Not the place that immediately comes to mind when thinking about a Tango but last Sunday together with some friends we went to a lovely bar in Roche Bernard and watched a local Argentine  Tango club strut its stuff.You could have been forgiven in thinking that you’d been wisked off to Buenas Aries as the couples started arriving at 5pm and after a quick change of shoes began to dance to haunting South American music.    We’d seen a notice at the café a couple of weeks ago and decided to come and see what it was all about.   Not really knowing what to expect, a demonstration or perhaps a class, we were pleasantly surprised to see at least 30 couples of all ages and abilities take to the floor.   It was disapointing that there wasn’t an option of learning a few steps for the onlookers but with my curent back problem I couldn’t really have taken part anyway. 

The dancers were totally into the mood of the tango, many women dancing with eyes shut and leaning into their partners completing the picture with those amazing leg flicks.   My friend Patricia and I entertained ourselves with picking out the best ‘killer heels’ and weirdest outfits but the dancing was definitely the thing to watch here on youtube and again here.

I have sampled the service offered by the French National Health and I am quite impressed.  After almost 5 months of back & leg pain with various diagnosis (UK & French), my doctor decided the only way forward left was an cortizoide injection into my spine.  I have to say I was rather daunted by this but the pain was just getting to me by then so I was ready to try anything.  From the moment I agreed, it was only 10 days before I found myself in Nantes’ Hotel Dieu (God’s waiting room?) in the Rheumatology specialist dept.   I was to be admitted for 4 nights and as I had to be there by 10am, I decided that instead of trying our luck by driving all the way to the centre where the hospital is located, we’d park at Cardo (on the road in to Nantes) and take the tramway as there is a stop just outside the hospital on the same line.   Much better than getting stressed out by traffic and finding parking – famous last words.  

Best laid plans they say, and indeed who could have predicted that there would be a dustmen’s strike demo on route which closed the line and forced all the passengers to walk to the next stop, which must have been the longest distance between any 2 stops on that line.    The thing that struck me was that when the announcement was made, nobody said a word, not a single French version of  ‘bloody hell’ , and other expletives that would have resounded around any British bus or train in similar circumstances.   Everyone just picked up their stuff and commenced walking, I didn’t see even one passenger give the striking dustmen the evil eye or comment as we trudged past their burning bins.   Perhaps they are so used to this they’ve given up reacting now.

Our next stumbling block was trying to find the department in the massive enclave of buildings that make up the hospital.  After waiting for ages at one set of lifts that also appeared be on strike we were directed to another set dedicated to the wing we needed.  Unfortunately each time a lift appeared it was full of either wheelchairs or bedridden patients, and when one nurse took pity and invited us to squeeze in, the lift flatly refused to budge – time for a diet perhaps? 

Eventually we made our way up the stairs and rather red-faced and panting announced ourselves on the ward I was to be admitted to.   Although the department was rather prison like with a very long corridor and rooms off it, the room I was shown to was large, bright and airy and for 2 people only.  My co-patient was already there with her husband and for some reason she had taken the bed by the ensuite toilet & basin (showers down the corridor) so I had the bed by the window which suited me. 

As soon as I had settled in, the nurses came and introduced themselves making a point of speaking to me in English if they were able to which I thought was a lovely gesture and really made me feel they cared.   After I’d had blood taken, pressure measured and temperature checked an intern came along with even more perfect English and asked me about my problem explaining that she would be accompanied later by the doctor who would be making up her own mind. 

They say you’re old when the police start looking like boys to you, well the same applies to doctors and this one looked no more than 20 but she gave me a thorough check up and decided that the injection was the way to go and said I was going to have one that day.  As it turned out the fear of it was far worse than the reality and the relief was almost immediate.   Two days later I had a 2nd one and they then decided that as I had such a good response to the treatment there was no need for a third and released me a day early.  

All in all the stay was very pleasant if boring but I was lucky enough to have a lovely lady sharing the room with me who had endless patience with my French.  The only downside of the experience was (ironically) the food, it was dreadful.  Neither of us were able to identify the green pondlike  soup served each day and of the 7 meals I had, I would say that only 2 were marginally edible.   I was told that the meals had been a lot better when the catering was done in house but in the great cost cutting scheme of things as soon as it was outsourced, it went downhill fast.    Another observation; what demented hospital planner puts the department specialising in people with mobility problems on top of a steep hill while the dentistry dept is at street level?

Fingers crossed it’ll be better than the last.   It was going to be a fairly quiet time over the Christmas period chez nous, my younger son Mish arrived from Jeddah on the 15th and even having allowed himself 2 hours to get from Charles de Gaule Airport to Montparnasse, still missed his train thanks to a taxi driver who insisted he could navigate the Parisian rush hour in time.    Yeah right, it’ll be the metro next time.   After the short flurry of snow and ice, we decided that as the best of our friends will be away or with their own families at Christmas we would have an ‘alternate’ celebration and invited them to a Winter Solstice dinner.   

I decided to do a curry night as our French friends don’t often have the opportunity of eating Indian food and our English ones enjoy it as much as we do – a real winter warmer.   Everyone had a lovely time and it gave us a nice start to the seasonal festive spirit.   

On the 23rd I finally went to see a specialist for my ’sacro-illiac’ pain only to be told after a thorough examination and x-rays that it wasn’t anything to do with the S-I, it was a nerve trapped in the last 2 veribrae.  This of course means that the last 2 months being painfully manipulated was a complete waste of time and money.  Great!   Still it is my own fault for not going to the spacialist earlier, I did have an appointment on 6 Nov which I cancelled as I believed the Osteopath in the UK and thought it was getting better.   Now I have a 10 day course of Steroids and a back support belt to wear and I can feel the difference already. 

We had a lovely Christmas day with other English friends, we brought the starters, cheeses and deserts – they did the turkey and trimmings so nobody was too stressed out to enjoy the day.  A walk in the afternoon sunshine finished it off beautifully all the better for being able to walk without pain. 

My older son Maz arrived on the 28th from the UK and then we had just a couple of days all together before Mish had to fly back to Jeddah on the 30th.   The New Year was a very low key event as neither of the ‘drivers’ wanted to go anywhere and be tea total and I have night blindness so even sober we’d have probably ended up in the ditch with me behind the wheel.    Well, that’s another Christmas over, I hope anyone reading this had a great time and we wish you the very best of everything in 2010.

We wish you a very happy, healthy and prosperous 2010

Has obviously never met me.   I think I have definitely gone over the average quota here.  So far in the space of a couple of months, my car’s died, the dryer stopped drying, my back improved only to be agrivated by a bus’s emergency stop in the UK, and now my latest emergency …

On Monday I noticed that I had a new floater, you know those funny virus shaped things that float around in your vision, only this one was more like a  greasy smear and I only realised what it was after several sessions of cleaning my glasses.    I got the message that it wasn’t on my lens when it followed my line of vision,  then that night after switching everything off and making my way upstairs in the dark I thought I’d left something on because I saw a light in the corner of my eye.   Turning my head to check – there was nothing, so then I just swiveled my eyes from extreme left to right and there it was again – a flash of light in my left eye.  

I have no idea why because I knew no one with it but ‘detached retina’ came to my mind.  In the morning I looked it up on the internet and went into a total panic, all the symptoms were there alongside warnings of imminent blindness and advise to get to a GP asap.   I didn’t need to be told twice, Ian took me to my doctor at 12 to see him after his last patient and before lunch – I needn’t have been so calculating, he took one look at my face, heard my anxiety about my eye and ushered me in immediately.    His brief look at my eyes didn’t reveal anything but he wrote a letter to a specialist and his receptionist phoned to make an appointment.   I was at the eye clinic in Redon at 1.30pm, was given 3 separate examinations and sat before the specialist for yet more tests by 2pm.   Although she spoke no English and my French is still sadly lacking especially in such a specialist language, she was patience personified and explained that I had indeed got a small detachment in my retina but not to worry as it was nothing that required immediate action.    She said that I should have a 6 monthly check up for the retina and the early stages of a cataract (boy, when you start crumbling…) but that if there was any deteriation in my vision before then I should come to the clinic immediately as an emergency case.   From beginning to final diagnosis was under 3 hours and cost me 70€ of which I shall have a 60% refund – what a fantastic medical service this country has got. 

I also had my first encounter with a French osteopath/kiné and that was certainly different to anything I’d encountered in the UK.   He looked like an aging hippy and scored 0 on the bedside manner scale however, he seemed to hone in on the problem immediately and after some eye watering manipulations asked if everyone was now OK.  Frankly I’d been in too much pain for too long for the recovery to be that quick – my name’s not Lazarus.   I said as much (omiting the Lazarus bit) and looking a tad petulant he set to on my back again.    This time he didn’t ask me anything and just said he’d see me again next Thursday.  I left feeling somewhat disappointed but in the morning I felt reborn and with more bounce than the average spring lamb.   We went out for the day to La baule and had a lovely lunch in Pornichet, watched the kite surfers in the howling gales, had coffee and a stroll in Croisic and went home in high spirits.  

Of course the following day – I had to overdo it didn’t I?   The one thing the osteopath told me was not to lift anything so what did I do?   I set to making mango chutney and beetroot chutney for the local Xmas fete on Sat.   Nothing like heaving huge pans of ingredients on and off the cooker to get the back agrivated again.   Still I got it all done and swore to take it easy until my next appointment.   The fete was nice but a bit disapointing, that’ll teach me to give my recipes away.  Hey ho, every man for himself I suppose, still I managed to sell 40€ worth and there are still a few more fetes before Christmas.   The photo is of Ian’s friends who came to visit him at the beginning of the month and who he hadn’t seen in 30 odd years.  A great time was had by all. 

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Ian then turned his hand to creating a Wendy house for our younger guests, of course this is no ordinary play house – that would be too boring and simple, so it’s in the shape of a Sussex barn – what else?   It has to be seen to be believed, complete with dormer windows, shingle roof and double doors front and back and all made out of pallets.  It’s not quite finished yet but I’m sure it will be long before our next seasons’ guests arrive.   I think the next project is going to be a gazebo so watch this space….

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Whenever I fly back to the UK and then return to Rennes airport, I have this overwhelming urge to kiss the tarmac.  Don’t get me wrong, I do love the land of my birth but hate what it’s become.    I stay with a dear friend in Bognor Regis twice a year and also visit my mother who is now living in a home just outside Chichester.  It never ceases to amaze me how long it takes to actually get to Chi on the A259 which no longer seems to have a rush hour, only continuous traffic jams.   How that road and its users will cope with the avalanche of new houses being built on the outskirts of Bognor,  God only knows.  It will be grim and no-one apart from the builders and future occupants is looking forward to their completion. 

On a personal note, I had a pretty grim time of it as well as I had a trapped nerve on my left side which  got progressively worse until I was forced to go to a osteopathy clinic in Oving, not the easiest place to get to without a car – in fact impossible.  Luckily Some very good friends gave me a lift initially and after a couple of sessions I could say I was almost pain free.   Unfortunately luck was not on my side as on my return by bus from visiting my mother,  the car in front of us swerved into the ditch forcing the bus driver to make an emergency stop.   It was a very controlled stop and no one on the bus was injured or even shaken (or so I thought at the time).  However, the next morning I tried to get up and suffered dreadful pain shooting down the outside of my left leg which was also very weak.  Back to the clinic and surprise, surprise – the jolt the bus had given me had been enough to cause the muscles higher up my spine to spasm and trap another nerve.   Oh joy!   So instead of being 100% by now, I’m almost back where I started, the only positive thing being that it would have been so much worse had all this happened in spring when the garden is so demanding.  At least I can take things easy now and hope my back won’t take long to heal.  After all, I’ve only got to plant my broad beans, garlic, daff & tulip bulbs, turn the compost heap and cover it, bring the outdoor furniture under cover, prune the soft fruit bushes, etc etc….. 

Anyway, I am very happy to be back and still have to pinch myself occasionally in case living my dream is nothing else but just that – a dream.   It’s not all a bed of roses and reality does impose itself on me – apart from my back, my car has given up the ghost (only 5 years after paying 400€ for it), the dryer also needs to be replaced and I want to replace a washing machine and fridge, ho hum shame it wasn’t me picking up that Euro millions cheque for 45,000,000€ this week.   But I can still dream …..

Well we can’t complain, we’ve had a super Indian summer but all good things come to an end eventually and while the sun is still shining and the sky is a deep deep blue, there’s a nip in the air and a chill in the breeze now.    What is sooo frustrating for me is that while there are a hundred jobs I should be doing in the garden before the rains come, I have dreadful pain in my left leg and several different anti inflamatories and pain killers later – nothing seems to be working.   It’s not sciatica and a week in bed didn’t improve it so it’s unlikely to be muscular, next step is seeing the spacialist on the 9 Nov after my return from seeing mum in England.   

So what to do if not gardening?   I can only work on the website for so many hours in the day and standing still kills so even the ironing is being done sitting down – time I think, to get on with a recently found interest in patchwork.   I joined a French Patch group a couple of years ago to try to improve my spoken French and it seemed an ideal subject as I’ve always been handy with a needle.   To say I am overwhelmed by their talent and size of their projects is an understatement,  from the smallest pin cushions to the king sized quilts, their work is exquisite.   As I tend to be a bit too busy in summer to do much I’ve only a few finished pieces to my name and 2 of those went as gifts to friends.   I’ve just completed a wall hanging in a method called ‘crazy’ and it is really addictive.   You just keep adding embelishements and embroidery over a crazy paving structure of different fabrics, lace and anything else you can get hold of.   It’s difficult to know when to stop or even to want to.  

I’ve also finished (bar the border) a massive hanging which I found to do on the internet and involved downloading a patch a month which was a great way to start as it didn’t overwhelm a beginner like me with its size.  One of my winter projects is to get the border done and hang it in one of the gites twin bedrooms  to brighten it up.  

One of my French friends Catherine is an avid patch artist and produces wonderful items which regularly humble me with their beauty and intricacy.  She recently finished an amazing piece made with hundreds of tiny patches created with a reverse appliqué technique, really incredible stuff.   She has been doing patch for years but I doubt I will ever rise to her ability or patience.  

I can’t say my conversation skills have vastly improved but I have found a great interest for those dark winter evenings and met a lovely group of ladies who couldn’t have been more welcoming and friendly.    If you haven’t been to France before, don’t let the bad press the French receive put you off,  they are a wonderfully warm, friendly, helpful, polite and patient lot and so long as you make a bit of an effort to at least say ‘bonjour’ they repay that a hundredfold.   Say bonjour  on your next holiday by staying here in our gites  and get the comforts of home with the excitement of a new country thrown in.  If  patch is your thing, there’s a huge show in Nantes every April that I was lucky enough to go to on my birthday this year,  we even met Kaffe Fasset so well known for his vibrant colour designs.  Another great event in Loire Atlantique. 

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On the 20th September, we decided to revisit a garden show held annually in a small town called Saffré.  This is about a 20 minute drive south from us in the direction of Nantes.   The show is held in the grounds of an old chateau which although is too far gone for complete restoration (just too expensive, I think), the town did restore the roof, made the building safe and is using the grounds as a park for the local inhabitants. The whole project only started in 2000 but already the place has the feel of always being there as a public garden.  Most of the work was and continues to be, done by volunteers with great emphasis on children’s participation and ecology.

The garden festival is held over 2 days, has a few plant vendors, children’s shows every few hours, talks and lectures about gardening and ecology (in French of course), a bar and food outlet, and concerts with live bands on the Saturday night.

This year they also had a forge set up with displays of blacksmithing.   There were 2 blacksmiths demonstrating their craft, one an expert in tool making and the other an all rounder but with a penchant for decorative ironwork.   He told us that his last three pieces were based on Scottish Celtic knot designs which he had researched at the British museum in London.   The designs looked deceptively simple but taking into account that you are working with a  heavy metal bar around 4 meteres long, working out the sequence of overs and unders takes some doing.  In this case he explained that the work took him and his assistant 2 days but was 3 months in the planning.   He also undertakes a lot of restoration work locally, in Nantes and Paris.  We were very impressed with his album of previous work and wished we had the kind of cash it takes to commission a piece from him.

The show also had a local bakery using organic flour selling delicious breads and pastries, a book stall and a display of gates and fencing made from – guess what?  Old pallets!    Well, Ian shot off back to his car for the photos I’d taken of his chicken coop and play house and spent a happy time sharing pallet thoughts with the people on the stall.   They were well impressed.

It was a lovely return visit and we’ll probably go again next year but we had to finish this day out with our usual crépe/galette feast at Guenrouet.   Read more about the wonderful places within spitting distance from our gites on our area page.

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Last Sunday (13th) after the obligatory car boot, we drove to a garden I’d long wanted to visit.  Les jardins de Brocéliande are situated just south of  Rennes and only about 40 minutes drive from us but somehow we hadn’t ventured there before.    We arrived around 2.30pm just in time to see all the French families finishing their picnics around the entrance to the gardens.   Sounds odd maybe, but the area between the car park and the gardens is lovely with trees, picnic tables, boules pitch, a cafeteria, a rentablehall and a loo block.   We decided to start our visit with a coffee and were surprised to see how little was on offer in the way of food and snacks – obviously the French visitors knew this and brought their own lunch but I did feel they weren’t making the most of a good commercial location – quelle surprise!   

We paid (€6) each and found a really charming garden inside, of course by September a lot of the herbacious beds are looking a little sad but the Dahlia maze was a riot of colour.   There is a little train which takes you all around the garden (although not quite all 24 hectares of it) - and not really a train but a tractor pulling pulling some wagons but it’s free and fun and a good way of orientating yourself in the garden.   There are some animals – a pig, horse, goats and donkey but the most original children’s attractions were a fantastic rope climb with crows nests at various heights, a mad saucer swing and a man made stream with various way of propelling the water manually.  All good fun and educational too.  

New this year is a path meandering through the garden made up of lots of different materials which you are supposed to walk along in bare feet – we got to the pebbles and thought better of it but loads of people were braving the entire route.   At one point the path was made of mud which got deeper towards the end and it was very amusing to see peoples’ faces as they suddenly realised they were ankle deep in the stuff.   That path ended by going through a shallow river so plenty of opportunity to wash those tootsies.   Although we didn’t participate ourselves, we could see how much others enjoyed it and how much thought went into creating it. There were sections of sand, coir, pebbles, pine cones, embedded glass bricks, astro turf, concrete with wild animal & bird prints, rubber shavings, mud, water, shingle, and loads more I’ve now forgotten. 

We spent a lovely 3 hours wondering around the various areas of the garden and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.   The garden has shows spotlighting different plants at different times of the year but it seems there’s something to see from  when it opens on 1st May to its closure on the 31st October.

Before we left, we visited their nursery and as before in the cafeteria, were disappointed at the lack of plants for sale.  They also had various varieties of chickens for sale and quite a lot of information about each breed.  One last stop for a final coffee and a chat witha very nice ‘young man’ revealed that the gardens are run as a training scheme for handicapped people and to sell their crafts.   People with all sorts of disabilities are given the opportunity of learning about business in the garden shop and café, gardening, animal husbandry and catering.  The scheme, he explained, hadn’t been running for long and as withall businesses in France is beset by problems with red-tape and beurocracy but it is getting there.   He apologised for the lack of food and said that it was due to a shortage of volunteers to help the disabled catering trainees, however he also said that his job satisfaction at the garden was 100% improved compared to his 5 years in British catering.  For more details about the gardens visit their website.

On the way home we stopped at La gacilly, another beautiful location, with flower displays to die for, it’s also home to Yves Rocher – France’s answer to Bodyshop and as well as all things ecological, they sponsor a photographic exhibition every year with exhibits hung all over the buildings throughout the town.   There is usually a theme (open to interpretation) and the quality of the photos is breathtaking.  As well as that, the town is also home to cobbled streets filled with beautiful old traditional house and wall to wall artisans plying their crafts.   A charming village and always a pleasure to visit.     As we’re on the borders of Loire Atlantique, and Brittany there’s something to do and see in every direction.  Come and have fun in this lovely place by booking your holiday in one of our ‘home away from home’ gites soon.

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