Le Couvent Diary

.....mushrooms. Yippee. It's been warm and damp over the past few days, so suddenly our tiny forest is abundant with bolet mushrooms.

 

 

 

The vineyards are turning the most wonderful colours. This doesn't seem to happen to the same extent every year, but this time round it's just stunning. The photos aren't great - the iPhone doesn't do long distance well, but you get the gist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday we picked the white grapes. We don't have the right equipment to make white wine - you need a method of chilling the grapes quickly and as we have so few it simply isn't worth the outlay.




So we picked our Muscat petit grain, along with a few black and white eating grapes,  just for juice.  Ali & I were joined by four of our lovely guests; Nicolette, Frances, Kristin & Justin. (For one moment this morning we had Justin Gosling and Justin Swan in the house.)

 

 The pre-squish footwash

 

 De-stemming the grapes

 

Waiting to squish

 

 Treading the grapes

 

 The pre-sieved gloop

 

 Bottled

After removing the stems and treading the grapes we ended up with about 50 litres of juice which we gave to our B&B guests at breakfast and to any of our pals who'd take some. It's absolutely delicious, but only lasts a few days in the fridge before it would start to ferment. So we glug it merrily while it's around. Last night we had it with champagne. Nicky named the cocktail a Le Couvent Grappellini.

 

I haven't blogged for ages because there's been an elephant in the room. How could I have written and not mentioned the awful weather? It's been the worst June for forty years, but I could hardly have told you that. You'd have cancelled in droves! However, everyone has survived and had a good time visiting the lovely Languedoc's wildest places instead of lolling by the pool.

But THE SUN's BACK. That's the forecast at 9.07 this morning. So now we look forward to the return of the cicadas and their heat-driven whistle.

We've been battling with vine-spraying between showers. A mixture of heat, rain then plunging overnight temperatures has meant that the vines have been very susceptible to a number of conditions such as powdery mildew and shatter - the latter producing poor fruit set. But now I'm hoping we can hang on to as much of the good-looking berries as possible and that we have a long hot period from now until harvest. We need sun-soaked guests and grapes.

I'm about to have a rant, so look away if you're not up for it on a fine June day. Four days ago I received an e-mail from a guest who'd booked to stay for four days with her parents who were coming all the way from Rio de Janeiro. She wrote to say how much she was looking forward to cycling through lavender fields here in Provence. PROVENCE, LAVENDER FIELDS? Eeek. I wrote immediately to say that she did realise that Le Couvent is in Languedoc surrounded by vineyards, didn't she? She didn't and could I show her on a map when they got here?

They duly arrived two nights ago and were clearly bemused by where they'd pitched up. No lavender fields and no castle. CASTLE? What castle? Our lovely Brazilian then went off to find the picture she'd cut from a magazine three years ago and had been carrying in her pocket and her dreams ever since. At this point it all came clear.

In 2007 we had an e-mail from a journalist from Elle Spain who asked us to send photos of Le Couvent as she wanted to write an article. We sent photos and expected her to turn up. She didn't, but the article was published and I found it online. To my horror I saw that she'd said Le Couvent was in the lavender fields of Provence and at the top of the article was a Photoshopped stock image of Senanque Abbey sitting in a field of lavender. I wrote to the journalist immediately and pointed out her mistake and told her that I was furious that she could be so misleading. She told me I was worrying unnecessarily and that it didn't matter.

Lots of people contacted us to book and we told all of them the truth. Some of them came to stay anyway and we all had a lovely time. Some really wanted the lavender - just as our lovely guest who's here at the moment. So yesterday I suggested that we find them somewhere in Provence and I've now booked them in to a B&B that looks lovely and definitely has lavender there right now.

But lazy journalism has cost us about 400 euros and our lovely guests the loss of two days of their long-awaited holiday. Sure, they've made the best of it and have had their heads turned towards the delights of the Languedoc, but that's not the point. In the eight years that we've been open as a B&B there have been many articles that mention us. We have never sought it, though we've been grateful more often than not. However, only one journalist - the lovely Louise Hurren - has ever bothered to actually visit us. Pretty poor show eh? So don't believe everything you read in the papers - good or bad.

I had a great weekend. Having worked in the garden at Le Couvent all week, my treat for the weekend was to work in the vineyard. No honest, that does feel like a treat to me. It's beautiful, I can see for miles and the birds sing their socks off. I've worked out a new watering system that I think might see the vegetable garden through the summer without killing me in the process.

But the strangest thing happened there too. On Saturday I was weeding in the potager when both the dogs started barking madly. I looked up to see three completely white gowned figures coming towards us from the top of the vineyard. They were not 50 metres away, and for a moment I thought I was hallucinating until I recognised them as three nuns from the presbytery in Mougeres, just outside Roujan. The dogs were decidedly wary, but the nuns and I had a brief chat and they skipped on their way down through the vineyard, with one shouting back "Christ is risen, Christ is risen".

At moments like that you can feel as though you're going mad. With no witnesses it feels as though one could have dreamt it. But no, the dogs were still yelling in their shock.

But that's not all. Yesterday I was again in the vineyard, feeding the trees in the orchard. Once again the dogs started barking and looking across the amphitheatre vines at a lone nun who was just standing there, looking across at us, for a good minute. I waved, but she didn't wave back. I, for some reason, thought she might have been saying a prayer over the vines. After a short while she left and I heard other voices going off up the hill, behind the trees so I assume she was with the other nuns. The dogs were spooked, but I like to think the wine from Le Couvent might have been blessed this year.

 

 

 

Phew, that's the excitement over for a while. We had a spiffing Christmas, with all the Gosling family together for the first time in donkey's years. My mother came to stay for a month and slithered back to Suffolk just before the heaviest snows fell. We had the best time while she was here and I'm sure she thinks we do nothing but party, so frequently flowed the invitations.

 

 

Ali hasn't had such a good time of it. First she snapped a front crown clean off on Christmas Eve. Mercifully our lovely dentist took pity on her and welded in a temporary one to stop her looking looking like a witch for Christmas. Now she finds herself stuck in snow-bound London, having popped over to Oxford for lunch a week ago. I'm very much hoping she makes it back on her revised flight tomorrow, otherwise I shall begin to suspect that she's avoiding the follow-up dental appointments and the pruning.

 

 

 

 

Having spent so much time frolicking about with my mother, December passed with barely a vine pruned, so now we are severely behind. We've also decided to burn all the off-cuts as we go (to save tripping over them all summer) so it's a painfully slow process. But the new pram-burner, Hot Pegasus, has worked like a dream. Coupled with the new, second-hand super-warm jacket I bought on Pezenas market last Saturday, I was sweltering today. Nevertheless, I was eventually driven home by sleet, yes, SLEET, in the vineyard. Ridiculous. This is the south of France so it is supposed to be sunbathing weather all the time, right?

 

 

 

The only irritating event over the past month has been the theft of my carefully devised plumbing system in the vineyard. So I'm about to replace it and I'm going to super-glue it in place, then dust it with that stuff that stains thieves hands. I'll then sit at the bar in the village and try to spot the miscreant. With a bit of luck I'll catch him/her red-handed.

And finally. Flynn won't go anywhere without his leather bone at the moment.  Here he is in the van, on the way back from a walk.

 

 

Happy New Year to you and yours. xxx