The lights are up...

Christmas is on everyone's minds, not least our Office Municipale.

The decorations are going up, this is surely much earlier than normal? It

cant be that long ago that there were no decorations here. I remember being astonished at our first Christmas here in 1995, to find very few decorations up until the week before Christmas, and then only some peculiarly coloured blue trees.No

lights are switched on yet, and we certainly dont have 'celebrities' to illuminate the

town, but there are men with cranes and ladders putting up strings of

decorations. We are modest here, we dont go in for the Parisian style of lighting.

.

Neither will you see the 'Las Vegas' light experience.

The towns have simple strings with a few stars or tree shapes intertwined.

Our village hasnt done anything yet, but down our little lane we always have one pretty string of coloured lights, so we arent forgotten!

Advent 1

I'm joining Floss ( and several others) in a series of Advent posts.

Today was the day when our first candle on the Advent wreath was lit. It was such a pleasure to walk into the church and see the wreath with its four red candles, waiting for the first light, the light of God coming into the world.

Traditionally each candle has a meaning, and the first one represents the People of God and is the Candle of Hope. It is the light shining in the darkest of places, bringing hope to people.

As children we used to wait with anticipation for the candles to be lit, loving the smell of the flames, and the newly cut fir branches that surrounded it.

I wonder if one day the wreath will come under the dreaded health and safety rules, and have to be electric?

Comings and goings.

We move at a slow pace here in the village, but there is always something happening....slowly.

A Badger crept up the side of the meadow overlooked by our house, early this morning. I had to look twice to make sure I was really seeing him. I guess there is a sett somewhere deep in the hedgerow.

The strident horn of the travelling fish van hit the village from about 10 am . The van parks near a group of houses, and out come the ladies, with plates or bowls. Very jolly is he, full of chat about his fish and advises all and sundry on the best buy.

The phone rings. It's the garage where I have my car serviced. Would I answer a few questions on Customer satsfaction? This a new thing here. I tell her I was pleased with the work. I dont think she is really interested, she has boxes to tick and that's the job done.

Didier arrives with the post. He is earlier now that Michel, his buddy, is no longer with us. For years his round has been punctuated with a slightly alcoholic stop-off at Michel's cottage. Now, sadly the cottage bears the sign 'A vendre' (For sale)

The morning ticks by, slowly.

The evening is enlivened by the visit of The Fireman, fully uniformed and very gladdening to the eye. He brings the annual Calendar, full of photos of husky firemen. A donation is expected and gladly given.

I wonder if there are any unattractive firemen? We always seem to get the pick of the bunch!

Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends across the ocean!

Thanksgiving

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food,
For love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

St Catherine's Day

If by any chance you are 25 years old, and an unmarried lady, then today is the day for you.

St Catherine's Day, on the 25th November is the day when these young ladies are encouraged to wear very extravagant head-dresses, either made by them or for them. They should be yellow or green, or both, and should be quite fantastic. The ladies, known as 'Catherinettes' used to promenade to the statue of St Catherine and ask for her help in finding the right husband, often with a suitable prayer.

A husband, St. Catherine
A handsome one, St. Catherine
A rich one, St. Catherine
A nice one, St. Catherine
And soon, St. Catherine

St Catherine of Alexandria (306)herself was of noble birth. She refused to take part in what she considered to be pagan ceremonies. Unfortunately she was bold enough to correct the Emperor Maximus for his persecution of Christians, and was beheaded.

Stormy days

The painting is 'The Storm', by Watteau.

Today we have the same black and thunderous clouds.

We have non stop rain, lightning, thunder.

My Eucalyptus tree was almost out of the ground, and we have had

to cut out the top branches to make it safe.

Yet, in all this we are not suffering like the people of Cumbria and the Lake district in
England. Can you imagine having 6 feet of water in your house?

Question-answer time.

In answer to the many questions left on my post about the Permis.....

Friko, no they dont let you keep the English licence, but I took a copy of it in case I need it in the future.

Pondside, it doesnt cost anything to change the licence.

Country wings, I think I shall try to get it laminated as soon as possible.

QMM, we do have to carry it with us at all times when driving, and can be stopped by the Gendarmes and asked to produce it at any moment .

Karen, I can imagine their faces if I produced a sweet little Kath kidston covered licence!!

Angela, can't wait!!

At last!

At last it has arrived!

It isnt obligatory to change from an English to a French Driving licence, but for various reasons I decided to do so.

Way back in June I took my licence and a million other bits of paper (birth certificate, photos, old licence, marriage certificate.....)in to the Sous Prefecture, who deal with licences.

I waited.

And waited.

And after four months went back and asked where it was. I got the typical French shrug, the raised eyebrows, and the....well there are only three of us in the office, and quite frankly changing foreigners' licences isnt a priority.......

In other words, Tough.

I gritted my teeth, had a few polite and smiley well chosen words, and today, almost at five months, the permit has arrived. It does seem that I am allowed to drive everything including a bus, which will be interesting.

But no motor bikes.

...and a win!

A win as well! I'm so fortunate to be one of the winners of Heidi's giveaway.

Heidi is one of my favourite stitchers. She lives in Holland, and always has something interesting or beautiful to show us.

At the moment she is having a fabric clear out, and is making these delightful coasters. I never expect to win things, so am thrilled to receive these.

A swap parcel!

On the right of my post you will see a 'Join in the Swap' button. This was organised by 'Heart in the Country', and we were asked to send a handmade card, gift and decoration to our partners.

My parcel arrived today from Karen, my partner. She has a lovely blog called Karen's playtime.

what a delightful parcel it was. Sadly I completely forgot to get the camera until after I had opened the beautifully wrapped packages, but did remember to photograph the contents.

A pretty handmade card is there, and a delightful little hanging bird for the tree. The stocking is so attractive, and a sweet little notebook came too....as well as some fabric for my patchwork.

Thank you Karen!

Fete Day

Today is my Fete Day!
In France every day is named after a Saint, and if one bears that name one is treated almost as if it is a birthday.
It's the day for St Elisabeth to be feted!
The Catholic calendar of Saints gives every day a Saint's name, and it has been a longheld tradition in Catholic countries that the particular Saint is celebrated on their day. The name days commemorate Saints and martyrs of the Catholic Church, and this was thought to be less of a pagan tradition than celebrating a birthday.
I suppose that in England St George's Day , the patron saint , would be remembered in April, but it is not as common to celebrate a Saint in UK.
There are other countries such a Sweden,Germany, Greece, which fete a St's day. In France, it is normal now just to say 'Happy Fete day', rather thn giving a gift.

The English shop.

The English shops in France are up and running with a vengeance. Not that I'm not grateful, as unlike some English who decry all things British, I'm quite glad to be able to get the odd tin of Custard powder.

Doesn't it seem strange that certain foods that we rely on are virtually unknown here? France and Britain are not that far apart in distance, but quite a long way as far as food is concerned. I think 90% of my shopping is French, but if there is a chance to have a special tea brought back from UK, or maybe some Cheddar cheese, then I'm very happy.

When we first lived here there were no such things as English shops (or builders, tradesmen, accountants, beauticians.....) Now they are all here. The English shops stock all the foods that one might not find here, though in fact many of the Supermarkets do have a small shelf area for 'foreign foods'. Their idea of what we might like tends to be different to ours.

Yesterday I popped in to an English shop about 30 mins away, and treated us to Oatmeal biscuits and , for my husband, Liquorice allsorts. I could have bought Christmas puddings, mince pies, Christmas crackers, and any number of things ....but at a price of course, as the cost of import is factored in.

I think I feel a litle sad that we British seem to be imposing our tastes in France.......but I suppose that French people living in London will try to find an elegant little delicatessen that stock all their favourites?

Handmade gifts

Kathys Cottage is today hosting a showcase of Homemade gift ideas. Quick and easy, not expensive, and interesting to see what others have produced.

I'm using my huge store of lavender from my garden here in France, to make pretty lavender bags. Each one is made from natural linen, pale cream and taupe stripes. Each one has a different motif, some cross stitched, some decorated with fabric hearts. these are just a few.

Some of these will be Christmas presents, some will be for sale to friends or at a 'Marche de Noel' that our church is holding. (click for a bigger picture)

The scent of lavender is overpowering!

In the cafe

En route to the pharmacie to pick up medicines, we paused, as you do, at the Bar/cafe in the town. This is where the men gather to read the daily paper and drink a glass of wine, and the ladies come in for a chat.

To our surprise it has been taken over, and the new owner came to shake hands with us and wish us good morning. This greeting is an essential part of life here, and as each newcomer enters he/she stops to greet friends (handshake, kiss kiss kiss kiss depending on gender), with a polite Bonjour to all others.

The new owner has made inroads already, despite having only been there for two weeks. The place has been repainted, the awful old pictures on the wall have gone, and the seating has been re arranged. It's a comfortable place to pop in for a coffee.

Ladies came in with Junior in a pushchair, who held his hand out to all and sundry with a winning smile. When a gentleman took his hand, assuming he was saying Bonjour, mother laughed and said "It's not for bonjour, it's for chocolate!" Each cup of coffee comes with a tiny chocolate, and he knew all about it!

To give and not to count the cost

Watching the Remembrance day service last night, I noticed how much it had changed over the years.

No longer do we have Gymnastics, mock battles, marching. Now it is a gentler but much more relevant service. Film shots show us the horrors and the bravery of recent battles. Memories of much earlier wars are shared by some wonderful survivors.

More relevant because we are not only remembering the two world wars, but looking with combined despair and gratitude at what is going on now, in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Many years have passed since families lost their husbands, sons, brothers, fathers in WW1 and WW2 battles. There was little of the media coverage that we have now to show the heroism. But now it is a regular sight on the News. The planes fly in at Lyneham to bring in more coffins. People line the routes in Wootton Bassett to pay their respects. Death in war is real.

I will never know the terror of facing battle.

I will never experience the fear of sending my husband to war.

I will never know the agony of knowing that my husband, son or father will not return.

I will never have to face a future bringing up children without a father.

But I can be thankful and grateful that these young men go out there and fight 'because it's the job we do'.

Gradual recovery

Thanks so much for all the many good wishes and commiserations. I was honestly beginning to wonder if this was developing into the newest flu strain. But my lovely Dr popped in today and says it is a nasty Bronchial infection, which means........more antibiotics, more cough syrup, more rest.
I long to feel really well, but am certainly better than I was.

Coough cough cough..........

I've got the cough syrup.

I've got the throat spray.

I've got lozenge thingies to suck.

I'm going back to bed.

November............

This morning we woke up to torrential rain and high winds. Staying in a warm bed would have been good, but bravely, we did what we do, and went the 50 kilometres to Church.

Driving was hazardous, rain hammered down on the car, and the winds made it an uncomfortable journey.

And now, this afternoon.....no rain, pale skies, the wind has dropped. From my window I see a curl of smoke, my neighbour has lit the fire.

Can't think of anything nicer, really, than to curl up in an armchair in a warm room, with the weekend (English) newspaper to read. Cup of tea coming up.