154. Lunch in the Pays Basque..

28th June 2011. Just back from a very pleasant lunch to mark the passing of another marital kilometre stone. We returned to 'our' old restaurant where we'd spent many happy holidays in the past. They have a nice new set menu now that includes 2 glasses of wine.

Today, we started off with a celebratory glass of champagne before the food arrived.. Madame had chosen to start with a delicious salad with St Jacques (scallops) while your scribe had foie gras. Despite the menu offer of 2 glasses of wine, in typically generous fashion Bernadette (the owner) brought us a 50cl carafe of Colombelle white wine instead (must try and find where to buy this locally).

For the main course, we'd chosen the pièce du boucher (for 2) fully expecting a quivering chunk of juicy beef. However, when Bernadette brought it, the oval serving platter was covered with slices of v rare beef.. (just as we like it!). And somehow, between leaving the kitchen and arriving at our table, the two glasses of red that we were expecting were transformed into another 50cl carafe of rouge..!

We were surrounded by dog lovers and Chibby (our cocker) was in his element. A couple at a neighbouring table asked - "Does he like sausage..?" (Was the Pope Polish? Do bears.. etc etc) It reminded me of when we went to the Jura last year and we had lunch at Madame's cousin. Pooch had the charm cranked up to max and, after 2 minutes at the table, we had the classic question - "Your dog looks hungry - don't you ever feed him?"  (he should get an Oscar!) Here he is with his famous impression - "The light's on but there's nobody in.."

And then to cap it all - with the coffee, Bernadette offered me a large complimentary armagnac. According to a 14th century cardinal, armagnac has forty virtues: 

"It makes disappear redness and burning of the eyes, and stops them from tearing; it cures hepatitis, sober consumption adhering. It cures gout, cankers, and fistula by ingestion; restores the paralysed member by massage; and heals wounds of the skin by application. It enlivens the spirit, partaken in moderation, recalls the past to memory, renders men joyous, preserves youth and retards senility. And when retained in the mouth, it loosens the tongue and emboldens the wit, if someone timid from time to time himself permits."

I've said this before but they really spoil us..

Afterwards, we went around to the kitchen and met J-M, the great stalwart in the kitchen, who's been there for years. Built like a rugby prop forward (which is not surprising since he was one), he's a superb chef and we were surprised to hear that he's retiring next year. He always looked after us well. Needless to say, we had a prolonged walk around the village before setting off for home.

Here's a nice evening shot of the 'our' village with the restaurant in darkness just below the church. 

30th June 2011. There were surprisingly few down at the river this evening - just enough to put together a coxless IV and a pair.. I was out in the IV and it went quite well.. we did 16km. (Running total: 823km) There was enough of a wind blowing up river to form waves. However, boats like ours don't ride waves, they just cut through them and with their low freeboard they are vulnerable to shipping water at speed! Most of us were well & truly soaked by the time we got back to the pontoon!

 

I was just deleting some old files when I found this old clip.. Now, be honest, who amongst us hasn't ever tried to dance the syrtaki when on holiday in Greece..? 

I was once quite a dab hand at it.. late at night, with a few ouzos onboard, by the light of the silvery moon etc etc.. Hup-haaaa!

Not long after we were married, I took Madame to what was advertised as the last unspoilt Greek island. Walking barefoot along the beach there one evening, just as I was about to put my foot down, I caught sight of something glittering in the sand right where my foot was going.. Aargh! A hypodermic syringe.. Talk about a mood-shattering moment.. What with that and the late night bars for the tourists (young N Europeans mainly) selling 'slammers' - cheap spirits guaranteed to put them straight into an instant coma - well, yes - I thought the islands had changed greatly since I lived there in the sixties.

2nd July 2011. Hot morning on the river - felt like 24° or so.. Had a very forgettable outing in a coxless IV - which actually got worse as we went on. Lack of concentration, timing all over the place, sloppy bladework, untidy finishes, rushing on the slides - where to start! Did 15km (Running total: 838km).

The DSK affair rumbles on.. I must admit to finding it slightly strange that a poor black woman in New York who reportedly has $100,000 in the bank was still working as a chambermaid! It's odd that no-one has mentioned this so far. Think there's much to emerge still in this case.

In the meantime, I think a restorative armagnac could well be on the cards this evening.. bearing in mind all the benefits I can expect according to that list above!

144. Add James Salter to your Must Read list

16th May 2011. I've been reading James Salter lately, an American author whose prose is capable of stopping you dead in your tracks. He's a former F-86 Sabre pilot who flew combat in the Korean War and this was the subject of his first book - "The Hunters". The book I've currently got on the go is his autobiographical "Burning the Days". I read it far too quickly the first time around but I'm taking my time with it now. I was pulled up short by one sentence in particular - he was describing a friend who'd died during WWII and he wrote, "His death was one of many and sped away quickly, like an oar swirl."  The image of that oar swirl receding in the wake of life was one that struck me forcibly. I found it such a powerful simile* and I struggle to imagine how he came up with it. His books repay slow careful reading - I can't read them in my usual headlong rush. Here's an interview with the great man (from 1992). His books are well worth searching out.

* just realised it's not a metaphor.

Here's something you don't see every day.. It was the 100th anniversary last year of the birth of Django Reinhardt, the legendary gypsy guitarist. If three guitars are good - then surely a hundred would be fantastic.. non? Just as well Django didn't play the banjo then! Make your own mind up - listen here if the YouTube clip below doesn't work.

17th May 2011. Another perfect evening out on the river. This time it was an outing in an VIII sculler. Good outing in a well-balanced boat. Going up-river we had a warm breeze behind us that matched our speed so with the temperature at 26° (79°F), it was warm work. Coming back, it turned into a welcome headwind but despite that we romped home at a fine pace. Did 12km (Running total: 686km) Think I'll be just shy of the 1,000km mark (which is 621 miles - it sounds better in kilometres!) for the year which ends on 5th August.

18th May 2011. Quick trip over the border this morning to stock up the cellar with sangria et al ready for the summer. I passed through Ainhoa and already the first tourists to this honeypot Basque village were in evidence.

I haven't provided an update to the Chibby situation. If you've just joined us, Chibby is our cocker spaniel. Some friends here have a cocker spaniel bitch that's en chaleur at the moment and for the past 3 days Chibby has been extremely active in attempting to extend his lineage. So far he's had at least 50 attempts by my reckoning..! What do they say about a picture being worth a thousand words..?

20th May 2011. Pleased to see P & M yesterday - some friends who came down from Lacanau for the day. Madame excelled herself for lunch and so it was afterwards that we thought we'd add to the number of confused pensioners ambling around Biarritz in the late afternoon. We finished up at the Bleu Café, which is ideally situated on the sea front overlooking the Grande Plage. It must have been 28° at least and it was very pleasant watching and listening to the crash of the surf close by - think it was high tide. Here's a web cam view of the Grande Plage that may or may not work. 

Well spotted.. no rowing for me yesterday! Oh yes - and Chibby had a day off too!

Now that the warmer weather's here, the lizards are back! Walking around the neighbourhood you'll often hear the scurry and the rustle of quick little feet as you pass a sunlit garden wall. Lizards lie on warm stones soaking up the warmth of the morning sunshine and they disappear as quick as a flash when they sense someone approaching.

I was in the garden a few minutes ago when I heard a deep rumbling sound in the sky to the south. Not the usual Ryanair 737 or an Air France twin jet taking off from Biarritz airport.. No, this was an Airbus A380 - the new behemoth of the skies. I spotted it in the distance heading out to sea - and with the illusion of moving incredibly slowly. 

Very impressive.. first time I've seen one of these puppies.. I have to say that Boeing's mighty 747 is the runaway winner as far as looks are concerned. But looks aren't everything - especially if you're running an international airline and you're looking to squeeze those last fractions of a per cent out into the 'profit' column.

Update on Chibby - Day 4. I think we have a result! In contrast to his previous 60 or so attempts over the last 4 days, this happened this afternoon. I'd not seen this before ever and the two dogs just stood there looking a bit bemused during what apparently is called a 'tie'. If all goes well, the litter should appear towards the end of July. Then the fun will really start!

143. Grey Saturday

14th May 2011. It was a dreich day out on the river this morning.. grey, cold and with a constant fine drizzle.. We went out in a coxless quad sculler but there was some kind of problem with the steering because we seemed to have a magnetic attraction to one of the banks! In the end, I suggested disconnecting the steering as I suspected it wasn't set up correctly and once we'd done that there was a marked improvement. Arriving back at the clubhouse, we were pretty much all wet through and cold and G (le responsable) suggested an impromptu apéro - he was going to get no argument from me! If the difference a little whisky makes to the world surprises you, then how much more surprised would you be at the difference a large one would make! Did 12km (Running total: 674km)

The pooch - unhappy at being told to sit still!

This afternoon should see Chibby, our cocker spaniel, in action for the first time. Some friends of ours have a black cocker spaniel bitch - Cerise - and yesterday they phoned us to say that she's come into heat.. Between us, we decided some time ago that the next time she came into heat, Chibby would be given the opportunity to do his best (lie back and think of England) to spread his genes. We'll be getting one of the pups if everything works out fine. Poor lad - he has no idea what's in store for him!

And just in case you were wondering:

I heard this 60s song on the radio earlier today and it brought back lots of memories.. it's full of that Phil Spector "Wall of Sound" excess - it has every instrument you can think of in it - including the kitchen sink - and a few you can't. I looked it up on Wiki and there it was in black and white - it was released in shhhh -  1963. This goes back to an earlier comment I made that we're scarred by the music that was popular when we were 17. It's still a classic though after all those years (especially after an hour or so wasted watching the latest Eurovision Song Contest this evening - don't ask!!) Crank up the volume, listen to it and then tell me that's not a great pop song.. 

I mentioned the Eurovision Song Contest - this is the entry from Moldova - complete with girl on unicycle - that drove me to despair:

15th May 2011. Went for a windy walk along the sea front at Biarritz this morning. Ended up in Dodin's café having one of their hot chocolates and watching the surfers. Chibby is still on alert in case the doorbell rings with his date..! He's not yet showing any signs of big match tension.. 

Today's special offer: there are various sites that play non-stop music for all tastes.. for example, there are links that play non-stop ABBA hits. Or non-stop 60s hits. But maybe you'd prefer to browse the blog with some classic French hits in the background.. Zut alors! In that case, look no further! Or if it's that time of day, here are the non-stop smoochy ones.. (what have I started!!?) Think you need Google Chrome set as your browser to access these links.. 

You'll find that links on the blog will open in a new window from now on - I found the code that allows that to happen - so you can click on the music channels above and carry on reading - that is, if there's no paint drying in the vicinity that needs watching!

16th May 2011. I must admit to being puzzled by the allegations levelled against Dominique Strauss-Kahn (or DSK as he's known here in France), the managing director of the IMF. He'd been positioning himself as a strong Socialist candidate for the 2012 Presidential campaign here in France - and, according to many political commentators here, he would have been very electable versus the unpopular incumbent. He had a lot to lose. I'm not alone in finding the situation that unravelled over the weekend in New York a little bizarre. Without going into details, the claim is that a man staying at a major New York hotel allegedly forced his attentions on a chambermaid - in his hotel room! He's hardly an anonymous figure and hence he stood no chance of the incident passing unnoticed or that he could escape identification.

I started wondering if it might have been a case of entrapment.. Perhaps the chambermaid thought, "This guy's loaded.. I could squeeze him for a few bucks or I'll tell the cops he assaulted me." It wouldn't be the first time. I'm never a great believer in conspiracy theories such as Elvis is alive and living in Essex, or Hitler's U-boat was found on the dark side of the moon, etc etc but DSK is/was probably the only credible candidate the Left could have fielded with a chance of beating Sarko.. (Martine Aubry? No chance. Ségolène Royale? Likewise..) By the time these allegations have been proved/disproved, months will have passed and even if DSK is found to be innocent, the smear will linger. And, in case you're wondering, I don't share DSK's political views.

The Telegraph has more on this unhappy saga. It appears that DSK has an Achilles d--k. (fill in the blanks yourself!) Maybe he was so jaded by everyday life that he needed the rush that an adventure like this could provide.  

In the context of DSK's trousers, I'm reminded of Spike Milligan's alternative version of the traditional nursery rhyme about the Grand Old Duke of York : 

Oh, the grand old Duke of York,

He had ten thousand men;

He marched them up to the top of the hill,
And he marched them down again.
And when they were up, they were up,
And when they were down, they were down,
And when they were only half way up,
He was arrested.

Anyway, that's enough of that.. here's a web site to browse when you have a spare moment. It looks suitably dull, as befits a product of the EU (sponsors of the world's dullest looking currency below). I hadn't thought it possible to reduce half a millennia of European cultural heritage to something akin to base metal but with this site they've managed the impossible - and in spades (I'm not mentioning that mindless disco beat..). I'm not a euro-sceptic by the way. This clip may throw some light on what they're about:

On the other hand..

83. On Rowing and Life

1st September 2010. We went for a ride up the Nive again this morning. We caught the river on the turn and there was no discernible current. Another 20kms..

I'd always remembered an old French entry in the Eurovision Song Contest (without knowing what it was called) that sounded as if it had an Arabic influence. It's a song that, to me, should have done better. I had to do a trawl through France's Eurovision entries on YouTube for the last 25 years or so before I found it. It came from the 1991 Eurovision (don't say we're not up to date here!) and it finished 2nd - so maybe not all that bad after all. So, today's Song du Jour is: Amina (& here in English) and "Le dernier qui a parlé" (The last one who spoke):

An interesting clip here on the techniques used to select the "best" eight oarsmen for a racing VIII. The strongest or fittest aren't necessarily the ones that combine best to make the fastest boat. There's read-across into the business model too. Here's a taster:

"There is an interesting parallel to this in corporate life. When asking managers to choose between the most competent and the most likeable candidate for a job, they often opt for the most competent. They’d be thought as unprofessional if they didn’t. However, in practice, they do very much the opposite, provided of course the likeable individual is sufficiently competent."

A thought-provoking comment from the clip: Pick your best VIII, not your eight best..

We took Chibby for a run along the grassy open spaces at Anglet beach this evening. At 7.45pm, it was still 31C.. and the sea was flat calm with the hills behind St Jean de Luz and on into Spain showing blue in the evening light..

Don't mention it to Madame but this has caught my eye..!

  

Hmm...

2nd September 2010. Aah, that's better - life is back to normal.. The July/August mass of holidaymakers have returned home and school has re-started for all 12 million schoolkids today.

I forgot to mention that we had another interesting visitor moored at the bottom of the avenue a couple of weeks ago..

Belem

This was the three masted barque Belem which offers experience under sail to all-comers. She was in transit from Lorient, stopping at Bayonne before heading further south to St Jean de Luz. She reminded me of one of the greatest accounts of life under sail ever written - "The Last Grain Race" by Eric Newby.

In this, Eric Newby's first book, he captured brilliantly all the salty tang of the dialogue of the largely Scandinavian crew on a deep sea voyage in Moshulu, a Finnish registered 4 masted steel barque en route from Belfast to Port Lincoln in Australia in 1939 and the return voyage via Cape Horn, laden with innumerable sacks of wheat. He was just 18 years old. An unforgettable and highly recommended read.

Very nice sortie in an VIII this evening.. 15km.. (Running total 122km)

The late Miriam Makeba exploded onto the scene in 1967 with this memorable record - Pata Pata:

81. The heat kicks in..

24th August 2010. Had a good outing in a double sculler (first time for me) this evening and finished up racing the VIII over the final 2km back to the clubhouse.. (we won!) 12km (Running total 78km). I'm still steaming!

25th August 2010. Today promises to be a hot one - the forecast is for 32°.. which is on the high side for the Pays Basque. This is as hot as I ever want it. This morning we drove down to the south of St Jean de Luz to pick up some tiles following which we headed for St Jean de Luz for lunch. We'd planned to go to our favourite cafe outside the indoor market and have some sardines. However, with it being August the world and his dog were already cruising for parking spaces which were at a premium.. We visited all our usual 'bankers' to no avail but then the Parking Gods smiled at us and we found a space up by the beach. The lapis lazuli sea in the bay was limpid and flat calm. By the time we got to the cafe, the only free table was unshaded. Looking back, we should really have gone home to try another day but we sat down and within minutes we both felt as if we were being slowly grilled.

26th August 2010. The forecast today is for 35.. We're off to the beach early this morning for a couple of hours before it gets too hot. Rowing this evening could prove interesting..!

14km on the river in a coxless quad sculler this evening (including a head-on with a double sculler..!) 92km total. It was as forecast today - 35 in St Jean de Luz this morning.. and it's very warm and muggy this evening..

28th August 2010. Had a reasonably solid outing in an VIII this morning.. did 15km. (Running total: 107km) Think it would be a good idea and helpful to all if the club produced coaching notes (with pictures) so that we're all singing from the same hymn sheet. People would then know what's expected of them. I'll have to see if I can suggest it tactfully.

The things you find out - in addition to all the other facilities (like a Top 14 rugby club, an excellent restaurant, champagne bar et al) the club has its own TV channel..! Last weekend there was an Open Day on the Sunday for all those interested in taking up rowing. The boats used for this are known as yolettes and, being fairly heavy and beamy, are only really for beginners.

There will be those "out there" who'd say that a Welsh male voice choir is at least a match for the sonority and resonance of a Basque choir and this view will be amply supported by this clip of the Morriston Orpheus Choir and "Myfanwy":

I believe that the above images are from the Gower Peninsula in South Wales which provided the inspiration for many of the lyrical poems of Dylan Thomas.

29th August 2010. It's a long time since Chibby, our cocker spaniel, has featured and so here he is , in his favourite position yesterday, putting his feet up on a warm Sunday afternoon:

Think he deserves another shot at global fame (!) so here he is again in perhaps a more recognisable pose!

30th August 2010. We went for a bike ride up the Nive this morning. Perfect morning.. apart from my chain coming off again.. Did 20km up to the footbridge at Villefranque.    

64. Northern France

3rd June 2010. Back home again after a long weekend away. Last Friday we drove up to Rouen - some 840-odd kms away - in northern France for a reunion weekend with Madame's former colleagues from her old school in Saint-Germain-en-Laye.

The plan was for everyone to meet up outside the Tourist Office (below) at 10am on the Saturday so, as we'd arrived in good time on the Friday, we had plenty of time after breakfast to wander around the old half-timbered centre of Rouen:

We met up with our party at the appointed hour and of course the first item on the agenda was a spirited round of cheek-kissing (for the nanas) and hand-shaking (for the mecs!)..

As we saw it..

.. and as Monet saw it.

We started off with a guided tour of the cathedral  - and I was pleased to find I was able to follow our guide's commentary without too much difficulty. While she was an enthusiastic fount of historical and architectural knowledge, I'm ashamed to admit that after a while I felt my eyes start to glaze over and my mind wander and, looking around, I'm happy to report that I wasn't the only one!

Lunch couldn't come soon enough and we found ourselves in a fifties retro restaurant - well chosen by the organisers.  

In the afternoon we visited the Church of St Jeanne d'Arc, who remains an extremely potent symbol in France. At moments of high domestic tension, Madame will occasionally remind me of the fact that Joan of Arc was burnt at the stake by the English (aka my cue to wind my neck in!). The brutal architecture of the church falls into the category of Love it or Hate it. Resembling nothing more than some vast grey slate-covered armadillo, it sprawls across the ancient market square in true shock-horror style (maybe that's the point) and to me it's a clumsy attempt to symbolise in stone the funeral pyre. I found the architecture of the building too intrusive, too self-conscious. This is the kindest photo I can find of it (others here):

Eglise Ste Jeanne d'Arc

In the evening we had dinner at an excellent restaurant in the market square and after that bed couldn't come soon enough!

On Sunday morning we visited a well restored old church before lunch beckoned.. Tiring all this culture! Finally we visited the Museum of Wrought Iron in Rouen which was truly fascinating.. The others all left at this point to return home while we stayed an extra night as we were heading down on the Monday to La Bernerie en Retz which lies on the coast to the south west of Nantes to stay with our friends A & J-C for a couple of nights.. We had some great walks along the sea shore and around Pornic which is just a few kms up the coast. By now we were missing our pooch and we were also missing home.

Pornic

We set off for Bayonne on Wednesday. It's always a pleasure to be heading south when we're going home instead of that depressing drive up to Calais and beyond! We stopped off at the kennel to pick up Chibby (our cocker spaniel) who was beside himself to see us again.. No surprises there! 

4th June 2010. Our tame saxophonist is back in town.. He looks pretty cool as he stands there on a corner with his battered sax and his straw hat opposite the War Memorial playing the same little riff ad infinitum. I think if I lived in the flats above him I'd be going mental though as he doesn't seem to tire of endlessly playing his limited 15 second repertoire.. 

5th June 2010. Down to the rowing club this morning for an outing. I think we did about 10-12km on a pretty hot morning so I was glad to return to the pontoon. There's a new girl member at the club - from Brazil - and she offered us all a Brazilian cocktail known as a Caipirinha:

Her recipe calls for this fresh, exotic cocktail to be made with cachaça*, sugar cane syrup, a mint leaf and crushed limes, served over ice. It is always muddled (crushed with a masher or the blunt end of a wooden spoon). In this clip, they use sugar instead of sugar cane syrup but no mint leaf.. I liked it the way I had it - with the mint leaf - but I'm open to offers!

  

Intriguing taste - sweet, sour, bitter all at the same time and excellent for quenching the thirst on a hot day.. The second one tastes even better! It's a loong time since I've enjoyed a drink as much as this one. Note to self: remember to buy some cachaça when next in Spain..

* Brazilian rum made from sugar cane

10. Signs of Autumn

So, looking back, we did amazingly well (and were extremely lucky) to have found a house so quickly. Bearing in mind we arrived on 1st September, we managed to sign the Compromis de Vente to buy the house just ten days later.

We’re well on the way to sorting out the new kitchen & bathroom, we’ve got the social security sorted out for our health care, we’ve got the car all done and dusted now with French registration, insurance and a new number plate.

There’s a rowing club in Bayonne that we pass every day on the way into town – when the dust has finally settled I’ll probably join as I understand they have a veterans section (hard to believe I qualify for that but there we are!). The Adour is very wide at this point and there’s very little traffic on it. I’ve seen an VIII out on the water as well as a few sculling boats.

André, our friendly Basque bank manager has threatened to take me to watch Bayonne rugby club and then go for a few beers afterwards..! There’s a lot going on around here – it seems to be a very active area for all sorts of things. There’s a big jazz festival here in Bayonne every summer which used to attract big names like Ray Charles (didn’t he die just recently or am I imagining that?), and cinemas that show films in English, guided tours around the towns, rambling trips in the countryside and everywhere there are cycle paths (so we can finally get the bikes out).

Blondes Aquitaines

One Saturday evening, we were invited down for drinks with Mr and Mme D.. It was still warm and we sat outside. Ominously (!), there was a bottle of pastis, a bottle of home-made pineau and a bottle of malt whisky on the table (no contest). He speaks French with an accent so strong you could lean on it..! At one point he was talking about his love for his land, his farm and his animals and his eyes clouded with tears.. In their parlour, there is a unit along one wall and the top is covered with trophies and cups from his successes at breeding champion Blondes Aquitaines - the breed of cattle local to this area. The Basques have a visceral attachment to their 'Pays'. Madame D served us some home-made paté and Madame was directed towards the pineau while I had three industrial strength whiskies… we had a good laugh with them. M’sieur D was feeding Chibby paté by the end of the evening.. I’m told that I snored heavily that night!

Most Sundays we go back to 'our' village to have lunch at Bernadette & Philippe's restaurant. They’re so kind to us there.. As soon as we sit down, they offer us an apéritif.. don’t think that would happen too often in the UK. Or anywhere else for that matter.. They really spoil us.

Back to re-decorating - curiously, paint is very expensive here. If we’d known, we could have brought some over in the van with us but then we didn’t think we’d find a house as quickly as we did. We’re both still surprised at what we managed to achieve in the first month.

I took the dog up the lane one evening at the beginning of October just as the light was fading – aka l'heure bleue.. The sky was cloudless apart from some high contrails that were orange in the setting sun. There was not a breath of wind and it was absolutely still. Sound carried for miles in a way you seldom if ever experience it in England. I could hear a dog barking from waay off in the distance.. The lane is lined with oaks, a couple of tall Scots pines and a sprinkling of palm trees.. The leaves on the oaks were just starting to take on the suggestion of a yellow tinge. Every now and again, there was the sound of an acorn hitting the road as it fell down from on high. You got the feeling that autumn was just starting to make its presence felt – although on Sunday, in the foothills of the Pyrenees, all the trees were still fully green. According to M’sieur D, there are wild boar around here as well as foxes, deer, pheasant and rabbits. On Sundays you can hear the guns as they go a-hunting.

Sit back for a moment and relax with these beautiful images of La Rhune and the Pays Basque:

 

One evening, Mme D brought Madame a carrier bag full of fine green beans. We had some that same evening with a little steak.. mmm.. very tasty. The problem with all the many plans for the house we had running was that if I woke up in the wee small hours, it was impossible to get back to sleep. I woke up at 3am one morning and after that, I just lay there for what seemed hours, unable to get back to sleep for thinking about bathrooms, tiles, timescales, painting, who should do what first, kitchens, where things would go in the house when the removals lorry finally came here..

We used to wonder what Biarritz, Saint-Jean-de-Luz and Bayonne would be like in the off season.. Well so far, the only sign that things are slowing down is that it’s a little easier – but not that much - to find a parking space. We were worried that in moving to a tourist area that everything would be closed up for the off season. So far that doesn’t appear to be the case.

Bon continuation..!

5. Life in the Gîte

The windows open wide in the gîte so in the morning fresh air breezes in and we can hear the sounds of Madame D conducting a conversation at Force 9 with a friend who’s stopped by. There’s a fenced garden so our cocker, Chibby, can run around to his heart’s content. The farm faces south and along the edge of the garden are three tall palm trees mixed in with a few Scots pines. The Pyrenees provide a misty blue backdrop.

The farm is about ½ mile outside the village and it lies in a dip at the bottom of a winding single track lane. When I take the dog out for a walk up the lane in the evening, all I can hear is the sound of a church bell, M’sieur D calling from the fields to the farm in Basque or his heavily accented French and Madame D calling back to him over the sound of a passing tractor.

Madame D stopped by one day and offered us an omelette that she’d made using home-grown sweet green chillies and at least 6 fresh eggs from her chickens. It was the most unbelievably delicious yellow omelette. A few days later she came by with 6 more eggs – still warm from the production line - and some more of her green chillies. This time Madame made an omelette from them… sublime.. mmm, the taste of an omelette cooked with fresh free range eggs.

Food does have a different taste here. Occasionally in England we'd buy tuna steaks but they must have been a few days old by the time they reached us because they usually tasted like cardboard. Madame prepared some the other evening that were chalk and cheese compared to what we could find in England. There, she found that it wasn't easy to cook à la française - finding the right ingredients and produce - the fruit and vegetables that she was accustomed to, not to mention the cuts of meat, poultry and game, fresh fish, the variety of cheese etc. And the wine.. Another difference I noticed between life here and in England is that when people are sat around the table here, they often talk about the meal they're currently enjoying, one they've had or perhaps one they're going to have - or, as is often the case, all three! In England, it's definitely non-U to appear to enjoy food too much. Or at all. As one dear colleague said to me once when I was describing what Madame had prepared over the weekend, "But it's only food.." And therein lies the difference..

The temperatures were just about perfect for the first 3 weeks. The skies were blue from horizon to horizon almost every day and the temperatures were stable at around 24C, although one Sunday it was up as high as 32C. We'd always heard that September was the best time to visit the Pays Basque and so it proved. The madness of July & August is no more as the vast majority of families have gone back and parking in Biarritz or St Jean de Luz isn’t much of a problem anymore.

The light in Biarritz is amazing – it must be something to do with its location right on the sea and the fine spray/mist that is lifted up by the surf. It’s dazzlingly bright and very sharp. Just by the indoor food market in Biarritz (Warning: a place to avoid if you feel peckish) we had lunch one day in a small café/bar – Bar Jean - that was very authentic, very Basque/Spanish and very busy.. Gypsy guitar music swirling through the buzz of conversation, tiled tables, bullfighting posters on the walls and lots of animation..

First we ordered some grilled sardines and, to fill the gap until they arrived, we had some tapas and a tortilla. An icy cold bottle of rosé kept us going while we waited. The sardines came with a baked potato which was one of those waxy yellow ones that they have here. This was the second time we’d been to Bar Jean and it appeals to us both very much. It’s rustic and simple and the seafood is as fresh as you like – it comes straight from the fish market which is just across the road.

We were in there one lunchtime and an elderly couple from Bordeaux shared a table with us. Within minutes we were chatting away - she told us she was 85 and her husband was slightly younger. They were both so much fun. (and when did you last say that about a brace of octagenarians..?) He ordered a dozen oysters (hoping, optimistically perhaps, that one might work!) and his wife had grilled tuna while talking dix-neuf to the douzaine... They both seemed so alive and vibrant.. and gave me renewed hope that being eighty need not necessarily mean the end of everything we enjoy.

Now where did I put my cardy..?

1. Moving to the Pays Basque - the countdown

Tuesday, 1st September 2009. I realised this morning that it's two years to the day since Madame and I finally moved to the Basque country. However, before you start scrolling down the page in a frenzy of excitement, I think I should start off by telling you a little about us. We met in the sixties when the French Ministry of Education dispatched Madame to the North of England (to a city not generally associated with a fine English accent) as a French 'assistante' for a year to improve her English as part of her English degree course – thus proving that they do have a surreal sense of humour. Madame's father had his roots in the Pays Basque and it was an area we'd always been keen to visit together. We had our first holiday there shortly after we married and the place fitted us like an old pair of shoes.

We took to the region so much that we started planning our next visit in the car at the very moment we left it to return to England. It sounds hard to believe but it truly is difficult to think of any one thing about the Pays Basque that we dislike. And each year when we would pull into 'our' village for the first time after that long drive from the north, it was like coming home. But don't just take my word for it - here's Orson Welles in a 6 part travelogue he made in 1955:

After taking early retirement from the military in the late 90s, we moved to a village in bosky Herefordshire where Madame and I shared a black and white cottage with two cocker spaniels (or was it the other way around!). For the final sprint to the finish - the last eight years – Madame taught in a local school while I worked as a defence consultant. My work was enlivened by regular trips to Stockholm – cool in summer, dark and arctic in winter - which convinced me more than ever that the Pays Basque was the answer. While we both greatly enjoyed this penultimate chapter very much, the clock was definitely ticking and the time was fast approaching when we could finally retire and live out our dream of living in south west France.

I kept a diary for the first few months after we'd moved here and what follows is a more or less chronological account - interspersed with the occasional rant..!

After leaving our cottage in Herefordshire for the last time in late August 2007, we drove down to Hythe, just outside Folkestone, for an overnight stop in a Bed & Breakfast. This was a fairly depressing experience. A quote from Woody Allen springs to mind - he was winding up an after dinner speech somewhere when he said that he always liked to end on a positive message but in this instance he found it difficult. He asked his audience if they’d accept two negative messages instead? So here goes:

If you’ve ever read (and laughed till you had to look away from the page) Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island, then you’ll understand perfectly if I said that our B&B in Hythe appeared to be run by a close relative of his fabled Mrs Smegma, Bill's landlady in Dover. It was a perfect 1950s time warp - and our landlady provided food with a lavishness that suggested that she thought rationing had just been re-imposed.

Looking around, you could be forgiven for thinking that Hythe was 50 miles inland rather than sat squarely on the English Channel coast. There were no seafood restaurants, cafes or terraces overlooking the Channel and most of the town had all the concrete charms of a NCP car park. Or so it seemed. And walking along the sea-front in the evening, I couldn’t help but be struck by the contrast between the bleak English interpretation of sea-side as portrayed in Hythe compared to the exuberance of votre actuel French version that lay just a few miles away across the pewter-grey cold waters of the English Channel...

And with these two cheerful thoughts neatly counter-balancing our excitement at finally being on the move, we called it a night.

We'd rented a gîte on a rolling contract which would serve as a base until we found our home. We left England via the Channel Tunnel in a hired Transit van containing all the things we’d need for a prolonged stay in the gîte – clothes for all seasons, bottles, a computer and a multi-function printer/copier/scanner/fax machine (later to be worth its weight in gold), various food items, a handful of CDs and a tie. Everything else had gone into storage (including, by mistake, the camera). Chibby, our golden cocker, had ceased caring at this point as his tranquillisers took effect. This was to be a long trip for him and he lay on the front seat between us looking as mournful as only a spaniel can.

It felt unreal and strange to be finally on our way after thinking about it for so long. We felt like a couple of gypsies with a van-load of possessions on our back and, the real kicker, without a home in France to call our own or to return to in England in the event that it all turned to worms.

We had no idea how long it would take us to find our house in the Pays Basque - or if we could find one at all. Madame thought that we should prepare ourselves for up to 12 months in the gîte. I wish I’d known then that we were to be very pleasantly surprised.

Remember those WW2 POWs who escaped from Colditz..? Once in England, they would send a postcard back to the castle announcing their ‘Home Run’. Think of this as a very long “Home Run” post card!