Rémuzat And Friends Leaving

Rémuzat

The three days in Rémuzat for the boules tournament were just about perfect. The sun shone for all three days, the vultures came out to do their pitouettes in the sky, the food in the Lavandes holiday village was great and so was the company. Players and their sometimes non-playing partners came from Sarrians, Beaume de Venise, La Gaude and, of course, Mollans. The tournament was essentially a free-for-all, with the teams changed after each game so that you got to play with and against just about everyone. My personal score placed me somewhere in the middle, not as high as the fifth place I had previously achieved, but that didn't matter at all. In all respects it was a very enjoyable three days. The photo shows the view from my bedroom window.

Also, the latter part of the drive to Rémuzat is spectacular. Just north of Nyons, where the last of the olive trees give out, the road follows the river Aygues into a narrow cleft between high cliff faces which become sheerer as the river becomes narrower as you continue. Finally you enter a tunnel under the cliffs before reaching Rémuzat. In past times, before the road was built, the narrow shallow river must have been the only practicable way out of or into Rémuzat. The small mountains around are known as the «pré-Alpes». I jokingly suggested that this could be because there are «prés» (meadows) in the Alps but of course it is because these are the foothills of the Alps. The French seem to love «jeux de mots» (play on words) as a sign of wit, their beloved «esprit», so the joke went down well, although I personally find it a fairly easy and shallow form of wit.

On my return I found the grape harvesting in full swing. The crop this year is much smaller than in previous years but predicted to be of higher quality, a function of the hot dry summer. That may mean higher prices for wine next year but the price of good wine here is so low compared to prices in the UK that that won't matter much either. A further consequence of the hot dry summer is that the grapes on the vine over my balcony that I haven't managed to eat or give away, and which I usually just leave for the birds or wasps or to rot, have turned themselves into raisins. A friend some years ago gave me rasins seeped in muscat wine and so I have picked them and done just that with them. They should be good to eat with ice cream or a dessert of some kind.

I've bought some bulbs to supplement those already planted and am cutting back the growth in the small back garden to clear the stone steps that run across it so that I can get to the top without endangering life and limb. I'm also clearing out irises that have started taking over the garden in places and have given some away; the others I shall find room for on the roadside opposite my kitchen window. I've also bought some cyclamen which I shall put in pots where I can find spaces. I usually put them in the hanging baskets but those are still flowering, as are the solanum, fuchsias and michaelmas daisies below but I'll find space somewhere. You never know, the village council may actually decide to take up my suggestion to narrow my road.

Friends Leaving

Hallie and Mary, my American cook friends, are leaving at the weekend and so came round for a final aperitif this evening. They are the last of the summer visitor friends to go. Both give cooking lessons in the USA and bring some of their students to Mollans in the summer. Now, however, they have decided they have had enough of this small enterprise and have put their house up for sale. They propose to still come to Mollans in the summer but simply to enjoy themselves while here. I took a photo of them having the aperitif on my balcony, below. 

Autumn And School Histories

Autumn Has Arrived

The seasons have started early this year and that applies to the autumn too, although the leaves are not yet falling. Some of the high August heat usually spills over into early September but not this year, though daytime temperatures in the low 20s are welcome after the summer heatwave, even if the evenings are rather cool. Welcome also is the need to water plants perhaps only twice per week. Most importantly, the sun keeps shining, ensuring its average of ~300 days per year.

I see the difference in my fruit supply too. Apricots disappeared from sale some weeks ago and now the peaches, nectarines and melons are following suit, to be replaced by grapes and figs (and the perennial apples, oranges and pears, of course). Soon it will be mushroom time: chanterelles, lactaires, trompettes de la mort, etc. Autumn usually lasts into mid-December and winter (usually) is mercifully short.

Alternative School Histories

A round of emails exchanged with old school friends triggered a thought in my mind. Many schools have a long history and, with that, a tradition. The tradition is often cherished and, just as often, largely mythical. The tradition is sometimes described in books about the school. My own old school, Rutlish, had been a private rather than a state school before WW2 and seemed to try to hark back to those days. There was a notuceable amount of snobbery among staff who dated back to the private school days or who had been pupils at the time. One of the changes the school had made was to switch from playing soccer to rugby; as one teacher putit to me when I enquired about the change, «if we played soccer, which schools would we play?». What he meant was that the school, with it's private heritage, had to somehow distinguish itself from the new county grammar schools, brought in by the 1944 Education Act, and which played soccer. What horror to be confused with them!

But schools are primarily about education and teaching so, obviously, Rutlish would consider itself superior on that score too. However, my discussion with former school friends turned at one point to the subject of which of our teachers (they actually stuck to the term «masters» rather than the term «teachers») were actually any good at teaching. A few, we all agreed, certainly were but Rutlish also had a good share of duds. There were also a good number of unfortunate or downright chaotic episodes in classes in this very formal, conservative school. All of which made me think: why don't people write alternative school histories; how schools actially were rather than how their tradition would have you believe they were? I'm not sure if a website to hold such stories already exists but there must be hundreds of thousands of people worldwide who would love to debunk the traditions of their old schools and expose the myths. Any takers?

Letter To The Mairie

I ocasionally get the urge to extend the area I can grow flowers in around my house and recently thought how nice it would be if the road out front, although already quite narrow, could be made even narrower. I would then have more room to plant either side. My excuse would be that it would slow traffic. Anyway, the following very tongue-in-cheek letter has gone to the village Council.

Chers membres du conseil,

J'ai apprécié les efforts que vous avez déjà entrepris pour embellir notre cher village, ce qui m 'a fait

penser à un autre projet possible que je voudrai vous soumettre aujourd'hui. Le voici avec les trois

avantages qu'il entraînerait .

En dépit du gendarme couché dans la rue du faubourg, les voitures y roulent toujours un peu trop

vite. Il est vrai qu'il y a d'autres petits ralentisseurs (des gendarmes cadets couchés?) mais ceux-là

servent à peu de chose. Ce que je propose est de rendre la rue devant ma maison (n¨39) plus étroite,

peut-être juste suffisante pour laisser passer le camion des poubelles. Dans l'hypothèse où le

goudron de chaque côté était enlevé je m'engage à entreprendre la plantation de fleurs et d'arbustes

dans l'espace ainsi libéré. Cela serait beau, n'est-ce-pas? En complément on pourrait introduire un

péage à cet endroit, pour récupérer les frais de cette modification et éventuellement en faire

bénéficier les écoles. Il y a déjà eu un précédent pour le péage. Il me semble que c'était à l'époque

où il y avait un pont-levis sur l'Ouvèze. En conclusion, on pourrait par la même occasion ralentir la

circulation, faire rentrer de l'argent et embellir davantage le village.

Voilà ma petite suggestion. Nul besoin de réponse à cette lettre; je vous laisse y réfléchir et prendre

la bonne décision.

Veuillez agréer, Mesdames, Messieurs l'expression de mes salutations les plus sincères.

Ian Hugo