was whipping up fairly large waves, and there was very little exposed sand in between one receding and the next arriving, the birds were mostly looking for sand hoppers and other things ahead of the tide. There is another photo of sanderlings on the beach at Jullouville, in a more usual behaviour pattern, below.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Granville, a couple of miles down the coast from St Martin is on a very distinct promontory, and is used as a navigation point by planes. It used to be that Concorde flew over the town, very high, at about 10.00 every night, accelerating past the sound barrier once it was well over the ocean. In theory. In practice, the sonic boom happened nearer to the land; we would hear it inland about 30k from the sea. Ordinary jet planes are usually well over 30,000 feet high, and not normally audible. Migrating birds also use it for navigation, and at Carolles, four or five miles further south, there is a thriving ornithological society which holds bird watching events spring and autumn to see the migrations. In fact, most of the west coast of the Cotentin, and especially the Baie de Mont St Michel, is a key annual migration site, as well as being full of seabirds, waders and others all through the year.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A couple of weeks after our walk at St Martin, we stopped off for a coffee in St Jean le Thomas, another of the coastal villages overlooking Mont St Michel, and as it was the first really hot day after the cold, we walked along the beach. The tide was way out, so to speak, with a high coefficient, and the edge of the sea was the other side of a couple of hundred yards of sand, and another three hundred of mud. At the water's edge we could see several hundred, maybe 1,000, largish birds. They were silhouetted against the sun, and imp;ossible to identify, but with the wind off the sea we could clearly hear that the larest were curlews, and some of the slightly smaller ones were whimbrels, confirmed when some of them flew inland over our heads, calling as they did so. We didn't identify any of the others. But a final surprise was that there were several shrikes hopping about on the large rocks dumped to protect the dunes. Had never seen the species before.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sanderlings on the beach at Jullouville, Manche</span></td></tr>
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</div>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-85016462637356516332010-04-19T13:07:00.004+02:002010-04-19T13:28:56.326+02:00River Vire walks<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After weeks of snow, and heavy rain, we are now left at easter with high winds and vicious showers. Nonetheless, the weather is good enough to restart some proper country walks. Like most of France, Normandy has a lot of well marked footpaths (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">randonnées</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">), and maps and routes can be had, usually free from tourist offices, or newsagents (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maisons de la Presse</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">). For example, there are many easy, interesting walks along the </span></span><a href="http://www.lamanchelibre.fr/La-Vire-devra-perdre-ses-barrages,1.media?a=2202"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vire</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> River, from </span></span><a href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont-Farcy"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pont Farcy</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in the south, to </span></span><a href="http://www.ot-carentan.fr/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Carentan</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in the north. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjez87yz-VPd5yhzQQKBhXhaPcGCmBUPEYdxlY0E8ndsvtJYvwZTNhGLPau6Xv8DZPFxdeA2vJ1voLd1YbiEwbtEBdER3wN65DNuft9SYMuyENowfFScZfP-7Co9N8xSfdTc8SR8lZCRoI/s1600/DSC00638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjez87yz-VPd5yhzQQKBhXhaPcGCmBUPEYdxlY0E8ndsvtJYvwZTNhGLPau6Xv8DZPFxdeA2vJ1voLd1YbiEwbtEBdER3wN65DNuft9SYMuyENowfFScZfP-7Co9N8xSfdTc8SR8lZCRoI/s200/DSC00638.jpg" width="200" /></span></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Towpath sign</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Vire is an appealing river, going though a long gorge north from the town of </span></span><a href="http://www.vire.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vire</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, and running alongside the road for most of the way to St-Lo. For much of that part of its flow, it seems to me to be very much like the </span></span><a href="http://www.wyevalleyaonb.org.uk/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wye</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in England. It even has an equivalent of the viewpoint at </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symonds_Yat"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Symonds Yat</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, at les </span></span><a href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roches_de_Ham"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Roches de Ham</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Just before St-Lo, at Candol, there is a very old bridge and weir, and well laid out walks along the towpath (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">chemin de halage</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">) in both directions. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJRiU1MtBn-YzGiPbafkAtje_jTDNUB5Bl500NQZhzc-nfRzViFpTacdA4LW9uIS_MFcUVyK745LREmrjE_yQWqPQT8ZxaRjlECZD-cHlr6SUHeLjrNj44B5qYvaEBELlrolEX0E7Fws/s1600/St+Suzanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJRiU1MtBn-YzGiPbafkAtje_jTDNUB5Bl500NQZhzc-nfRzViFpTacdA4LW9uIS_MFcUVyK745LREmrjE_yQWqPQT8ZxaRjlECZD-cHlr6SUHeLjrNj44B5qYvaEBELlrolEX0E7Fws/s320/St+Suzanne.jpg" width="320" /></span></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">St Suzanne Village</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For most of its length, the towpath has now been improved and surfaced, so that it is easy to walk and cycle, but also accessible without many problems for pushchairs and wheelchairs. It is also well marked with the signs shown below, information signs at all the points where you can join or leave, and regular distance indications - in km and minutes - between points. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are obstacles and weirs along the length of the river, but it was even so used for water transport until replaced by rail and road. In a number of places the river meanders along, with rapids and weirs bypassed by old locks and short canal lengths, some just 25 metres or less. These locks (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">écluses</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">) are mostly ruins, and in many cases the canal bit is silted up and overgrown. At Vire town there are waterfalls and rapids that effectively blocked the river traffic, and to the north it joins the Vire and Taute Canal. Interestingly, as many of these old lock locations are where the water flow is faster or over a weir, there are micro hydropower electricity generating stations - 11 between Pont Farcy and St-Lo alone. Each generates enough power to supply a few hundred houses. So not only has the river been turned into a valuable leisure amenity, but also a renewable energy resource creator.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We joined the river walk at </span></span><a href="http://www.conde-sur-vire.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Condé-sur-Vire</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">; there are small car parks at most villages along the length of the walk. There is a base for canoe and kayak sports there (in summer only, of course). A week or so before, we had gone past the valley of the </span></span><a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.com/2010/01/december-2009-and-first-week-of-january.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sée </span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">at Tirepied, where the whole flood plain was under water, again. The Vire had also burst its banks then, with the water level up to three metres higher than usual. That meant that it covered the towpath, which is raised above the land, and burst into the fields the other side. There are permanent metal signs at each access point, which can be folded open to show that the path is closed because of flooding. Useful, because the flooding can be localised to where the river is narrower or the towpath lower. We walked a little bit along the towpath at Candol a few weeks ago, but most of it was under water and invisible. Now the waters have receded, and there were no problems; there were a lot of little rivulets still flowing into the river, though, and the ground was throughly waterlogged.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1BujMKzofxehxY3q4rbh249-HbhgKOSpenABWwtBJZ0cUIMUxf0-9E46b7EN21QNJclKd6sIM7FaIuPxMDRcv-Xubuk87aXlfQEaX_FXE4BtnbR1PI5gIF30pKThG6c0VFhn6vEn6no/s1600/Chevreuil+Vire+St+Lo+10+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1BujMKzofxehxY3q4rbh249-HbhgKOSpenABWwtBJZ0cUIMUxf0-9E46b7EN21QNJclKd6sIM7FaIuPxMDRcv-Xubuk87aXlfQEaX_FXE4BtnbR1PI5gIF30pKThG6c0VFhn6vEn6no/s200/Chevreuil+Vire+St+Lo+10+1.jpg" width="200" /></span></span></a></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Spring must be arriving, because we saw four or five swallows skimming the river in between the showers, and apart from primroses and celandines everywhere, there were a couple of clumps of marsh marigold in flower. On previous walks along the river, we have seen otters, an adult near St-Lo, and a juvenile a bit further south. We also saw this deer (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">chevreuil)</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> at Candol, during the hunting season, so it may have been away from its usual place.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-42976050829450741732010-03-30T16:52:00.010+02:002010-03-30T16:57:44.146+02:00On yer bike?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The French of course take cycling very seriously. All through the year you will see cyclists in tight fitting club uniforms in bright colours, steaming along all the country roads, in ones and twos or sometimes a whole club of a couple of dozen identically costumed people, in a group, or spread out of several kilometres. Midweek, many of these cyclists are quite elderly men and women. While we no longer young English chaps never get much more exercise and excitement than discovering a new cardigan in <i><a href="http://www.pubeco.fr/enseigne/48209-distri_center.html">Districent</a>er</i> or <a href="http://www.gemo.fr/"><i>Gemo</i></a>, our French equivalents are covering 100 km at high speed. For the fun of it. They may look wind battered and wiry, with faces like <a href="http://www.audensociety.org/">WH Auden</a> in the sun, and wear hideously multicoloured nylon costumes and hats stolen from aliens, but my word they are healthy. Even sometimes into their eighties.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are cycle races all through the year, big and small. The biggest of course is the <i><a href="http://www.letour.fr/indexus.html">Tour de France</a></i>, and one of the second rank is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tour_de_Normandie">Tour de Normandie</a>, which is happening right now at the end of March 2010. I don't read the sports pages in the papers anywhere, and haven't seen the local <a href="http://www.ouest-france.fr/">Ouest France</a> for a a couple of weeks. I was thus utterly surpriased to find myself heading straight into the Tour de Normandie last Saturday. We were driving through the Forêt de <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-Sever-Calvados">St Sever-Calvados</a> on a road we often take, when suddenly a group of motorcycle cops with blue lights and sirens came screaming along the road towards us, and waved us to stop, and pull off the road. Not easy because there was a ditch, and very little else. They were immediately followed by a dozen or so other motorcycles with two up and signs saying '<i>Officiel</i>' on the front, and then thirty or forty vans and cars, all covered in big ads, and most with half a dozen bikes on the top. That was when we began to think that the Tour was also going through the forest...</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A couple of minutes later, more blue lights and sirens, and a group of about 15 cyclists in their midst, and then yet more vans and cars with bikes on top. We thought this must have been the end, and began to move off. More officials whizzed up and told us to stop again. After five minutes we could hear a roaring noise, like a train, and over 100 cyclists screamed by at full speed, throwing empty drink bottles, food pouches and other stuff as they passed. They were so close together that it seemed that they could only be avoiding crashing by synchronising their pedalling. Five seconds and they were gone. Following them were more support cars, vans and bikes. And a group of people coming along picking up the rubbish the riders had thrown down. Two minutes later, it was all over, and we could drive on.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I had never actually seen a major cycle race up close, but the noise of the bikes, the speed at which they were going, and the closeness of the bunch were all quite extraordinary.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cyclists having priority over motorists is not just something that applies to organised races, it is respected everywhere. Drivers will slow down, pull out to the left, and give way to cyclists as a matter of habit, whether the cyclist is a young racer training for the Tour, or an elderly lady coming back from the market, or a farmer who has already lost his driving licence wobbling home from the bar. Not like the UK, where cyclists are usually invisible, or if they are seen are perceived as two dimensional and need no space. Because cycling is respectable and respected, something like the <a href="http://www.velib.paris.fr/Abonnements-tarifs">Paris Velib</a> system is very successful. Bike stands are everywhere, and the bikes are used by all sorts of people, from elegant lady lawyers with their briefs in the front basket, to elderly gentlemen with substantial bellies and award winning moustaches. Of course it also helps that Paris is much smaller than say London, and fairly flat, but the <a href="http://www.mayor-of-london.co.uk/">Mayor of London</a>, Boris Johnson, a cyclist himself, is planning a <a href="http://www.tfl.gov.uk/roadusers/cycling/12444.aspx">similar system</a>. Whether the bikes will last more than a couple of days without being stolen, vandalised or destroyed is still unknown.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EpuU3VRUfSWz6GicvAo0Nqc0ehEZaNi8Tjq_HnrPwLlWhyPu2thIfQ4Af4Vq2fESNUk1K13fL9oyyGCau8z6T1mYidvCmZ1janGnTzigFtdURZBIqCE9aY2PrRe0gRORQ8UzSAp9yLM/s1600-h/Paris+bikes+2+(993+x+660).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EpuU3VRUfSWz6GicvAo0Nqc0ehEZaNi8Tjq_HnrPwLlWhyPu2thIfQ4Af4Vq2fESNUk1K13fL9oyyGCau8z6T1mYidvCmZ1janGnTzigFtdURZBIqCE9aY2PrRe0gRORQ8UzSAp9yLM/s400/Paris+bikes+2+(993+x+660).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpj4FVgj3b20RF1TPhzgP2FInG-dbbhBLDrPZS3zZMfyyaqxPPoEoJbdnDuxmXI7Ef82WWsmLAbg_DpQSFufskZgc4WiAbpUk9SBTP5DVsTj5G3_jMb6QUjqy-Wd55UsSSysYIK_qkenI/s1600-h/Paris%20bikes%201%20(660%20x%20993).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpj4FVgj3b20RF1TPhzgP2FInG-dbbhBLDrPZS3zZMfyyaqxPPoEoJbdnDuxmXI7Ef82WWsmLAbg_DpQSFufskZgc4WiAbpUk9SBTP5DVsTj5G3_jMb6QUjqy-Wd55UsSSysYIK_qkenI/s400/Paris%20bikes%201%20(660%20x%20993).jpg" width="265" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-2038639009893564012010-02-27T13:33:00.001+01:002010-02-27T13:35:09.445+01:00Tips on learning French<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am not a natural linguist, and it has taken me a long time to become reasonably confident in French. Along the way, I have found a few things that helped that might be worth passing on.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To begin, some sort of formal learning is pretty important especially at the very beginning.. It can give you concepts, grammatical insights, and the confidence of learning with others. Even if you can only manage the occasional hour of tuition at a further education college, it is worth the effort. If you live in London, the <a href="http://www.alliancefrancaise.org.uk/">Alliance Francaise</a> runs very good courses, and puts you into a very French ambience from the start. If not, there is always the <a href="http://www3.open.ac.uk/study/undergraduate/languages/index.htm">Open University</a>. I did one of their French diploma courses a few years ago, and it was very useful. Then you had to record middle of the night television programmes to help, but it is now all internet based.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Languages are about communication: to learn you need to communicate, and that really means speaking to others. Obviously, In France that is not too difficult, but may be more so in the UK, other than London. In France, make opportunities to talk to people as often as you can. As long as you are polite, and make an effort, just about everyone will help you out when you get stuck, and not laugh if you make mistakes. There is a piece on this blog about <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.com/2008/11/how-to-get-on-with-french.html">Getting on with the French</a>, which might be useful. There was a documentary on French TV a few days ago (February 2010) about the French community in London. There are now somewhere between 300,000 and half a million French nationals living in London, which makes it the sixth largest French city by population. In my street in London, without about 58 houses (though many two or three flats now), there are four French families that I know by sight,enpought to say <i>'Bonjour</i>', and probably others. In central and north London one can hear French being spoken every day.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the 60s I read an article about the then famous cyclist, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/insideout/northeast/series6/cycling.shtml">Tommy Simpson</a>, who was based in France as that was the only place where professional cyclist could earn a living. He did not speak much French, but got on perfectly well with his cycling team mates, and the world in general, by using the word '<i>faire</i>' (to do or make) as his only verb, followed by a usually relevant noun. So he would say '<i>je fais velo</i>' - I will ride my bike' - or '<i>je fais dejeuner</i>' - I had lunch, or '<i>je fais gagner</i> ' - I am winning. Everyone understood him, and he had a very successful career, until he died in a race from the effects of performace enhancing drugs, probably the first famous sports person to do so. My point is not that you should avoid performance drugs, though of course you should, but that you can talk effectively and happily in France in French, however little you know, as long as you try.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you are not in France, it might prove useful to find a way of establishing contact with French people learning English - or indeed another language - via the internet, and set up a regular online conversation. With the internet the way it is, there is no problem in being able to talk to and see someone anywhere in the world. Just do a bit of research around the concept of 'chat'. Asking a teenager you know to help explain it is best if you are over 30 - all teenagers seem to be in perpetual conversation with all the others. There are a number of sites where you can find people who want to help and be helped learning English and French. Try <a href="http://www.totalfrance.com/index.html">Total France</a>, <a href="http://www.expat-blog.com/en/destination/europe/france/">ExPat Blog</a>, educational sites, and some social sites (beware wierd people and places, though). There are a lot ofpeople who are happy to help you with your French, in return for your help with their English.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Reading French newspapers really does help. The national papers such as <a href="http://www.lemonde.fr/">le Monde</a> are available in most British towns, and if not local libraries might often be able to get them. They do provide exposure to a lot of words you won't come across in textbooks, especially colloquial everday speech terms, and technical stuff, not to mention the sort of thing you will find in the advertisments. The virtue of a newspaper is that you can take your time, you can stop and start when you like, and look up things you don't understand. It will also demonstrate, if you are undergoing formal education in French, that the seemingly dozens of tenses that are part of French verbs, but not English, are rarely used, and you can do without them.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It is widely believed that television in France is generally dreadful. Not really true, though their rubbish is even worse than British rubbish. They do have more arts programmes, political discussions, and other serious stuff, and those programmes are often up to three hours long. Here is a really useful tip: watch documentaries, especially about the arts, on the French/German channel <b>Arte.</b> Everyone speaks very clearly, and steadily, unlike drama and popular shows where there is shouting, gabbling and slang that you will never grasp. As the programmes are usually shown in both countries, they are made with the need to be translated either by dubbing or subtitling, in mind. That means that speech is more measured, and more careful, and for someone learning the language whether French or German, this helps enormously. It might also be that arts programmes tend to feature intellectuals, academics, and the higher bourgeoisie, all of who usually think before they speak, assume that others will be interested in what they have to say and want to think about it before replying. And of course, a lot of it is being read from scripts, carefully.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For example, last night I watched a programme called <a href="http://www.france5.fr/un-soir-au-musee/index-fr.php?page=accueil">'Un Soir àu Musée</a>' (an evening at the museum), which was about a new exhibition of JMW Turner paintings in Paris. Apart from the fact that the pictures are stunning - one can see that Turner put up the scaffolding on which the Impressionists hung their work - the programme was hugely interesting, with some extraordinary filming in Venice to back up the paintings. The commentary, and all the interviews, were clear, obviously correct French, and easy to understand. This programme was actually on France5, but is typical.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Another tip is that many digital channels (and all French television will be digital only soon- March 2010 in lower Normandy) often have the option to have subtitles for the hearing impaired members of the audience. This can be really helpful to learners of French, because you can see the words being spoken written down simultaneously. Of course, it cannot be word for word, but the gist will be there, and it is surprising how much this helps learn more of the language. A big problem for learners of any new language is elision, the running of words together, so it is very hard to tell where one word ends and the next starts. Seeing it as well as hearing it makes that much easier. It also helps with pronunciation, and interpretation of what you hear. A good illustration of this is the phrase '<i>la vie en rose</i>', which means 'life in the pink' or the good life. When spoken, it can be hard to tell the difference between that and <i>'la viande rose</i>' - pink meat - or <i>'l'avion rose</i>' - the pink aeroplane. Context helps, but confusion means thinking about what was said, and then missing the next bit of speech.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you are not in France, many programmes on Arte are available to watch on the internet at <a href="http://www.arte.tv/fr/70.html#">Arte.fr</a> for a week after broadcast, for free, as are some programmes on the other French channels, so you can watch them from other countries.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For immediate translation of words and phrases, I have put <a href="http://uk.babelfish.yahoo.com/">Babel Fish</a> on my always visible bookmarks, so I can very quickly copy paste a fragment of text on the internet to get the meaning. The software is free - there is a link on this blog. Not perfect, but as good as any other translation by machine.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One last thing that I found positive: learn some key common phrases that can both give you time to think if you add them into a sentence, and suggest to the person you are speaking to that you are a bit more fluent than you really are. That second point, strangely, means that people are more relaxed, and less likely to expect that they won't understand you, so conversation becomes easier. The sort of phrase I have in mind is '<i>c'est à dire</i>' - that is to say - which gives you the chance to find the words you need without looking if you are really struggling, '<i>comme ci, comme ça'</i> - a bit/more or less/maybe/average, and is useful to cover the situation where you just cannot think of anything specific to say, and '<i>ça fait du bien</i>' - that will do very well/ is fine. But above all: practice speaking, listening and communicating. No substitute, and it is more enjoyable that you might think.</span></span>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-2464535862511999552010-02-26T16:11:00.002+01:002010-02-26T16:15:20.489+01:00On the trot<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you ask a British person what the words 'trot', 'trots' or 'trotter', you will usually get one of these replies: Montezuma's Revenge, Delhi Belly or some other acute digestive disaster, a member of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Militant_tendency">Militant Tendancy</a>, Socialist Workers Party or some other doomed 1980s far left group, or a cockney chancer played by David Jason in a long running <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/onlyfools/">tv comedy </a>programme. In France, it refers to a very popular form of horse racing.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Le <a href="http://www.cheval-haute-ecole.com/index30402.html">Trot</a> consists of horses pulling flimsy two wheeled vehicles along race tracks. The wierd bit is that the horses cannot gallop, but must trot, in a prancing, slightly absurd fashion. They race round tracks, quite fast, but not as fast as normal horse racing, and of course the chariots take up more room, so there is quite a lot of jostling and confusion. I think it is a very silly process. I believe in North America they call the little carriages 'sulkies' for some reason. I know of three or four bars called 'le Trot' or 'le Trotteur', and Normandy being a very horsy sort of place, there are often horse boxes being towed around, with the little carriages attached to the back, their shafts sticking up into the air.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Out of season, and sometimes on summer evenings, you might find trotteurs exercising on some of the beaches. Apparently, apart from having long flat stretches to practice on, the sea water is good for the horses, so they sometimes go through the shallow water.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A good example is the beach at Jullouville, where at low tides there is a very long, wide and sandy beach. Here are some photographs of several trotteurs on a January afternoon.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In Britain, we tend to talk about a Worcester woman, or a man from Southampton, or a person from Porlock. I can only think of <i>Londoners</i> as a similar form. Glaswegian, Liverpudlian and Mancunian are surely not really used by the inhabitants as routine. There are a couple of usages derived from Roman names, such as Exonian for Exeter, or Salopian for Shropshire, but they are not much used. Stratfordian and Oxfordian are not related to the inhabitants, but to those who believe the works of Shakespeare were written by the chap from Stratford, who signed his name most commonly as 'Shagspeer' - if six examples can be called common - or who believe they were written by the then Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most of the French terms seem to be of two types. The most frequent is to add <i>-ais </i>to the end of the name, such as <i>Granvillais, Caennais</i> and so on, and the second to add <i>-ois</i>, as in <i>Niçois </i>or <i>Virois</i>. Then there is <i>Parisien</i>, but it then gets very, very confusing. Here are a few examples: <i>Vannes: Vannetais; Avranches: Avranchinais, Saint Lo: Saint Lois</i>.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It can get very strange: the inhabitants of Manvieu-le-Bocage are apparently <i>les Mévéens</i>, the people in Manche <i>les Manchots </i>(though this is being replaced by <i>Manchois</i>). The people from <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.com/2009/01/gods-town-of-saucepans.html">Villedieu-les-Poêles</a> -God's Town of the Saucepans - are called most often <i>les sourdins</i>, the deaf ones, from the centuries of hammering copper, but also <i>les Théopolitains </i>- theos from the Greek for god, politi for town. Those from Lisieux are <i>les</i> <i>Lexoviennes</i> from the Roman name of the town.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My favourite is that for Pont l'Evéque - Bridge of the Bishop, where the splendid cheese is made. There is a Bishopsbridge Road in London, near Paddington Station, but it is utterly anonymous. The people of Pont l'Evéque are known as <i>les Pontepiscopiens </i>or, sometimes, <i>les Episcopontains</i>! That is just strange, but it does imply some knowledge of Latin.</span></span><br />
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</div>ManchePaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01749827416422690427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6693532694477622698.post-60791592503696780372010-01-24T18:11:00.001+01:002010-01-24T18:15:15.682+01:00Jazz in Granville<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A recent jazz concert in Granville was another illustration of the way the arts are flourishing in Normandy. The musicians were the <a href="http://www.squidco.com/r.cgi?p=11382">Indigo Trio</a>, from Chicago: <a href="http://www.nicolemitchell.com/">Nicola Mitchell</a> on flute and voice, Hamilton Bankhead on bass and <a href="http://www.indiejazz.com/ArtistDetail.aspx?ArtistID=95">Hamid Drake</a> on drums. The venue was the tiny 64 seat Théatre de<a href="http://theatre-presquile.com/index.php?page=a-voir-prochainement"> Presqu'Ile </a>in Granville. I have been to this theatre <a href="http://landinginnormandy.blogspot.com/2008/12/concert-aperitif.html">before</a>, and this time it was also completely full. In fact there was not just standing room only, but the eight or nine children in the audience were moved onto the sides of the stage to make more room. Brilliant performance by a terrific group, who were clearly not used to playing such a small place, nor to the different ways of a provincial French audience. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a 45 minute starting piece, and a couple of shorter numbers, they took a bow, and then looked at each other in bemusement, because the audience applauded enthusiastically, but nothing else. French audiences are very respectful towards the artists, and assume that the artist decides what he or she will do, and that decision is the right one on artistic grounds. Not up to the audience to question that, so there was no expectation that there would be encores. However, after a minute or so, an English voice in the audience (not me) called out 'Could we have another please?'. The musicians were greatly relieved, and started another 45 minutes.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The group's other concerts in their tour were in much bigger places, like the theatres at Caen and Rouen, but I think the intimacy of the Presqu'Ile made for a better concert than many in the bigger places. The performers were closer to the audience, and the audience could see exactly how the musicians played. This was for me particularly interesting watching the drummer, who had a number of personal techniques. It was fascinating watching some of the more intricate pattern making, and the use of a variety of sticks and brushes. By coincidence, I saw him again on television a week ago, playing with the 77 year old jazz musician Arche Shepp. This was on a programme on the wonderul France-German channel <a href="http://www.arte.tv/fr/70.html">Arte</a>. Shepp was interviewed, and spoke in English and fluent French at random, sometimes switching in mid sentence. The CD with that music is available <a href="http://www.archieshepp.net/manage_content.php?cat_id=2&item_id=16&view_type=1">here</a>, and is a fascinating mix of jazz and - as unlikely as it might seem - rap music.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Théatre de la Presq'Isle has now been renamed the Théatre de l'Haut Ville, and has become associated with the othert theatre in Granville, the modern <a href="http://www.archipel-granville.com/index.php?id_section=1&id_categorie=1">Archipel,</a> which has 443 places. Compare <a href="http://www.ville-granville.fr/tourisme/en/index.html">Granville</a>, population 14,000, with a similar size of British town, and see if you can think of one with even one functioning theatre, never mind two.</span></span><br />
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