Life in the south of France, in tune with the Church bells!

Welcome back everyone! After a little Tuscan dreaming, I think it's time to come back down to earth. Recently I found myself with some time on my hands. The book is finished and while I endeavour to search for a publisher, I had the idea that it would be fun to introduce you to the house at the heart of my memoir, 'The Old Presbytery'. 

We spent three wonderful years here, in the centre of a tiny village in the Charente region of south west France. In my next blogposts, I hope to share with you some of our experiences;  renovating an old French house, discovering this beautiful area of France and discussing the food of the region. Of course our story will be in the book, but what a wonderful opportunity this is, to set the scene for you. I can introduce you to the amazing house which remained at the centre of our French adventure, until family circumstances dictated our return to Ireland. Not before our renovation was complete, however, and the old presbytery was up and running, as a beautiful 'Chambre D'Hote'.

The picture below shows the house shortly after we bought it.  As to how we found it, well, it was a case of love at first sight for me. Not in an estate agents window, but on the Internet hundreds of miles away in Ireland. We did, of course, eventually view the property, but only after exploring many other regions. What we didn't fully appreciate when we moved in, however, was that the position of the house at the heart of the village and next door to the Mayor, was to make our French adventure a complete integration into village life. It meant our lives would be bound up entirely with our French neighbours, often proving both challenging and hilarious, but ultimately never boring!

The Old Presbytery

The house was built in 1852 as the presbytery for the village Church, which stands nearby. Our neighbours had many happy memories of the place.  They enjoyed telling us of times, as children, when they would attend confirmation classes in the front room and of summer Fetes in the grounds, when the whole village gathered to enjoy a family day out. They explained that our old barn in the garden, housed the 'corbillard' or hearse. This was a beautiful old horse drawn affair, brought out when any one in the village passed away.

And so it was that as we renovated this lovely old place, we lived our lives by the bells of the Church. Rising in the morning early, before the mid day heat, to the sound of the 'Angelus' and downing tools at seven in the evening, to enjoy an aperitif at the end of the working day.

Join me next time and I'll share more of this lovely region of France and village life in the Charente. 

Tuscany-Lifted into Gothic splendour to fly with the Angels!

Hi, everyone! So glad you dropped by. Just this week, I came across an e-mail from my daughter. Nothing strange there, I hear you say, and you would be right, as we often keep in touch this way. This e-mail, however, is different; it contains something of a first for me - a link to a recording of a piece of organ music. On first inspection, the subject matter of the e-mail is entitled, 'Memories of Tuscany' and below, the only text reads - 'Remember hearing this music playing in the little chapel we went into?'

The air inside is still, its coolness pouring over our sunburnt shoulders, feels like cleansing holy water, as we step inside the little chapel, out of the relentless heat of the mid-day Tuscan sun. Around us a heavenly silence hangs in the dark, damp air, so quiet that its assault on our senses is as profound as any cacophony of noise one can possibly imagine. Gradually, our eyes adjusting to the light, we focus on marble pillars, drawing our gaze upwards to the Gothic splendour of a deep-blue roof, dotted with golden stars. On either side of us simple wooden chairs face the altar, where a painting of the Virgin Mary gazes down lovingly. Her face illuminated by the light from the many ornate candles on the altar below, reflects the light of Christ in a tranquil corner of our busy world. Suddenly, the emptiness of this holy place is filled with organ music and, as our souls rise on the notes of Bach, we find ourselves lifted into Gothic splendour, to fly with the Angels.

Unbeknown to me at the time, Katie had taken out her phone and recorded the moment and playing it back today, here in my 'empty nest', I stepped out of the Tuscan sun once more, into the beauty of that magical place. You can read about our adventures, a mother and daughter enjoying 'La Dolce Vita' in the Italian sun, in a blog post I wrote some time ago now, entitled - ' Nesting in a Medici Hunting Lodge in the Hills above Florence'.

Perhaps you too enjoy visiting churches on your travels? Please do feel free to share your magical moments!

The Art of French Eating!

Welcome back, everyone! I hope you enjoyed our trip to 'Parfums Sucrés' in my last blog post. Since writing it, I have just finished reading, ' Mastering the Art of French Eating' by Ann Mah. It got me pondering my own years living in France and the profound relationship I developed with food, learning at the table of my wonderful French neighbours and sampling regional dishes from Paris, to the shores of the Cote d'Azur.  

Ann Mah, the wife of an American diplomat is a lifelong foodie and francophile. When she learns of her husband's new posting to Paris, she begins plotting the gastronomic adventures they are going to have. Shortly after their arrival, as they settle into Parisian life, however, her dream of a romantic sojourn in the City of Light is brought to an abrupt end, when her beloved husband is unexpectedly posted to Iraq for a year and Ann finds herself alone in Paris. 

 Faced with isolation, Ann must make a life for herself and it's not long before her love of food draws her out in search of comfort.  She sets off on a journey around France, looking for the signature dishes of each region, delving into their history, how they are traditionally made and at the same time meeting the amazing characters involved in their production. Dishes like cassoulet, boeuf bourguignon and the infamous andouillette sausage, are just a few of the recipes to give up their secrets. Temptingly, Ann ends each chapter with a regional recipe for us to try at home. 

Cassoulet

My own French food experience can be summed up in a word, which Ann explains very clearly towards the end of the book. The word is 'gourmandise'.  It is a wonderful word, for which there is no exact English equivalent, but it sums up the attitude of the French to food, an attitude which is ingrained in them from birth. It is basically the cultivation of an educated palate, the art of fine dining, the enjoyment of a good meal. It originates from the French word for taste, 'gout' and is all-encompassing in its description of the art of food appreciation.

In our little village in France, when you pass the school gates, the menu for the week is printed each Monday morning for parents and children to eagerly anticipate. There will be starter, main course, a cheese course and of course a dessert. Also from an early age the curriculum will include lessons in food appreciation and education of the palate. I know this all sounds a bit extreme, but what it has done for the French is to equip them with the ability to really enjoy good food.

Next time, I will talk more about the food in my region of France, La Charente.  In the meantime, if you too are a francophile, with a love of good food, why not get hold of a copy of Ann Mah's book, 'Mastering the Art of French Eating' and enjoy!

My Favourite place to eat - 'Chateau Talleyrand', Chalais France

'Parfums Sucrés' - My Guilty Pleasure!

Welcome to south west France, where I spent three wonderful years. This morning I would love you to join me in the city of Angouleme, as I return to my favourite chocolatier, 'Parfums Sucrés' on Rue Postes.

Now, we all need a treat sometimes and a visit to, 'Parfums Sucrés' is my guilty pleasure! 

Before we go in, though, let's step back and admire the Artisan approach of the French, to the concept of the Salon de Thé.  Each pastry is a work of art, crafted with love and the display under the glistening lights of the comptoir, resembles a jewellers window. The pinnacle of excellence in the genre can be enjoyed at Ladurée on the Champs Elysées, where the beauty of the macaroons is mirrored in the decadent decor of the salon itself!

Of course, Parfums Sucrés cannot match Ladurée with its sumptuous decor, but its pastries and wonderful chocolates, crafted with the same love and attention, would not be out of place in the salons of Paris. There are, of course, many such establishments in towns all over France.  Today, I invite you to come with me to my favourite, in the heart of the walled city of Angouleme, perched high on its promontory overlooking the beautiful Charente countryside.

Once inside, we find ourselves surrounded by displays of chocolates and biscuits beautifully wrapped in coloured cellophane. Pretty pink and white meringues, next to delicious cocoa covered truffles, make delightful gifts and point the way to the counter or comptoir, where one is invited to choose something to enjoy in the salon above.  After a difficult decision, where one is spoilt for choice, we make our way upstairs to our table.

No frustrating queueing with an awkward tray at Parfums Sucrés. Instead we make ourselves comfortable at a table by the window, while a pretty waitress arrives to take our drinks order. At this point, for me, there is only one choice, their delicious hot chocolate. It arrives in its own beautiful little pot, with accompanying cup and saucer.  On pouring, it can only be described as liquid chocolate! Simultaneously, as if by magic, the culinary works of art chosen at the counter below, appear plated and placed on the table for our delectation. There is nothing left to do, but sit back and enjoy the sophisticated atmosphere of the Salon de Thé. 

But don't take my word for it! Why not try out your linguistic skills - with this review of Parfums Sucrés in French.

Je suis une personne très gourmande et j'ai trouvé mon paradis des gâteaux. La qualité est excellente, patisserie fine, le choix varié avec des thèmes en fonction des saisons et des évènements, comme la fête des mère, ou halloween etc... Une multitude de possiblités de faire des cadeaux sympas et gourmands. L'accueil est très bon, de bons conseils à écouter. Je recommande fortement, moi je ne peux plus m'en passer...

Stepping Out of my 'Empty Nest' into the Lights of Paris..... Revisited!

I was thinking how I might celebrate Christmas with you all and decided, what better way to do it than to share with you once again, the blog that you have made my most successful post ever! It's the true story of a magical Christmas experience and I have had fun revisiting it, hopefully you will too.....

Bear with me, readers, as I jump from nest to nest, but you will probably have gathered by now, in the last decade I have moved my 'empty nest' between Ireland and France, and so, as I feather the empty corners and tidy the twigs, metaphorically speaking, reminiscences of recent adventures are never far from my mind!

With the summer coming to an end and the idea of winter leading me to ponder where I might be nesting this Christmas, my thoughts took me back to early December in my French nest, in our little village in the Charente region, of South West France. 

As usual, things were quiet, everyone having closed their shutters against the freezing temperatures outside, while life beyond ambled along, driven by the church bells' call to rise at seven and stop for lunch at noon. Bright lights and glamour were confined to distant memories of the big city, while here in the countryside the only visible illuminations to be found were in the amazing night skies, where shooting stars darted between galaxies of twinkling lights and the full moon alone illuminated the fields and hillsides below.

Just when my husband and I had become accustomed to wearing clothes as a matter of warmth rather than style and gained our evenings' entertainment from throwing another massive log on the wood-burner and sitting mesmerised, while watching the flames lick hungrily at the glass door.  Suddenly we found ourselves on the TGV to Paris, flashing through the French countryside, at well over a hundred miles an hour.  Where were we heading?  Yes, it seemed rather unlikely, but we were heading for a glamorous fashion show on the 'Champs Élysées', hosted by one of Spain's best known actresses, Victoria Abril!  

It's worth mentioning at this point, as one will find out eventually in my book, that many of the outstanding moments of my life can be traced back to the intervention of my amazing daughter, and this one was a perfect example, as it was Katie who had orchestrated this huge event to raise money for charity.

Having booked into a hotel; in the comfort of our luxury room, my husband and I sipped a glass of champagne, as we peeled off the layers of woolly garments designed for survival in subzero temperatures and for the first time in months slipped into our glamorous evening wear.  Stepping out into the street below, we hailed a taxi and set off into the Parisian night. Minutes later driving up the 'Champs Élysées', on either side of the car, trees covered in fairytale Christmas lights lined the streets and sitting spellbound in the back, I whispered to Ron, "It doesn't get much better than this!"

Finally, stepping out at our destination, in front of the illuminated white marble entrance to our venue, the Christmas lights bounced off the white walls, like the flashbulbs of the paparazzi, completing our final transformation, from French peasant to Parisian socialite!

To enjoy more of my French adventures and read the true story of my life in France, click on the link top right to buy the book or, if you are feeling lucky, enter the Goodreads competition to win one of ten free copies! Bonne Chance!

A Visit to my Daughter's New Home

A study in style,

In which I melt effortlessly into the background

As if hidden by the artist

In a wash of grey and white

Around me design is at the forefront of the space

Functional, linear, abstract

Inspiring a lifestyle

Efficient yet chic                 

Captured in its modernity

A stage for life

Where I watch my beautiful daughter

Fulfil the potential I dreamed for her

The figure at the forefront

Of a contemporary canvas

She exudes instinctive style

In how she works, how she loves and how she touches lives

With the eyes of a mother

I smile to myself

And think, my beautiful daughter

She wears life well !    

Our Last Winter in the Old Cognac Farm!

Autumn is well and truly here and, ankle deep in bright red, copper and gold leaves, I walk my dog, Indy, through the woods near our home.  It's only a few months now until we move back to France. Breathing in the rich earthy smells of the season, I am transported to our last winter in the old cognac farm in south-west France. 

The huge kitchen with its oak beams and stone floor, wrapped itself around a massive wood burning stove, ensconced in the grate of a baronial fireplace. The silence of this dreamy place was punctuated by crackling logs and lit by the shadows that danced across the floor from its licking flames. 

I can't help but remember one particularly cold February morning, when we woke to a winter wonderland. The trees outside bedecked in ice crystals, stood motionless in the iron hard landscape, while alas in the kitchen below, the last embers of the fire from the night before, died peacefully away.  The shadows no longer danced across the floor and, in their place, an icy gloom hung in the silence. We had run out of wood.

Feeling like an Arctic explorer, I pulled the hood of my heavy warm coat over my woolly bobble hat and headed out into the frosty landscape. I was on a mission.  The ground was treacherously slippery, as I grabbed the two metal handles of our old wheelbarrow and set off purposefully up the lane, in the direction of a small dilapidated barn on the brow of the hill. Slipping mercilessly as I attempted to keep the wheelbarrow up-right, I struggled with its weight, only aware of my breathing and the goal ahead.

Reaching the barn, I wrestled with the ice cold bolt on the ancient wooden door and wrenched it open. Inside, shining the torch over rusting farm equipment and  broken barrels, I could just make out in the corner a pile of old decaying wood.  There were cobwebs everywhere, but undeterred, I started to climb, falling occasionally when something gave way below me. I broke the silence with the occasional yelp, but kept on going. Finally, pulling and hauling trapped logs from the pile, I hurled them with all my strength towards the door, not stopping until the corner was empty and I could begin to extricate myself from the dust and debris.

On my way back down the lane, I no longer felt the cold. I was surviving like the old cognac farmers before me, by pitting my wits against the elements, and it felt good.  Later that morning, my wet coat hung by the door, dappled in the dancing shadows of flames from the fire, while the crackle of burning wood echoed my new found connection to the past.

I look forward to reconnecting with nature, when I return to France for a new life in Burgundy.  Having finally submitted my book, 'Bonne Chance!' A Second Chance in the South of France, to a publisher, I hope that someday you might be able to share in my wonderful French adventure. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed our trip back to the old cognac farm.