A fete day in Provence,

I just love it when I have something special to look forwards to !

Most of my life is fairly ordinary, general housework, gardening, my walks .... all the usual sort of things. So, an excitement is very welcome !!

One day which I enjoyed very much was the fete day at the campsite outside Roussillon when we were on holiday there this year.




The judgement !

It started off with a day-long boules tournament with teams of campers and locals battling it out !!


This is a game which we play occasionally but I don't seem to have too much of a competitive spirit and a few hours slugging it away didn't tempt me at all.

But, I went to watch awhile and admire the skill and intensity of involvement..

They all seemed to be having a great time and the competitions seemed quite fierce.......

I was actually much more interested in the swimming pool as it was a humid, scorcher of a day and I needed to cool off and what better way than a few lengths in an unheated pool and a quick shower.

By the end of our stay at the campsite the pool was lovely and almost too warm for cooling off in !!

When the competition was eventually over I again went to watch the prize giving ceremony - all very light hearted and fun with goodies handed out to almost all it seemed.

In the morning I had been to visit a fellow brit at the campsite - Cecille was quite an elderly lady (an anglican priest) who had lived in an anglican community in Provence for 25 years but had now returned to Devon to enjoy her 'almost' retirement.

She had been coming to this campsite for years and had a caravan permanently stored here.

Cecille

She had actually taken the ferry to Bilbao and then driven over by herself, taking a few days with overnight stops en route.

Very spirited.





We arranged that she would come to the fete with us, and were to pick her up just before 7 pm when it all kicked off proper !!



Well, most of the time we had been in Provence we had had fantastic weather but today it was fickle and by the early evening there were clouds rumbling by and showers of rain now and then.



When the boules competition was eventually over we went to watch the prize giving ceremony - all very light hearted and fun with goodies handed out to almost all it seemed.

local vintner

We then all trooped down into the games room for glasses of wine supplied by the local vintner while the staff decided if the whole event could carry on indoor or outdoors.

We had in fact sampled  quite a few of his delicious wines already !

Thankfully it was decided that it was all systems go and we wandered down to the party area - which was all set up with tables and chairs (in rows) and music speakers with a dj and we could also smell the delicious chicken paella.

We take our place and the festivities begin.




Jugs of wine and bottles of water are placed in front of us and we we queue up in turn to be served our supper - we'd had to book our place and the charge for the whole evening was 15 Euros each.

 A bargain as it turned out.


Luckily for us we sat opposite the most funny happy-go-lucky chap I've ever met - he had a big wide grin and was full of jollity all night long and best of all I later found out that he loved to dance too !!

 He was actually Dutch and so he and his wife spoke excellent English, thank goodness. Also she didn't seem to mind me monopolising him for dancing !!!

One of the best things about the continental festivals for me is the dancing that follows and the fact that most of the people there will at one stage or another over the evening be up on the dancefloor enjoying themselves !!!

So un-british-like but such good fun, well for me at least.

To my husband it is an endurance test, although it does rather depend how many beers he's had !!


The were all sorts of dance styles that night - rocknroll, salsa, ce rock, the conga (a few times !!) and whatever you felt like doing really. Simply fun.


Cecille retired fairly early but we stayed on till the bitter end and by then Phil had actually danced a few times with me even and especially the slow smoochy number at the end ! A real trial for him but so appreciated by me.



 A lovely huggy number to round the evening off and even after ever so many years of marriage it is still blissful.





Dancing queen ????

    I awake the next morning to tweaks and creaks in my back    and hips - oh dear, the toll is felt by the body having been whirling and twirling all night long.

Still, no pain, no gain is what they say and I reckon it was worth it for all the joy I felt when dancing.

Can't wait for next time now....!.

　


A little uplifting ?

To start with I wasn't sure what to call this little episode but I think the title is quite apt really...as you'll see .....

We were on our way from Provence over to the French Pyrenees to attend another of hubby's orienteering events, this one being the French 5 days. We'd packed the caravan and set off fairly early as we'd hoped to arrive early to mid-afternoon. It is always more comfortable if we can get settled in at the new campsite and have time for a quick shuftie around the place and then a shower before supper etc.

Life at a leisurely pace is our aim on the whole these days and that was our intention this day too.

We'd gone about 15 miles along the main route towards Avignon when all of a sudden there was quite a loud 'pop' - the sort of noise the car usually makes when driving over a plastic drinks bottle ! but we'd not noticed one on the road and so were a trifle puzzled.

We carried on driving, nothing untowards had happened but we felt uneasy and so decided to slow down just in case and then it became obvious that something was wrong. Hubby figured out that maybe we'd had a puncture on the caravan ?

 So we began turning into the nearest exit which happened to be the entrance to a farm and also a small fruit packing factory unit. Here we came to literally grinding halt - the noise was awful in fact but at least we were out of the way of the traffic.



There was quite a slope off the road and as we turned in hubby had been able to look back and see what had happened - it is a very rare occurance that he swears but he exclaimed - bollocks ! I just knew that it was serious.


A tyre had punctured, and was shredding as we were driving into the parking area - in fact we were now on the rim and just had to stop once we were safely off the main road.

The spare tyre is got out from under the caravan, and I would not let hubby use the little jack as we were on a slope downwards and sideways and I had visions of the caravan sliding or doing something equally horrendous !!

I suggested that he go down to the fruit farm whose drive we were on and see if they had a big trolley jack we could borrow.

He trots off and to my great surprise comes back with the farmer driving of all things a small fork lift truck !! They'd gone into the packing factory and picked it up. 

It was so funny to see but was perfect for the job !!

The farmer drives up to the caravan, slides the forks under the side and gently, gently, lifts it up so the wrecked tyre can be taken off !!


 It's an amazing sight. The spare tyre is popped on and Bob's your uncle - all done and dusted, and safely too, which was my main concern.


We thank the farmer profusely for his help and he trundles back on down to the factory. We wend our way on to Avignon to try and find a new tyre which proved to be quite difficult in fact.

We eventually find a place open and they fix us up with 2 new tyres - and promptly close for a 2 hour lunch. We'd just managed to catch them in time. We resume our journey.



We arrived at Matemale (a ski resort in fact), ever so high up in the Pyrenees early evening in the end. The last 30 km stretch up the mountains was a marathon of hairpin bends and ever so slow going, as it was all uphill and ended up taking us about 2 hours !

Who ever said travel is quick and easy these days should just try taking some of the more obscure roads in Europe, and especially with a caravan in tow !!

The views had been absolutely amazing though, so worth the journey.

Phew it had been an exciting, exhausting day and I was ready for bed.

              Thank goodness the bed in the caravan is amazingly comfortable !

　

　
　

　

A morning's roaming.

 

One fine early morning, last June, my husband decided that he was going to cycle through the gorge de Nesque .....and so my choice was for him to drop me off at the bottom of the valley near a little hilltop village called Goult in the Ventoux.

 From there I would walk back to the campsite where we were staying.

I would have liked to walk there and back (like my son Trystan and his girlfriend Leila did when they stayed with us in Provence) but the weather was so hot and I didn't think I could cope with the distance there and back in the heat.


An early morning start made sense, you see ?
So, we loaded the bike on the car and off we trundled.

  Philip dropped me off just after a roundabout at the bottom of the valley and I wended my way rather gingerly up the hill towards the village.

There are no pavements whatsoever in this part of the world and really there are no walker friendly verges even really - as there are rather deep ditches/trenches  immediately off the roadway.

So, whenever a car came (almost always at top speed) I sort of had to scramble and find a bit of safe ground to hover on while they sped me by !!



All a bit fraught for a middle aged biddy if two cars came at once as the road was single lane really. In fact I almost turned back at one stage simply out of fright as I really didn't relish falling into the ditches !!

Anyway I persevered and eventually reached the ancient washing area just outside the village, halfway up the hill.

Time for a pause and a breather while I took some photos.






This area was meant mainly for the itinerant workers who arrived to help with the harvests - first the fruit - cherries mainly and then with the grape harvest.

 There simply were not enough locals to cope with all this harvesting of abundance and water is a necessity for us all.

Even as a caravaner I know that fresh clean water is essential to a decent life, so in those olden times it would have been even more so.

Clean water for drinking and also clean water for washing yourself and your clothes. A must, and it was well provided.


I then made my way, puffing up the hilll to the village centre itself.
  We had been here several times before and done all the village sightseeing (another blog possibly), this time, I just wanted to buy a drink and a picnic to eat on the way back.


I found the village grocery shop (the only one in fact) and bought a couple of figs, a few slices of salami, a bottle of water and some bread. Enough for a petit dejuner on my return walk down hill. By now it was hotting up horrendously and I needed to find shade and sit down a while !!


My picnic spot was a bench on the way down the hill, and overlooked the cherry orchards where I could hear the pickers at work - full of merriment and jolly banter as they beavered away. They seemed incredibly noisy and happy despite the heat !!

Sadly the area was fenced off or I would have bought some of the cherries. I am not quite up to scrambling over ditches and fences anymore.

At the bottom of the hill I had a right turn to make and then was on the back road towards the campsite. Hopefully I would not be so bothered by the cars, and in fact only saw 3 cars the whole way back.

Bliss, I could walk in the middle of the road !!

To start with it was uphill again ( and very steeply too) but I kept turning round and taking photos and catching my breath while doing so.


It amazes me how they plant vines in even the smallest corner of land - we in the Uk seem to waste land in camparison.

Or, is it that we are so rich and comfortable that it is simply not worth our while making all the effort with cultivation when we can simply pop down the cop-op or Morrisons and buy a bottle of wine ?

I passed what seemed like acres of vineyards and eventually came to La Verriere.

This is the farm from which we have bought most of the wine we drank while in Provence. It is sold absolutely everywhere in the area and I think he doesn't export anything at all. It is now in it's fourth generation of cultivation and we quaffed it quite happily !!!

All these little farms are quite happy for you to have tastings as they actually produce several different types of wines depending on the variety of grape and the 'terroir' it is grown on.

All very technical and way above and beyond the knowledge I need to know what I like to drink.


It was interesting to see all the rosebushes at the end of the rows of vines - something to do with moulds and infestations of greenfly I gathered. They check the roses regularly and if there is any sign of whatever, they get busy spraying.


 Not quite sure how eco all that is really. Probably best not to ask.


Though we did find a bio wine at a local market - and he said he did not use sulphur to sterilize stuff and as an asthmatic this is v important.


  I almost died once when inhaling sulphur fumes (I was sterilizing bottles for some home brew Philip and I had made 30 odd years ago - and had to use sulphur dioxide).

 My lungs seized up and Philip had to carry me to the surgery !!

Lucky to be alive still really.


Anyway, I rambled on, getting thirstier and thirstier and hotter and hotter. My water bottle was well and truly empty by now.

 How anybody could be out walking and working in this heat beats me.

  I'd collapse pretty soon !!



I passed some wonderful gardens (I figured they were owned by expats - the style a bit of a giveaway and also the fact that they were as grand as they were compared to everything else around them !).

The french on the whole go in mostly for salads and veg and a few flowers here and there but not major landscaping like the rich english abroad.

The views towards Bonnieux were
a delight, we can actually see the village from the caravan but it is at night that it is glorious - all those twinklings, a sign of life being lived despite the darkness.

Eventually I find the hometrack - one I have walked many many times these last few weeks.

 Sadly it is uphill again but by now I know it is not far to go.

I love this stretch of land, passing a derelict cottage, vineyards by the acre and various houses on both sides whose gardens I love to peep into. One of which is having major works done - it turns out to be a swimming pool !!!


It was rather sad that he had to cut down a few trees to achieve the space but needs must I suppose, and Provence is not short of trees...

.and the sound of the ever present chainsaw - a caravaner's bane if ever there was one.

I trundle back into the campsite, straight into the shop and buy myself a refreshing drink.....

never was a low alcohol lager more delicious and benficial to a human being.....

phew, a good ramble and an even better getting back to camp.

Joy indeed.







　

　

　

　

　

　
　

　

Artyfarty !

While in London, ages ago it seems now, but in fact it was in early spring, I went and treated myself to a whole new set of student quality acrylic paints, suitable brushes, thinners, drying retarders and a whole set of assorted palette knives.

 Good beginners stuff so I wouldn't get all precious about it all and what I turned out eventually.

So my aim was to have a little fun both with colour and texture and see what happened.....


Well, I had a few sessions and some fun paintings appeared. I am not what you 'd call a graphic artist at all but just like to mess around with paints.

In fact I often feel I'd really like to paint with my hands and fingers and not use brushes/knives at all ! just like children do at nursery ?


Anyway, one day I'd been encouraging my husband, Philip, to have some fun too. He used to do a lot of artworks, but about 30 years ago !!

We thought it would be better for him just 'to go for it' and so use the pallette knives (a first for him in fact) - as it is a lot harder to ffaff about with these than it is with brushes.


As Philip is a perfectionist in almost everything he does I did not want him to get stressed and so pallette knives it was (me thinking well he can't with these can he ?).

Little did I know ! and really I should have known better and just trust him to do a wonderful painting which is what he did in the end.

I fished out all the kit, cleared the tables in the awning of the caravan (it was far too hot to sit outside in the sun) and off we went. He on his table, me on mine.



It was great fun, and I photographed the various stages involved with his painting. I did not think of doing mine !

His style of working is totally different from mine and I noticed that on the whole he only used the tip of the pallette knife to as to be more accurate !! he will never be an impressionist as he likes actuality in paintings and they have to look 'real'.


His finished painting took about three afternoons of work, and I sometimes think that if left to himself he would have carried on refining it over and over. I must admit that I encouraged him no to do this.

His finished painting is quite beautiful, totally his own work and interpretation of a tiny photograph out of a magazine.


 Now we just need to be somewhere long enough for him to start another one.




Most of our journeys have a purpose (orienteering competitions) and there is in fact very little leisure time.

 

You'd be amazed how long it takes to just live an ordinary life in a caravan as you have to walk everything everywhere !!


We have sort of decided to bring along a printer when we next travel as we have so many photographs that we'd like to work from.



 We are both avid photographers these days, well, especially me as I have a tiny pocket camera with an amazing Swiss lens.

Brilliant, as I can pop it in my bag and whisk it out whenever anything vaguely interesting catches my eye.

This seems to happen an awful lot.....




Eventually when we decide to travel less we shall dedicate one bedroom totally to being a studio, and I shall invest in a great quantity of oil paints and really good brushes and canvases etc.

 The work we do now is just practice really and the more we do the better we'll get?

The main thing though is to just enjoy the whole process and think of it as fun, otherwise why do it at all ?

That's how I think about it at least, not so sure about Philip, although as you can see he's smiling !




Philip's final piece.