Le Couvent Diary

Last night I picked the first of the figs from our vineyards - Chateau Mal Au Dos. In the past we've picked wild figs when out walking the dogs and they've been the big black droopy ones, but now we have our own - and they're quite different. The green ones are called Les Blanches here and have a honey coloured centre & taste toffee-ish. The little purple ones are divine - luscious red on the inside and tasting of jam and wine and roses. This morning they're on the breakfast table.

 

 

 

NEWSFLASH!!

Having had to refuse lots of people who wanted to come to stay at the beginning of September because we were full, last night we had a cancellation. So now we have a double room available from 2-10 September. It's the orange bedroom with a huge bed and ensuite shower room.

That period is likely to be right over our grape harvest so should be extremely interesting (if slightly hair-raising for Ali & I). If you're up for a late break do let us know sharpish. Just think, you could be enjoying a few more days of bright sunshine, bathing in the crystal clear pool and tasting luscious figs you could pick yourself. How about it? It's going to be 30 degrees today. Mmmm!

Well, we've just about recovered from the headiness of the Roujan annual fête. This comprises four nights of live music at the open space by the football ground, lots of big tables with hundreds of people scoffing moules frites, wine tastings, boules tournaments and the smallest parade in the history of carnivals. Four floats, one and a half papier-maché hedgehogs and the Joyeuses Minettes de Roujan.

The latter is a troupe of short blokes (except one) who wear wigs, short white skirts, bloomers, hats and falsies who dance about being majorettes. Their claim to fame is that, in their 26 years of formation, they've never had a rehearsal. The result is very funny. The one tall bloke is my brother. We worry for him.

 

 

 

Guests from Le Couvent drag themselves from the pool for the four and a half minutes it takes the carnival procession to pass.

 

Only to have stuff chucked at them by evil-looking small boys.

 

 

And a very jolly clown.

 

 

Everyday gear for this tractor-driving vigneron.

 

 

 

The town totemic animal is a hedgehog. If your french is up to it, here's an explanation: La légende du Hérisson « Lou Roumégaïre »

La tradition et la légende rapporte que, lancée à la poursuite de la Tarasque, qui semait la terreur dans la Basse Vallée du Rhône, Sainte Marthe, Patronne de la paroisse dépêcha à l'encontre de l'animal sanguinaire, une armée de hérissons dont la mission consistait à défendre la cité contre toute agression extérieure.

Mais le monstre ne fut pas au rendez-vous. De ce fait l'armée des vaillants insectivores fut autorisée à prendre ses quartiers d'hiver. Pourtant un hérisson demeura dans sa place. Il y fut nourri, choyé, adopté jusqu'à sa mort.

Depuis ce temps, cet animal totemique est devenu le symbole légendaire de la protection de la ville de Roujan contre toute attaque venue du dehors.

 

 

So now local Roujan muscle carries this big and very heavy hedgehog through the streets, lurching hither and thither fuelled by white wine, scaring onlookers.

 

 

Not to be outdone, some younger Roujan boys have made a second, smaller, version.

 

 

The boules tournament with all the local chaps showing off their boule skills and beautiful legs. What is it about men who are completely used to wearing shorts all the time - why are their legs so much more good-looking than Englishmens'?

 

 

Five peach trees at Chateau Mal Au Dos bore fruit this year, despite having been neglected for the past three years. This week we picked the last of them and made some delicious peach jam.

 

 

And, just for a change, we went strolling about in our vineyards with a fine glass of the new wine from the Cave Cooperative in Neffies which is a beautiful and complex red - called Hadrien. We're sporting small pockets in which one can carry a glass of wine while scoffing canapés and shaking hands in greeting (or kissing if you're here in France).

 

 

Meanwhile we are happy to see that our cinsault vines are coming along nicely. I'm slightly anxious, though, having bought a couple of wine fermentation tanks ready for our first own-production. They're currently near Orléans in Northern France and I can't find anyone to get them here. Transporters say they're too small and the post-type business says they're too big. Surely there's someone who can shift two tanks 1.3m wide by 1.8 metres high - made of fibre-glass and weighing next to nothing. We have just four weeks to get them here. Help!!!

 

 

 

'Is your life really the idyll it looks?' ask many of our guests. Without hesitation we reply that for us it is. We work for five months meeting and accommodating fantastic people and that means we are able to live in a beautiful house all year, seven months of which we have completely to ourselves. Now how hard is that?

Yet this morning, as we were in one of our cleaning blitzes, I realised something. Both Ali and I hated cleaning and housework before we moved here. But in the process of running the house as a B&B we've become so accustomed to it that neither of us ever thinks about it. We just get on and do it. We have seven bedrooms in the house, plus three sitting rooms, two offices, two kitchens and a huge gallery space - oh, and seven bathrooms. We have the lovely Patricia, our cleaner, to do our own apartment, but all the rest we do ourselves. We never get tetchy about it - indeed I don't think we even think about it - it's just another job.

But if you're considering running your own B&B, you have to be able to get over the fact that you'll have other people sharing your house and that there'll be a heap of cleaning, washing, gardening, restaurant-booking and wine-drinking to do. The pool has to be more spotless than it would be if it was just you using it. You can't leave jobs until tomorrow because the sun's out - it's almost always out. And you really must like people. Not tolerate them. Really like people - you know, genuinely find them interesting. Now, we're super-lucky because we have a stream of very interesting people who pitch up at this quirky old house. And they are super kind to us. The rooms are always left spotless, so we have a pretty easy job of it. Thanks to all of you - and come back soon eh?

An idyll? Most certainly. Work-free? Most certainly not. Fun - absolutely definitely. Personally, I wouldn't swap my life for any other in the world. As for the cleaning, I still don't relish the thought, but I love seeing the house in it's finest, cleanest clothes.

Whoops - I've kept you waiting. Sorry. Glad you're back though. So four days ago the Tour de France chose to gallop through Roujan again after a 50 year break. And what fun we had.

Two of our poor guests had to leave early on the day of the tour to avoid closed roads and traffic jams. This was particularly rotten luck since one of them had broken her foot whilst here and had the 24 hour journey back to Western Australia to do encased in plaster. Hope you got home safely John & Julia - sorry you missed Le Tour. Maybe the whole of Roujan should be protected thus:

The fun starts some two hours before the actual cyclists show up, when a cavalcade of advertising vehicles rattle past lobbing freebies at leaping spectators. Grown adults diving like Grobelaar to rob tiny children of the fourth peaked cap or a triangle of cheese. Some of the vehicles are spectacular, like this one on top of a car.

Some aren't quite what they claim to be - for instance - what's eco about driving the whole of France in a big square box on wheels?

 

This poor women spent her entire time trying to avoid being decapitated by overhanging trees.

Whilst this chap looked none too enamoured to be spending half of July sitting in a cup of coffee. A career in PR anyone?

Mme Mas came out onto her balcony to wave, sporting a very appropriate and fetching Nike cap.

 Ali made sure we got our own bit of marketing in.

Our lovely French neighbour brought us out a plate of delicious stuff to stave off hunger (we were none too successful at catching the cheese triangles).

 Nicola & Ali bought silly hats.

And eventually the cyclists came in a sweep and a whoosh. All very exciting. We shouted for them to thow us drugs, but they seemed to have kept them all for themselves. Hey ho, you can only ask.

  

 So we all had a silly, noisy, friendly and lovely time. Wish you'd been here.

 Thanks Tour de France - see you in 2058.

Wow, it's been a momentous week. My lovely brother Justin (known in the family as Freddie) had his 50th birthday.

His kind wife, Michelle, organised a secret party for 60-odd people (important hyphen). It was nearly a well-kept secret until Joel the local carpenter asked him what time it started just two days before the event.

I gave him one of those super-duper self-published books you can do so easily on a Mac & Ali gave him a day learning how to taste and blend wine. We all went off to Domaine Bourdic and had a fantastic time creating our own blend. By the end of the morning we all had blue tongues from tasting so much 'raw' wine.

But the real panic came during the afternoon when we had to blend, record quantities, taste, adjust, blend again and eventually come up with our very own assemblage which was bottled and given a label with our name on.

 

It was a truly fantastic and memorable day. Hans & Christa are gifted teachers and each one of us said we'd learnt more about wine in one day than could be imagined. We'll keep you posted about the next chance to do the same assemblage day.

Yesterday we had a real Jean de Florette kind of a morning. For some time we've been lugging 120 litres of water up to our vegetable garden in the vineyards as there's been no water there. But it all changed yesterday thanks to Ebay (where I found the perfect pump), Ib and Andreas. More about it on Ali's blog about our vineyard .

Meanwhile the guests have just been hanging about in hammocks.