Living and Gardening in Brittany

I have been volunteering at the local library which is quite small and only open on Wednesday and Saturday mornings. It is really well stocked and has some beautiful childrens picture books. There is an English novel section; the books on Brittany are excellent and very comprehensive.The library is run totally with voluteers who are really dedicated. In the school holidays we do craft workshops. I found a couple of novels by Erica James who is a very well published writer and lives in Congleton. She was also a member of Congleton Writers Circle. The very one that I visited last year. I thought she would be interested to know that her book was in this tiny library so I sent her a message via her website and she replied. The library has just undergone a renovation and we are planning a 'Porte Ouvert' (Open Day) in Feb. A local writer has been invited and a group of artists have been invited to dispaly their work. it felt very strange yesterday when I was hooving the libr...

French people celebrate Xmas on Xmas Eve. The Reveillon de Noel it is called and means the evening before Xmas. Here in Brittany people are very family orientated but have been kind enough on a number of occasions to invite me. This is difficult for me as a vegetarian. I don't like to compromise my principals but I do not like to offend my neighbours either especially as food and large sit down meals are so important to them. As you can imagine I find fois gras especially difficult to swallow and to refuse as they think I am very odd in not wanting to try their delicious Xmas treat. I am not too good at staying awake until the early hours either and midnight here is the preferred hour for present opening. This year I managed to have a French Reveillon with French friends and an English Xmas with two English friends. My friend Sylvaine the hostess rang me to say that the meal would begin a little earlier than usual so would I be there at 8.45. Fortunately, I could stay over and ...

They say there is no free lunch but my god there is no free heating either here nor in the UK. I did appreciate gas central heating for many years but I do not have that option here. I am too far from the town gas supply. One option here are oil central heating. I cannot afford to install it and it is not cheap to run and the cost can rise astronomically without warning. Electric heating is easy and cheap to install and is quite flexible. But it is expensive. The third option is wood. This is my chosen option which is not ideal but it is the best of a bad bunch It is neither cheap nor easy to run. At 70 I have to first of all stack then carry 50cm heavy oak logs into the house every day. It is not cheap. 120 euros last year for 1 corde (3cubic metres) I use at least 4 cordes per year. The stove is very hungry and I keep it lit all night. The problem is that I have to supplement the wood burning stove with electric heaters. The annual electricty bill is about 600 euros s...

On my birthday two friends arrived from UK and we started the day with Bucks Fizz and cake. Later more friends arrived and they had all brought food. We began with champagne and cakes.  Then we danced and played games. Next we sat at table and began a lovely meal. We had delicious home made chestnut soup followed by two flans, one of spinach and one of cheese and onion (most people were veggies) with salad. Did we have cheese? I don't remember but we certainly had cake. Everybody seemed to have brought me a birthday cake. I had four. It was a truly enjoyable party and I felt very priviledged to have so many generous knid friends.

The second was a small dinnerparty with four friends, two French and two English. I think I cooked (not my favourite occupation)  a very edible meal. It was a pleasant evening and an opportunity to practise my French which I really need. I forgot to take a photo. I had another birthday meal in a posh restaurant in Dinan. Sylvaine treated me to anything I wanted on the menu. The restaurant has panoramic views of the port and the food is delicious. The waiters are extremely attentive and I'm sure it cost a bomb but I didn't look at the bill.

The first one was a family affair. My son and his wife came with his daughter and her partener for the weekend. We had lovely food and lots of wine and a surprise birthday cake with champagne. We played games over the weekend.  Which is one of my favourite pastime.

I have just read all the old posts on this blog and realise that most posts are about food. I was about to write about my birthday but maybe I will leave it until later because I had 3 parties which all involved food. But hey it is France.

  Or is it? I had decided not to go to any more village meals but yesterday I went yet again. Last wednesday, market day, I set off to the Bar Central in town where one can always be sure of meeting the English gang. I had to talk to someone about the NewYear's gig but I never got there. I bumped into two of my neighbours Simone and Annick. I usually see Annick in town on market day but Simone never. Why? Simone is 100 years old, yes 100. The reason she was in town was not to go to the market but to go to the Funairium. The place where they take the deceased before the funeral so that friends and family can sit with the body before the burial. Sometimes people stay for hours even over night. The deceased  was 97! She invited me to go for a drink with them and whilst those two drank Raphael I had a petit café. It was quite embarrasing because when I offerd to pay I couldn't find my purse. I had left it at home in my camera bag (more of that later). They asked me if I was go...

The French culture regarding art and the environment is different from that in UK. There are often walks in the countryside which are accompanied by musicians or singers. Sometimes the musicians wait en route and play when the walkers approach. In the gardens there are frequent exhibitions of sculptures or paintings. Last weekend I went to an event which combined a garden visit with a walk and a dance performance. The garden was classical French- a park rather than a garden. There were no flowers just trees. But what magnificent trees. They were mostly hornbeam. They were laid out in geometric forms or in long alleys. It was big, big enough to have fully grown trees in most of the areas. Some of the trees were pruned to keep their size to form hedges some were allowed free rein to show their magnificence. Even hornbeams had been shaped as in topiary. We met the leader of the event and she gave us an introduction to the event. We were all given a mini cd player. We we...

Sometimes I think about going back to UK. The main reason I stay is because of my garden which was a field when I arrived seven year ago. And the view of course. Where in England could I afford to buy a place like this (see photo above). Yesterday I worked in the garden until I could hardly stand. I often do. Sometimes because I need to get certain jobs done before the rain. Sarah says once it starts it doesn't know when to stop. Sometimes because I can't stop. Gardening has become my number one reason for living. Seriously. When I am out there nothing is too difficult although I have to admit it is getting harder as I get older. But that is what I mean about energy being funny stuff. I can barely walk up stairs and I detest housework with a fervor but when I am in the garden I move from job to job and want to stay out there all day everyday. When I come into the house I can barely stand. The thought of cooking a meal is abhorrent (I hate cooking too) yet I would happily...

I can't remember whether I have written about Jubbil in this blog. If not then it is a foolish oversight which I must correct. Jumelage Breton Bilangue is an organisation of which I am the English secretary. MEMO write more later. The aim is for English and French people to share cultures and language.  Briefly I wanted to resign but the president wants to meet me next weekend to persuade me to continue and to plan the future of the association. I have set up the first meeting on November 11th 2010 for a Writing Group. I am really looking forward to it. I forgot to mention that I attended a writing workshop a couple of weeks ago. There had been a book launch by a woman who had just self-published a book called 'The Eight of Cups'. Unfortunately I missed it because I was in UK. But I managed the workshop. It was interesting (See other blog Wise Wild Women Write) . This gave me a platform from which to launch a new writing group.

I spent a full day in the garden on Saturday which gave me great satisfaction. On Sunday I went with friends to Collinée to a superb concert. The first half was an opera singer with pianist. We sat two rows from the front so found it amazing. The first few arias made me cry.  I have the programme and will enter it at a later date because I want to remember it. The second half was advertised as an 80 strong Harmonie which was in fact a Concert Band. It reminded me of when I played in the West End Concert Band in Crewe. That was one of the happiest and saddest times of my life.

So now I have mixed up these two blogs. This one is supposed to be about my life in Brittany and the other one is about writing. AND whyI am messing about with blogs when I really want to get to writing my novel?

I have just found out how to access an old blog from this one. I have more old blogs than I can  remember. I lost most of them when I threw my laptop through the attic window. But just by accident I clicked on the words old blog and there it was. So how can I link it clearly and easily. May be on my profile?

Old Blog The following is an exercise from Vanda Inman's website.Are any of us really free? What is freedom? What do we mean when we talk about freedom? Do we mean freedom from hunger or violence or poverty or work or worry or even ----Years ago I escaped from a violent marriage and I worked for years to free myself from poverty in old age. Now the question is what do I do with this so called freedom?I even have time to choose how to spend my time each day. But am I happy? What do you think?I agonise about my comfort. I look at the rest of the war-torn world and feel guilty. Then I agonise about what I can do about it. Do I send money to good causes, do I offer to help in a charity shop, do I offer my services as a volunteer in an old peoples home, am I too old for voluntary work overseas? Haven't I earned a peaceful retirement? Too many questions and no answers.Then reality strikes and my past catches up with me. I get a phone call from the adoption organisation who have news...

I said that there was no free lunch and for me the fee is small. The meal lasts for five or more hours. This is difficult for an Englishwoman who is more comfortable in an armchair than on a dining room chair.  My neighbours never seem to sit in an easy chair. Whenever I am invited for aperitifs (it's never drinks without food even if only nibbles) we sit at the table. We may begin at the kitchen table. I am often asked to move to 'the other room' which is furnished with a dining room table. I have noticed armchairs, but they all appear to be unused. Even the T.V. is wall mounted near the table. I assume it is watched while sitting at the table. So here 'c'est normal' to sit at table for five hours. When I first moved to Brittany, I went to the village meals to meet local people, to be part of the community and to practice my French. I tried to avoid getting into a ghetto of English people. I found it was too easy to spend all my time speaking English. Now I ...

So they say that there's no such thing as a free lunch. Every year here in Mérillac the council organise a meal for the over 60's on the electoral roll. Other people are invited but they have to pay. It follows the format of all the village meals with a few exceptions. The council sit at the top table rather like the bride and groom with the best man and bridesmaids at a wedding. Claud Ogier is the village animateur. President of the 'Old folks Club' and deputy Mayor gives him ample opportunities to perform this roll. He officiates at most 'do's. He wears a hand mike like an extention of his arm. We are all welcomed of course. Then the 80 year olds are invited to stand to receive our congratultions and applause. Claud relinquishes the mike for the mayor to deliver his round up of the year. We stand for a minutes silence for the deceased members and then the newcomers are invited to join him on the stage. A micro-mini history of each one is delivered - place...

I love the subtle colours of this aquilegia Pink Poppies Abundance  The Princess and the Frog Poppies worth Painting

On my return from UK I rushed out to plant new trees and bushes and flowers and to cut the very long grass. Too long in fact.  It was also very wet so the mower stopped and refused to struggle on. I took it to be repaired, returned home and got out my electric strimmer. It too went on strike. I went back to the shop and bought a petrol strimmer. I cut as much as I physically could of the longest grass and planted some of my new additions. I couldn't wait to get the repaired mower back. I was delighted to find that it was still under guarantee. I was so excited. I was happier than if I'd bought a new car. What is it about gardening?  For years I rejoiced in the fact that I had no garden and now it has become my life. I have now cut the whole field and the three lawns and planted everything I brought back from England. I worked until I could hardly stand and had to forgo the Fest Noz and was almost too tired to eat.  But tomorrow there is a meal in ...

After spending some time in UK dealing with problems I returned to Brittany on the overnight ferry. It is always a pleasure watching the sunrise as the boat moves into the port. As I drive home on the empty roads, bliss, after the nightmare of the UKs traffic jams I play the game - spot the telltale signs of being in France. 1) Man peeing at roadside. (score 10 points) 2) Boy on bike with baguette under arm. (5 points) 3) Woman with pram/pushchair with 2 baguettes. (5 points) 4) Group of old men leaning on walking sticks outside bar all with baguettes under arms. (10 points) 5) Very large tractor with trailer moving at dead slow for miles on narrow road with endless bends.  But it is so good to be home.

10:13 AM Music and Dance in Brittany 　 The first time I experienced Breton dance was before I came to live here and I was staying in the Auberge de Jeunesse (Youth Hostel) in Rennes. There was a celebration by the side of the canal. A stage had been erected for the musicians and there was a bonfire waiting to be light at sunset with a firework display planned on the far side of the canal. I enjoyed the first group playing for the dancers and then as they left the stage and two young women took their place I felt disappointed as I thought that the dancing had ended. Then the two young women put their arms around each other and began to sing and the dancers recommenced. Since then I have learnt that instrumental players are not necessary for Breton dancing. Often even at large events singers are used to provide the music. Sometimes a pair of singers, and sometimes a group of 5/6/7 make exciting music for the dancers. There is a group called Les Chanteurs de Loudia who have collected o...

Wednesday, August 23, 2006 Visitors Unfortunately for my August visitors they arrived the day the 'canicule' ended. The local Festival de Jazz was not affected. We enjoyed Dixieland, Samba, Salsa, African, Brazilian, Trad and Hot Club rhythms amongst others, all free in a variety of beautiful settings. One day the Festival came to my village and as it was my visitor's birthday the band played Happy Birthday for him. The same day we joined the walk to a nearby lake where we enjoyed our picnic to the strains of the same band. We then walked on to the main festival site exhausted after the 10 kilometre walk where we were re-energised by some friends who met us for a birthday drink whilst we listened to three more bands. My favourite by far was the big Salsa Band who had been to Cuba to learn the rhythms and had the hundred strong crowd dancing in the street. I have never seen so much musical dexterity on my doorstep.

I am still confused. Now matter how hard I try to sort out my blogs and my identity they become more and more confused. Who am I? Why is it so difficult to be one person. Is having multiple identities an illness?  The problem is I am not really any of them. I am above my body looking down on this person who can't sleep,  who wants to write, who wants to garden, to watch tv, to read. I am bored with reality. I can't be a mother or a granny.   Maybe this is just an excuse so that I can excuse myself from the mundane.

Wednesday, July 19, 2000 What's in a name? Quite a lot I think. I have been playing about with names partly because I was wondering if male authors are published more often than female authors and also because I am trying to choose names for the characters in my book. I can't keep on calling them he/him and she/her. Or maybe I'm just having another identity crisis. I usually move the furniture around it's not so drastic.

Monday, July 24, 2006 Club Des Aines Sometimes we meet to play games, boules, belotes or scrabble. Sometimes we have outings. Sometimes we have a communal meal. Last week we had a communal meal. The numbers vary from 100-300 but everyone is found a seat and we are waited on. The meals are usually five courses, sometimes more, and each course is accompanied by a drink. First of all we begin with the customary greetings at the door. Having lived here almost three years I mostly know who to kiss once, twice, three or four times and with whom to just to just shake hands. As you can imagine this takes some time especially when some people stay to chat which I always hope they do because it's one of the few opportunities I get to practise my french. We began with a choice of aperitifs, Ricard or whiskey with crispy nibbles and endless plates of sausages on sticks. I was assured that they were pure meat unlike British sausages which are famous for a variety of ingredients of which meat ...

Everyday starts with 'What shall I do today?' Sometimes when it is raining it's a relief because that cuts down the options. How lucky I am to be able to decide what to do and what's more my choices are exactly that, choices. There is very rarely a 'must do' on the list. If there is, it is usually to go to the ferry or airport to pick up visitors. This is always a pleasant task because the roads are traffic free and the scenery is charming and I look forward to having guests from time to time. Last weekend I went to St. Malo on our monthly outing to the Thalassotherapy Centre. It's an enormous salt water Jacuzzi with jets for every muscle followed by 30 minutes in the water gym with an instructor who shouts instructions to exercise the same muscles. This evening I shall go to the gym class. Tomorrow is Breton Boules and Friday evening is Breton dancing. I have no idea why I do not lose weight. Do you think it could be the five course meals? Or maybe it...

Girl and boy Gathering buttercups Running hither and thither ‘Look, look at these Stop, standstill.’ Boy holds large buttercup under girl’s chin Catches shimmering sunlight in iridescent cup It reflects on her throat, ‘Yes, yes you like butter. ‘Let’s find a four-leafed clover’. Running bending plucking ‘I’ve found one. I’ve found one.’ ‘Oh no. Oh no.’ Over and over. ‘One o’clock, two o’clock.’ Scattering seeds float up, up and away. ‘Three o’clock, four o’clock’. They drift high into the sky ‘Five o’clock, six o’clock’. ‘Look, oh look at mine’. ‘Over there, white clovers. You can get milk from white clovers’. They place them gingerly in their mouths Then wrinkle freckled noses ‘Agh, agh’. They fall rolling in the grass Laughing with utter delight. They lie listening Melodious, meadow music surrounds them Unseen insects sing soprano Contralto and alto from birds and small mammals Bees provide the drone Basso profundo from the big beast beyond the hawt...

My flight for last Tuesday was cancelled due to a strike. I booked another flight for Friday which gave me three un-timetabled days here. I defrosted the fridge which was very much needed. Today I gathered as many plums as I could and also some blackberries. I hate leaving fruit to fall because the birds and insects don't eat it all. I managed to give a large bowlful of plums to Jenny and I then stewed and froze a good quantity. I did the same with the blackberries. I also managed to stick the gladdies. Next year if I plant them I shall plant them among the bushes or stake them earlier. They remind me of my dad and the colours are amazing.

There was a Fête in the Village on Sunday. It was organised by the school for everybody. After 7 years I am still amazed by the organisation of these village affairs. Makeshift structures are erected in case of inclement weather and the tables are prepared for the usual five course meal. It was a starter of beetroot with a kir and meat of some kind, followed by barbecued pork with potatoes and ratatouille and red wine, then cheese and a sweet then coffee. A hundred and fifty meals were served. Then the games began. Villagers had organised themselves into teams to take part in the traditional local sports. A pool had been constructed from bails of hay and a giant sheet of polythene. A moving diving board was provided by a local farmer and the contestants had to put on a pair of overalls while travelling along the moving platform before they reached the edge, otherwise - splash. Another game was rolling a giant bail of hay around an obstacle course. The team who achieved the shorte...

My last weekend before going to UK. has been great. I knew the weather was going to be sunny and warm. I have only been to the coast to swim once this summer and was determined to go once more because I believe that it will be my last chance this year. So I drove to collect Sylvaine and we drove to Les Hopitaux my favourite beach. The car park was empty unlike the last time I came when it was difficult to find a space. We went through a gap in the rocks and discovered a tiny beach completely empty. We set up camp and I swam in the sea. I love the coast here no matter which of them I visit on the emerald coast or pink granite coast. I yearn to live by the sea. Wouldn't it be great to be able to walk down to the beach. I wonder if one (I) would get tired of waking up to the sound of the sea? We lunched at Les Sables de Pins on moules frites (what else) with a glass of red followed by a wicked dessert. We took the coastal route back to Sylvaine's and I was home in time for a res...

Yesterday I went to an open day at Lucy's quilting centre. I was amazed. I have seen adverts for workshop days here many times but this was my first visit. It was like the veritable Aladin's cave. Rows and rows of bails of material. Packs of cut squares. Ready to sew quilts, designs in abundace and a plethora of samples of all sizes. Double bed sized, baby cot quilts, wall hangings, cushion covers, place mats and much more all beautifully crated. The colours were dazzling or subtle. No matter what you need or taste Lucy has the answer. Is quilting something I want to take up. Something else I have no time to do.

Spent the afternoon at a new craft centre and salon de thé which has opened recently in the next but one village. Local craft workers and artists can exhibit there and also run worksops. There is also a second hand clothes section and a bric-a-brac section. On alternate Sundays there is a farmers market. It is situated in a disused garage and car showroom so it is enormous. I hope it takes off but has a long way to go. It's called Elizabeille because the owner used to keep bees but now she just makes products from beeswax and honey eg candles and soap? There is going to be a book launch next month and a writing workshop. I shall attend these and if it goes well I shall try my luck by doing the same for Jean Wild.

Club Des Aines Sometimes we meet to play games, boules, belotes or scrabble. Sometimes we have outings. Sometimes we have a communal meal. The numbers vary from 100-300 but everyone is found a seat and we enjoy waitress/ waiter service. The meals are usually five courses, sometimes more and each course is accompanied by a drink. We begin with the customary greetings at the door. Having lived here six years I mostly know who to kiss once, twice, three or four times and with whom to just shake hands. As you can imagine this takes some time especially when some people stay to chat which I always hope they do because it’s one of the opportunities I get to practise my French. We begin with a choice of aperitifs Ricard or whiskey or Kir with crispy nibbles. Next comes the starter which last time was a salmon steak and salad with a glass of white wine. The main course is steak or ham on the bone or coq vin or pintade (chicken) and chips and vegetables. This is served with red wine of cour...

I often sit in my conservatory and contemplate the panoramic view it offers me. My eyes move from the church across the valley in the East to the two-hundred-year-old oak trees on the Southern border of my land. I ponder what to do with the ivy covered, hundred-year-old boulangerie. The flowers and shrubs I planted which are thriving give me a thrill and I wonder whether to try vegetables this year. And I feel guilty. Guilty that all this should be mine. I listen to the radio and every day I hear of the war-torn world. I hear of rape and mutilation. Bombing and killings are frequent the world over it seems. But not here. Not in my private paradise. The only disturbance to my tranquillity and reminder of this other world is the terrifying sound of the military jets. They practise low flying sometimes just skimming the tops of the thirty feet poplars which surround two sides of my five thousand square metres of garden. I tell myself that my political activity and campaigning days are...