Le Couvent Diary

 

 

Ali's in Australia visiting her family, it's lashing down with rain outside, I haven't finished pruning all the vines, but life is oh-so-sweet. I mean, a day pottering about, lugging logs, taking the quad in to the repair shop to be sorted out ready for our volunteers, supper and a game of Scrabble with my pals. How bad can that be?

We live two completely different lives here at Le Couvent. From May to September we are hosts for our lovely B&B guests, and we squeeze in a bit of wine-making on the way. We, willingly, put our lives on hold while we look after people. It's a very pleasurable way to earn a living. But in winter we are pretty much farmers and handy-women. We spend our days looking after this lovely old building and tending the vines. For most of the time the weather is crisp and stunning, although the wind can knock you off your feet from time to time. It's the season when we see our friends after having abandoned them during the summer. After seven years of life here in Roujan, I still pinch myself. How did I come to be so lucky?

P.S. If former guests don't recognise the photo it's because it's taken in our apartment, which you probably didn't see.

It's been a good day. A long happy birthday phone call to my mum kicked the day off, then the log man rang to say he could only deliver today at 10.45am otherwise we'd have to wait ages. Fine, except Ali and I had our first doctor's appointments for at least ten years at 11am. I'd been dreaming of the smell of burning oak more than antiseptic, so the wood man took priority.

 

As it happened we still got to the quack's in time, then waited half an hour to be seen. I was unsurprised to hear that I have worryingly high blood pressure and Ali's is perfect. I weigh and eat twice as much as she does so I'm back on a diet. Bother and blast.

The four cubic metres of logs looked heavy and cumbersome and I was sure it'd be too much to stack in a single session, but good pacing meant we got it done without wrecking our backs.

 

 

 

We're about to start pruning our vines, now that the leaves have fallen. For the past two years we've simply dropped the  cuttings (sarments) on the ground vowing that we'll go along afterwards to pick them all up. Of course we never do it properly, so this year we intend to burn them as we go along. The easiest way is to make a brûleur de sarments which is a metal wheelbarrow with an open oil drum on top in which you keep a fire going with the sarments. Easy peasy we thought, we'll find an old coach-built pram and lob an oil tank on top. Fine. So we drove off to Emmaus in Beziers hoping to find both. Monday. Closed. Dammit. We then went to a really crummy flea market and found the perfect pram lurking in a dark corner. OK, now all we need is an oil drum. Fifteen garages and agricultural service workshops and two rubbish tips later we had had no luck. Apparently the oil companies now collect them from the garages when they deliver full ones. As a last resort we screeched up at our lovely village petrol station  (from whom we buy our heating oil) - Garage Lafitte - where we struck lucky. Thank you lovely M. Lafitte.

So this afternoon we set to work, making the most appalling noise jigsawing open the oil can. Then bashing a fold into all the suicidal cut edges to round them off. And here it is, Hot Pegasus.

 

We'll let you know how long it takes for us to burn the rubber off the wheels.

Some time ago Ali bought some experimental ostrich steaks and we thought them tender and delicious. This evening we tried them again and I made the mistake of reading the cooking instructions. Make sure you cook it completely it said. So I did, and it was as tough as old boots. Last time I flashed it as I would have done with fillet steak. That's the last time I read cooking instructions.

Today we received a lovely e-mail from a reader of this blog who lives in South Korea. She gives Le Couvent a kind mention ,  for which we'd like to thank her.

 

 

 

Thanks for all the kind messages sent to Darling the hen who suffered at the beaks of her bullying sisters. I'm delighted to report that she's obviously much happier since moving to her own quarters - to the extent that today she laid her first egg for a month.

 

 

 

 

Darling is gathering a fan club, so, as her agent, here's some more information about her. She's a 9 month old Sussex Light bantam who adores kicking leaves around.

 

 

 

She was an excellent layer, but her production ground to a halt as soon as the big girls started jumping on her. Her response to their attacks was to run and hide behind a 1500 litre oil tank and refuse to come out until I called her, whereupon she would leap into my arms to be carried to safety.

 

She's an extremely friendly hen and it's a mystery why the others suddenly took against her after a summer of living together perfectly happily. Her favourite food is bacon, but when that's not on offer she's placated by pasta - tagliatelle by preference.

 

 

 

Her current aim is to dash into the kitchen and here's Ali persuading her otherwise.

 

 

 

We'll keep you posted on her progress.

Ali and I are on our hols in the Big Apple. Today's our penultimate day and this morning we're hanging out in our wonderful Marmara apartment in Upper East side.

 

 

We've bought a ton of books, shoes, clothes and lots more luggage to carry it all. We found a hat, bamboo shirt and crunchy heritage apples in the Greenflea market;

 

 

cycled through Central Park and Harlem with the fantastic Johannes from Bike the Big Apple and a family from Nancy, France;

 

 

 

seen some powerful images of the World Trade Centre after 9/11 at the Ground Zero Workshop ;

 

 

spent a morning spiralling up and down the Guggenheim Museum marvelling at a multitude of Kandinskys;

 

 

failed miserably in our attempt to book a Liberty Island trip online; had lunch in the sublime Grand Central Station Oyster Bar and several other Texan, Indian, American restaurants.

 

 

Tonight we're off to Falai , way downtown, for some Italian deliciousness. As if all that eating isn't enough we're taking a food & culture tour round Brooklyn tomorrow before flying home via Heathrow and Toulouse.

You really can pack a lot into six days without feeling wrecked at the end. Next week I'm going on a diet though. It's been tough on the waistline.

We closed for the winter a week ago and since then we seem to have done no end of clearing up jobs. The trick has been to have no lists, no preconceived ideas of the forthcoming day and no outside calls on our time. That way we've gently muddled around the house tidying a little here, cleaning a bit there without it costing too much energy-wise. It's amazing how much can get done by taking it a tiny chunk at a time.

Having missed them all summer I have been off to my favorite markets in Clermont l'Herault and Pezenas, to a boot sale in Canet and the giant flea market in Marseillan. What fun. My super bargain find was a complete and perfect John Jaques croquet set. "C'est anglais" said the man on the stall. "Je sais, moi aussi, j' suis anglaise." "Au niveau de prix, c'est bon?" "Mais non, c'est beaucoup trop cher, vous m'avez donner le vrai prix, pas de l'occasion."  What would I know? I've never bought a new set, nor even played croquet, but he seemed convinced. At this point his price halved and we started to negotiate. Finally I handed over 25 euros and heaved away a large wooden box, anticipating some fun with guests next summer. Poor chap. I hope he managed to diddle the next punter to make up the shortfall.

 

 

 

 

The weather's been exceptional too with each bright, hot sunny day following another. I swam in the pool yesterday in celebration of the fact that it had finally started raining despite being 27 degrees. The rain stopped instantly some three minutes after it started. I was somewhat relieved, having spent the day digging fifteen large holes in the amphitheatre vineyard - not wanting them to collapse in a deluge. This afternoon I'm picking up 15 eucalyptus trees to plant. During the summer guests often tell us to 'keep the change' when they are settling their B&B bill. We save it up in a commemorative tankard (Runner Up - Dustman of the Year 1987) and tell them we'll spend it on trees. This year we'd saved 130 euros. I scoured the internet for the least expensive young eucalyptus trees and by complete chance tripped across a private wholesaler in Roujan, just 200 metres from Le Couvent. So the planting ceremony will take place late this afternoon, just before the rainy season begins tomorrow - I hope.

In three weeks' time we're off on our own hols - to New York - perhaps. The apartment's booked and paid for, as are the flights, but we've had a slight dog/house-sitting disaster as our planned sitters couldn't get the time off work and everyone else is busy that week. So we're panicking. I'm sure something will turn up otherwise we'll have a very nice holiday to give away. If you're free from 23-31 October and fancy looking after Le Couvent, two very nice dogs, a cantankerous cat and nine hens, do drop us a line. Previous guests and friends only please.

Ooh, by the way, if you're house-hunting, there's a wonderful house for sale in nearby Servian. It's been superbly restored by some good friends of ours and there is absolutely nothing that needs doing to it. Have a look here: Maison Vanille .