2016 - not the best year perhaps but could have been worse

2016 has been a tragic year on the world news and political front, a year when satire got overtaken by reality, extreme right wing attitudes have gained ground and at the turning of the year many of us are holding our breath and hoping for sense and common humanity to re establish itself.

For us too it hasn't all been smooth going. It has been a year dominated by journeys back and forth to the vet with Emile who at several points looked as though would lose a leg, I started the summer off in poor style with  two nights ( that's two nights too long) in hospital and  worries about the failing health of my mother have meant some lost sleep.

But as we come to the end of the year there have been lots of plusses to look back on and we continue to count ourselves so lucky to be here.

Although we moved into an already converted house since we came each year has seen at least one major home improvement. This year it was the bathroom which got an upgrade, we even got the work done by someone else!

My passion for patchwork continues and at the end of April I took part and exhibited in my first patchwork exhibition - a great sense of achievement. I was also elected onto the committee of the patchwork association so feel really part of things.




My little trip to the hospital turned out to be less serious than feared and although it took me  a while to get back properly on form has now been put in the experiences I would rather not repeat.

 And top news of the year of course is Emile is fit and well and still has four legs. He is now enjoying his freedom to come and go and is of course totally unaware of how lucky he has been.

Our life around music and dancing has got, if it were possible, even more busy. The folk'n'jazz association ( official this year) has grown in strength and diversity and is continually extending our social sphere.
Tonight we are spending new years eve with good friends and are looking forward to a French style celebration.

2017 dawns tomorrow, here's hoping for a more positive year on the news front. We have the French elections on the horizon - don't let me down France.

Fingers crossed in a few weeks we will officially become adoptive grandparents when the courts agree that my son can officially adopt his stepchildren - hope there is a party!

There could be another party this year too as we are waiting to hear about our French citizenship application.

Time for us to think about arranging a holiday to shorten the winter - Cadiz or Lisbon we think.

We have several visitors booked in already for the summer so all is looking good.

                    Happy new year everyone

                    bonne année et bon santé

I'm no expert

 I love photography  although I never did before the advent of digital cameras. In the old days it was very much TC's domain. We had a nice SLR camera and he was the expert at twiddling the knobs. We have a bookshelf creaking under the weight of family photo albums compiled from the successful snaps of our early years together and the children growing up. Under the spare bed is a large box of pictures from later years when we realised the albums were unmanageable. It was always a significant expense after a holiday to get the  films developed and often something of a disappointment with blurred shots, slightly mistimed shots with people caught pulling strange faces and scenes that turned out not to be photogenic at all.




Digital photography was so liberating for me - I'm a point and shoot photographer and taking half a dozen shots most of which can be easily deleted is perfect for me. As my eyesight is not what it used to be I can wait until the pictures are on the large computer screen before I do anything with them - little adjustments to the composition with some judicious cropping, tinkering with the lighting and contrast has been a new creative outlet, plus I can take hundreds of photos a week without breaking the bank. It is also a hobby which combines perfectly with our other pastimes, gardening and walking especially. We live in such a beautiful area there is never a shortage of subject matter.





The only downside is the lack of actual photos to carry around or to share in a group. One of my childhood memories is looking through a biscuit tin which contained my parents' old photos whenever I was ill in bed. Those albums of our early years as a family are full of great memories. It's not so easy to share the computer screen - even when you do eventually find the file!


Sharing photos on the internet has also been exciting. For several years I posted regularly on Flickr and the feedback from other enthusiasts was a real boost. I started to believe that my pictures had some small merit and I was able to learn more about composition and in particular macro photography. Then a few years ago I posted a photo in a competition on a facebook page La Vie en France. The photo was to depict life in France.

There were not many entries but mine was the winner - woopeeeee. I was so chuffed. I carried on entering the next competitions enjoying the challenge of trying to find an original slant on some common themes. My entries have always done well so I must have been doing something right.
 








Yesterday having be banned from entering photo competition no 7  I spent the afternoon trying to pretend I was qualified to judge the entries of others - a very difficult task taking me back to "another life" for several hours.The worst few minutes were when I "saved" my scores and then couldn't find the file and thought I would have to start all over again. I'm not sure how the other judges will regard my scoring - it was really difficult with over 80 entries and the standard has certainly improved since the first competition - and I really am no expert especially when it comes to technical merit.

I 'll keep on snapping though - this morning a hard frost sent me scurrying outside before breakfast looking for photo opportunities.

overweight female doing voice exercises

First thing every morning TC opens our bedroom window and calls the cats.
"Mau  mau" and usually they  reply, if not they are at the door waiting by the time he gets downstairs.

1st december 2015 Emile did not appear at the door with Dylan.
This was not completely unusual as from time to time both cats have gone walkabout for a day or so, worrying but they always appeared as if nothing had happened in the end .

This Sunday however we were in the garden when we heard a strange yowl coming from the shed behind the house and Emile was discovered with a clearly broken back leg . At the time we thought he must have fallen because of the distance from the road. We took him to the vet first thing the next day to discover he had in fact two broken legs and would need to have an operation , not only that but we would have to go to Montauban for a vet able to perform the surgery. "It will cost 400 euros for each leg" warned the vet.




Early diagnosis suggested that the more serious injury was the broken ankle, although the other leg was badly fractured a splint would fix it. So it was after the first operation, and the bill of 650 euros, Emile came home with no fur on his back half, a massive cast on one ankle and the other leg all stitched up with instructions to keep him in a cage for 6 weeks.




He returned to the vets while we were away for Christmas so after care was on hand . While we were away we had a call to say that although the ankle was mending  the leg had broken again and another operation was needed - and so began 2016 for Emile.



For us a routine of monthly drives to Montauban ( an hour each way) with a "singing" cat began. We came up with the notion of  cleaning up an old chicken arc which we installed in the living room as the months of confinement went on ...and on.....and on.






And on and on it did go. An infection started and Emile opened up the wound on his leg exposing the metalwork holding the bone together - another operation - the infection worsened and the metal splint had to be replaced - another operation and so it went on all through the summer. Each time we though we were getting near the end the infection got worse - seemingly " hiding " on the metal splint inside the leg and reappearing every time the antibiotics were stopped.

Poor Emile spent longer and longer periods hospitalised at the vet  - In August the bone broke yet again and we agreed with the vet that the only option was for him to remove the leg. Then the vet decided he wanted to have one more try , we were reluctant to put Emile through yet more treatment but eventually agreed out of respect for the vets efforts up to this point.

Yet another operation to insert a pin through the centre of the tibia and we were reduced to telephone updates on his progress for 6 weeks. When he eventually came home the antibiotics had stopped and the infection had not returned so he was given the "freedom" on one of our spare bedrooms, with no high furniture, for the following month. Good progress meant he was then allowed freedom of the house and this week his final xray showed the bone has at last mended. ANOTHER operation to remove the pin from the bone and he has been discharged with all four legs and after another few weeks he will even be allowed to go out (hopefully not to play with the traffic).

This weeks bill , for the treatment since August , including operations, anaesthetics, treatments and hospitalisation was the princely sum of 98 euros. Certainly can't accuse the vet of profiteering!

He is confined to the house this week, has two weeks in the cattery to look forward to while we are away at the start of next month and maybe the singing when we get back !

not so much an adventure more a way of life

I couldn't let a Ségala anniversary go by without comment.

6 years ago today we were eagerly awaiting our furniture which was en route from England having been in storage for 3 months

weren't slow in getting bottles in there I notice

 We've been reminiscing this morning about how exciting it was to finally be moving in after spending the previous 3 months in our holiday cottage.








The move came just at the right time too as our Bruniquel house has no electricity and would soon have been getting a bit uncomfortable.

Then as now there was a lot to do to get the garden sorted out before the winter and Trevor had a new toy.

Today though the work includes the harvesting of our own garden produce and getting prepared to winterise the pool.

When we came there were those who were sad, those who were sceptical, some thought us mad, some thought us brave, I at least, saw it as an adventure which would probably last 10 years before we went "home". Now it feels quite different. I have never felt so much at home anywhere as I do here, I love living in the countryside, I love french life, the summers are long and we have made so many friends, mostly French, that our weeks are crammed with events and invites. We have been lucky, things have gone so well for us up to now, and we know those for whom it has not been such a success but for us the decision to move here has been one of the best we have ever made.

Would we have been as happy in the English countryside? Well aside from the fact the value of our Stoke house would not have supported such a  move,  I truly think not. We recently stayed with my brother in his chocolate box village of thatched cottages in Suffolk. Indeed very pretty but oh so so gentrified - not for me.

 So as I have said before - bugger Brexit - we will survive. If the value of the pound and therefore our income continues to fall we will have less in the bank but it would take more than that to get us to leave. This is our home, our paradise and France is our adopted country.

                                    aici sén pla

Original Aboriginal

There is a hotel /bar /restaurant in  Collioure, the hotel les Templiers, where the walls are lined with the paintings of famous artists including Matisse and Picasso. Apparently many were given in payment by the artists for lodgings in the hotel.






 We are lucky enough to have quite a few people who visit us each year. Obviously we are rewarded in the main by their company but inevitably we are also "paid" in wine, English treats, meals out and yes folks - this year with a painting!

This year we welcomed a new friend - Steve who is Australian of aboriginal descent and who also happens to be a talented artist working in traditional Aboriginal style. He was accompanying some other Australian visitors and stayed only one night but he very generously gave us one of his lovely paintings. We have had it framed and  it is now hanging in our guest bedroom and very splendid it looks too. We are very pleased with the way it has been mounted to preserve the character of the rough cut paper.

mixed reactions

It has been interesting noting the different reactions from our English friends when we have talked of our decision to try to obtain french citizenship. They range from undisguised and freely admitted jealousy  through bemusement all the way  to outright disdain. So far the french we have mentioned it to have been supportive (that's a relief) - there has even been talk of celebrating with a party if we manage it.

The brexit result was the final push for us to get on with it instead of just talking about it as a  future possibility and the last three months has been dominated by gathering the documents, certificates and translations needed to make the applications. This Tuesday was the interview day and we set duly off for the prefecture in Toulouse.

Despite thinking we were well prepared we nearly fell at the starting blocks when we were presented with a new list of requirements which apparently we should have worked to for the Haute Garonne prefecture. My worst nightmare appeared to be coming true.  In fact it was only different in a few respects but it did demand extra copies of some forms AND for the documents to be presented in a specific order. Luckily for us our interviewer was sympathetic and made allowances and extra copies for us.

That bad start put TC on the back foot from the start and he came out after an hour and a half feeling he had not really done himself justice. Then it was my turn . Thankfully she was treating the applications together and did not go through every document that she had already seen  so my interview was a measly hour! It was no holds barred as regards the language and I was glad my comprehension held up. The questioning got increasingly intense, the interviewer was like a dog with a bone on some questions and by the end of the hour I was probably talking the French of a 5 year old, at one point I couldn't even remember the dates of the second world war!

So how had it gone? who knows? At the end I asked what happened next and she said something to the effect that she could put together two good files from what she had ready to be sent off to Paris. That sounds fairly positive but we shall have to wait and wait and wait and see. The computers in the prefecture were down during the afternoon so she was taking notes in longhand on scraps of paper which could take a while to decipher I suspect. There is also something we have to sign which she said she would send to us in the post.

Will it all have been worth it ? Let's hope so. At least it would give us some security in the place we now regard as home and above all the right to vote here instead of in the  last constituency in which we lived in England (how absurd is that) and eventually not at all.

Under current agreements we would retain our British citizenship and hold dual nationality. So as for those negative reactions - are we unpatriotic, disloyal etc etc.?  Maybe so, but I have always been suspicious of patriotism for its own sake and there is much about todays Britain which makes me glad to be elsewhere. I feel at home here, much more so than when I visit England. I like living in a republic where church and state are strictly separated. Of course no country is perfect but for us the decision to spend this period of our lives in the country we have loved for so many years has been one of the best we have ever made - becoming french citizens would complete our story.

But let's keep things in perspective - how lucky are we to have the chance to even think about choosing where we want to live - our personal paradise -  there are so many less fortunate displaced people just desperate to find a safe haven to escape real horrors and persecution in their homelands  - another and much more important story for our times.

                                                aici sén pla

a comedy of errors

For the last four years we have looked forward to our annual brush with the bard watching a play performed in English by a touring theatre company Antic Disposition. They are a brilliant company, totally professional  and have never disappointed us - a major plus is that we get to see the production outdoors in the amazing setting of Montcuc ( in the Lot) and can have a picnic before the production. This year it was  "Comedy of Errors" - not my favourite play but as always well produced , brilliant casting and we had a great evening accompanied by our friends Jean and Ray. Unfortunately for us they are returning to live in England in the next few months so maybe next year we will be back to being "bobby no mates" again for our picnic.

In the meantime my own comedy of errors with the French language continues - our interviews in Toulouse to present our French naturalisation documents are drawing ever more terrifyingly closer - I am therefore grateful for all encouragement. It could be that a lack of anglophone visitors this summer will be an advantage as often I find myself "linguistically challenged" at the rentree having spoken English throughout the holidays to a stream of visiting friends and family.

Last night though we were the only English people at a bal organised by the musicians at Salles (Trevor is one ). During the evening I found myself having one to one conversations in French about the history of internet development, alternatives to antibiotics, cultural differences between Spain and France,the benefits of naturalisation  - interspersed with " the weather". Their accents( we are in the South West)  , my accent ( a vrai comedy of errors  - say no more) not withstanding I was really having "proper" conversations and I came home feeling pleased with myself and reflecting on the progress that even I can see I have made in the last 6 years,  albeit with a brain in meltdown mode.

When we got home we had a small nightcap enjoying the starscape - a shooting star sent me to bed feeling lucky and content!

aiçi sén pla

when you think you've got it sussed!

French bureaucracy is notorious but one of those things you get used to if you live here, arriving anywhere vaguely official without your passport, birth certificate, proofs of address etc etc would be just foolish and today we got ourselves well prepared, document case bulging.

First stop the tax office in Montauban - easy - we've been there several times. But no - we arrived to find the building abandoned with no forwarding address!. A helpful lady at the prefecture told us that it had been moved out of town. In fact three exits along the motorway away. When we eventually found it it was only to be told that for the certificate we needed we had to go to the office in Caussade (luckily that was on our way home and the certifcate was easily obtained).

Next task for the day as we were in Montauban and at the prefecture - change my driving licence to a French one. Again easy, we've done it once for Trevor, I had filled in the form on line and had all the required documents. Again - not so fast Mrs C - an appointment is now needed plus the Montauban prefecture has added the need to have your English driving licence translated by an approved translator so another hiccup.

Lunch was not a great success either. In the past we have enjoyed moules/frites in the square as a treat when have a dealing with officialdom day but the menus of the restaurants no longer include them. Today we made the wrong choice from the available menus and were disappointed with our lunch.

On the plus side though I hadn't been to Montauban for some time and the square really is very beautiful and today was a abuzz with people enjoying the sunshine.

The hassle and long drive meant I arrived home feeling  tired but at least we have achieved at least part of what we set out to do today and the driving licence is not urgent. Still nothing in the post though!

deprexit

At last fully recovered from my little health issue a certain level of post brexit depression remains. How can all this have really happened? The farce that is British politics at the moment has produced one joke after another - the best undoubtably Boris as foreign secretary! I keep find myself having to explain the unexplainable to my French friends and who knows where it will end. They say a week is a long time in politics, at the moment the ground seems to be constantly shifting and predicting what is to befall us next is a fool's game.

In the meantime we have spent the last month amassing the documents required for our application for naturalisation. Unsurpisingly it is no small task. I sought the help of my brother to get hold of copies of my parents births and marriage certificates before he left for his holidays. He was impressive in his prompt response to help his refugee ex-pat sister but unfortunately the postal service has not played fair. We have waited eagerly each day for the post to arrive but nothing - next step is to contact the records office and hope they will be quick enough for us to get the translations done in time for our interviews in September.

Trevor however is the now proud owner of a glossy certificate which states that the British police can find "no trace" of him in the fatherland. I hope mine will arrive soon - I was a week or so behind applying because of my illness.

In the meantime summer has settled in - lots of sunshine, storms just to keep you on your toes and lots going on.






Unfortunately this week the stormy day coincided with an outdoor event where Trevor and his friends were booked to play. In the end the evening went well - enough people turned up to make it convivial and we even made space under cover for some dancing.

the best of times, the worst of times

Summer had eventually managed to tighten it's grip and had started to bless us with some sunny skies and all was looking good . The pool was warm, the garden was flowery, the veg was starting to be picked, everything we could hope for.


Then the bombshell referendum result. A referendum  called for by arrogant and self serving politicians as part of some strange Tory game which they thought they "couldn't lose". The campaign had unleashed a tsunami of fear, hatred and bigotry and no- one it seemed could see the echoes of history being played out. It had all gone badly wrong and no- one could think of anything to do except resign.

For heavens sake the referendum was supposed to be advisory - we should be letting parliament decide now, with a detailed analysis of the divisions in the country before deciding whether there is actually  a "mandate" to leave.



A deep gloom descended. One thing we knew we could never go back now. We had already thought of applying for French Nationality now there was an urgency to get it done. So lists have been made, folders have been bought and we have started on the long road of preparing our applications.



Then bombshell number two. I was overcome with a fever, couldn't eat without being sick and slept for the whole weekend. When I went to the doctors on the Monday she promptly sent me off to hospital as she suspected a heart infection.

I ended up staying two nights (it felt like 2 weeks). Just about every organ in my body was ultrasounded. I slept with bags of ice to bring down the fever. Eventually they have diagnosed a lung infection, gave me antibiotics and let me go home. That was almost a week ago and I am just about starting to have enough strength to stay up all day. All I need now is to regain my appetite so I can enjoy a meal and a glass or two with our visitors this week.

I have been lucky to have pretty good health and have only stayed in hospital 3 times before, twice for the birth of babies and once for an operation on my shoulder. It was quite a challenge to cope with the French hospital feeling so ill but one thing I was pleased about is that my French skills were not found wanting, I'm sure I understood as much that was going on as I would have done in England.

I am blessed with the best of husbands. For over a week now Trevor has done all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, watering, emergency garden tasks, lawn mowing, looking after the animals including Emil who is still manky legged, in between he's managed to remove the old bathroom from the garden to the dump and even fitted in couple of finishing off jobs on the new bathroom there should be some sort of medal. There have been days when he seemed to be on some sort of turbo charge.or over a week now Trevor has done all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, watering, emergency garden tasks, lawn mowing, looking after the animals including Emil who is still manky legged, in between he's managed to remove the old bathroom from the garden to the dump and even fitted in couple of finishing off jobs on the new bathroom there should be some sort of medal.

 He has driven many hundreds of miles over the week. We now have visitors and he has taken them off for a spot of tourism - I didn't risk going as I was afraid I might put a damper on things I want to save my energy  for this evening - it would be nice to feel hungry when we all sit down to eat.

As for the future?      Je suis européen.    aici sén pla

party time

Wednesday afternoons find me most weeks in the local village library "teaching" English to an enthusiastic group of 5 to 8 year olds. Towards the end of this year I have been wondering whether or not to carry on in September.

This week as I was getting set up for the final session of the year one of the parents arrived and said - "no songs today we have planned something different". They had brought tea, coffee and juice and each one had a tray of cakes for a party. It was a lovely surprise and so nice to feel so appreciated - we still managed to fit in the craft activity for the children ( they were a bit concerned at first they would miss out).

I shall be glad to have the summer break but it was a real boost to morale to have such a thoughtful thank you surprise. Can't stop the lessons now can I?

exposed

Movie Maker: Starpatch Laguepie expo 2016 - Slideshow

I never really got round to posting about the exhibition once it was under way which seems a shame as I really enjoyed the week. I was "on duty" for four sessions and spent those afternoons chatting and sewing. The expo was a great success with over 1000 visitors over the week which seems amazing for an event in such a small town. Everyone is now starting to think about the next exhibition in three years time but before that a new set of officers for the club is to be decided - could be interesting!

expo - le montage

I spent Wednesday  morning ironing my quilts for the patchwork exhibition.  Carefully rolled I delivered them to Laguepie for the "triage". All very organised, the expo quilts were sorted into small/ medium/large and carefully stacked on tables.

By the time we returned Thursday morning the quilts resembled more a jumble sale scrummage heaped on those same tables and the "fun" was well under way. All day the quilts have been hung, taken down , re sorted, re hung, changed about, taken down again , rehung until the strongest will prevailed.

The positioning of my Yuan tryptich became something of an "histoire" - it was eventually decided it looked lovely with the white boutie. It was displayed to good effect as it had been designed with the three side by side and not topped and tailed ( I am afraid during the day I got a bit "artistic darling" and have no doubt made some enemies - what was that about the strongest will?)

Laguepie salles des fetes is not exactly a gem and has a distinctly down at heel feel . However, by the end of today, with the judicious use of bamboo and sheeting as well as some splendid quilts it has to be said the somewhat chaotic system has resulted in an exhibition worth the name.

Michèle - secretary of Starpatch - the calm at the centre of the storm!

Emilleuro

5 years ago today our adopted cat presented us with four kittens. After rearing them she left and we found a home for one of the kittens. Sadly the female, Purdy, was killed on the road leaving us with "the boys" Dylan and Emile.








Way back on 1st December we discovered Emile in the shed with an obviously broken leg. In fact both back legs were broken and there has followed a seemingly never ending tale of woe. One leg , in fact the one which we were first told was the more serious, has healed well but the other is proving very problematic with the bone taking what seems like forever to heal. Poor Emile has had a total of 5 operations ( the latest today) and is still not out of the woods. This week he will stay at the vets and afterwards it will be a case of more time being kept indoors , mostly in the cage to stop him climbing and jumping. Not an ideal life for a very outdoor cat.





The vets bills are obviously mounting too and we are getting very used to the hour's drive to Montauban - cat complaining most of the way!

A new name - Emilleuro seems appropriate.

a day of discovery

It is always the same - someone points out something you have never noticed before and suddenly they are everywhere.

This week we had a day out in the Lot with some French friends. We diverted into one village where they make "epi de faitage" - they are decorative finnials in ceramic or stone at the apex of a roof. I had never heard of them or really noticed them at all but now I am seeing them everywhere.

It was a day for discovering new things - we had travelled into the Lot especially to go to a restaurant which specialises in a traditional dish called  Le Mique an interesting variation on a petit salé. The restuarant was packed, everyone eating the speciality dish and not an English voice to be heard.

The afternoon destination was another tiny village to see the Zadkine museum. We had heard of  Ossip Zadkine as he had lived near our home for part of his life but were not really familiar with his work. The museum had some really impressive wooden and bronze sculptures.

This beauty was carved from a tree found by Zadkine at Caylus just a5 kms or so from us ( apparently the largest he ever used)

all is not lost

New computer - scary times - it took our local computer geek a morning to set up, after that 15 hours to download and install the upgrade to windows 10 ( had to do that quickly before we got used to windows 8) and then a couple of hours this morning to access my blogger dashboard - very confusing all these "accounts" etc. I wonder how many new windows systems our aging brains will be able to cope with. I think both of us think we've aged a few years in the last couple of days.

Anyway all is sorted, my toolbar is filling up with useful links again and the computer itself - well it really is great to have a machine which is not screaming ( yes literally) for mercy every time its switched on.

In other news still it rains - no snow this winter but so much water - the mild winter has meant everything is early this year and it won't be long before the garden is ablaze with daffodils. Every day this week has seen more opening. Spring can't come quick enough for me !

time for reflection

A week of anniversaries this week .

47 years ago I spent the day with the man who would become my lifetime partner and very best friend. I was only 17 years old and in my first year at university so a whole lifetime ahead and I often think how lucky we were to have got away with meeting and "settling" when we were so young. No regrets though, we have had a great life together, have two fantastic children  and are now enjoying our retirement years in our "paradise" home.

The other anniversary of the week is a first - a year ago tomorrow my beloved father died. He was 91 and had been very unwell for some time, it was his time to leave. His final few weeks though were hard to watch as he deteriorated in a hospital where the care was woefully minimal. Memories of those last days have disturbed my sleep this week.

But my Dad was so glad for us that we had found our dream home here, he and my Mum loved it here too and spent many holidays with us in France,  both at our holiday home and here at Ségala.

Towards the end of his life he was always so concerned that we should know how much he cared for us. After one of our last visits ( when he was still at home)  he said goodbye to Trevor saying " thank you for making Sue so happy". Amen to that.

Two very special men and with my son to make a third I am blessed indeed.