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.