When we lived in Harrogate, a garden was a luxury beyond our means, a tiny back yard with a little raised bed and loads of pots was all we could manage. Here, however, we have more than a hundred times the amount of land, so it’s been a steep learning curve.

Once mowed, the park looks quite respectable; the front garden, beautifully planted by the previous owners, is a bit overgrown and in need of some TLC; but the field behind the house is horrendous, not deserving the name garden; at the far end is the soil mountain, in the middle is a huge pile of assorted building materials and junk, largely grown over with nettles and brambles, and the rest of it is so lumpy that mowing has to be done slowly to avoid being thrown off the mower. Even the bits we use as veg plots are mostly knee high with weeds at the moment.

Over the winter we’ve been thinking about how to tackle this patch of land. The easiest, and some would say, most sensible, option, would be to level it and throw some grass seed down; but when did we ever choose either the simplest or most sensible path? Gradually a plan is emerging, with areas for fruit and veg, a garden where I hope to grow a profusion of colour and perfume, a Japanese garden for Nick’s bonsai trees, a pergola with climbers growing over it and a curved bank to screen the house across the road. Oh, yes, and I had this idea that I’d like a piece of old-looking, broken down wall with a gate in it, so that’s got to be incorporated somewhere too; it will be quite useful, actually, as it’ll use up some of the lumps of concrete for the foundations and bricks, rocks and old roof tiles in the wall itself.

Over the past couple of weeks we’ve started work; Nick’s reshaped the soil mountain, henceforth to be called the banking and we’ve barrowed masses of home made compost to spread over it. We’ve bought planters to put on the access points to the septic tank, which I’ve treated with wood preserver, ready to plant up after the Fources flower show this weekend, Nick’s started to rehouse stuff from the heap in the middle and has marked out where the wall will go. I’m trying to spend some time every day weeding the veg plots, though you wouldn’t notice yet.

Work on the house has come to a standstill, but that can be done when it rains and, as will happen soon enough, when it’s too hot to work outside after 10 am. If we’re having a party this summer, it needs at least to look tidy.

Quand on habitait en Angleterre, on n’avais pas le moyen d’avoir un jardin, donc notre grand jardin ici représente un rêve accompli, mais aussi, beaucoup à apprendre.

Le jardin derrière la maison est honteux, avec son tas de terre et un tas énorme de matériels de bricolage, presque enterré par des ronces et des orties.

Pendant l’hiver, on a beaucoup réfléchi et lentement un plan émerge, avec des lieux pour des fruits et des légumes, de la place pour un jardin anglais, un jardin japonais pour les arbres bonsaïs de Nick et un pergola pour quelques plantes grimpantes. On pourrait dire qu’il serait beaucoup plus facile de le nettoyer, niveler et semer de l’herbe, mais nous ne suivons jamais le chemin le plus facile.

Donc, on travaille au jardin lorsqu’il ne fait pas trop chaud et les travaux à la maison doivent attendre un peu.

Spring has arrived. We’ve had a week of gorgeous weather, so it’s time to start gardening again, as the warm days and wet nights mean everything, but especially the weeds, is growing like mad.
Nick decided that it’s time to tackle the soil mountain in the back garden, the stuff dug out to install the new septic tank several years ago; he wants to make it into a banking, with plants growing on it. So out came the digger and Nick spent several happy days moving the heavy clay that passes for soil around here into a crescent shape; it needs doing before the heat and dryness of summer turn its consistency to that of concrete.
Now it’s at the stage where he needs to rake over the surface by hand. I’ve sown grass seed on some of the newly flattened bits and thrown compost on top of it, in the hope that the worms will do the work of incorporating that into the soil.
We’ve finally managed to get the “burning pile” to light, with plenty of white spirit, so that’s seeded too and Nick’s moving a couple of heaps of building sand and has promised to sort out the huge pile of roof tiles, wooden beams, bricks and general rubbish in the middle of the garden.
The carrot is the prospect of going to the Fources flower show next weekend; we always come home with loads of plants and nowhere to put them. This year, if we can finish preparing the banking, will be different.

The burning pile - seeded

This little bit of seeding is bigger than the whole garden in Harrogate!

Doesn't look much, but this is a huge pile of soil!

On a commencé faire un peu de jardinage derrière la maison. Premier tâche; former le tas de sol, enlevé pour la fosse septique, en forme de croissant. On doit le finir avant la fête de fleurs à Fources le week-end prochain à fin d’acheter des plantes.

It’s now a week since Nick had the pins removed from his ankle. We were at the clinic by 7am, he went to theatre at 8 and I was able to pick him up at lunchtime as the operation was done under epidural.

I don’t want to tempt fate, but so far, so good; it’s a lot less inflamed than before and seems to be healing at last. The stitches will be removed in ten days and I hope that will be the end of this horrible episode.

Il est une semaine depuis le chirurgien à enlevé les broches de la cheville de Nick. On est arrivé à la clinique à 7 heures, il a opéré à 8 heures et je suis allée le chercher à midi car il a eu un péridurale.

Jusqu’au présent il semble avoir marché bien; la cheville est moins enflammé. L’infirmière enlèvera les points dans 10 jours et j’espère que ça sera la fin de cet épisode horrible.

My annual dose of bronchitis began last Monday, when I woke, feeling as though I’d swallowed a tennis ball. By Wednesday I was coughing; it obviously wasn’t going to go away, so a visit to the doctor provided me with antibiotics. I felt a bit better this morning and besides, I needed some shopping for when Nick gets home this afternoon from his week cycling in Majorca.

I was fine at the market, but standing in the queue for the checkout at the supermarket, I began to feel a bit faint. Suddenly there were people shouting and I was helped to an office, sat down and given some water. I soon felt better, thanked them and stood up to leave. But that’s not how it works here. Within minutes four paramedics/ firemen arrived; they asked questions, took my pulse, blood pressure and oxygen saturation. All normal; could I go home now? NO, certainly not! They made a few phone calls, loaded me into their big red fire engine-cum-ambulance and took me to the doctor’s. The on call doctor examined me and finally gave me the all clear. Back into the fire engine/ambulance, to take me back to where I’d parked the car, at the supermarket; no way were they going to let me walk the 200m!

I thanked them, collected my shopping and went home; it was a bit overkill and unnecessary for me, but good to know how efficiently the system works.

Our open plan, temporary staircase has been through several incarnations; it started straight, but we needed to build a wall across the top of it, so it was chopped and changed and it has moved more often than the ones in Hogwarts. However, it was definitely not child friendly and would need some work before our toddler granddaughter’s visit this summer. When I saw a photo of what I can only describe as a fantasy staircase, which looked like a stack of giant books, I really expected to have to work hard to get Nick’s agreement, but no; his “we could do that” reaction was immediate.

And so began two months of evenings spent with plasterboard and paints. Our original choice of favourite books began to look a bit boring, with fairly plain spines featuring just the title and author, so I started to choose others, still favourites, but whose covers were more challenging. Some took up to five evenings to complete, such as my grandma’s copy of The Wind in the Willows, whose paper cover is torn and dirty from much handling, exposing the fabric beneath.

Eventually, though, they were ready and we spent a morning fixing them in place; I have to say I’m very pleased with the result.

Notre escalier ouvert et temporaire ne serai pas approprié à la visite de notre petite fille de 18 mois cet été. Quand j’ai vu une photo d’un escalier fantastique, qui ressemblait un tas de livres géants, je pensais qu’il me faudrait travailler à convaincre Nick qu’on pourrait faire quelque chose semblable, mais non, il était d’accord tout de suite.

On a passé presque toutes les soirées pendant deux mois avec des morceaux de placoplâtre et des peintures. Au début on a choisi nos livres préférés, mais bientôt il m’a pareil qu’ils étaient un peu ennuyeux, avec leurs dos couleur uni et seulement le titre et l’auteur, donc j’ai choisi quelques autres, plus intéressants. Je suis assez fière de ” The Wind in the Willows”, qui appartenait à ma grand-mère, dont le couverture en papier est déchiré, exposant le tissu dessous.

En fin on a terminé, on a passé un matin en les attacher à l’escalier et je crois que c’est beau.

Twas the fête de St Mont,
And all through the region,
In buses and cars,
Folks arrived by the legion.

There was music and theatre,
And of course, wine to taste,
To be bought by the bottle,
Or cheaper, the case.

While we lunched on foie gras,
A group sang some songs,
Not any old singers,
But St Mont vignerons.

Ok, I can’t get my head round any more verse today, so that’ll have to do.

On Saturday we went to St Mont, one of several villages where the St Mont wine is produced, all of which celebrate this festival over the whole weekend.

There was a play in the grounds of the château, before the ceremonial piercing of the first barrel of last year’s wine, then lunch in the village hall. We wandered around the market that filled the centre of the village, selling all sorts of artisanal produce, from Gascon berets to fresh farm cheeses, from home made brioche to wooden chopping boards and pottery.

Then it was down to the serious business of wine tasting and buying; on arrival, you can buy a wine glass that sits neatly in a holder on a cord round your neck; Nick buys a new one each year as he always loses the cord. The wine tasted, bought and stashed in the car, we decided to head home, passing the policeman breathalysing drivers at the edge of the village. Good idea, I bet he caught plenty.

On Sunday we went to see Didier demonstrating the art of barrel making where he works in Plaisance. It was fascinating to see the different stages of the process, and how they use water and fire, but the photos probably show it better than I can explain it.

It’s been a very busy few weeks; it was time to buy and preserve ducks for the next year and a friend knows of a good organic supplier, so Nick went off with Maria and Daniel to collect them. He arrived home with, not only ducks, but also organic roasted peanuts and a huge bag of lentils. The next couple of days were spent in the arriere cuisine, cooking, freezing and bottling various bits of duck.

Spring, it’s rumoured, is on its way and it’s time to start thinking about the garden again. It hardly seems any time at all since we were bottling and freezing last year’s produce, but we need to plant tomatoes, peppers, chillies, all sorts of things, to give them a good start; so Nick built a little greenhouse for them out of old windows and we spent an afternoon planting.

When Kieran was over last week, he and Nick got started on the kitchen for the new house; we bought it over two years ago and couldn’t remember what it was like, but were relieved to find that we still like it. I’d completely forgotten the handles – they’re lovely! Nick’s spent a day changing the bits on the cooker to take butane instead of town gas.

In the midst of all this activity came St. Patrick’s day; we were booked to play near Tarbes last Saturday, so arrived to start setting up at 5pm. We ate with the organisers, then started to play; there were only about twenty people in at the start, but then they began to pour in, till the room was full to bursting. Most people joined in the dancing; there was a really great atmosphere and everyone seemend to enjoy it. We were meant to finish at midnight, but ended up playing till half past, so by the time we’d dismantled everything and got home it was after 3am. Tonight we’re playing at a bar/restaurant in Nogaro, so it shouldn’t be as late. I was quite relieved when tomorrow’s gig didn’t materialise, due to lack of communication; it’s been quite a heavy week anyway.

Today was “big haircut” day; the tilleul tree near the house had got way too big, so Hervé and his son, a tree surgeon, came to trim it. Hervé and Nick have spent hours tidying up the trimmings, but there’s still a way to go; but it will be a lot better once it grows a few leaves.

Well, that’s it for now folks, better get ready for tomight’s gig.

Pendant les semaines dernieres , on a était très occupé. on a fait des confits de canards, Nick a construit une petite serre pour les graines qu’on a planté, fait des anciennes fenetres et on a fait tailler le grand tilleul a coté de la maison. Il et Kieran ont commencé construire la cuisine dans la nouvelle maison; on l’a acheté il y a deux ans, donc j’etais contente que je l’aime toujours!

Notre groupe a joué pres de Tarbes samedi dernier, pour la fete de St. Patrick; c’etait une soirée superbe, ou presque tout le monde a dancé et on est rentré apres 3 heures du matin. On joue à Nogaro ce soir, donc je crois qu’on rentrera plus tot (j’espere).

We saw the surgeon yesterday; he’s delighted with the progress Nick’s making as far as his shoulder’s concerned and was almost jumping for joy when he told us how good it is to work with someone so fit, sporty and motivated. He was in no hurry to get rid of us as we discussed topics from the environment to  the current refugee crisis; he can’t have had many appointments booked!

But the ankle; ah, yes, the ankle; still not healing. He sent Nick for another X-ray and gave me an article he’d co-written about the benefits of hydrotherapy post shoulder op, to read while we were waiting for the X-ray; fortunately it was in English.

The bone still doesn’t appear to be healing as quickly as it should, so he’s going to remove the pins. We were hoping he’d do it very soon, but he thinks it will be better left till Nick comes back from his planned cycling trip to Majorca at the end of this month; but at least the end is, hopefully, in sight and Nick can soon get back to normal.

Today was the annual hunt meal in Caupenne; Nick went along, but it’s too much meat for me so I gave it a miss. It started at midday and must have been good as he didn’t get home till 7 this evening, very happy with himself.

He claims not to know what languages were being spoken as he was in a group of Spanish, Italian, Arab and Portuguese, with an occasional Frenchman thrown in for good measure, but it was worth it to see Outdoor Empire recommended bows in action and in the end, says he understood well enough once he’d had a couple of glasses of wine!

After the aperos, they sat down to garbure, a mountain soup that’s a meal in itself; this was followed by paté and ham made from wild boar; then a civet, a slow cooked wild boar casserole. The next course was barbecued wild boar, the hunters have obviously caught plenty of those this year; then salad, cheese and croustade, a local type of apple pie, all washed down with vast quantities of a local red wine.. They finished off with coffee and armagnac, no wonder he looks sort of mellow!

I haven’t written many blogs recently because there hasn’t been much to report. In fact, by the time Nick’s been to see the physio three mornings a week and we’ve been swimming, there doesn’t seem to be much week left in which to do anything!

The surgeon said swimming regularly would reduce the recovery time for Nick’s shoulder, but finding an indoor, heated pool isn’t easy as the majority of pools in France are open air and therefore closed in the winter. We found one at a thermal spa centre, about half an hour’s drive away; but it’s closed in winter. There’s another in our nearest big town, about 45 minutes from here, but we were told that it’s not very nice and the water’s pretty cold. There’s another in Dax, but apparently it’s small and usually crowded. Eventually we heard of one in Hagetmau, a mere hour and a quarter’s drive from here; it’s a lovely pool, olympic size and the water is a good temperature. If we time it right, the French are mostly leaving for lunch as we arrive, leaving hardly anyone in the water. A bonus is that a friend lives nearby, so we can invite ourselves for lunch.

A couple of weeks ago there was an elderly man doing butterfly stroke up and down the pool; he arrived at the end where I was and said he hoped he wasn’t annoying me by doing such an antisocial stroke. I have to admit that, as chat up lines go, it was original, especially as there were only five people in the pool at the time, so no lack of space. I’m not sure how flattering it is to be chatted up by an 85 year old, but hey-ho, beggars can’t be choosers! This gentleman turned out to be the national swimming champion of France in his age group (81-85) and he’ll be competing in Paris later this month to hang on to his title. Later on, in May, he’s going to the European championships in London, but when I asked how he expected to do there he said that he wouldn’t win that one because there’s a German who’s stronger than him. “We know each other, he and I”, he declared, so I asked which of them spoke the other’s language; “Neither of us; we just glare at each other” was the reply! It was an inspiration to see someone of his age so driven and so full of life.

Nick says his shoulder is gradually feeling a bit freer, but it’s now 4 months since his accident and his ankle still isn’t healing and is still having to be dressed every two days. Last time we saw the surgeon, he said if it was no better by the next appointment, he would have to remove the pins he put in. We go back next week, so I hope that’s what he decides to do; Nick’s thoroughly fed up with it now.

Entre 3 matins par semaine chez le kiné et un jour aller nager, il n’y a pas beaucoup de temps de faire grande chose. Le chirurgien a suggéré la natation pour aider l’épaule de Nick, mais il est  moins facile de trouver une piscine à l’intérieur, chauffée, ici qu’en Angleterre, ou chaque ville a sa piscine municipale, chauffée. En fin, j’en ai trouvé une à Hagetmau, une belle piscine d’une taille olympique, et on y va toutes les semaines.

J’ai rencontré un vieux monsieur il y a deux semaines, qui est champion nageur de France pour son age (85 ans). Il va à Paris ce mois-ci pour les championnats nationales; après ça, il ira à Londres pour les championnats Européen. Je lui ai demandé si il attend gagner à Londres; “Non, il y a un allemand qui est plus fort que moi; on se connais, lui et moi”. J’ai demandé qui parle la langue de l’autre; “ni l’un, ni l’autre” il m’a répondu, “on se lance des regards noirs entre nous”. Je l’ai trouvé magnifique d’avoir telle esprit à son age.

La natation semble faire bien pour l’épaule de Nick, mais la cheville n’est pas encore cicatrisé, 4 mois après l’accident. Nous espérons que le chirurgien enlèvera les broches quand on le vois la semaine prochaine.