"Tete a Tate"

2009-10-10T14:05:00.002+02:00

Winding Down

Just ten days now until I come back to the UK and this period is always a bit difficult, I’m very lucky because it’s like living two lives in one with different friends, different social interaction, different vistas and a different mind set. It does take some adjustment moving between the two, and this period is quite unsettling, funnily enough when I’m on the brink of leaving the UK for France I don’t get the same feeling of limbo. When waiting to come out to France it’s more a feeling of excitement and anticipation, of course that could be the prospect of the summer as opposed to the winter. I am looking forward to getting back to England to see the family and my English friends and to have a pint of real beer, but I'm not looking forward to the rain and the cold weather.

There are loads of things that have happened which I haven’t bothered to write about like the chair breakdown in St. Giles Croix de Vie, but as no one bothered to answer my request to comment in order that I know if anyone is actually reading, I can only assume that they’re not so I don’t see the point of spending my time writing this when I can be helping Trevor by correcting the English on his website. It is a shame because I did enjoy these little chats, it's more interesting writing about what's going on rather than translating Bristolian into English, but I can't see the point if no one is reading it.

A bientot

2009-09-17T13:32:00.003+02:00

Blog Swamp

I suppose those of you who started by following the blog and now don’t bother could be excused. Not only do you have to put up with the nonsense that I write but you also have to put up with the sporadic postings. I blame a mixture of having too much to do, the weather having been too good and Trevor’s website.

Blogging is made more difficult when having to keep in mind Trevor’s website. It is important that the reviews are posted on his website before my blog in order that they help raise his profile with Google. I don’t have any problem with that after all that’s one of the reasons I write the blog. It’s easy however to forget to post things on the blog when you have to wait for a few days after they have been posted on Trevor’s website, before being able to post them. The delay is in order to give Google time to find them on Trevor’s website and accredit them to it.

I’ve devised a filing method that indicates whether a review has been posted on either the website or the blog or both. This is fine however I’ve just found three restaurant reviews that I’ve missed from the blog. The reason is that they had fallen below the point where they were immediately visible on screen, and had reached the point at which one has to employ the downward arrow to see them, and you know what they say “out of sight out of mind”.

So now not only have I flooded you with a couple of posts that I had half finished previously I’m now going to drown you with these three reviews, and I still have things in production. Please accept my apologies; I’ll try to keep it a bit more constant from now on in.

2009-09-17T13:29:00.000+02:00

Vendee-Vapeur

We had talked about taking the Train Restaurant “Voiture L’Orient Express” which is essentially a steam train which during a three hour journey from the Station at Mortagne-sur-Sevre to Herbiers and back serves dinner. At Herbiers there is a half hour stop to turn the train around for the return journey. En route the train stops for 45 minutes on the impressive 38 meter high Viaduct Barbin which overlooks the Sevre Nantaise and offers spectacular views of the surrounding countryside, or so the official website says.

Unfortunately the website also says that wheelchair access is not available, and although I do not use a wheelchair I am not prepared to patronise places that are so obviously discriminatory. It is a shame as I would have liked to make the train ride, although I wasn’t particularly impressed with the 2 menus on offer.

I can understand that some excursions demand a degree of physical adeptness so I wouldn’t berate them for not necessarily offering the opportunity to disabled people. It is true however that you often find that extreme sports do offer the opportunity to those disabled people who are deemed fit enough. However I wouldn’t put riding on a train eating a meal up there with the likes of white water rafting, sky diving and extreme skiing and in my opinion the time has come when attractions like this train must make whatever alterations are requisite to allow disabled people the same access as their able bodied counterparts.

For this reason I am unable to recommend this gastronomic excursion. I would in fact go further and urge any of you who are thinking of taking this excursion not to go and to make your reasons public.

Tate – 2009.

2009-09-17T13:26:00.000+02:00

My Phoung – Chinese Restaurant Fontenay Le Comte

Before I launch into reviewing this restaurant I must first let you into a little secret. In England I have a Chinese Take-Away at the end of my drive, and the former owner Tak Yan Tse and I became good friends. Tak Yan (AKA Gordon) is a brilliant cook, in fact he’s the best Chinese cook for my taste that I’ve ever encountered. His food is full of strong flavours and he is not afraid to turn up the heat. He also doesn’t cook the sweet, bland, Chinese food that is the norm in so many Chinese restaurants designed to cater for the tastes of the English masses. He in fact taught me to cook Chinese food, and to this day other than Gordon, I have not found a restaurant whose food I enjoy as much as the food that I cook for myself. I have eaten with Gordon at the restaurant of his wife’s family in Plymouth on Chinese New Year and I must confess that the authentic Chinese food that they ate was also not entirely to my palate either, I wasn’t keen on jellied fish balls and chickens feet etc. which they adore, and I love fried rice which they rarely eat. So having qualified my position on Chinese food here is my review for what it may be worth.

We arrived well before the sun went down and decided to sit outside, the waiter a very pleasant and well spoken young man suggested that as this was our first time at the restaurant we should try the buffet. Clearly the buffet was the best value for money, but I hate them as I have to rely on other people to choose and to fetch and carry for me. Nonetheless in the spirit of seeking out value for money and in the interests of our patrons, we decided buffet it was. We had a bottle of Cote de Rhone, I knew I wouldn’t drink it all and said as much to the waiter, who said he would leave the cork and that I could take what remained home. The wine was reasonable, I like Cote de Rhone and at 12 euros it was not too expensive for a restaurant. Trevor tried at first to photograph the available food, but the dark interior coupled with the display on the digital camera, made it impossible to discern what I was looking at, so I had to trust him to choose. Good old boy that he is, Trevor started the fetching and carrying, starting with prawns in batter, spring rolls, a mussel and various other things. The batter was surprisingly crispy and the taste, if not exceptional was good, good enough that I sent Trevor back for another prawn and another spring roll. There was a young grill chef outside and the buffet included any meat that you liked grilled by him, Trevor and I both had beef, which I thought lacked a bit in taste.

Next we had some main courses. First Trevor brought chicken in a nondescript sauce with frogs’ legs in batter and noodles. He then got Beef in another nondescript sauce with egg and pea fried rice. In all honesty I thought that the noodles were a bit rubbery and I don’t mean the Chinese rubbery as in rubbery felali (lovely Ferrari), the frogs’ legs, chicken and beef were all cooked alright but lacked any great taste, and the sauces were bland, though in their favour not glutinous. The rice had a good enough taste for rice but was if anything a bit starchy for me, I like my rice with the grains separate. With each visit inside came new plates and the used plates piled up on the side of the table, some people might think that the growing stack was like a tribute, a testament to one’s ability to eat more copiously than the next table, whereas others might see the plates as a serious reminder of the level of gluttony that one has attained, I personally preferred not to look at them. We finished with lychee and chocolate ice cream, this was an error of choice, the chocolate ice cream and the lychee syrup were not a good mix, as one seemed to dilute the other, I’m sure that had we eaten them separately we would have enjoyed them much more.

We drank our coffee and when Trevor went in to pay he met his friend and fixer Christophe, he came out with his brother in law to say hello to me followed by his sister and niece. They were eating inside the restaurant and were just going to start their sweet and wanted us to join them for coffee. They seemed to have been enjoying something a little stronger than the soft drinks machine and we knew that coffee would probably only have been a precursor to something else, so we politely declined and made our merry way home.

In conclusion I must say that I think that this is a great place to go for something completely different and does represent fantastic value for money, the bill for the two of us came to 42 euros, the wine cost 12 euros of that and we had coffee which wasn’t included, so although we never saw the price it had to be less than 15 euros per head. There was a soft drinks machine inside from which one could help oneself at no extra cost, one could eat as much as one liked, and the choice was without doubt profuse. The staff were attentive but of course they didn’t have too much to do as they were only taking the orders, serving wine and clearing the tables when the diners had finished. Not having seen the inside of the restaurant I can’t comment upon it, we ate outside on the pavement which I loved, but then that’s not everyone’s cup of lap sang su shong.

Tate - 2009

2009-09-17T13:23:00.001+02:00

L’ Auberge Le Trou Vendeen – Port de Courdault

The Port de Courdault is simply one of the prettiest little places on the Marais Poitevin. A long straight canal ends at the port, which is a rectangular sink where the barges used to turn and unload. As the sink has now fallen into disuse the surrounding warehouses have been turned into dwellings and this sleepy backwater has taken on a peaceful charm that is without doubt beguiling.

Unfortunately the Auberge Le Trou Vendéen does not profit from a frontage onto the sink, this would truly make the Auberge the visual rival of anything that I have seen in the Marais Poitevin. Inside the setting is good the first dining area which also contains the bar has plain white plastered walls, whereas on passing through a broad arch into the main dining area one is greeted by natural stone walls. The walls throughout are festooned with old implements and pictures, and the whole of the Auberge has a traditional Vendéen wooden beamed ceiling. All in all the décor is delightful and the atmosphere it creates when packed with diners is simply irresistible. As you well know ambience is a transient thing that ebbs and flows with many things including the numbers of people that occupy a space. This space seems to be well occupied on a regular basis. We had tried to lunch here before without making a reservation, and like some other notable figures in history, had found that there was “no room at the inn”. This time we had taken no chances and had reserved ourselves a table, it was just as well we had, as on arrival the Auberge was well populated and by the time we had eaten our first course there were only a few odd places left.

The service was relaxed, the maitre served us and he was dressed in jeans with a shiny silver grey shirt, unbelievably this was not the most spectacular thing about him which was in fact his magnificent handlebar moustache. I can imagine that if and when things got a little less hectic and he had more time to perform, he would be very amusing indeed. However today he was flat out and had very little time to engage anyone in anything other than orders and deliveries, which he performed with gusto and good humour singing and humming as he went. Trevor had a non alcoholic beer whereas I stuck to a glass of the vin de table, which was included with the meal, it was as usual not a grand vin but was nonetheless perfectly acceptable. We both went for the meal of the day which was a very acceptable 12 euros. The starter consisted of Pate, Macedonian vegetables (diced beans and carrots with peas) in mayonnaise wrapped in a slice of ham, with half a boiled egg and some cornichons (small gherkins). It was a very good mixture and the dish of pate (which was delicious) was left at the table so you really could eat as much as you wanted. The main course was a roasted chicken breast with a mushroom sauce served with boiled rice and garnished with lettuce and tomato. The tastes of all of this were fabulous, chicken in France seems to be inherently tastier than the chicken we buy in England, it was however a touch overcooked for me and therefore a bit drier than I would have preferred. The mushroom sauce was full of flavour and was very well balanced but it was a little sparse, but the rice was absolutely perfectly cooked, which might sound simple but it is remarkable how often restaurants get rice wrong, especially when the dish is, like this one, not a specific rice dish. The garnish a sprig of lettuce and a slice of tomato was more than a bit tired, I suppose you could say that it was meant to be more decorative than anything else, but I firmly believe that if you put something on the plate you should expect it to be eaten and as such you should give it as much care and attention as anything else that you plate up. All that having been said overall the main course was good enough. The cheese board though not having the widest choice was however left at the table so that you could help yourself to as much as you wanted. The dessert was a home made plum tart; it was as good as a plum tart can be with a light sweet pastry providing a perfect balance with the tartness of the plums. The maitre offered us a juice; we said we would prefer large white coffees which he brought without any fuss.

This is a good restaurant and I would like to return to try one of the other more expensive menus, which were 29 and 35 euros and had such delicacies as frog’s legs on them. The menu that we ate was in general well cooked, very tasty and excellent value for money. The restaurant itself is attractive and the service is very good. It is easy to be picky, and I feel that that is my job but in truth for 12 euros a head, this is in my experience surpassed only by the Donjon at Bazoges, I would definitely recommend this restaurant, but book to avoid disappointment. I would also recommend that you leave yourself a little extra time after lunch to have a gentle stroll around the port to allow your lunch to go down and to enjoy this beautiful peaceful place.

Tate – 2009.

2009-09-15T15:53:00.001+02:00

Early September Update

Just a few lines to let the three of you who are reading this (that might be an exaggeration) know what’s going on out here. I know my posts are a little bit sporadic but it is sad to say that I doubt even my family bother to read my blog as I will prove by challenging any of them who do to chastise me either openly on Facebook or by whatever means they see fit. I’m fairly sure that I’ll hear nothing from any of them. I must be such a boring old fart. It would in fact be a good exercise for me to know who if anyone is reading this, if I’m writing this to myself maybe I’ll pack it in, so if anyone who is reading it could take a mo to use the comments just to let me know, no need to say anything except to say that you’re following the blog and give your name. Thanks to G&J who I know do follow it.

Onward, upward and full speed ahead, the reason for writing this is as a quick update on what’s been happening here while I’m waiting for Trevor to come as we’re going out to a restaurant in Lucon for dinner. Then that’ll be another review to do and I’d only just caught up, ah well never mind.

Dorothy and Dave my next door neighbours have gone home, Dorothy was here for the school holidays and Dave was here with Ashley one of their grandsons for 3 weeks. During the last week of their stay and at their behest I organised the final transfer of our old house and wine press to them and I got 3 estimates for the demolition of all of the old buildings and the installation of a septic tank. This was no mean feat as August is the main holiday period for the French and getting anyone to do anything is tantamount to walking on water, even some restaurants close in August. Also the Englishman who has a house behind the discotheque (he suffers from mega noise on Friday and Saturday nights but has a wonderful view from his terrace of the foam parties, I must try to get an invite) waited 2 years plus for a single estimate, and in the end I was instrumental in getting that for him. I must hasten to add that this has little to do with my charismatic personality and is much more down to the fact that I have a passable command of the French language.

As you will see from the blog I went to my second Fete on a couple of Sundays ago, the Fete des Chaseurs (hunters) with the Family Richard. It’s like a big meal under a very big marquee, there are normally about 150 people from Cezais, but the hunters draw their numbers from further a field and so there were less of the locals that I’d met at my first Fete. I was the only English person there and occasions like this certainly tax the language skills. At these do’s everyone brings their own crockery, cutlery and glasses, it would never happen in England too many people would use it as an excuse to get absolutely hammered. Here it’s an excuse to get all the family together and to go out and socialise with friends and neighbours, while getting pleasantly mellow. There are all ages from the youngest of children to great grand parents, here in rural France the extended family is still just functioning, although I have noticed a change in the young, they seem to be engaging less and less in this type of event. It will truly be a pity if they do disengage from the family, like so many of the young people in England have, and decide to follow the American model. This fete was as usual great fun, I ended up getting pleasantly squiffy and talking to a very attractive woman from Paris, her 12 year old daughter who was incredibly pretty reminded me of someone famous, but I couldn’t for the life of me place who it was, I’ve subsequently realised that it was the young Karen Allen from Raiders of the Lost Ark. They were a charming family and it transpired that they only lived around the corner from Christian’s sister Sylvianne in Paris. We did exchange addresses but being mellow I seem to have mislaid it.

Having been interrupted while writing this it is now gone no longer Friday evening, incidentally the trip to Lucon was delightful. It is now nearly two weeks later and a Tuesday morning, the weather has finally broken and it is raining having been stunning all summer. My cleaner Marie-Jo had said that the weather was set fair for the rest of the month, but she has now changed her tune and thinks that autumn may have arrived. That is not to say that we won’t get any more good weather but I fear gone are the days when I will still be sitting by the pool at 7PM. Of course the good weather doesn’t help the writing, and the late pool evenings and other demands on my time all conspire against me. A case in point is about a week ago I left the pool at 6PM I could have stayed later but I was making Pizza for dinner which is a bit labour intensive for me. The Phone rang it was Tony (the man with the house behind the discotheque) he wanted some help with a form he’d received, could he come over. What can you say, he didn’t leave until 7.30 then I had all the prep for the pizza and cook it by the time I’d eaten it was 10.15 and so life goes, writing is something I squeeze in when I can. It is true that I could have spent less time in and around the pool, but that’s what I’m here for and the winter is long and cold without the opportunity to sit by any pools.

2009-09-15T14:19:00.002+02:00

Fetes Vendéen

A couple of Sundays ago I went with Christian, Gisele, Nicole and Christian’s sister the lovely Sylviane, to the Fete des Chasseurs (hunters). In the morning there had been a fishing competition at the lake in Cezais, which my English neighbour David had entered. David is an addicted and very accomplished competition fisherman, but he was no match for the French trout fishermen, he came 27th. Now a Fete here is a different thing to a Fete in England, here it is lunch with family and friends normally in a large marquee and normally for about 150 people. This was my second Fete the first had been on my birthday and I had been with the same people with the addition of Huguette and Bernard. That time it had been a treat for my birthday and I hadn’t been allowed to pay for anything, except my draw tickets, this time I was just another member of the family Richard and was right pleased to be so.

Now an event like this would never happen in England, everyone sits at long trestle tables and brings their own knives, forks, spoons, dishes and glasses. The Fete on my birthday had been a celebration of the pig and was started with an aperitif, then soup, then cote de porc (a pork steak) with beans this was supposed to be a slice from a whole pig roasted on a spit with Mojettes (a large white bean in a sauce which is a Vendeen speciality) it turned out that allegedly because of complaints by some people the previous year that their pork had been too fatty, the committee had decided to buy in slices of pork, and as the Mojettes had proved to be expensive they were making do with a cheaper alternative in a tomato sauce. The main course was followed by cheese and then an éclair and coffee. We brought our own wine and after the meal I was introduced to Eric and his bottle. He is a youngish guy mid 30’s to 40 and he makes the local Eau de Vie, which is the pure alcohol drink that all of the fortified drinks are made of. You drink from his bottle at your peril. In truth the batch he had brought with him wasn’t too strong and so a glass of it wasn’t too bad, another glass would have been a test and after that, well that way lay madness, or something very much like it so I declined. The meal was great fun and incredibly social, I was introduced to Phyllis an English lady of whom I’d heard much and who is without doubt extremely attractive, she is however married and her husband Geoff seems a very nice guy. My friend Tony Severs who is a sprightly 84 year old yachtsman told me on an evening that I had spent with him that he had met an English woman in Rustington that had a house in Cezais. He told me that he was walking along with a SuperU (a French supermarket) bag a woman wound down the window of her car and asked him which SuperU he used, they were both staggered when they found out they both used the same SuperU and had properties relatively close to one another (within 10 miles). Even though I hadn’t met her at the time I said “oh you must mean Phyllis” and Tony was stunned he asked me if I could arrange for an aperitif evening so that he could meet her again, I agreed to do what I could, I love his spirit.

After the meal people did a variety of things from playing cards or petanque (a bit like bowls only played with flat metal disks) to chatting or watching the specially erected big screen TV which was showing the Formula 1 grand Prix. I mingled and spent some time watching Eric play cards, and then I went and watched Christain play petanque. Every now and then the four players would stop for a break and a beer, I of course joined them, it would have been rude not to. It was a delightful way to spend my birthday. In the evening beans on toast were served on paper plates and I didn’t return home until it was getting dark, it was all in all a splendid day.

2009-09-15T13:43:00.001+02:00

Une Soirée avec La Belle Isabelle
(An evening with beautiful Isabelle)

Some weeks ago I spent yet another great evening with Kieran and Julia it was a quiet affair by their standards with myself, Trevor, José a former next door neighbour of K&J and his lovely partner Isabelle. It was the first time I had met José, he is in his early 50's, has a long thin piece of platted hair at the back, was a real rebel in his youth and probably still is. He works for France Telecom and speaks pretty good English. His partner Isabelle is simply a delightful lady, she has a shop in Fontenay Le Comte selling ladies clothes, don’t ask me, I know nothing of these things. I do know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in my eyes Isabelle is a real beauty, apart from her timeless looks she is also a lovely lady calm, serene, kind and thoughtful. If only José hadn't seen her first. José and Isabelle were also at Stephen and Sally's big celebration BBQ and during the course of that evening Isabelle reiterated an invitation to S&S, K&J, Trevor and me to have dinner with her and José at her house in Fontenay Le Comte I was looking forward to it immensely, and at last the night had arrived. I was showered shaved and wearing my best T shirt.Trevor couldn't go because he had visitors arriving, it was possible that they would have arrived by the time we were due at Isabelle's. Unfortunately Trevor was incommunicado having no phone or internet due to a problem while trying to change from France Telecom to SFR, something that I will address in another post. So K&J picked me up and having then picked up S&S we went to rendezvous with José at his house so that he could lead us to Isabelle's. José has a great little house just outside of L'hermenault and from there we went on into Fontenay le Comte. Isabelle's house is right on the river and you truly wouldn't know that you were in a town at all, the downstairs is open plan and the lounge opens onto a kitchen and then there is a terrace with a veranda overlooking the river. We were ushered out to the decked veranda where we sat at a table under a sail watching the river slip by below. It was an almost magical setting that anyone with any soul couldn’t fail to find enchanting.

We had seeds, which were very tasty and salty, for aperitifs along with a variety of drinks which included pinot, a fortified wine favoured in the Vendee and port. I had seen port served as an aperitif before and I commented to Isabelle that in England we drank port with the cheese course she was a little surprised but took it in her stride. The French tend to drink the best Bordeaux they can muster with their cheese; I suppose it’s hardly surprising here, being so close to Bordeaux. I could have stayed on the balcony all night drinking and talking with some of my favourite people in the world, and in the company of the delightful Isabelle, but time stands still for no man and soon enough we were making our way indoors and seating ourselves at the table.

The starter was as brave as it was splendid, it was a tart made of weeds from the garden, Isabelle had never made it before and it was fantastic, the juxtaposition of the cheese on top of the wilted greenery which had a slight taste of iron was perfect, this was all set off by the light pastry case and it was a joy on the palette. We were all delighted with the food, but it wasn’t just the food the house was enthralling, everywhere you looked there was something unique and interesting. On the wall where the stairs rose there were a selection of French words and phrases that were written twice, they were phonetically the same but were spelt differently and had different meanings they were very clever and we spent some time working out the various meanings. There was also a delightful red silhouette, which appeared as if it were a shadow of Isabelle sitting on the stairs. Everywhere one looked there was something original, clever or charming; there was no matching dinner service, no matching glassware everything was unique everything was individual. Jose being a bit of a wine buff only drinks wine that is, in his opinion, old enough so the wine was good.

The conversation was genial and relaxed as we waited for the main course which was chicken and vegetables in a sauce, it was a superb dish but then Isabelle could serve me baked beans on toast and I’d find something to eulogise about. As it was this was lovely and I couldn’t help but have a little bit more, as I think did all of the men. Then there was cheese, a typical French cheeseboard with all of the usual suspects and Isabelle ever attentive and mindful of my earlier comment returned the port to the table. She followed the cheese with plums in eau de vie which were fabulous, then a plum tart and coffee. The conversation was lively and as usual with the aforesaid assembly there were no lack of amusing anecdotes and interesting stories. Kieran told us the tale of one of his sons who is a marine. Following an exercise in the USA he had some well deserved R&R and some of the regiment including his son decided to visit Florida. On arrival at their hotel they went out onto their balcony which overlooked the pool and to their delight it was full of beautiful young women, however having travelled all night immediately following the end of the exercise they were understandably very tired and so decided to have a sleep before attacking the beautiful assembly. After a couple of hours they arose somewhat refreshed only to find that the bevy of young beauties had been replaced by elderly ladies doing aqua aerobics, that was followed by a kids swimming school and though they waited the young ladies never returned. The moral of this story is of course no matter what, strike while the iron is hot.

The evening was long and the ladies were tired so sadly it was time to go, I could have stayed all night in Isabelle’s beguiling company, but we all said our goodbyes promising to get together again soon. To my eternal shame I have not, as promised, visited Isabelle’s shop although I have looked for it unsuccessfully, a couple of times when in Fontenay le Comte. I could have tried harder to get in touch but the weather continues to conspire against me, the sun has shone relentlessly and the winter is long and cold, so I spend as much time in and around the pool as I can, and to that end I have rather slacked in my promise. It is without my loss as if this evening was anything to go on, any time spent with Isabelle promises to be akin to time spent in Shangri La.

2009-09-08T10:35:00.001+02:00

And The Beat Goes On

Just a few lines to let the three of you who are reading this know what’s going on out here. It is sad to say that even my family don’t bother to read this as I will prove by challenging any of them who do to chastise me either openly on Facebook or by whatever means they see fit. I’m fairly sure that I’ll hear nothing from any of them. I must be a boring old fart. In fact it would be a good exercise to know who is reading this, maybe I’ll pack it in, so if anyone who is reading it could take a mo to use the comments just to let me know, no need to say anything except to say that you’re following the blog and give your name. Thanks to G&J who do follow it.

Onward, upward and full speed ahead, the reason for writing this is a quick update on what’s been happening here while the weather’s not so good. I’m actually waiting for Trevor to come as we’re going out to a restaurant in Lucon for dinner, that’ll be another review to do and I’d just caught up, ah well never mind.

Dorothy and Dave my next door neighbours have gone home, Dorothy was here for the school holidays and Dave was here with Ashley one of their grandsons for 3 weeks. During the last week of their stay and at their behest I organised the transfer of the old house to them and 3 estimates for its demolition and the installation of a fosse septique. This was no mean feat as August is the main holiday period for the French and getting anyone to do anything is tantamount to walking on water, even some restaurants close in August. Also the Englishman who has a house behind the discotheque (he suffers from mega noise on Friday and Saturday nights but has a wonderful view of the foam parties) waited 2 years plus for a single estimate, and in the end I was instrumental in getting that for him. I must hasten to add that this has little to do with my charismatic personality and is much more down to the fact that I have a reasonable command of the French language.

I went to my second Fete on Sunday the Fete des Chaseurs (hunters) with the Family Richard. It’s like a big meal under a very big marquee, there are normally about 150 people from Cezais, but the hunters draw their numbers from further a field and so there were less of the locals that I’d met at my first Fete. I was the only English person there and occasions like this certainly tax the language skills. At these do’s everyone brings their own crockery, cutlery and glasses, it would never happen in England too many people would use it as an excuse to get absolutely hammered. Here it’s an excuse to get all the family together and to go out and socialise with friends and neighbours, while getting pleasantly squiffy. There are all age ranges from the youngest of children to great grand parents, here in rural France the extended family is still functioning, although I have noticed a change in the young, they seem to be engaging less and less in this type of event. It will truly be a pity if they disengage the family, like so many of the young people in England have, and decide to follow the American model. This fete was as usual great fun, I ended up getting pleasantly mellow and talking to a very attractive woman from Paris, her 12 year old daughter who was incredibly pretty reminded me of a famous female, but I can’t for the life of me place who it is. They were a charming family and it transpired that they only lived around the corner from Christian’s sister Sylvianne in Paris. We did exchange addresses but being mellow I seem to have mislaid it.

Having been interrupted while writing this it has now gone from Friday evening to Tuesday morning and the weather which had been dull for a few days is now stunning again and so Marie-Jo says is set fair for the rest of the month. It is music to my ears but it won’t help with the writing. A case in point is yesterday evening I left the pool at 6PM I could have stayed until 7PM but I was making Pizza for dinner which is a bit labour intensive for me. The Phone rang it was Tony (behind the discotheque man) he wanted some help with a form he’d received, could he come over. What can you say, he didn’t leave until 7.30 then I had all the prep for the pizza and cook it by the time I’d eaten it was 10.15 and so life goes, writing is something I squeeze in when I can. It is true that I could spend less time by the pool, but that’s what I’m here for and the winter is long and cold without the opportunity to sit by pools.

2009-09-01T15:11:00.000+02:00

La Terrasse - Restaurant

We had spent the morning looking around on the coast, first we looked at La Dive a small piece of raised land with a few houses on it that had been an island before the Gulf of Picton was drained. Next was L’Aiguillon, a trip around the Plan D’Eau followed by a cup of coffee and a look at the town. Then we crossed the bridge into La Faute in search of a restaurant.

Trevor and I are still in dispute as to who found La Terrasse, he says he spotted it and that I only wanted to eat there because it was easy access for the scooter, I say that I thought it looked like the kind of place frequented by locals. The blackboard at the entrance showed a formula for 12 euros with plenty of choice and I suppose that it doesn’t much matter to you who discovered it, all that matters is how good it was.

There was a wide terrace with tables under umbrellas on the left and a large marquee with tables more densely arranged on the right. Straight ahead was a bar and it was as I had thought a local hangout. Throughout our meal there were a lot of comings and goings pretty much all of them appeared to be local and these actually included mussel fishermen. The marquee was pretty full so we opted for a table under the umbrellas and a delightful young waitress came to take our order. I was feeling a bit jaded following another evening with friends so I ordered the tomatoes with mozzarella, followed by a pizza, while Trevor had the cold mussels in a vinaigrette followed by red fish (a couple of little ones), even though wine was included I had coke, and Trevor had non alcoholic beer. Outside the bar was a mussel cooker, I didn’t quite understand it, normally when cooking mussels one cooks them for a short period, whereas this seemed to have mussels cooking all the time we were there. Trevor’s mussels were obviously yesterday’s cooked mussels served cold with a vinaigrette, they were in actual fact delicious although he must have felt cheated when, unlike with moules marinière, at the end he couldn’t mop up the juice with his bread, as by its very nature it was far too sharp. My tomatoes with mozzarella was fine the tomatoes were fresh and the mozzarella was buffalo mozzarella and it had a balsamic vinegar dressing, when I think back one couldn’t say that it was a taste explosion but it was exactly what I needed, due to my affliction. The same could be said of my pizza, I know eating pizza is a bit passé and that on the coast I should have been surrounding myself with seafood, but I couldn’t have managed seafood, feeling as I did, and pizza is a good standby for me under such circumstances. The French seem to serve their pizzas with an egg in the middle, I could honestly do without that but the base was thin and light, the topping was tasty enough and although it was no Italian masterpiece it was sufficient. Trevor’s two little red fishes would have had a biblical quality about them had they not come served with chips and a small dish of garlic mayonnaise, they were nonetheless deliciously sweet but as with all small fish they were a touch bony.

To finish and in keeping with my Italian theme I had the boring ice cream whereas Trevor had plum tart, which was truly delightful. Plum tart is a favourite here in the Vendée as there are a whole lot of plums about, so finding a home made plum tart as good as this one was only remarkable insofar as this was a restaurant in the main tourist street of a coastal tourist resort. The only complaint I heard from anyone in the restaurant was about the length of time that the service had taken, complaining about service being slow is truly unusual for the French, who are normally happy to dawdle over their food. Similarly we were in no hurry and in any event I didn’t think that the service was particularly slow given how busy the restaurant was.

I must admit that due to my self administered affliction I didn’t do the restaurant justice, I failed to try the house wine which was inclusive, I ate things that I knew would go down easily without challenging myself and I stand duly chastised for it. I definitely missed out, as Trevor’s meal was good bordering on exceptional. This is not a restaurant overlooking the sea and it wasn’t the finest of haute cuisine, but at 32 euros for a meal for two cooked as well as it was, and in such a highly developed tourist area it was without doubt very good value for money.

By way of an epilogue, some friends of mine came out to stay with me at the end of July. They went to the coast and I have to say despite my perfect directions failed to find at La Terrasse, they ate at another restaurant on the main street of La Faute, husband, wife and two children had one dish each it wasn’t particularly good and it cost them over £50. They went back and found La Terrasse on a subsequent visit to the coast and were bowled over both by the quality of the food and the value for money, so on this occasion you don’t have to take my word for it.

Tate - 2009

2009-08-24T11:45:00.000+02:00

L’Auberge de L’Abbaye - Maillezais

It was Wednesday lunchtime and we were trying to visit the restaurant at Bouillé-Courdault called Le Trou Vendeen, we had visited before and seen the Auberge and we thought it looked worth a try. It sported an 11 Euro Formula and was populated by the French, too populated as it turned out because it was full. We had to find somewhere fast Trevor’s hunger was beginning to get the better of him and time was running out, so we decided to go to L’Auberge de L’Abbaye at Maillezais.

We went across country and I took a wrong turn, it looked for all manner that the larger road went round to the left so I took it, it didn’t and we meandered through what on any other occasion would have been delightful countryside but was now a carnivores black hole. We arrived at the Abbey car park and Trevor checked that they had a table for us while I disembarked the scooter, as it turned out all of the tables outside were taken and we were directed to the rear of the restaurant where a few tables remained unoccupied. They soon filled up and I found out subsequently that the restaurant catered for 150 covers; I begin to see why the Vendéens have such a short season. No matter that, I was intrigued at the choice of music that was being played, things that one would not normally expect in a restaurant, especially one at such a prominent tourist destination. They played Rufus Wainwright and Bebel Gilberto amongst others, two artists that I personally love but hardly main stream and hardly musac. I was told that it was the proprietor’s choice and all power to them I loved it. The ambience in general was very good; the room we were in was old and had plenty of atmosphere. It was a very hot day and in the room there were about half a dozen tables with small children on at least 3 of them, (that’s not counting Trevor and I) I’m sure that had we managed to get a table outside it would have been even better, kids in hot places sitting at tables do tend to get a bit fractious, love them though I do.

By this time we had abandoned all attempts at value for money eating, and I was staggered when Trevor avoided the faut fillet, he’s normally a sucker for beef, and plumped for the lamb. It was only when I found out that his friends Patricia and Alan had a house just around the corner, visited the restaurant frequently and had recommended the lamb to him that I began to understand. He really does look after number one when it comes to his stomach and he forgot to mention the recommendation until after we’d ordered.

I started with snails, and they were very good, they had plenty of very garlicky butter and I relished the opportunity to mop it up with the bread which was replenished upon request. The snails were a little small, which made holding them in the conventionally sized tongs a bit tricky but they were no less tasty for it. This is high praise from me as Gisele my former next door neighbour here in France, who is a marvellous cook, used to catch, clean, prepare and cook snails for me, they were fabulous and set an impossibly high standard. Trevor must have been feeling very 80’s as he had Vendéen ham and melon, which looked good it was very well presented in a fan arrangement on a square slate serving plate and he said he thoroughly enjoyed it, although it’s hard to see what you could get wrong with ham and melon.

Our main courses arrived, my faut fillet was excellent, it was perfectly cooked, very tasty and not too chewy. I’ve found here in France that unless you opt for fillet with the consequent cost you do rather take pot luck with the toughness of the meat. I personally don’t mind meat that’s a bit chewy just as long as it tastes good. The frites were as you would imagine, thin and crispy and the whole course was very good. Trevor said that his lamb was exceptional and I must admit that the little bit he gave me to taste was delicious. It was full of flavour, not at all fatty and made me a little bit envious; his course was served in two separate dishes one containing the lamb stew and anther containing the mojettes. If I was to make one very picky comment it would be about the presentation, it was in my opinion a bit half hearted. Trevor’s starter was very well presented but his main course had three chives laid across the lamb which I can only think were supposed to be decorous; they were a waste of time. The mojettes which look very ordinary and uninviting at the best of times were served in a plain bowl, and anyone who has eaten them will know that although they taste good they are not the most appetising thing to look at, so a bit more effort wouldn’t have gone amiss.

We both opted for the profiteroles, and weren’t disappointed, they were scrumptious. We had ordered a pitcher of house red with the meal, which was perfectly acceptable; Trevor had to make do with tonic as they didn’t have any non alcohol beer. We finished with coffee and to Trevor’s delight there was a small chocolate with it. The staff who had been very busy acquitted themselves very well, they were attentive and eager to please, and they even made the time to have a little chat busy though they were. I would like to eat there again either outside or in the main body of the restaurant, perhaps on one of their music evenings.

All in all it was a good place and at 54.70 euros wasn’t expensive for the menu that we had chosen. The mere fact that I would like to go back again shows that I can certainly recommend it.

Tate - 2009

2009-08-17T15:13:00.004+02:00

Saint-Giles-Croix-de-Vie

This is simply my favourite resort on the Vendéen coast, and I couldn’t wait to get back there with the mobility scooter and have a real look around for the first time.
The town is an amalgam of two smaller towns on either side of the river Vie, Saint-Giles-Sur-Vie and Croix-de-Vie. They joined together, appropriately enough, in 1967, which may not have been a great vintage for wine but was certainly a vintage year in my life.

We arrived in good time and parked up in the car park just off the bridge over the Vie; we found a disabled place and were overjoyed to find that the parking charges were for the season only and that it hadn’t started yet so the parking was free.
We were on the South side of the Vie amongst the many restaurants and cafés so it seemed appropriate that we stop and have a coffee. We sat in the sun overlooking the road and had large milky coffees which were very nice but as usual in places like this they weren’t cheap costing over 5 euros for the pleasure. A tip for those who are looking to economise is don’t drink coffee, beer or even soft drinks in bars and cafés as they are all invariably expensive. Trevor and I normally have morning coffee, a soft drink at lunch and coffee and ice cream in the afternoon, and those things are often as expensive as lunch, so it truly is worth taking a cold bag or a flask, that way you save the cost and you can stop and have your beverage wherever you want. You may not get the same ambience but you will save yourself enough to put towards another day out.

Having finished coffee we embarked on the walk that Trevor had wanted to make. For photographic reasons he wanted to follow the path on the South side of the river then out to the river mouth and along the breakwater to the lighthouse at the far end. This took in the yacht marina which Trevor thought was becoming one of the largest on the Vendéen coast and which they were even then extending. It was a long walk for Trevor who was suffering from a foot injury which he had sustained the previous day diving into his pool. The walk was very interesting as one could see all of the points of interest on the river’s north bank including the various beaches, one of which has a natural swimming pool at low tide. One can also see the amazing mixture of old and new buildings sitting side by side, I just can’t imagine the inflexible planning officers in the UK allowing development like this. There is a mixture of old almost chalet style houses, stone built castellated buildings and modern shaped glass fronted edifices and everything sits well together and adds rather than detracts from the charm of the place, we could learn a lot from the planning authorities here.

The walk out to the end of the breakwater was long but it did afford a spectacular view back to the main beach which stretches South in front of the dunes and then on past the promenade. We were there at low tide and the beach was not only long but wide, however I’m reliably informed that at high tide the beach narrows considerably and your space can become limited. You could find yourself squashed up against one of the local beauties, but with my luck I’m likely to get up close and personal with the beast.

We came back along the breakwater and over the dunes to the esplanade where we planned to have lunch. This promenade has changing facilities, toilets (including disabled toilets), cafés, crêperies, bars and restaurants. Behind all of this are the hotels and apartments and behind them the town runs back to the river. All along the promenade the restaurants had dining rooms on one side and tables under sun shades on the other. We looked at all of the restaurants, most offered a formula for lunch which is a limited choice menu at a reduced price. We chose Le Marlow, which seemed to have a predominately local clientele and a menu that suited our needs. My scooter wouldn’t fit in the small space under the sun shades and I couldn’t get into the dining room. The waitress, who wouldn’t win any beauty contests but was nonetheless delightful, moved a table from under the sunshades to the dining room side of the promenade, even though she was incredibly busy, so that I could sit at it on my scooter. We were just in the shade when we started our lunch which was just as well as the sun was beating down. Trevor had his customary alcohol free beer and I had, don’t laugh, a Coke. Trevor had mussels to start, I had a gizzard salad, we both followed that with entrecote I had mine with a pepper sauce, Trevor had the Roquefort sauce and we both ended with Ile Flottante. The overall cost was 29 euros and the review will feature on the restaurant pages.

By the time we had finished lunch the sun had caught up with us and we were baking, we left the promenade and walked back towards the river through part of the town, emerging on the river close to the car park. We wandered on across the bridge to the Northern side of the river but Trevor was beginning to flag. If we were going to explore the North side of the Vie, which seems to be the working side of the town with the railway and the fishing harbour, we would need to relocate T2. We came back across the bridge and I wanted to have a quick look at the streets behind the cafes and restaurants, and went off exploring. I could have spent hours meandering around looking at the architecture but Trevor was becoming seriously fatigued, so I cut short my exploration and we made our way back to the car park. We crossed the river but Trevor was hot and a bit grumpy, he wanted a swim, so we abandoned our tour of St Giles and took the corniche past the devils hole which is a rock formation that during high seas funnels the water up in a spectacular spray and headed on out of town. We stopped in the beach car park at Sion-sur-l’Océan and went our separate ways Trevor went straight to the beach for a swim and I wandered along the sea front and then along a path around some rocks, it was hot but there was a slight sea breeze which only helped to remind me why I miss living by the sea so much. I came back along the road and couldn’t help noticing that there were a lot of single storey properties which fronted onto the path that I had previously taken around the rocks. Even though they looked uncared for, one could only imagine what they would be worth.

I met up with Trevor hanging his bather’s on the wing mirror of T2 he was in a much better mood having cooled off in the sea. We went to a beach café at one end of the car park and we both had 2 balls of Carte d’Or ice cream in a cornet and coffees, it was expensive but it was good. By the time we had finished it was time to head home so the exploration of the north side of the Vie would have to keep for another day, one that was preferably not so hot and one without the long walk along the breakwater.

Saint-Giles-Croix-de-Vie still remains my favourite coastal resort in the Vendée, so going back to complete the tour will certainly be no hardship, and having explored the more touristy side of the town I might even take a chance and visit the North side during the season. - Tate - June 2009

2009-08-17T15:04:00.005+02:00

La Marlow - La Grand Plage, St Gilles Croix de Vie

This is simply my favourite resort on the Vendéen coast, the town being an amalgam of two smaller towns on either side of the river Vie, Saint-Giles-Sur-Vie and Croix-de-Vie. On arrival we had coffee in a café on the South side of the Vie, it was very nice but as usual in places like this it wasn’t cheap, costing over 5 euros for the pleasure. A tip for those who are looking to economise is don’t drink coffee, beer or even soft drinks in bars and cafés as they are all invariably expensive. It is worth taking a cold bag or a flask, that way you save the cost and you can stop and have your beverage wherever you want. You may not get the same ambience but you will save yourself enough to put towards another day out.

Having finished coffee we embarked on the walk that Trevor had wanted to make following the South side of the river then out to the river mouth and along the breakwater to the lighthouse at the far end. The walk out to the end of the breakwater was long but it did afford a spectacular view back to the main beach which stretches South in front of the dunes and then on past the promenade.We came back along the breakwater and over the dunes to the esplanade where we planned to have lunch. This promenade has changing facilities, toilets (including disabled toilets), cafés, crêperies, bars and restaurants. Behind all of this are the hotels and apartments and behind them the town runs back to the river. All along the promenade the restaurants had dining rooms on one side and tables under sun shades on the other. We looked at all of the restaurants, most offered a formula for lunch which is a limited choice menu at a reduced price.

We chose Le Marlow, which seemed to have a predominately local clientele and a menu that suited our needs. My scooter wouldn’t fit in the small space under the sun shades and I couldn’t get into the dining room. The waitress, who wouldn’t win any beauty contests but was nonetheless delightful, moved a table from under the sunshades to the dining room side of the promenade, even though she was incredibly busy, so that I could sit at it on my scooter. We were just in the shade when we started our lunch which was just as well as the sun was beating down relentlessly. Trevor had his customary alcohol free beer and I had, don’t laugh, a Coke. Trevor
started with mussels, so I had a gizzard salad, in an attempt to have something different to enable a broader review of the restaurant. Trevor’s mussels were good, he had plenty and they were perfectly cooked, the liquor was good he used his bread to mop it up with a smile on his face.My gizzard salad was very good, obviously one can’t expect to have the same quantity in this type of restaurant that one might get inland, but nonetheless it was perfectly satisfactory. We both followed with entrecote steaks, I had mine with a pepper sauce and Trevor had the Roquefort sauce both were served with frites and a little salad. The entrecotes were a decent size and were both cooked perfectly Trevor said that his Roquefort sauce was good my pepper sauce tasted good enough but it was a little bit glutinous and understandably had probably been cooked quite a while before it reached my plate. We both ended with Ile Flottante, which were served in small china ramekins and were totally unlike the Ile Flottante that your French grand-mère would have served. Now my expectations are undoubtedly too high, but for me Ile Flottante means floating island and I think it should be quenelles of egg white meringues served floating on a sea of Crème Anglais with a hint of caramel. It was difficult to see how this could in any way be described as floating anything, unless there was something suspended in the semi solid custard. Don’t get me wrong, the taste itself was perfectly acceptable; I just couldn’t see how it could be called Ile Flottante.

The overall cost was 29 euros and considering that we were eating on the seafront, I guess it was reasonable value for money. The service was good and the view overlooking the beach and the sea was glorious, but I just can’t help remembering the meal we had just across the river at La Fauvette last year. There’s no doubt that the view at Le Marlow is better, but I know which one I would choose.

Tate - June 2009

2009-08-17T14:32:00.002+02:00

TAZ BAR - CHEFFOIS

As I have promised to post things on Trevor’s Website before putting them on my blog, some things are bound to get missed and this is one of them. It was the first lunchtime meal of the season, hence the way it starts, many apologies for the lack of continuity.

And so begins our search for good food, a good ambience and value for money here in the Vendée, I’m personally looking for eye candy waitresses as well, but that’s a whole different ball game. Our search this year begins in Cheffois, a small village just out of La Chatigneraie on the Chantonay road. The front of the property has been modified with sloped decking which affords good wheelchair access but once inside the bar getting into the dining area would be a struggle as there are 2 steps one of which requires crampons and pitons. I didn’t have T6 (my scooter) with me and with the strong arm of the barman/maitre d’ assisting I managed to get into the dining room with relative ease.

The dining area was small, with tables poked in anywhere they would fit, offering a very cosy 40-50ish covers. The décor was in the style of the American West, I am reliably informed that Mexican theme nights are a feature here. Even though the restaurant was busy Trevor and I were sat at a table for 4 and the Maitre d’ cleared the other 2 settings, this was very accommodating as I noticed that on other tables for 4 people were expected to share. There was a menu of the day which was Foie Gras, followed by Andouillettes, tripe sausages which few if any Brits that I know like, cheese and a choice of sweet. Both Trevor and I had spotted the hors d’oeuvres table which was groaning under the weight of a massive selection, all of which looked very fresh. Now I love Foie Gras but like every other diner, so far as I could see, we both went for the hors d’oeuvres. The variety was good, it included a whole salmon, slices of duck breast, various cold meats and slices of salami type sausage, pate, rillettes, pizza and all of the usual salad like suspects. Hors d’oeuvres tables are not uncommon here in the Vendee especially at lunchtime eateries, so the competition for the best table is fierce and while this may not have been the biggest it was right up there with the best of them. Everything on it was tasty and fresh and I didn’t even give the foie gras a second thought. Trevor and I try to order different things when we eat out in order to give the broadest possible analysis of the restaurant for our reviews and somehow Trevor always seems to get the first pick. This is of course because I’m a Gentleman, on the other hand it could be because I’m a procrastinator, whatever the reason he went for the Duck, which left me with a choice of Vendéen Ham, a bit like gammon, or Salmon as a main course. I went for the Vendéen Ham, which was served with a Cep Mushroom Sauce, and a choice of rice, frites, vegetables or pasta. I went for the frites. Everything was very good, the ham was perfectly flash cooked, sometimes it can be overcooked and turn out a bit like cardboard, and the sauce was fantastic, deep, rich and full of the distinctive taste of the Cep mushrooms, the frites were pre cooked and warmed through so they weren’t crisp but they were nonetheless very tasty. Trevor’s duck was by all accounts just as good, although it wasn’t slices of duck breast rather pieces of duck he was delighted with both the flavour of the duck and the orange sauce that accompanied it.

All the tables had a 500cl carafe of red wine which no doubt would have been replenished if desired, Trevor had his customary ¼ glass and I struggled manfully and drank the rest, it was a perfectly good Vin de Table and was made even more acceptable as it was included in the price of the meal. So copiously had we eaten that we passed on the cheese course going straight to the dessert. Trevor had pineapple in fact he had half a pineapple served with a cherry sauce, he enjoyed it so much that there was a time when I thought he was going to eat the skin as well. I plumped for the cold rice pudding served with caramel, it was my kind of dessert and I loved it.

The restaurant was very busy with several tables emptying and filling for a second time, and all of the other diners were French both of which are normally a very good signs. Everything we ate was very good quality, and I would think that the chef is a bit special for this kind of establishment. The presentation was good enough though unlikely to win any awards, and the service was impeccable. As an aside the waitress that served us was delightful, she spoke a good smattering of English and was more than happy to use it, sadly I’m sure if I’d tried to take our relationship out of the cordial business one that we enjoyed, No, would have been a word that would have rolled easily off her tongue, still the beauty of not asking is that you can continue to dream.

We adjourned to the bar for coffee, which was strong and suited my pallet; the bill came to 11 euros a head for the meal and an extra 1 euro for the 2 coffees. To summarise the food was terrific, the service superb and it was great value for money. Although the actual dinning room was cramped it had a great atmosphere and everyone, staff and customers alike were very friendly, and for me, as I love mingling with the locals this more than made up for any lack of space or view. You of course may differ in your opinion, but for the price you can certainly afford to go there even if it’s just to prove me wrong.I thoroughly recommend the Taz Bar and it certainly sets a very high standard for the establishments we will visit during the rest of the summer.

Tate - June 2009

2009-08-17T14:05:00.001+02:00

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

I am here inside while the sun outside is shining, why you might well ask, the answer is simple but true to form I'm not going to let you get away with it that easy.

On Friday evening I decided that Chicken Fried Rice would be the order of the day, it is just about my favourite meal, so I did all of the preparation including pre-cooking the chicken, onions, garlic, chilli and lardons. The rice was already cooked and dried, “I was ready to rock so out came the wok” (just a smidgen of contemporary poetry for you). I had already beaten the egg to within an inch of its life so into the very hot smoking wok went the ground nut oil and with a flourish in went the beaten egg. It was at this stage that I found that far from being beaten the egg was very much alive and kicking and was lying in wait to spring an ambush on me, it fought back with a vengeance by spitting hot oil at me. Oh! Bugger you might think another shirt ruined, or even better thank god I’d put on my apron, none of the above unfortunately. Because of the very hot temperature I was committing the cardinal sin of cooking topless; the scalding hot oil has left a trail of small burns from my navel to my throat like little crusty atolls in a dark brown ocean. I could have gone medieval but in true British tradition I soldiered on and continued cooking the Chicken Fried Rice, which incidentally was delicious.

The upshot however is that I’m now spending my third day out of the sun and away from my beloved pool and the temperature is still in the high 30’s Pant Pant BOO! HOO!

There is without doubt a moral to the story and that is no matter how hot it is in the kitchen never cook topless, unless you're female (that's just a personal preference) and you're making a salad.

Tate 2009

2009-08-17T11:20:00.010+02:00

Le Marais Poitevin

We were out on tour again in the Marais Poitevin, this time we planned to take a route that neither Trevor nor I had taken before, this was to follow the Sèvres Noirtaise on the Deux Sèvres side eastward from Maille for as long as the road stayed next to the river, which we anticipated would take us to Thaire le Fagnoux This stretch of the Sèvres Noirtaise marks the boundary between the Pays de la Loire and the Poitou-Charentes so we were on foreign soil looking across the river at the beloved Vendee. The truth is that Trevor had travelled a part of this stretch of river before but that had been on the Vendéen side and the trail had ended abruptly in someone’s garden when the road simply ran out.

We approached Maille via Doix a pretty little place that had obviously been affluent in the past, as there are a lot of substantial properties in and around the village. We arrived in Maille and parked up by the river, it was raining, it was grey, it was a shame. We were looking for coffee, but there was nowhere open, there was a beautiful old church, but that wasn’t open either. All of the barges were tied up, none of the normal tourist places were open and there was absolutely nobody about. The weather was however clearing so we lived in hope, but for now we had to live without coffee. We ploughed on to our next stop which was to check out our proposed lunch destination L’Auberge du Vieux Batelier at La Croix des Marys. We looked at the menu and it was a tad expensive and as we had tasked ourselves with searching out value for money, when Trevor said that it got very busy as it was frequented by coach parties, I lost my desire to eat there. We decided that we would continue on our travels and find an alternative. So we turned on to the riverside road and dawdled along taking in the peace and serenity of the broad languorous river. We came upon an incredibly pretty little place called Le Fosse de Loup, there was nothing much there, a couple of weeping willows and a couple of houses, but it was really attractive and typified this stretch of the river. Having reached the point where the road left the river we drove on into Courçon, a little market town with nothing special in it, except that right next to the car park was a bar/café and at last we managed to get ourselves a cup of coffee.

The weather had brightened up considerably and the sun was out, we went back to La Croix des Marys and took the river road toward Damvix, it was an equally enchanting road alongside the river. We came across a large fresh water crayfish in the middle of the road, Trevor got out and I thought he was going to bag it for a snack but the crayfish was no easy match so Trevor did the humane thing and using a stick manoeuvred it back into the long grass by the side of the river, I wish I’d had my camera out as it was a truly humorous scene, the crayfish really did put up a terrific fight. The rest of the journey to Damvix was much of the same with small
houses dotted along the riverbanks, parcels of land some with large tents or a camper van setup for the summer and as a backdrop to it all the indolent river sliding noiselessly by. It was beautiful and instantly brought Renoir to mind.

We arrived in Damvix and Trevor’s battle with the crayfish had activated his appetite. Now when Trevor gets the call to eat it’s a must to find somewhere fairly quickly, I think in future we’ll have to pack some biscuits to stave off his hunger pangs. It was under these circumstances that we entered Damvix, a pretty little village on one of the canals, there is a large restaurant barge which departs from the quay but at 41 euros a head it wasn’t what we were looking for. I said to Trevor that I would prefer to continue along the road from Damvix to Arcais in an attempt to find a little restaurant on the canal with a bit more charm, but Trevor’s hunger won the day and we decided to eat at one of the restaurants in Damvix. There were 2 restaurants on opposite corners, we decided on the Deux Saisons solely because they advertised in a limited way the content of their 12 euro formula, whereas the other restaurant didn’t. We sat at a table outside overlooking the road and the other restaurant and the waitress came to take our order, she was delightful and very pretty, somehow that’s always an encouraging start for me. Trevor had an alcohol free beer and I drank the house wine that was included with the meal it was no Grand Vin but it was as you would expect it was a no nonsense Vin de Table, which was perfectly acceptable. The first course was what one could only describe as a very original mixture comprising of a slice of ham pie, a slice of salami, half a boiled egg with mayonnaise, macaroni lightly coated with a garlic tomato and cheese sauce and vegetable couscous. Now you might think that this would be an odd mix, and you’d be right it was odd but it was tasty and quite contrary to my original thoughts in an odd way I enjoyed it. The main course was cote de porc, essentially a pork chop, it was served with a vegetable risotto and courgettes and mushrooms. This again was a very odd mix, the constituent parts were well cooked and there were two pork chops when they could probably have gotten away with one. The meal was finished with Oeufs au Lait, this is milk, eggs and vanilla which have been cooked. When I first saw this on a restaurant menu and enquired what it was the restaurateur told me it was Crème Caramel without the caramel, when I went to pay the bill the restaurateur’s husband and his group of farming mates kept repeating the words crème caramel without caramel (in French of course) and laughing uncontrollably. All I can say is that some people are easily amused.

By the time I had finished the meal in Damvix I was extremely confused I couldn’t work out whether I was in France, Italy, Morocco or Timbuktu. I like variety, but when I’m eating I need to have flavours that go together and that I recognise alongside one another. This meal though well enough cooked didn’t do that for me and even the very pretty waitress couldn’t make up for it. With coffee the meal came to 26.50 euros for the two of us, which is pretty good value for money, but I couldn’t rate this as one of the better formula meals that I’ve eaten. After lunch we got back in the bus and travelled some more familiar roads. Incidentally there were several small restaurants set along the rivers and canals; they looked like just the sort of thing I had wanted to try. Some of them looked good but who knows how good or how pricey they would have been, by the look of the cars parked at one or two of them I think we may well have missed a trick, still hopefully there will be another time.

On our way back home Trevor decided that he wanted to find the port at Bouillé-Courdault this is a sink at the end of a long straight canal where barges used to come to unload and turn. Following a false turn that landed us in someone’s field we found the port, parked up and went for a roll (that’s a stroll to you but as I’m on the scooter I call it a roll). The port is unused now and all of the warehouses have
been converted into dwellings, these are not the great industrial buildings that we associate with quayside warehouses, but are more in keeping with normal Vendéen architecture. The whole place is now as charming and pretty as a place can be, there is a Bar/Auberge which looked good, decent parking and shade provided by some lovely old trees. I only hope that when we come back to try the restaurant, which we surely will, we find the place as peaceful and unpopulated as it was today, so that we can benefit from the tranquil atmosphere that is part and parcel of this truly unique place.

The only thing lacking was a coffee and ice cream so we got back on the road and went to Maillezais, the site of a ruined abbey and one of the hubs of tourism in the Marais Poitevin. We parked in the church car park and went off, as usual Trevor went off on his own with his camera and we agreed to meet by the canal at the abbey where there were a couple of cafes. I wandered down through the town and along to the abbey. The ruins look fairly impressive from outside of the enclosure but there is an admission price and I can’t honestly see the point in paying to look at piles of rubble, so I passed them by and went on down to the canal.
I arrived only to be greeted by the scene of people in odd clothing with silver painted faces working on laptops. I was wondering whether there had been something in the food at lunchtime or whether the odd mix was reacting and making me hallucinate. It was so disorienting that I started to go back up to the road, fortunately Trevor appeared and we ventured back down with renewed confidence, at least he saw the silver heads as well so I wasn’t hallucinating. The café being large we were able to sit around the corner from the silver heads and when we ordered our coffees and ice creams I asked the waitress about them, she told me that they were performers in a spectacular that was taking place that evening, phew! Thankfully we weren’t being invaded from above by laptop wielding silver faced aliens and all was once again well in the Vendée. We left the cafe and walked back up to the abbey (well Trevor walked) it was baking hot and I decided to do the right thing and go and get the van while Trevor relaxed on the grass under the shade of a tree, it had been a long but very pleasant day but I was now looking forward to getting back home for a cold drink and a swim.

Tate - 2009

2009-08-14T01:15:00.001+02:00

HAYLEY

Hayley my beautiful young friend, you have been ripped so cruelly and far too early from life. I will always love you, and you will always be in my heart and in my thoughts. I will always remember your beauty so fresh and vibrant. I will always remember your humour so quick to laugh and so easy to laugh with. Life without you in it will be less, I wish you could be here with me. I will never forget you.

Goodbye my love.

2009-08-04T09:45:00.005+02:00

Apologies To The Few

How many times am I going to start my postings with an apology of sorts? The short answer is I don't know, but I do apologise for leaving it so long since my last post, hopefully I can get back on track and bring you all the news from here in the Vendee. In my defence things have conspired against me when it comes to posting, and this is only a quick post to let the few of you out there who were bothering to read it know that I haven't forgotten you and to hopefully whet your appetite with a taste of things to come.

Firstly the reasons I've not been posting. Where to begin, well to start the weather here has been fantastic and who wants to spend their time on the computer when they can be out soaking up the rays by the pool. Today the sky is completely clear and the sun is already beating down relentlessly the clouds that the Bradleys brought with them have left with them and no matter that the weather was not brilliant for the weekend that they were here, it was truly great to see them. I'll tackle the weekend in another posting. The only reason I'm posting this today is that Marie-Jo the kind lady that cleans for me is here, I like to spend time with her so that she has a bigger experience than just cleaning and it seems to work because even though she is full to bursting with work she still finds the time to fit me in. Then there's the hectic social life, some of which I will post about, that has kept me away from the computer. Then there's the fact that Trevor's telephone and internet have been down for some time, another thing I'll be posting about, and as I've promised him first posting of all the travelogues and restaurant reviews I've not been able to post any of those. Then there's the visitors, I've got a dear friend and her family just coming to the end of a two week stay, so that's kept me off the computer. Worst of all a young friend of mine contracted a serious illness and in the space of a month has been hospitalised and has tragically passed away, nothing prepares you for the loss of someone so young and writing on the internet has seemed totally unimportant compared to that. There are probably other reasons that I haven't been posting but that's enough of them to be going on with.

Now I'll just give you a little taster of the things I' hope to be posting about in the near future. there will be descriptions of some great social evenings and social events that I've attended, including an evening with La Belle Isabelle, and winning a kid at the local feast on my birthday. There will be travelogues of St Giles Croix de Vie, my favourite coastal resort in the Vendee, another part of the jigsaw that is the Marais Poitevin, L'Aguillion and La Faute. Finally there will be restaurant reviews of amongst others L'Auberge de l'Abbaye at Maillezais where they manage to serve 150 lunch covers and still produce high quality food.

So I hope you'll bear with me, my guests leave on Friday and this beautiful weather can't last forever, can it?

2009-07-13T16:35:00.005+02:00

An Evening Entertaining the French

Sunday 5pm and Trevor picked me up, we were going to Kieron and Julia's for the evening. They were entertaining their French neighbours Rene and his wife and their local farmer Pierre who is also the number 2 to the Maire of St Cyr de Gats the commune in which they all live, and Raymon his wife, add to the mix Steve and Sally and you've got the picture. We were staring at 5pm because the French eat lunch rather than dinner, that goes double on Sundays, and they don't really enjoy being entertained to dinner, so the idea was aperitifs for the French then a meal for the English afterwards.

This was such a contrast to the dinner at Steve and Sally's (no fault of theirs) we all got involved chatting to one another, even some of the conversations between the English contingent were conducted in French. It is true that the smaller numbers would have made it difficult not to get involved, but everyone wanted to be, I wonder if some of the English that had been at Steve and Sally's had been there just what they would have done. In any event there was no hiding and as usual I was amazed at how hard Kieron and Stephen try with their French, neither's pronunciation is good and Kieron is often extremely inventive with his vocabulary, but to their eternal credit they both plough on regardless. The French love the fact that they try so hard and they respond with patience and try just as hard to understand, and most of the time everyone is able to communicate. I must admit that my conversational French has come on leaps and bounds over the last couple of years, so much so that all of the French present complimented me on my command of the language but Rene was also kind enough to say that I didn't have much of an accent. Which means that I've lost the "Alo Alo" tang that dogs most English who speak Freench. Of course speaking reasonable French has its drawbacks, one sometimes wonders whether one is invited as a linguistic lubricant or for one's sparkling personality , but with Kieron and Julia I never doubt that I'm invited for my wit and charm, or at least the fact that I'm a bit of a laugh. I'm not 100% sure why, but Kieron has taken to calling me Clousea, he even introduced me to the French as such, I did ask him why but as often happens with Kieron I didn't get very far

The evening was a great success with plenty of laughter, the wine flowed liberally and the finger food was superb. Finally Kieron brought out the Pineau starting with Trevor's then moving on to Rene's, then Pierre's and finishing with his own. They were all pretty good, Rene's got the blue ribbon with most people, after all he has been making it for a long time, and it was made with walnuts, I think my personal favourite was Pierre's just because I preferred the taste, and I think Guy Guerrin my farmer friend makes a better walnut flavoured Pineau. The French left at about 9.30pm and we adjourned to the kitchen/lounge where we had a prawn starter and a chicken curry. Most people were in fact very tired and Trevor and I left not long after eating, it had been a great night, very different, and just the sort of evening that France should be all about.

2009-07-10T16:45:00.004+02:00

A Change in the Weather

Well I suppose it had to happen, the weather seems to have taken a turn for the worst, I heard today that the "Jet Stream" is currently hanging around over the UK and that autumnal storms are forecast for there. The weather definitely changed here on Sunday, it was a beautiful day and was very warm and I was going to Steve and Sally's for a celebration of their 31st wedding anniversary and another mate Tim's 50th birthday. Trevor had accepted an alternative invitation and so I was going on my own with T2 & T8 and I was driving and wasn't going to be able to drink but that was no hardship. I took my hoodie as an after thought, after all it had been so hot I hadn't worn a T shirt for weeks let alone a jacket, unless I was going out. There were 19 of us sitting down at Steve and Sally's, I'm staggered how they manage, even with the help they were getting from Tim and Sue and Kieron and Julia.

Five of the nineteen were French and there were quite a lot of English people that I hadn't met, they mostly ignored me and I spent my time talking to the French contingent, unlike most of the English (Steve,Sally,Kieron,Julia,Tim and Sue excluded) who seemed content in their nationalist clique. The English went to one end of the table I went to the French end and had a great time with Steve and Sally's neighbours Roger & Christine, who I had only met twice before but who immediately offered me their downstairs bedroom if I wanted to have a drink, and Jose and the adorable Isabel. The food was good amazingly so considering the numbers, and I'm sure that had I not been driving I would have consumed far too much alcohol, a lot of people seemed to be headed that way. Steve had asked me to write him a speech in French, to wish Tim a happy birthday, it was quite a challenge for me as written French is not my strong point. I kept it fairly simple although I did put a couple of jokes in, but I still had to labour long with the dictionary. It was even more of a challenge for Steve, reading the speech in the difficult light was his first hurdle and though his delivery was a bit iffy, pronunciation not being his forte, it went down a storm with the French contingent, which I guess was the point. I don't know how much of it the English contingent understood, but they seemed to laugh in all the right places and Steve got a well deserved ovation. All in all it was a great night but I couldn't work out why the English were so insular unless it is that they only have limited French and as such they can't be bothered to make the effort to communicate

By 10.30 it had gotten cold enough that most people were putting on tops, the delightful Isabel needed to borrow a top from Christine, it was a pale blue and brought out the colour of her eyes, it made her look even more beautiful. I put on my hoodie, it made me look like a gnome. Since then the weather has been different, by day there has been as much cloud as sun and the temperature has been about 10 degrees lower than before, the evenings have normally cleared and the nights have been cooler. So come on jet stream move back north again and let's have more of that hot stuff.

2009-07-10T14:38:00.010+02:00

Isle de Re

If you’ve read my piece on la Rochelle you’ll know that our assault on the town was launched on the back of a visit to Castorama, a large B&Q type shop just outside La Rochelle, to replace broken swimming pool equipment. Now as Murphy, or at least his law, would have it Trevor gave the pool a good clean with the new equipment and wandered in with one of the filters from within the pump announcing that it now needed replacing. You know the good news bad news thing well the good news was that the filter didn’t come from Castorama, the bad news was it came from Cash Piscines, a shop on the same industrial estate, so we were off to the La Rochelle area again. The silver lining to this particular cloud is very Alice in Wonderland, as jutting from the coast beside La Rochelle is a most amazing three kilometre bridge, and at the other end of it is a small island, “L’Isle de Re”.

First the technical stuff. The Isle de Re is in the Department of the Charente-Maritime, and has an area of 85 square kilometres, it is 30 km long and 5km wide although in places that is reduced to mere metres. It was originally an archipelago of 3 separate islands running east off of La Rochelle but due to silting and human intervention, it has become one island. The strategic value of the island has long been recognised, and as such the island sports what almost amounts to a display of “Fortifications through the Ages”. Many people have tried to invade it but few have succeeded. Those who have failed include the English. In 1627 the Duke of Buckingham invaded, landing thousands of troops on the beaches of the Isle de Re. After 3 months fighting the islanders and failing to subjugate them, he gave up and left the island for good.

The Island has a winter population quoted as 16,000 rising to 160,000 in summer and with annual visitor numbers of over 3 million, the island’s main source of revenue is undoubtedly tourism. Sea salt works to the North West of the island, an active fishing fleet and markets selling everything from fruit and vegetables to African artefacts, indicates that there is a vibrant island community outside of tourism. The Islanders who are known as Retais view the mainland, which they refer to as the continent, and its population with suspicion. As an Island race I’m sure those Brits amongst you will identify with that sentiment. I just can’t get out of my head that they could have called themselves Reguns, not after a former President of the USA but after the armaments of mythical intergalactic warriors, but then I am a bit out there. The Retais however have now taken their battle with the continent just a touch further, and the 3 km bridge connecting the island to the mainland has become what I consider to be the strangest of battlefields. The bridge like many other motorways and bridges throughout France is subject to a toll, levied to recoup the cost of construction, as I write this the toll is 9 euros out of season and 16.50 euros in season (June 19th to September 20th) but in 2012 the bridge is due to become toll free. This has brought about a movement amongst the Reguns (Oops! sorry) Retais to retain the toll under the thin veil of being an environmental tax. The truth more than likely lies in the fact that the removal of the financial deterrent is seen to be tantamount to the opening of the floodgates which will mean that the island will become prey to hordes of the great unwashed, further clogging up the roads and taking the charm away from the few existing towns by the sheer weight of tourist numbers. With the waning of exclusivity will likely come a crash in the extremely high prices of houses and land along with the exodus of those stars and dignitaries who are purported to frequent the island because of its beauty and selectiveness. Even though this sounds to be elitist it is something that I can identify with. In 1987 I visited the Greek Island of Zakinthos for the first time; I had friends who owned one of the two tavernas in a small coastal village called Planos. The village was not directly on the beach rather being on the road that circumnavigated the island, there were spaces between the houses, and the odd shop. On my last visit some 5 years ago Plannos had 27 tavernas and there wasn’t a cigarette paper’s worth of space to be found anywhere, sadly I can’t see myself ever going back again, because it is no longer the place that I fell in love with. The same might easily happen to the Isle de Re. Our visit was out of season for both French and English holiday makers alike and yet everywhere was still full to bursting.

We started the day fairly early, which was almost a miracle as the night before Trevor had come over to my place and cooked for the waifs and strays, that being Stephen whose wife Sally had gone back to the UK for a few days in order to retire, Sue whose husband Tim was also in the UK (I call Tim “Marvin”, after the paranoid android in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, you know the one who has such fabulous lines as “life? don’t talk to me about life”, and “here I am brain the size of a planet and they ask me to take you to the bridge call that job satisfaction cause I don’t”, I find Tim incredibly funny) and myself. The dinner was a seafood triumph with Mussels followed by a fish called Loup de Mer then Cheese and then a sweet. It was a great evening, it had been late and alcohol rich, but to do the shopping and get around the island it was essential to get away early, it was definitely a day for shades.

The trip to la Rochelle was uneventful, the shopping done and the 9 Euros paid we were crossing the bridge, they don’t make ordinary bridges in France, this bridge is no exception to that, like some giant tensioned longbow with a twist, it has a little bit of the bridge over the Loire at Nantes about it although much longer of course. It was quite amazing we had left in thick cloud but on the coast the sky was clear and blue and throughout the day we could look back and see the huge cloudbank sitting morosely over the landmass while we enjoyed continuous sunshine, statistics show that the Isle de Re has the same number of hours of sun per year as the French Riviera,

Making landfall we, unlike many others I suspect, stopped at Rivedoux Plage in truth it was because we were in search of a coffee, which I desperately needed,. It being out of season for the French we did struggle a bit but we eventually found a cup in a roadside café/shop, we sat outside and drank from plastic cups, there was no view of the beach, in fact there was no view at all, but the coffee was very welcome and inexpensive.
After coffee we went straight along the coast to la Flotte, the largest town on the island, it has a quaint harbour with echoes of a mini La Rochelle. There were a mixture of luxury yachts and working boats in the harbour and the cobbled quaysides were festooned with restaurants, but at one end of the quay was an oyster market and past that along the quayside running away from the harbour was a row of attractive little single story dwellings which appeared to be inhabited by Retais. There were small boats laid up on the opposite side of the quay to the local housing and it would be churlish to refer to the scene as anything less than charming. It was just a little early to eat otherwise we might have stopped there, but Trevor satisfied his hunger pangs with a pastry and we wandered off up a side street away from the harbour just to see what we could find. What we actually found, through an archway off the road was a vibrant local market, selling everything, it was situated in a little cobbled square and it was packed, we took a small lane out of the square which was extremely pretty, if you ignored the dogs mess, with old buildings and hollyhocks lining either side. The end of the lane brought us out in close proximity to where T2 was parked so we loaded up and off we went, past the Abbaye des Chateliers a 12th Century Cistercian Abbey which was ruined during the 100years war and the wars of religion. Not much further along the road is the start of the fortifications for St Martin de Re, first there is an extensive fortress with a dry moat which is yet another example of the Island’s fortifications and continues to house the island’s prison. Our next stop was the island’s jewel in the crown St Martin de Re. We stopped in the car park just outside of the town and wandered through a park and along the ramparts towards the harbour. This really was a mini La Rochelle except it had that special feeling that is only generated in an Island community. The harbour has an almost circular feel accentuated by a central island, the evidence of fortifications are everywhere, as are the quayside restaurants.
There are shops on the harbour, but this is obviously primarily a place of entertainment, we wandered all around it and then went over the bridge onto the small central island. I could imagine that it might take on an almost magical quality at night, with the lights sparkling on the water and I suspect music and street entertainment.

We were by this time a bit late and we stooped at a restaurant called Marco Polo which looked back towards the rest of the harbour, we were amongst the last people to be served, but even then most of the tables were still full. This is obviously a fish lover’s paradise but ridiculous though it was I was still feeling the after effects of the previous evening and couldn’t face eating more fish. I had the house pizza, it had ham and peppers and mushrooms and in the centre an egg, it was good enough and was just what I needed, not too heavy, not too much topping. Trevor being an enforced abstainer was not suffering at all and tucked into a pretty little sea bass with mixed vegetables. It was a small fish and in the UK would have only been allowed if it was farmed. I used to fish for bass professionally and I know that to keep a line caught fish now in the UK it would have had to be almost twice the length, so make of that what you will. Personally I can’t see the point in serving farmed fish on an island with a vibrant fishing industry, however Trevor enjoyed it, but he was hungry and would probably have eaten a dog with relish by then. The service was very good and the waiter spoke good English, Trevor thought that he might not be French but when I questioned him he said that although he was born on the island he had grown up in Angers where he said they speak pure French without any regional accent and that was probably why Trevor thought he wasn’t French. Having grown up in a holiday town in Devon I could get all cynical here, we used to tell tourists all sorts, but I’m going to let is pass. We both drank tonic water and had large coffees and the bill came to 40 Euros.

Time was moving right along and we had to move along with it if we were going to make it around the island. We stopped at a beach at Le Matray, on the narrowest part of the island which in places is literally only a few meters wide, so that Trevor could take some photos; there was a car park and the bank which protects this part
of the island, then the beach. There were some people donning wet suits who were going to hire jet skis. We didn’t stay long and continued on to Ars-en-Re, it looked as if it had a pretty little square, but it had those bollards that come up out of the ground and not wanting to get caught inside, I regretfully chickened out so we didn’t get to see it. Next stop was the very tip of the island where you can take the one road out and then the same road back; there are a lot of beaches most serviced with car parks and none seemed crowded. This end of the island is where the salt production takes place, it also seems to have a lot of very high quality housing with I’m pretty sure prices to match. I’ve heard rumour that plots here are valued at 1 million euros plus. We came back from the point to les Portes en Re which was a very small working harbour, I didn’t venture out of the van and left Trevor to take a photographic record. It was getting late and we headed back to take a look at the lighthouse, unfortunately we were turned away by the police as the car park was full, there was another car park further out but we were hot and decided that our time would be better spent in search of an ice cream and a coffee. The island has a reputation for ice cream and ice cream parlours; however we searched high and low on our way down the south side of the island, but everywhere was closed, and it wasn’t until we reached the Southern side of Rivedoux Plage, where we stopped at a beachside bar and had, no not an authentic Isle de Re creation but “Just one Cornetto”, (in fact Trevor had two), and a large coffee each. Trevor wanted to get a picture of the bridge from the south side of the island and so he wandered off along the beach. When he came back he said that I could get closer to the bridge in the van so that I could see it, in fact we got more than even he bargained for as I decided to go off road and got us right under the bridge on the very point of the island, Trevor got some great photos not just of the bridge but also of the kite surfers on the Northern side, it was a fitting end to a long but very enjoyable day

The Isle de Re is a fabulous island that would be wonderful without tourists, our visit was out of season and there were places that were still closed, but still there were plenty of people at the tourist hotspots like La Flotte and St. Martin de Re. The island is small with a road system not designed for the volumes of traffic that they get, and it does seem that it is one of those places that is likely to suffer from its own charm. I can’t imagine what the island would be like at the height of the season, I’m sure I’d hate it, even though I loved it while we were there. My suggestion would be take a holiday at either end of the season in June or September, then hope for the best with the weather, or pack your winter woollies and try it in December; it’s something I’m seriously considering. Tate – June 2009

2009-07-05T17:27:00.005+02:00

It's hard to figure how many times I'll start my blog in disbelief but yet again I'm staggered that it has been nearly 2 weeks since my last entry. To be honest the fantastic weather and light evenings mean that I'm often not in from poolside until 7-30 or even later. Add to that the trips out, and then there's the socialising, then there's Wimbledon. It's even been difficult finding the time to shop.

Today was not very sunny, but very warm nonetheless, so I've made some attempt to catch up on the backlog of articles that I owe Trevor. Today I wrote up our trip to the Isle de Re, it was a great day, but so long ago that I had difficulty in remembering some things. We've been to St Giles Croix de Vie and the Marais Poitevin since then, and we've got a day at the coast planned for Wednesday. I need a week of cloud just to catch up. (I should be careful what I wish for)

Last Wednesday I went shopping with Christian, it was a normal shopping trip but when we got back to his place Gisele came out to the van and started talking to me in a code that I didn't understand. It wasn't Patois,or Argo I knew what she was saying was French, I even understood most of the words, but none of it made any sense. There was something about Guy and that he had visited my place in the morning but that I'd been out and that he was going to pick me up. I left in total bewilderment and decided that I would ring Christian when I got home, then thank goodness a little voice somewhere in my head said don't ring Christian go and see Guy. On arriving at Guy's his wife Marie-Therese explained that as it was Christian's birthday on Thursday and as he was tied up with council business they had to deliver Gisele's surprise birthday present to him on Wednesday evening. In addition they had planned a small surprise birthday party for him and that Guy was going to pick me up as I was included in the celebrations. It really was a good job I didn't ring Christian.

Marie-Therese told me to get out of the van and join them for lunch, I tried to resist, but to no avail and ended up having a three course lunch of smoked salmon, followed by a pork chop with shreded cooked lettuce and salsify, followed by a cooked mirabelle and pear tartin. All of this was kicked off with a Pastis aperetif and washed down with with Guy's own wine. I went home afterwards and had a nap followed by a swim and Guy and Marie-Therese picked me up at 9pm. They had eaten an evening meal, I had eaten nothing. Christian was sitting on his rear terrace and was very surprised when Guy drove his van around the side of the property and onto his back lawn and we all got out including Marie-Therese who emerged from the back of the van with a cold bag containing Isle Flotant a cake a bottle of champagne that Guy had boiught and a bottle of pink champagne provided by yours truly.

We had a couple of hours sat around the table talking and laughing, the Isle Flotant and Cake were brilliant, the bottles of Champagne were cold and went down a treat in the evening heat and we left at about 11.30pm.

It's days like this that make the summers here so enjoyable, the day started with a normal shopping trip, which led to an unexpected lunch and ended up with a surprise birthday celebration.

I love France.

2009-06-24T21:13:00.004+02:00

I can't believe it's been over a week since my last entry, there's just so much going on here at the moment that there isn't actually time to write it all down. Since the last blog entry Trevor and I have spent the day on the Isle de Re and today we spent the day on the NW Vendeen coast in my favourite Vendeen coastal resort St.Giles Croix-de-Vie. Sally's now back from the UK having retired, the Lions Tests and now Wimbledon are on the box and we've had day upon day of lovely weather, even if I had another day a week it wouldn't be enough.

Sadly a very dear friend of mine is seriously ill in hospital and my love and thoughts are with her, she is only young and her situation is critical, life is anything but fair. At times like this one feels so helpless especially this far away, not that proximity would help.

My French neighbour's marriage is going through a rocky stage at the moment so there are lots of arguments and plenty of shouting and screaming. It's such a shame, they have worked so hard together to bring up three lovely kids and build a very successful business and now all that could be for nought, if they can't resolve things.

The forecast is for localised storms tomorrow so I might be able to write one of the articles that I owe Trevor, of course I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the sun will be shining and I'll be able to spend the day by the pool. That would be Shangri La.

2009-06-16T12:43:00.003+02:00

Bulletin

Well the weeks are speeding by here, and it's a bit of a social whirl. Kieron & Julia have gone back to England but Stephen & Sally have arrived. Sally goes back to England tomorrow to officially retire and as Trevor's place is out of commission being full of customers we're all getting together here, including Sue as Tim is also back in the UK. We all had dinner at Steve & Sally's on Sunday and as usual their hospitality was boundless, so much so that I wasn't altogether myself yesterday. Some of you might think that me not feeling like myself would be a bit of a bonus for me.

I went shopping in Super U on my own yesterday as Christian can't make our Wednesday shop as he's off with one of his mates to the coast to eat sea food, I'll await his report to see if it goes on our list of restaurants to try. Knowing my mate Christian the quality will be high and the price will be the price. I've been cooking this morning. I found some Scotch Bonnet chillies in the supermarket the other day so it should be a bit of a bum burner. I'm just waiting for it to finish off before I get out by the pool.

The iffy weather continues, when it's hot it sure is hot but there are days when it's not so good, what's infuriating is that on the bad days the sky often clears and the sun comes out but too late to take advantage of it, we've rarely had a day without some sun this year. The truth is though that the weather ought to be really good all the time at this time of year.

Trevor and I are off to the Isle de Re on Thursday a beautifull small island just off the coast and connected to La Rochelle by a road bridge. The island is populated by the beautiful people including some stars so I'm informed and they are in the middle of one of the strangest campaigns I've ever heard of. The fee for crossing the road bridge is quite high and as is the norm here in France once the bridge is paid for the toll will be removed. As the repayment date approaches however, the residents of the island are campaigning for the toll to stay, fearing that a toll free bridge will mean that their quiet idyll will be invaded by us the great unwashed. So its a first for me people campaigning to keep on paying a toll, what a wacky world eh. I'll let you know how it all went another time.

If you can't wait to see it here visit http://www.gites-with-pools.co.uk/ where it will appear first,

2009-06-13T22:20:00.016+02:00

La Rochelle

Every cloud has a silver lining, or so they say, but I must admit that when the suction brush disintegrated halfway through Trevor’s valiant effort at cleaning my pool and this coming hot on the heels of finding a hole in the net used for scooping the detritus from the surface of the pool, I was failing to see anything but red. Then I remembered that the shop for buying these accessories, Castorama, is just outside of La Rochelle and my mood suddenly brightened. Following our successful trip to the Puy du Fou, the decision to go there to buy the necessary pool tools and then spend the rest of the day in La Rochelle was a shoe in. I have been to La Rochelle with Trevor before but that was BT (Before Thunderbirds) and we were very seriously restricted in what we could do. This time the gloves were off.

We started the day early as it takes a good hour to get to La Rochelle from my place, and the last thing we wanted to do was to restrict ourselves to time. The journey was uneventful with a good navigator and T2 coping easily, we arrived at Castorama in good time. Even trips to large French versions of B&Q are interesting for me, now that I can scoot around them. We had a good look at the BBQ’s,
I have a dismal record when it comes to buying BBQ’s I don’t think I’ve ever bought a decent one in my life, unlike Trevor who had just bought an all singing all dancing gas job which was on offer at Bricomarche for peanuts, but then he is a clever little monkey. Having found everything we needed we headed upwards and onwards to La Rochelle.

We arrived in La Rochelle passing the railway station on the way in, from the outside this is far too grand a building to house a rail terminus, with its imposing arches, beautifully crafted decorative façade and a central clock tower that is simply too handsome for it’s purpose, the station is more like Versailles than St Pancras. On arriving we easily found a disabled space in the car park outside the ramparts, parking in the shadow of the twin towers at the entrance to the old port (Port Vieux). There was no mention of free parking for the disabled so using the maxim “it’s better to be safe than sorry” we fed the ticket machine and made our way
into the beautiful old harbour. Our attention was immediately drawn to the restaurants which ring the quayside, Trevor showed me a couple that he’d eaten in previously, Andre’s which looked very posh, and the rather appropriately named Comedians, we both agreed that they were both a bit pricey and that we’d look for something less expensive. It is of course true to say that it’s hard to put a price on the ambience of eating right in the middle of such a spectacular place, and were we not committed, on your behalf, to the pursuit of value for money eating I would have happily settled into a chair in one of the waterside restaurants and indulged myself in a seafood extravaganza. As it was we were a little early for lunch so we settled for a coffee at a café called Encas before heading off into the backstreets.
The service and the coffee were good, and at 5 euros for 2 large white coffees, considering the surroundings, I didn’t feel too badly ripped off. The weather was being kind not too hot but with prolonged sunny spells, consequently we were both smiling.

La Rochelle is purported to be the second most visited place in France after Paris and it doesn’t take long to realise why, the architecture is old and beautiful and the small cobbled streets wind their way through the town, opening unexpectedly onto stunning squares of all shapes and sizes some large and adorned with statues and cafes, others with trees and some small with little gardens or nothing at all. Our next major architectural find was the Town Hall (Hotel de Ville) this richly
decorated Renaissance building is an absolute must on any tour of La Rochelle Passing through the imposing archways and into the courtyard the flamboyantly gothic nature of the building becomes more obvious, with a carved facia that runs the whole width of the building without repetition, stone stairways that sweep up to resplendent balconies that would befit a certain scene from a certain play and a cloister that has an intricate and highly decorative ceiling. The stone walls are bedecked with ornate windows festooned with carvings and the whole edifice is topped with towers and battlements. To say it is imposing would be an understatement.

We continued our tour through the narrow streets full of tall buildings, not skyscraperesque in either style or proportions but bursting with character until we came to the Old Market, the building itself is another triumph of French architecture, built in 1835 it actually looks as if it should be the train station. One side of the building with its metal and glass superstructure and clock tower fronts the small square which houses the outdoor fruit and vegetable stalls. The other side of the building has alternate red and white striped courses of brick and stone and is one of the most striking facades I’ve ever seen. Housed within this building are numerous stalls of fresh meat, fish, cheese, pates and a small wine counter. It is one of the best markets I’ve seen, it may not be the cheapest market but the produce looked so fresh and appealing that I only wished I lived close enough to visit it on a regular basis. I’m sure that if you did you would soon get to know the market traders and visiting would be as much of a social event as a shopping trip.

After looking around the market we started feeling a bit hungry so we made our way back towards the harbour. In one of the small streets approaching the harbour called the Rue Saint Michel we came across a small café/restaurant called L’Atelier Gourmand with tables inside and out, it was nearly full and all of the diners appeared to be locals. We decided to give it a try, we both had the entrecote with a béarnaise sauce, frites and salad it cost 12 euros, the steak was a good size and perfectly cooked, the béarnaise sauce was just right and the frites and salad were excellent, we followed it with a chocolate fondant at 3 euros, it was exactly as I think a fondant should be the cake exterior gave way to an oozing liquid centre, it was rich, it was chocolaty, it was delicious. We followed it with coffee, and we both agreed that considering where we were it was hard to find anything to criticise. The service was first-rate, friendly and efficient, we didn’t have to wait long for anything yet we never felt hurried and the lady who was running the restaurant was happy enough to stop and chat at the end of the meal.

There was however no time for us to dawdle we still had the other half of the harbour to see plus the beach and the gardens. Lining the quayside on the far side of the old port are more restaurants side by side, but behind them is an area that has been redeveloped. Looking more like an American harbour side development than France it is, still very attractive. This area has not taken off and unlike everywhere else that we saw it was relatively deserted with many empty shops. I
thought it a shame as it really was a very pleasant place. We stood on the quayside and watched a brand new 62 foot catamaran come alongside and tie up; the boat was a very impressive sight unlike the standard of seamanship displayed by its crew. After watching the debacle we meandered back towards the car park as the meter needed feeding again, stopping only to partake of an ice cream in one of the cafes. As we sat eating our ice creams looking at the harbour full of the most fantastic sailing craft large and small framed by the elegant old buildings I couldn’t help thinking how fantastic it would be to live in this beautiful old town.

We spent the rest of the afternoon looking around the outer edges of the citadel, at the sailing school, the town beach and wandering through the gardens with its children’s zoo. There was much more to see, including Fort Boyard a 61 x 31 metre fortification which rises some 20 metres up out of the sea. Then there is the aquarium which is widely recognised as one of the best in Europe, with its guided
walkways stretching over two floors of massive seawater tanks containing approximately 10,000 species of flora and fauna from the oceans of the world, living in what looks like their natural habitat, but all of that would have to wait for another day, perhaps when the weather was a little less clement. We ended our day by driving out to the Port des Minimes and having coffee on the seafront at Les Minimes Beach, looking out at the Isle de Re.

It had been a truly wonderful day and La Rochelle certainly is fabulous, I think it would be hard to ever exhaust the possibilities of this beautiful and enchanting town. If you make one excursion during your visit to the Vendée I highly recommend that you visit La Rochelle.

Tate June 2009

This article was first published on http://www.gites-with-pools.co.uk/

2009-06-11T22:02:00.000+02:00

Blogging Insomnia

Hi my little Blogsters,

This blogging lark is going to be the death of me. Putting up the article on the Puy du Fou was no problem yesterday, after all I'd already written the article for http://www.gites-with-pools.co.uk/, until I got a bit smart ass and decided to try to make it look professional and iunclude pictures. Having finished it (you'll have to be the judge of how successfully) I crawled to bed at 2.30am.

It was consequently not in the least bit surprising that I was not the most cheerful person when Trevor rang at 8.30 this morning to see if I fancied going out to the Isle de Re for the day. Having politely declined, I got up and spent the day by the pool. My friend Guy the French farmer who cuts my grass came at 4pm and after he'd finished we sat and had a drink and a chat for 45 minutes. He's 74 and a great guy and I really enjoy our little chats.

After Guy left it was back to the pool until after 7pm then in for bread, pate, chorizo and wine. Its a bloody hard life, there's been no time to write the article on yesterday's meal at the Tazbar restaurant, it'll have to wait for a dull day

As you can see it really is a tough life but I think I'm up to it.

Tate - June 2009

2009-06-11T01:06:00.000+02:00

Puy du Fou

Men in tights, wenches, Vikings and Romans, pyrotechnics, sword fighting, jousting and chariot racing, all this shot through with extraordinary horsemanship in a 110 acre park with gardens, restaurants, water features and a Hotel. You might reasonably think this must be Disneyland, but you’d be wrong. Tucked away in the North East corner of the Vendée is the Grand Parc du Puy du Fou. The Parc is something completely unique, a safe place for adults and children alike, without roller coasters and rides trying to be the highest or the scariest, this is a place of enchantment and spectacle.

We’ve had the house here in the Vendée for 17 years and throughout that time virtually everyone who has visited has spent a day at the Grand Parc du Puy du Fou. It may come as a shock but some people are crazy enough to have visited me more than once and a large number of these fools/visitors go back to the Puy du Fou time and time again. I have never been able to visit the Parc before, although I did manage to go to the Cinescenie, the evening spectacular, once, and I was like everyone else enthralled.

This year with the aid of Thunderbirds 2&8 and with my trusty companion Trevor by my side, I finally made it to the Grand Parc du Puy du Fou, and spent a day being captivated by this place the like of which I’ve never seen anywhere else I’ve been in the world. We took advantage of the reduced prices for April and May and rather than the current 26 euros each we paid 16 euros, I actually only paid 12 euros as there is a reduction for those who are handicapped. We arrived early, about 9.30, and collected our tickets which Trevor had booked and paid for over the telephone and studied the map and timetable. As you would expect Trevor is a Parc veteran, normally visiting at least once a year, and he soon had our itinerary worked out with military precision, which is very important if you want to see everything in one day.

Following our plan we went straight to The Musketeers of Cardinal Richelieu. The one thing certain about everything in the Parc is that it is big; each of the arenas that stage the major shows hold thousands of people. This show is staged in the only indoor arena in the Parc, it has a stage that is purported to be over 70 metres wide and the show does not restrict itself to the stage alone. Be prepared for spectacle including sword fighting, flamenco and horses dancing on water, I won’t attempt to further describe the show for you, perhaps if I were a better wordsmith it would be possible to capture this visual extravaganza in words but alas I’m no Wordsworth. As soon as this show was over we headed for the Vikings. Held in a massive outdoor stadium, this is, as described by my friend Julia, pure theatre. A wedding, was taking place, the bride and groom were given presents including a pack of wolves, lord knows what they would do with them. The joyous scene was then interrupted by the arrival of the Vikings, herds of oxen, long boat and all. They then did what all good Vikings do they threw the sacred remains of Saint Philibert,
which the villagers were supposed to be protecting, into the lake and rape and pillage ensued. Actually I was watching intently and didn’t see even the tiniest bit of rape, who knows perhaps they were gay Vikings and I was looking in the wrong direction. There was fire, explosions and fighting which culminated in a further long boat rising from beneath the waters of the lake and with that you think the villagers are done for. Then Saint Philibert himself rose from the lake, walked on water (I thought that only his boss was allowed to do that) and converted the Vikings to Christianity and they all threw down their weapons and peace broke out like hives. The special effects were amazing, the fighting excellent and the animals as ever were impeccable.

We then took a break and got ourselves over to the Medieval Pizza Parlour, it was actually the Restaurant in the Medieval Village. It was a bit odd to see girls in
medieval dresses taking orders for and serving Pizzas but sometimes authenticity must give way to pragmatism. Getting there early was a great move as the restaurant filled up quicker than a rain butt in the UK. Trevor and I both had the Ribs with Vendéen Ham and Mojettes, a bit like baked beans without the tomato sauce and a regional speciality. The restaurant is filled with tables for 6, we shared ours with 2 French couples and had a great time, the company was good and the food was excellent when you consider how many people they were likely to have to serve. At 10.50 euros a head I considered it reasonably good value for money especially when you bear in mind that they do have a captive audience.

After lunch we went to watch the birds, no not women, and no sign of Alfred Hitchcock, but it was a truly remarkable display of falconry which included the extraordinary snake bird, owls and hawks of all shapes and sizes and massive
vultures. A tip for those who aren’t of a nervous disposition is to sit yourself close to the top of the stadium as the falconers stand in the crowd and the birds swoop to them skimming the heads of the crowd. The finale is one of the most incredible sights that I’ve ever seen with what seemed like hundreds of birds in the
air at once swooping and catching the strips of food thrown to them by the falconers. What was even more incredible was I didn’t see one person with bird droppings on them. After the show we went behind the arena where the falconers were attempting to entice the birds back into their cages with varying degrees of success, it was another chance to see these remarkable raptors up close. The whole experience was a rare and remarkable treat.

Next stop was The Romans, set in a replica amphitheatre 115 metres long and 75 metres wide and recreating the atmosphere of Gaul during the Diocletian period. There was a parade, gladiatorial combat and chariot racing. There were Christians being fed to the lions, tigers and even a hyena. Fortunately for the Christians none of the animals were hungry; nonetheless
they were all pretty formidable looking beasts. The crowd played its part in the spectacle, and there was much cheering for the goodies and booing for the Romans. We may have been fortunate in that respect as we had several coach loads of French schoolchildren in when we were there, but somehow I think the crowd reaction is always likely to be the same unless of course they get coach loads of Italians in.

After the Romans we went to the Battle of the Donjon, I must admit that by this time
I was suffering a bit of pageant fatigue and things that would normally have been very exciting such as the jousting and the fantastic trick horse riding went a little over my head. The horses dancing which was based on dressage and sends me to sleep at the best of times, threatened to do so again. The moving fire throwing siege engines, the rotating keep and the hand to hand combat even failed to spark my interest,
I’m sure had we seen it all earlier in the day I would have enjoyed it much more. It is also possible that I may have been suffering from a slight feeling of self consciousness. When the alarm was raised that the English were coming there was one solitary cheer from the crowd, thousands of heads turned towards me in disbelief, I looked around to Trevor for support but he was observing the non-existent clouds and whistling in an attempt to totally disown me

Maybe this was a pageant too far and maybe it does endorse the official view that you should take 2 days to cover the parc properly but all in all it was a great day out.

Having finished all of the pageants we then took a leisurely look around the gardens which are beautiful
before making our way to the bar in the main square where we thought that as a treat we’d have a farewell beer. There weren’t many people inside and we sat at one of the outside tables and waited to be served, but having waited for what seemed an eternity without it appeared any prospect of service, we decided to call it a day and went home.

There is no doubt that handicapped people and their carers are very well catered for, having their own entrances to all of the arenas with easy access and front row seating. I had few problems with T8, apart perhaps from the drainage channels in the Medieval Village and one part of the gardens which were only accessible via steps. Anyone pushing a wheelchair will need to be fit as parts of the site are extremely hilly.

It had been a fabulous, in fact, an unforgettable day and one that I can highly recommend to everyone

Tate 2009

This Post and further photographs can be found on http://www.gites-with-pools.co.uk/

2009-06-09T00:04:00.000+02:00

Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks

It’s said that you’re never too old to learn, and today has proved that. Bad weather has kept me indoors and as a result I’ve been writing articles for Trevor’s website www.gites-with-pools.co.uk . As you’ll know if you’re reading this I’ve also started a blog so that I can share these articles with anyone who’s interested, and keep you all (all might be a bit grand) informed of the goings on here in “La Belle France”. I’ve tried Facebook but it doesn’t give me the space that I need, so I’ve joined such illustrious figures as John Prescott and started blogging.

Now I don't know about you but whatever I do I want it to look professional, with photographs and the like. I’m pretty reasonable on the computer so I thought I’ll be able to crack this blogging lark, so I tried and I tried and I tried. I could get the text up I could even get the pictures up, but I just couldn’t manoeuvre them into the right positions. I must have wasted an hour trying in vain to re-position three photos, then the phone rang and it was that well known webmaster Trevor. Within 5 minutes he’d taught me how to manipulate the photos and how to create links. I would still have been trying now without his help, so thanks Trevor you’re a legend. It just goes to show that you can teach an old dog new tricks after all.

Tate June 2009

2009-06-08T16:54:00.000+02:00

Thunderbirds - R – Go

It’s May 2009 and after a long cold winter in Blighty, I’m finally back in the Vendee, but this year there’s a difference, this year Thunderbirds are Go.

I’ve been caught in the diminishing mobility spiral for some time. It may come as a surprise to some, but this is not due to me being rendered legless through an over indulgence in alcohol, it is rather as a result of limited mobility. This has lead to a lesser ability to exercise promoting weight gain producing further limitations to my mobility etc. etc. The upshot of all of this has left me spending less and less time out and about and doing things while in the UK and more time at home. The problem has been less prolific in France as when the weather’s good I can spend my time next to and in the pool and as most of my friends have accessible dwellings with plenty of parking, visiting here is much easier. Nonetheless I have still been severely restricted in what I could and couldn’t do, so late last year I bit the bullet and bought myself a Mercury Neo 4 Mobility Scooter, known hereafter as T8 (Thunderbirds 8) and just like that my life was transformed. Places that had been entirely out of reach were now easily within my compass, it didn’t get me dancing but it did get me in the ballroom.

I knew that just buying the scooter wouldn’t be sufficient, and that I would need to get it close enough to places to be able to use it effectively, after all scooting to Tesco’s from my house was one thing but scooting to the house in France was way beyond the scooter’s capabilities. Now those of you who are old enough to remember the 60’s TV series Thunderbirds will know that their transport vehicle was Thunderbirds 2, my T2 is a converted Mercedes Vito Van. As in the series everything is remote controlled and automated. The rear doors open electronically and the Ricon lift folds out like a flower opening at sunrise it then lowers seamlessly and I am able to drive T8 onto it. Another touch on the remote and I’m levitated and able to scoot into the belly of the beast, with the lift folding back into the van and the doors closing and locking themselves. The wonders do not end there as I have an electric driver’s seat, some of you out there (Stephen you know who you are) might say better that it was an electric chair. In addition to the numerous Mercedes gadgets on the seat it is independently powered and moves up and down, forward and back and swivels, I’m still looking for the Tea’s made which I’m sure must be concealed somewhere within.

Since arriving in France I have been to several supermarkets and 2 major DIY warehouses, “Wooopee” you might say “Big deal” well actually when you’ve been unable to do these things for as long as I have even the most mundane of tasks takes on an almost spiritual quality, add to that days spent at the Puy du Fou and La Rochelle, both of which I will cover individually in separate articles, and I hope you can see that this has given me back a degree of freedom that I thought I’d lost forever. All in all these truly are very impressive pieces of kit. I may not have the slide away pool or the fold down palm trees of Tracy Island but in all other respects

Thunderbirds really are Go!!

Tate 7th June 2009

This and many other interesting articles can be found on www.gites-with-pools.co.uk

The Blogging Begins

2009-06-08T15:43:00.000+02:00

Hi everyone or no one as the case may be, this is my first blog so don't be too hard on me, I'm going to post all of the articles that I write for www.gites-with-pools.co.uk along with anything else that I find interesting, amusing or infuriating, provided that I can come to terms with the technology. Being the verbose old fart that I am I find that there isn't enough room on a Facebook post to get in all that I need to say, and as not one person commented on the post I put up about the exploding cooker I figure no one's interested in the stuff I post anyway. Perhaps I'm too long in the tooth for facebook but most of the stuff that I read seems either inordinately trivial or stuff that I would only want to communicate to certain people on my friends list.

I've been here nearly 4 weeks and so far so good Ron and Gerald went home after the first 10 days and since then Kieron and Julia have been out to their place for a few days, they were as always Mr. & Mrs. Hospitality however I was able to repay a little of their generosity by inviting them over to watch the Champions League Final, Julia being a Man Utd fan. Trevor and I have been galavanting with a day at the Grand parc du Puy du Fou and a day in La Rochelle already under our belts, this week we have a day on the Isle de Re planned and maybe lunch at a little restaurant in Cheffois.

Luckily Marie-Jo is back doing my cleaning, Christian is still happy to help me with the shopping and my trusty side kick Trev is here to fix all the little things and organise someone else if anything major goes wrong, so everything is in place for a bumper summer. All we need now is decent weather. As in the UK it has been fantastic here up until the last few days, we had a thunder storm here today and it has been very windy. They're forecasting a return to sun on Wednesday but I'm not holding my breath. As an asside I think if I had my time again I would become a weather man after all what other profession can you think of where you can be wrong 70% of the time and still keep your job, appart from politics that is.

Tate