Le Couvent Diary

 

 

Today I made a gate. Of course. Without success I'd looked high and low for a gate with which we can separate our bullied hen, Darling, from the others. She's been in a small courtyard under one of the bedroom windows, but, as we're about to re-open, she has to be evicted. Darling is soooo noisy in the morning that we can't leave her there to wake our unwitting, sleep-seeking guests. Hence the gate. No-one seems to make a 1.5 metre by 1.6 metre gate for less than 1,000,000,000,000 euros plus tax, so I had no choice. It cost me 34 euros and took about two hours and a lot of tools. I'm hoping it won't be hell to install. I'll have to ask my pal Teddy to help since I can barely drag it, let alone lift onto prongs, handily concreted into the wall at exactly the right intervals. I do hope Darling thinks it worth the effort.

Just to prove that Summer is finally on its way I sploshed into the glacial, but pretty, swimming pool for the first time this season today. I managed half a length before I thought the heart attack imminent and turned around to safety. I was cowardly, but my recall is that it was a lovely thing to do and I can't wait for my next plunge. Maybe I'll get to the other end.

 

 

Another clue to the passing of the Winter is that the barbecue is on its third outing. Here it is happily smoking away with some chicken sizzling away. Ali's been feeling a bit grotty with a bug for the past couple of days so I'm hoping she can't face it and I can have hers too. For those of you who say 'but that's not a barbecue' - oh yes it is. It's a very wonderful Cobb barbecue for which one can buy magic coals made from coconut shells which light and are ready to cook with in less than five minutes. Wonderfuel. It's smelling delicious from where I'm sitting - out here on the balcony at 7.00pm with gentle chickeny, jasminey, lavendery zephyrs passing by.

I've seen planes passing overhead today and not one of them fell from the sky, so I'm hoping tomorrow will herald the very end of all the no-plane shenanigans so our lovely guests can get here safely.

I sit here on another sunny morning that portends a perfect day for the guests who love to read and snooze by the pool. We've been full-on with guests, leaving no time for blogging, so I'm playing catch-up.

Our main news is that we've decided to move our wine-making mini-operation to Le Couvent, so we've been clearing out the cave and buying new tanks in preparation. It'll mean that we can keep a closer watch on our wines, and guests will be able to learn a bit about the process, and to taste the wine in all its stages.

Last year's wine is just about ready for bottling and we're hoping to get that completed in the next three weeks before this year's harvest. If you're coming to stay at Le Couvent towards the end of August, or the beginning of September, it's highly likely that you'll be able to witness the harvest and wine-making first-hand. Unless we have another hail storm, that is.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, guests continue to arrive from all of Europe, the Americas and Australia, except England. We have far fewer guests from England this year. We still have lots of Irish and Scottish. So what is it about the financial crisis that it appears to have affected Les Anglais more than anywhere else in the world? I don't suppose the media could have fuelled it at all - could they? Very bizarre. But for us it is all the more rewarding to have a house full of different nationalities. This morning we have Swiss, Irish, American, Scottish, Colombian - and English - around the breakfast table. It inspires wonderful conversation.

Having said that, the weather appears to have taken a turn for the worse in the UK if the flurry of late booking enquiries is anything to go by. And receiving an e-mail asking for four rooms for next week does sometimes drive me to mentally conjure a response slightly less polite than the reply that I actually send. Ho hum.

The weather's been hot and gorgeous, so the ice-cream machine's been put to good use. It's hard not to when the hens are producing such luscious eggs at the moment, thanks to leftover croissants, pains au chocolat and fruit.

This week saw the Roujan fete, with four nights of music, food, wine and dancing and a carnival procession through the streets of the village. I'll leave you with some photos of the jolly events of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This last photo's here because I love the small dog, eager for the chap in the yellow jacket to move so he can see the action. 

Hello again. Did you think we’d gone forever? It took me a while to notice that our website went off line for a few days, an inexplicable dearth of e-mails prompting a call to our hosts who had us back online in moments.

I’ve also been away to England to help my mother arrange all the stuff you have to do when someone dies. My step-father, John, had the send-off he’d have hoped for. We had a full house while I was away which made for a difficult time made easy by help from our great pal Alex.

Sweltering weather here in France welcomed me home – it’s been between 33 and 36 degrees for the past ten days. Humans, dogs and chickens have coped well, but my tomato plants look exhausted and I simply can’t give them enough water. They sit in the middle of the vineyard in full sun, along with pathetic courgettes. The aubergines are fantastic, however. Heaven knows why they tolerate it so much better.

As if it isn’t hot enough, this is the time for jam and chutney making. Why does everyone think this is a snugly winter pursuit? The fruit is all hanging heavy on the trees so we’re making the most of it. Last week I made fruit salad jam. My own recipe. It seems very successful. Last night I made plum and apricot chutney. Kilos of it. Today I’ve been fighting with a recalcitrant printer, trying to do labels. I’ve given up and just ordered a new printer. It’ll arrive on Wednesday and I’m praying it will arrive already tamed.

I seem to be having a creative spurt at the moment. Ali thinks I don’t have enough to do already. So this week I also made beeswax furniture polish, lemon verbena hand + lip balm and aloe vera + lavender shower gel.  They’re all available here for a tiny handful of euros. Needless to say the house smells wonderful and guests wander round sniffing the air like Bisto kids.

This afternoon I’m considering dead-heading the roses and geraniums. I’m not eager since it is still about 33 degrees and there’s an awful lot to do. On the other hand, I’m paler than the guests after days of inside jobs, so it would be a chance to catch some vitamin D. I just wish I had a job that would demand this product. Are they serious?

 

 

Just in case there aren't enough photos on this site to whet your appetite, I thought I'd show you how it looks today.

 

 

 Le Couvent from the upper garden, where the pool is.

 

 

The kitchen, just after breakfast.

 

 

Your sunbed by the pool.

 

 

Post-swim.

 

 

Balcony waiting for this evening's aperitifs.

Tempted?

Around lunchtime I wandered across the bridge and took some photos around the Le Couvent garden. Everything is in the fullest flower and looking absolutely gorgeous.

 

 

 

 

But just 40 minutes later the sky darkened and down came a waterfall of rain and hail.

 

 

 

 

Now rain is one thing, but regular readers will know that hail is the very thing us wine-makers hate. At the moment our white grapes are at the stage where the tiniest pre-bunches are just about to start coming into flower. For every future individual grape there is a flower. Hail is nothing but a bully, smashing anything as tender as a grape bud to smithereens. No flowers, no grapes. I haven't been up to the vineyards to check yet, but I'm uncharacteristically pessimistic after the loss of last year's crop to hail the night before the harvest.

I'll let you know. Of course the sun is shining again now, as if nothing ever happened. Harrumph.