Le Couvent Diary

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!!!

If you're free in February 2009 and you fancy a heap of hard work in exchange for free bed and board, we're running two Volunteer Weeks . We haven't done this before, but we have had some wildly successful volunteer weekends and now that we're in danger of using up the goodwill of our friends we're hoping to spread the net a little wider. Our friends tell us they have loved the weekends, so we hope you would too.  If you're interested follow the Volunteer link on the menu at the top of this page, or click here .

The problem with writing a blog is that sometimes you don't have time to write it, then all the stuff that happens in between becomes so huge that you can't face the task of going back over it. So you don't write. Sorry about that, I'll make amends now.

Since I last wrote we've had wonderful Swedes, Americans, English, Scots, Dutch,  New Zealanders, Australians and many others staying. They arrive already knowing about our lives thanks to this diary and website. But we know nothing about them, so it's like sticking your hand into a lucky dip and finding a treat every time. Film-makers, glassy-winged sharp shooter expert, tennis coach, mountain-climber, charity bosses, ballet dancer, widget manufacturer, software architect, writer, lawyer, homeopath, urban regenerator, public relations experts, an honest estate agent, hoteliers, a cop, musicians, accountants, architects and artists have all turned up at Le Couvent in the last month. Can you imagine how interesting it is for us to learn of the wild, wonderful, awful and exhausting ways people find to make a living? We salute you all and hope you found a bit of peace and inspiration during your stay. Thanks for the stories!

As for us, we've been run off our feet with lovely guests and have had a great time in the process. The pool's stayed bright, clear and fresh thanks to slightly cooler than average weather at around 24 degrees-ish. Very comfortable and quite unlike the energy-sapping high 30's of the first year we were here six years ago.

The vegetable garden's groaning with salads threatening to run to seed so I'm doing my best to palm stuff off onto guests who decide to take a picnic to our vineyards.

And when they're not helping us use up salad we put them to work weeding the vines. This one's for you Sarah & Andrew.

 
While we're on the subject of the vines, this has been a worrying time weather-wise. The mix of warm temperatures and a bit of rain is not great for grapevines. They are prone to getting mildew and oidium, so we have to treat them. We have help in the rather delectable shape of Fred who sprays the vines for us each fortnight. We insist that he wears a mask but he's a bit reluctant to use it properly. God knows what his tan looks like after a day like this.  

This morning our friend the WelderBeast's been round to discuss the bridge. Many of you will know that we've wanted to construct a small bridge between the house and the garden, but we've never found a satisfactory solution to the problem. We'd like something functional and sculptural at the same time. WB is the first person to tell us it's completely possible. Watch this space.

This weekend we cooked for our lovely group from Landseer Productions (something we do very rarely) and they've asked for the recipes, so there will be a couple more in the book by the end of the week.

I've also made some peach ice-cream and sorbet from our own peaches. At Chateau Mal Au Dos there was an orchard of peaches and olives when we bought it. However many of the peach trees had died of neglect, except for about four. Incredibly one of them produced the smallest yet sweetest peach crop this year. I'm hoping that some TLC from us will produce even better result next year.

Well after a couple of awful weeks when our ever-optimistic guests dashed between the sunny poolside and the house to avoid torrential rain, we are back on track again. The summer now looks here to stay. People tell us the pool temperature is lovely, although Ali & I rarely go in outside August when there' s simply nowhere else to be.

Our vines have extruded metres in a week, so Ali spends her spare time fixing them upright and attaching them to wires. I am bush-whacking through face-high thistles which have also taken advantage of warm rains to exert themselves.

The good news of the century is that a talented Parisian couple have moved into Le Presbytere in Vailhan - an eight minute scenic drive from Le Couvent. The food has a light and delicious touch, and thankfully they are open on Sunday and Monday nights - when nothing else is. The view from the presbytery over the lake is stunning and there is a lovely terrace where one can have supper on a balmy night. At the moment we have no trouble booking a table, but it won't be so easy when word gets around.

What's stoolball? It's an old English game, the fore-runner of cricket, originally played by milkmaids. You probably haven't heard of it because it's only played in Kent, East Sussex and now, Roujan. If you'd like to know more about the game you can check it out here .

Last year Ali & I made some wickets, painted them jolly colours and hauled together a team of friends and family & called ourselves the Languedoc Crocks. We were mentioned on a website and as a result the lovely Clare, captain of Causeway Stoolball Club in Kent, got in touch with us. Despite the fact that our team had played just twice Causeway was insistent on coming to play against us. It was a howling success as witnessed here .

Within moments of going home they booked to come for a long weekend again this year. So we did it all again. We had supper at Le Couvent, we went to Pezenas market, we played on the cricket pitch at St Pons de Mauchiens.

We laughed, we lost, we were 31 for dinner at Les Goutailles , we played again. Ali & Nicola got silly.

We were 36 for dinner in the vines at Chateau Mal Au Dos and then they squeezed themselves and all their bags into two people carriers and grinned their way back home to Kent. All between Friday afternoon and Monday morning. And then Clare wrote to book for next year. Hooray! What can we conjure up as a surprise then I wonder?

Thanks to all our friends and family who worked their socks off cooking and lugging stuff and providing wine, not to mention actually playing. And thanks so much to all our friends from Causeway Stoolball Club. It was fantastic. And we're going to beat you next year.