Les Premiers Jours

11 Février 2011

My life over the next couple of – freezing – days involved walking miles in search of bread to eat and desperately seeking logs to feed the fire. I’d wanted a bit of French authenticity, but this was too real for comfort. I could almost identify with peasants in the 13^th Century where the main thrust of life was staying warm, not starving and poaching the odd rabbit.  I was actually eyeing-up other people’s log stashes!  There was no corner shop and the nearest super market was a brisk 25 minute walk along a road populated by kamikaze drivers of super-charged pumpkin-sized cars, with no paths and treacherous ditches on either side. Then I had to walk back lugging my purchases – peasant time all over again. I needed a car.  Holly to the rescue!!

14 Février 2011

The marvellous Julien from Séte Rentacar sete@rentacar.fr (highly recommended should you need great service from a lovely guy who speaks no English whatsoever), discovered by Holly, delivered a smashing pumpkin-sized car right to my door and changed my life on this memorable day. I was excited but terrified.  I was going to have to drive on the 'wrong' side of the road for the first time in my life!  It was horrendous for the first hour, scary for the second and not bad for the third. Mind you, this was doing circuits around the block, so hardly proper initiation into the French Way of Driving.  Bravely, and hungrily, I drove my pumpkin to the supermarket.  It was an empowering feeling being able to stock up! No more hand-to-mouth peasant stuff for me. I was ecstatic.  I must have looked as much, because when I emerged with my groceries, there was a valentine note left under my windscreen wiper. How lovely! How romantic! How French! Who could it have been?  Judging by the handwriting, a short sighted school boy. Or possibly the swarthy security guard I’d seen lurking in the Condiments aisle?  Maybe the chap from the mobile phone shop who had helped with my recharge?  No. I am fairly sure it was J. Depp, in character as a youth called Nicolas, who’d popped into Carrefour supermarché for a bit of bread and some milk on his way home and spotted his soul mate and muse. That’s my take on it, and I’m sticking with it. He lives nearby, sort of. It’s possible. 

26 Février, 2011

The next two weeks were full of activity. My parents arrived! Very happy to be here, accompanied by the most eye-catching polka dot luggage I’d ever seen, they settled in very quickly and confirmed that it was freezing. Given that they live in the far north of England, almost Scotland, really, this was a shocking confirmation of my suspicions.  Undaunted by the arctic conditions, under a bright blue sky and a sparkling winter sun, we gradually explored our surroundings.  The picturesque medieval town of Pézenas with its famous Saturday market established in 1272, the sparkling, golden city of Montpellier, its university dating from 1160 and the home of Nostradamus, the vibrant port of Séte, known as Little Venice due to its similarity to that unique city. Every destination was reached on winding roads through picture perfect villages, the countryside a vast patchwork of vineyards, brilliant yellow mimosa blooming on the trees, daffodils and apple blossom appearing, café society much in evidence even in the smallest of places.  I suspected I could be happy here.