Every year the Emperor Adrian holds a party; there aren’t many private parties that can boast two rock bands, but there’s nothing average about Ade’s barbecue.

We arrived mid-afternoon to help with the setting up. The car was full; the plancher and gas bottle, bags of veg from our garden, fairy lights, my guitar, and bedding as we were staying over.

The party had been postponed from the previous week because of the weather, and the garden was still too wet to put out tables and chairs, so Ade and his friend John had spent the morning emptying his grange and arranging tables and chairs for the 70 people expected. The night was cool, so I, for one, was glad to be indoors.

We sliced melons and rolled ham, chopped courgettes, pattisons, aubergines and peppers, put up fairy lights and folded napkins around plastic cutlery, until the whole place was ready.Somebody even found Kieran a chef’s hat as he and Nick were in charge of the cooking. Then a quick change of clothes as the first of the guests arrived.

What a great night it was! Once the barbecue and most of the eating was over, though not the serious business of drinking, Ade’s band, Mr. Teatime, played alternately with Blue Coloured Rock, the sound being mixed in Ade’s recording studio at the end of the grange. By about midnight it was time for the big jam number of the night – George Harrison’s “While my guitar gently weeps”; every musician joined in. A bit of a daunting number to follow, when Ade asked me to do a few songs afterwards. The music continued till after 3am, when most people went home and Nick and I took ourselves off to the luxurious surroundings of Ade’s van, which turned out to be remarkably comfortable.

We helped clean up and eat leftovers the next day, a quiet meal as there were some fairly sore heads, but nobody minded as the Emperor’s party is something of an established tradition now.

Chaque année, l’empereur Adrien fait une fetei; il n’y a pas beaucoup de fete privées qui peuvent se vanter de deux groupes de rock, mais il n’y a rien moyenne sur le barbecue de Ade.

Nous sommes arrivés en milieu d’après-midi pour aider à la mise en place. La voiture était pleine; le plancher et la bouteilles de gaz, des sacs de legumes de notre jardin, guirlandes, ma guitare, et de la literie parce que nous allions y rester la nuit.

La fete avait été reportée à la semaine précédente en raison de la météo, et le jardin était encore trop humide pour mettre des tables et des chaises, donc Ade et son ami John avaient passé la matinée à vider sa grange et à l’organisation des tables et des chaises pour les 70 personnes attendu. La nuit était fraîche, donc, pour ma part, j’étais heureuse d’être à l’intérieur.

Nous avons tranché de melons et roulé de jambon, Coupé des courgettes, des pattisons,des aubergines et des poivrons, on a mis en place des guirlandes et plié des serviettes  autour de couverts en plastique, jusqu’à ce que toute la place était bien préparé.Quelqu’un a même trouvé un chapeau de chef pour Kieran  car lui et Nick étaient en charge de la cuisson. Puis un changement rapide de vêtements comme le premier des invités est arrivé.

Quelle belle soirée! Une fois que le barbecue et la plupart du repas était fini, le groupe de Ade, Mister Teatime, a joué en alternance avec Blue Coloured Rock, le son etait mélangé dans le studio d’enregistrement de Ade au bout de la grange. Vers minuit, il était temps pour le grand chanson de la nuit – George Harrison “While my guitar gently weeps”; chaque musicien a rejoint. Ce n’etait pas facile à suivre, quand Ade m’a demandé de faire quelques chansons plus tard. La musique a continué jusqu’à après 3h du matin, quand la plupart des gens sont rentrés chez eux et Nick et moi nous a décollé pour le cadre luxueux de la fourgonnette de Ade, qui etait remarquablement confortable.

Nous avons aidé à nettoyer et manger les restes le lendemain, un repas tranquille car il y avait quelques têtes assez douloureux, mais ça ne dérange personne car la fete de l’empereur est quelque chose d’une tradition bien établie maintenant.

There’s a lake near Aignan where you can swim, play on the beach, go down the water slides or sit with a drink in the cafe/bar. On the other side of the lake, however, is something Nick and Izzy found far more exciting; in the forest, suspended between the tree trunks, are ladders and high wires and nets and all manner of stuff, making up tree top walks, and all ending in zip wire descents.

There are six routes at various levels of difficulty and height, of which our intrepid pair did three, starting off on a green route, fairly close to the ground and finishing on a red route, way up in the canopy.

Izzy was nervous at first, but was soon confidently clipping her safety gear securely onto the wires before stepping out way above where Alex and I were watching from. Nick often went ahead of her to make sure she could get onto the platform at the end of each stretch.

The high point (‘scuse the pun) of the experience, though, was the zip wire that runs the 150metres across the lake itself. Adults can touch the water as they cross it, though some caused so much drag by crossing upside down so that their head went in the water, that they lost the impetus to reach the far side and had to pull themselves, hand over hand, the last few metres. We had a fantastic afternoon and Izzy slept very well that night after all her exertions. I can see we’ll be going back there again.

Il ya un lac près Aignan où on peut nager, jouer sur la plage, descendre les toboggans ou s’asseoir avec un verre dans le café/bar. De l’autre côté du lac est quelque chose que Nick et Izzy trouve beaucoup plus excitant; dans la forêt, suspendu entre les troncs d’arbres, sont des échelles et des fils à haute et filets et toutes sortes de choses, ce qui rend jusqu’à la cime des arbres des promenades, et tout se terminant par des  tyroliennes.

Il ya six routes à différents niveaux de difficulté et de hauteur, de laquelle notre paire intrépide a fait trois, en commençant sur ​​une route verte, assez près du sol et de finition sur une route rouge, en haut dans la canopée.

Le point culminant  de l’expérience était la tyrolienne qui exécute les 150metres sur le lac lui-même. Les adultes peuvent toucher l’eau comme ils le traversent, mais pas les enfants.

Izzy était nerveux au début, mais a bientôt appris à attaché en toute confiance son équipement de sécurité sur les fils avant de sortir bien au-dessus d’où Alex et moi regardions. Nick est allé souvent en avance d’ elle pour s’assurer qu’elle pourrait obtenir sur la plate-forme à la fin de chaque tronçon, mais les deux sont passés un après-midi fantastique et Izzy très bien dormi cette nuit-là après tous ses efforts. Je peux voir que nous y retournerons souvent.

According to the stories of the three musketeers, d’Artagnan was born in Lupiac, a pretty village just half an hours drive from here.The character in the books of Alexandre Dumas was based on Charles Ogier de Batz de Castelmore, Comte d’Artagnan, who  served Louis XIV as captain of the  Musketeers of the Guard and died at the Siege of Maastrich in the Franco Dutch War in 1627.

Each year the village celebrates its famous son with a festival; the villagers dress up in period costumes, there are demonstrations of traditional skills and crafts and even the entrances to the village are decorated with mock-up castle gatehouses.

Izzy wanted to dress up so I made her a dress from fabric bought to make patchwork cushions for Alice; I can always recycle it later on. Alex made her a headdress to go with it; she looked great; and being dressed up meant she was included in all sorts of things. When there was dancing in the middle of the square, someone grabbed her by the hand and pulled her in to join in with them and when she met “the real d’Artagnan”, he bowed low, kissed her hand and addressed her as “my queen”.

Later, when we’d watched the blacksmith making horseshoes and the ladies spinning wool on their spinning wheels, the geese being herded by dogs and the plough pulled by oxen, there were sword fights to entertain us. Of course d’Artagnan won most of them.

The time and effort the people of Lupiac put into the festival is amazing, particularly when you realise that it’s only on for one day. But a full day, as it starts early in the morning and goes on till late at night. The preparation takes months as all the costumes are made by the ladies of the village, though I suspect the fencing team and d’Artagnan himself are hired for the event. It draws huge numbers of people and we’ll certainly go back again.

Jamie Cullum was playing in the chapiteau at the Marciac jazz festival on Thursday evening; definitely one not to miss. We arrived a little after 9pm, while the previous performer was on, Stacey Kent; we didn’t know her, but what a voice she has!

Tickets to the chapiteau are quite pricey and we weren’t sure how long Izzy would stay awake, but there are restaurants and bars all around, which have big TV screens showing the current performance. The sound wasn’t great, but we then discovered the Radio France Musique tent; they were broadcasting the night’s concerts live, there was a big screen and the sound was superb. It would have been churlish not to join the other hundred or so cheapskates and watch for free.

Jamie Cullum started about 11.20 and was amazing; we stayed until Izzy finally gave up the fight and succumbed to sleep a little after midnight.

Jamie Cullum a joué sous le chapiteau au festival de jazz in Marciac le jeudi soir; certainement l’un à ne pas manquer. Nous sommes arrivés un peu après 21 heures, alors que l’artiste précédente chantait, Stacey Kent; nous ne la connaissions pas, mais quelle voix elle a!

Les billets pour le chapiteau sont assez cher et nous ne savions pas combien de temps Izzy resterait éveillé, mais il ya des restaurants et des bars tout autour, qui ont de grands écrans de télévision montrant la performance actuelle. Le son n’était pas très bon, mais nous avons ensuite découvert la tente Radio France Musique; ils diffusaient les concerts du soir, il y avait un grand écran et le son était superbe. Il aurait été malvenu de ne pas adhérer à la centaine d’autres radins et regarder gratuitement.

Jamie Cullum a commencé vers 11h20 et était incroyable; nous sommes restés jusqu’à Izzy a finalement abandonné la lutte et a succombé à dormir un peu après minuit.

The Marciac jazz festival started last week; three weeks of the year when the village is transformed from a sleepy backwater to a vibrant, buzzing destination for lovers of jazz from all over the world. The central square is covered with a huge chapiteau (a big, pointy tent roof with no sides) to provide shelter from the hot sun; at one end is a stage and the rest of the square is filled with rows of seating for the thousands of people who flock to listen to the free concerts that run from late morning to early evening. Around the edges of the square is a proliferation of market stalls, selling everything from oriental pastries and mint tea to Jazz in Marciac T-shirts, silver jewellery from Nigeria to ethnic musical instruments from all over the world, filling every bit of space not taken up by the cafes and restaurants spilling out onto the pavements and beyond.

Further out from the square are more market stalls, music workshops, childrens’ workshops and busking bands, and of course, The Chapiteau, an enormous marquee, this one with sides, where the big names perform. Tickets are expensive, but you can always sit in one of the bars or restaurants around, all of which have big screens showing the performance live. Jamie Cullum is playing this year, so we might just have to go along to see him on Thursday night.

We went to Marciac last week on a hot, sticky day and had a wander around some of the stalls, then sat in the square, eating ice creams, to listen to the band. We hardly noticed the sky turning black as the storm clouds gathered, but suddenly the temperature dropped, the wind started to blow, the thunder and lightning show began and the rain started to fall; the chapiteau wasn’t waterproof! Everyone put up umbrellas and sat stoically for a few minutes, but the rain was coming down in torrents and we soon found ourselves sitting in puddles as the rain ran down the backs of our chairs, En masse, most of the audience moved out to squeeze under the roofs of the bars around the edge of the square, leaving just a few hardy souls sheltering under huge golfing brollies, or even holding chairs over their heads, until at last, unable to make themselves heard over the din of the thunder, the band gave up. Ten minutes later, the sun was shining again and it was as if nothing had happened; very strange weather this year!