Since Nick had his accident, life has been a steep learning curve for me; not just the mind-boggling French bureaucracy, but I’ve had to fix the mower, unblock the drain from the shower, learn how to use the chain saw to cut firewood and, ridiculous though it sounds, drive to Pau on my own for the first time.

The thing is that when the angels were handing out senses of direction, I was already lost, probably in search of a bathroom, so I missed out. Normally when I’m driving somewhere, I have my very reliable satnav, but as he was in hospital and I wanted to visit the patchwork show in Pau on Thursday, I had to go it alone. I studied maps and Google streetview and found it without too much difficulty, arriving in plenty of time to have a good look around before the workshop I’d booked for the afternoon, The show was slightly disappointing; lots of people selling fabrics, buttons, threads, etc, but very few quilts on display; but the workshop more than made up for it, working with silk fibres and machine embroidery on soluble fabric.

Leaving the exhibition, I headed straight for the clinic, where Nick said the surgeon had been in for a flying visit that afternoon, not even giving Nick time to ask when he could go home, but promising to return later. I’d left something in the car, went to fetch it, and happened to meet the surgeon in the car park. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I asked when Nick could come home; well, he explained, the thing was that our GP wanted him to go to Nogaro hospital for a few days and there weren’t any places yet. I explained that everything was in place for him at home; wheelchair, ramps, bed downstairs, and that he was bored and itching to get out, basically ready to leave, “What, now?!” was the reaction; no, I said, tomorrow (Friday) would be fine. We’d have to discuss it, he replied; could I call in to see him on Friday afternoon? I could see Nick’s stay stretching well into next week, so I pushed a bit harder and eventually got his agreement to let Nick out on Saturday. I got the impression he found my approach a little unconventional.

Thursday was always going to be a long day as, after leaving the clinic, I had to go straight to rehearsal; by the time I got home at 1am, I was shattered.

Nick arrived home Saturday afternoon; I’d let the cycle club know so no one would try to visit him in the clinic, but on Sunday morning I was delighted when they called in at the end of their ride. I brought down extra chairs and got out beers and peanuts as they all told of how scared they’d been 2 weeks ago. Bruno said he’s had nightmares all week as a result. It was great to have the kitchen filled with a noisy group of cyclists, all talking over each other as they drank beer and ate peanuts. Maurice brought Nick what he described as a thank you present – a thank you for having survived – a knife whose handle he’s carved and decorated himself, and all of them reiterated that if there’s anything we need, we only have to call. We were very touched by the generosity of spirit of our friends in our adopted home.

Kieran and Alice turned up later; partly to see how Nick is and partly to see how they could help. Kieran moved a load of firewood while Alice and I put together the plastic greenhouse to protect the lemon and lime trees this winter. It took all of us to move the trees into it, but we managed.

After his most active day for two weeks, Nick looks exhausted.

Depuis Nick a eu son accident, ma vie a été une courbe d’apprentissage abrupte; pas seulement le ahurissant bureaucratie française, mais j’au du à reparer la tondeuse, débloquez le drain de la douche, apprendre à utiliser la tronçonneuse pour couper du bois de chauffage et, si cela semble ridicule, à conduire seule à Pau pour la première fois.
Je crois  que quand les anges ont distribué des sens d’orientation, j’etais déjà perdu, probablement à la recherche d’une salle de bain, donc j’ai raté. Normalement, lorsque je suis au volant quelque part, j’ai mon GPS très fiable, mais comme il étais à l’hôpital et je voulais visiter l’expo de patchwork à Pau le jeudi, je devais y aller seul. J’ai étudié des cartes et Google Street View et je l’ai trouvé sans trop de difficulté, je suis arrivée assez tot pour avoir un bon coup d’oeil autour avant l’atelier que j’avais réservé l’après-midi, j’etais un peu déçu; beaucoup de commerçants qui vendaient des tissus, des boutons, des fils, etc., mais très peu de quilts; mais l’atelier a plus que compensé pour cela, j’ai travaillé avec des fibres de soie et de broderie machine sur tissu soluble.
Partirant de l’expo, je suis allée directement à la clinique; Nick m’a dit que le chirugien est arrivé l’après-midi, mais est resté tres peu de temps; Nick n’a pas eu le temps de lui demander quand il pouvait rentrer chez lui. J’avais oublié quelque chose dans la voiture, et en allant le chercher, j’ai rencontré le chirurgien au parking. Ne voulant pas manquer l’occasion, j’ai demandé quand Nick pourrait rentrer; bien, il m’a expliqué, la chose était que notre generaliste voulait qu’il aille à l’hôpital de Nogaro pour quelques jours et il n’y avait pas encore de place. Je lui ai expliqué que tout était en place pour lui à la maison; fauteuil roulant, rampes, lit en bas, et qu’il s’ennuyait; il etait prêt à partir, “Quoi, maintenant?!” a été la réaction; non, dis-je, demain (vendredi) serait bien. Nous devions le discuter, il a répondu; pourrais-je le voir vendredi après-midi? Je pouvais imaginer le séjour de Nick étendu dans la semaine prochaine, donc je poussé un peu plus et ai finalement obtenu son accord pour liberer Nick le samedi. J’ai eu l’impression qu’il ai trouvé mon approche un peu  non conventionnelle.
Jeudi serait toujours une longue journée parce que, après avoir quitté la clinique, je devais aller directement à la répétition; au moment où je suis rentré à 1h du matin, j’étais crevée.
Nick est arrivé à la maison samedi après-midi; j’avais dit au club de vélo afin que personne n’essaie de lui rendre visite à la clinique, mais le dimanche matin, je fus ravi quand ils sont arrivés chez nous à la fin de leur randonnée. J’ai ramené des chaises supplémentaires et j’ai sorti des bières et des cacahuettes lorsque Ils ont parlé de leur  peur il y a 2 semaines.  Bruno a déclaré qu’il a eu des cauchemars toute la semaine à la suite. Il était génial d’avoir la cuisine remplie d’un groupe bruyant de cyclistes, tout le monde parlant sur l’autre lorques ils buvaient de la bière et mangé des cacahuettes.   Maurice a apporté un cadeau pour Nick qu’il a décrit comme un remerciement  – à remercier d’avoir survécu – un couteau dont il a sculpté et décoré la manche lui-même, et chacun d’eux nous a rappelé que si il y a quelque chose dont nous avons besoin, nous avons seulement à appeler. Nous avons été très touchés par la générosité d’esprit de nos amis dans notre pays adopté.
Kieran et Alice sont arrivés plus tard; en partie pour voir comment Nick est et en partie pour voir comment ils pourraient nous aider.  Kierana bougé une charge de bois de chauffage tandis qu’Alice et moi avons construit la serre en plastique pour protéger les citronniers pendant l’ hiver. Il a fallu nous trois de mettre les arbres dedans, mais nous avons réussi.
Après son jour le plus actif ppendant deux semaines, Nick a l’air épuisé.

I collected Nick’s bike, helmet and assorted bits yesterday, from Richard’s, where it had been for the last 10 days. The helmet wasn’t as smashed up as I’d been led to believe; it looks as though that took the impact when he hit the grass verge. The bike frame, on the other hand, is in two distinctly separate pieces and will need replacing.

Nick is still in the clinic at Aire and must be feeling a lot better as he’s definitely getting bored now; a man can only do so much reading and sudoku and I think, after 11 days,  he’s just about reached his limit. There was talk of him moving to the hospital in Nogaro, but all he wants now is to come home; he feels there’s no benefit to staying in any longer, so if nothing is said tomorrow, I’ll go to see the GP and ask him to get Nick discharged. It’s so very different from hospitals in the UK; the clinic is privately run, so it’s in their interest to keep patients in for as long as possible.

Friends are being so kind; apart from visiting Nick, they are helping me in so many ways. Christian and Therese came round this afternoon to help with the garden; we worked for three hours, at the end of which we’d removed all the dead and dying tomato, cougette and aubergine plants, weeded and dug over the beds and Christian had strimmed around the edges. Nick won’t recognise it when he gets home; it looks so much better than it did.

Nick bade a happy farewell to his drips and drains yesterday and had his ankle and shoulder x-rayed again. He’s looking forward to going through the metal detector next time we fly. When you see the bruise on his right side, it’s not surprising that he’s still feeling uncomfortable; there’s another, similar one on his left hip and thigh.

But he’s able to get out of bed now, though he finds steering a zimmer frame with one hand awkward; and was able to stand long enough for me to wash his hair today. It seems likely that he’ll be moved to the hospital in Nogaro soon, to start his reeducation and physio, before he comes home, but it should only be for a few days.

I’ve reserved a wheelchair at the pharmacy and a friend in the cycle club has offered to make a ramp for the front door, so that we can get it in and out. I’ll have to ask somebody to remove the bathroom door before Nick gets home, as there isn’t room to get a wheelchair in with the door in situ.

Thank you to everyone who’s sent messages of various sorts, wishing Nick a speedy recovery, and for the many offers of help I’ve had; everything from paperwork to cutting firewood. We both really appreciate the support of our good friends, both here and in the UK, more than I can say.

Nick a dit un adieu heureux de ses infusions et ses drains hier et ils ont fait encore des radios de la cheville et de l’épaule. Il attend avec impatience passer par le détecteur de métal la prochaine fois que nous prenons l’avion. Quand on voit l’haematome à son côté droit, il n’est pas étonnant qu’il a toujours un peu de douleur; il ya un autre, similaire à sa hanche gauche et la cuisse.

Mais il  peut sortir du lit maintenant, même si il trouve diriger un déambulateur avec une main maladroite; il pouvait se tenir debout assez longtemps pour que je puisse laver les cheveux à lui aujourd’hui. Il semble qu’il va à l’hôpital de Nogaro bientôt, pour commencer sa rééducation, mais il ne devrait être pour quelques jours.

J’ai réservé un fauteuil roulant à la pharmacie et un ami dans le club de cycle a offert  faire une rampe pour la porte d’entrée. Je vais devoir demander à quelqu’un de retirer la porte de la salle de bain avant Nick rentre à la maison, car il n’y a pas de place pour un fauteuil roulant avec la porte in situ.

Un grand merci à tous ceux qui ont envoyé des messages de toutes sortes, souhaitant un prompt rétablissement Nick, et pour les nombreuses offres d’aide; de m’aider remplir des fiches à couper du bois et m’accompagner ici et là-bas. Nous apprécions beaucoup le soutien de nos bons amis, à la fois ici et dans le Royaume-Uni, plus que je peux dire.

Wednesday

I spent most of  Wednesday morning in the insurance office – again; and left with more lists of paperwork to supply and phone calls to make. But at least I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel and felt better than on Tuesday, when I’d gone into meltdown. For some reason, Tuesday was when the big “what if” hit me like a sledgehammer; up to then I’d been positive about how lucky Nick had been, but suddenly I was a shuddering wreck who couldn’t stop crying. Shock, I suppose. Plus not understanding a lot of what was being said regarding the paperwork (never my forté), or the systems that drive it; the enormity of the situation seemed just too much to cope with and it took a while to pull myself back together.

I had more paperwork to sort at the hospital in the afternoon, as well as going to see the surgeon; I think everybody got the impression that Nick didn’t speak French when he arrived, so they choose to talk to me instead.

Thursday

Nick went to theatre at 8am on Thursday. I started phoning for news at 11 o’clock, but he was still in theatre; he didn’t actually get out of theatre till 2pm and back to the ward at 3.30. His left leg in in plaster from the toes to the knee and I saw the bruise on his shoulder for the first time; impressive.

He was groggy to start with, but fairly soon was awake enough to talk to the stream of visitors who arrived. He was on a lot of pain relief, so not in too much discomfort, but started looking tired, so I left him to sleep and met with Gilles, to fill in the forms for the cycle club insurance claim – it took a mere hour, we must be getting proficient!

Friday

The physio called to see Nick today; I think we’ll be seeing a lot of him in the coming weeks and months. Nick’s arm is very swollen, due to lack of movement, so he massaged it and gave Nick exercises to do. He has to make a fist and raise and lower his forearm; at first he could only do that by lifting it with his other hand, he was quite shocked at how weak it’s become.

Kieran went to see him, then came home with me to help me with various tasks I can’t do on my own; taking down the scaffolding, moving furniture out of the sitting room and installing a bed downstairs for when Nick comes home. The problem is that he can’t walk because of his ankle, but can’t use crutches because of his shoulder; so we’ll have to hire a wheelchair for a while and he’ll be restricted to the ground floor.

The surgeon says he should be able to come home next week; it can’t come soon enough.

Sunday
It was a most beautiful autumn day, so I went walking and Nick went for a bike ride with the cycle club, as usual, but had a problem with his bike, so came home, swapped bikes and set out to meet up with the rest of the club. He spotted them coming towards him on the road and, incomprehensibly, it seems as though he pulled out to do a U-turn without checking behind him, so was unaware of the car overtaking him. He was thrown up in the air, ricocheted off the car, buckling the roof and wing and crumpling the windscreen before landing in the ditch on the far side of the road. The guys in the club were convinced he couldn’t have survived such a collision, but he’s a Yorkshireman, made of tough stuff.
Luckily for Nick, the passenger in the car was a medical student who’s just done 6 months in A&E in Toulouse and the next person on the scene was a retired sapeur pompier (fireman-cum-paramedic). The emergency services were called, as was another club member who’d gone home early. Jacques called me and arranged to pick me up; he knew Nick was conscious but that was all.
We arrived to find half the road closed and full of sapeurs pompiers and gendarmes’ vehicles. Nick was in an ambulance, able to move his limbs, in a lot of pain, but completely unaware of what had happened. They took him to the local small hospital and that was where the wonderful French health care system took a nose dive, in our experience at least.
When I got to the hospital he’d had x-rays, showing that he’d broken his right shoulder pretty badly. In the course of the next hour hour I asked three times for pain relief for him; I’ve never seen him in such pain, even when he broke his hip. but the nurses were more interested in gossiping than looking after their patient. At last the surgeon arrived, furious that, not only was he not on a drip for the pain, but they hadn’t even immobilised his shoulder. He looked at the x-rays and explained to me (Nick was in no state to understand anything) that he’d have to insert a pin the length of the humerus, along with three screws and a band around the bone. He couldn’t operate till Tuesday because they’d have to order the parts.
Eventually Nick was admitted, still in a lot of pain, but the nurses on the ward were efficient and caring. Finally I got home, had something to eat and slept fitfully.
Monday
I got to the clinic in time to help Nick with his lunch as he couldn’t feed himself on Sunday; I was so pleased to see him showered and sitting up, able to feed himself and looking more comfortable.
From there I had to go to Maubourget, a halfway point between here and where the car driver lives, to fill in some insurance documents. I met Jacques partway and he took me the rest of the way and we filled in the forms. The young lad who was driving brought his parents with him; I was dreading the meeting, but they were so kind, not a word against Nick, just “Well it could happen to anyone”. They said the gendarmes should have filled in these forms, but that if they don’t, they don’t have to include this accident in their statistics, so it’s a means of massaging the figures.
Then back to the clinic; by now it was dark and raining and the road markings were almost invisible so I didn’t enjoy the miles I had to drive.
The anaesthetist had been to see Nick, but had postponed the operation till Thursday, because the metalwork hasn’t turned up yet. In addition to this, his ankle was hugely swollen and bruised, but no x-ray had been done, his neck hurt and though they had x-rayed that, they’d done nothing more. Three lads from the club came visiting; they were appalled and made me promise to see our GP the following morning, to insist that something was done, and done very soon, a prospect that filled me with dread.
I got home feeling a bit wrung out, only to find that the wind was in an unusual direction and all the firewood I’d cut on Sunday was soaked. A cold, miserable end to a long, hard day.

Tuesday

When I phoned to ask when I could speak to the doctor, the receptionist promised to ring me back, but of course didn’t; so I went to the surgery to wait. A friend who’s a retired nurse came with me, to help explain where my vocabulary ran out. The doctor saw us, listened to my complaints and reassured me that the surgeon is excellent; he phoned the surgeon to ask what was being done about Nick’s ankle and neck and we were promised that an x-ray would be done of his ankle.

From there we went to the insurance office, where I got a list of stuff I have to take in tomorrow. I was so pleased to have Marie-Neige with me, to explain in simple terms, slowly, what was said. The more I hear, the more I realise how much French I lack.

I bumped into the surgeon on my arrival at the clinic; he didn’t think it was more than bruising, but was sorting for an x-ray of Nick’s ankle to be done; it turned out that it is broken, so he will screw it back together when he does the shoulder on Thursday. I feel vindicated.

The next task was the cycle club insurance; Jacques and Gilles came round, but of course, things are very complicated and when they left after two hours, we hadn’t actually managed to fill in any of the forms, but at least we know what’s required now.

Now I have to write a report of the accident for one lot of insurance; in French, of course, to take to the office in the morning. My head’s spinning!

Désolée, mais je suis trop fatiguée de faire une traduction.

I’ve always had an artistic streak, but between working, renovating houses and bringing up our three children, I never had the time to give it its freedom, till we arrived here.

I can’t paint and my drawing’s not great, but over the years I’ve enjoyed trying various crafts; lots of sewing, but also paint effects, stencilling, knitting by hand and machine, I’ve made my own Christmas cards and have even done a bit of stained glass window making. I’m never happier than when I’m creating something and I have a good eye for colour. But my enduring passion is for fabrics; I love the textures and colours and the sense of achievement when I’ve created something unique.

When Izzy, our first grandchild, was born, I decided to make her a patchwork quilt. Never having tried patchwork before, I bought magazines and books; useful for techniques, I found the designs repetitive and boring. I didn’t want to follow a pattern, making lots of samey blocks; it seemed like colour-by-numbers, so I started making my own designs.

Many years ago I bought a magazine at a patchwork exhibition. There was a feature on “wearable art”; totally unique, one-off garments, there were jackets, waistcoats and dresses, but what really caught my eye was a top made from bits of reclaimed lace. I saved the magazine; one day I’d make something like that.

That day arrived this year. I scoured charity shops and vide greniers for bits of lace, buying net curtains, tablecloths, bedspreads, hankies, clothing, even a lampshade, anything, in fact, with lace attached, ready to cut up.

I chose a design for the prototype, which would be undyed, bought some water soluble fabric (like sewing clingfilm!), and set to work. It took months, carefully stitching the pieces of lace to the soluble layer, and also to each other; I didn’t want it falling apart! Once the sewing was done, I started beading it, hand stitching hundreds of tiny beads in place. Eventually it was completed, I washed away the soluble fabric base and it turned out better than I’d dared to hope.

I was inspired! Now for the dream project, to be ready for Kieran’s wedding party, just two weeks away.

I chose the bits of lace I wanted to use, divided them into three piles, mixed green and blue dyes in differing proportions and started dying. The greenest panful was too green, so they went back into a pan of just blue dye. This top was to be fastened with lacing down the back, so it needed more strength than the prototype; I found some organza to use for the base layer, made that up and started to attach the pieces of lace. Each different bit of lace had taken up the dye differently, so I had lots of shades from which to choose, from the palest turquoises to deep sea greens.

Nick knows only too well that once I get immersed in a project, I’m oblivious to everything else; he took over the cooking, dragging me out of my cave at mealtimes and to sleep and gradually my top took shape.

Two days to go and it was ready to try on; but the back, below the lacing, stuck out at a horrible angle, basically the pattern was for a bigger backside than mine and I hadn’t noticed when fitting the organza. Four hours, lots of delicate unpicking and nearly a few tears later, it was wearable, just needed beading, well that and a skirt making to wear with it.

I didn’t completely finish the beading, but stopped working on it the evening before the party, when Alex and Izzy arrived. The organza’s a bit scratchy, but it felt so good to wear my own, unique, original piece of wearable art.

Je suis toujours un peu artistique, mais entre le travail, la rénovation de maisons et d’élever nos trois enfants, je n’ai jamais eu le temps de lui donner la liberté, jusqu’à ce que nous sommes arrivés ici.
Je ne peux pas peindre et mon dessin n’est pas magnifique, mais au fil des années, j’ai aimé essayer divers métiers; beaucoup de couture, mais aussi des effets de peinture, pochoir, tricoter à la main et la machine, je me suis fait mes propres cartes de Noël et j’ai même fait un peu de vitrail. Je ne suis jamais plus heureuse que quand je crée quelque chose et j’ai un bon oeil pour la couleur. Mais ma passion durable est pour les tissus; j’adore les textures et les couleurs et le sentiment d’accomplissement quand j’ai créé quelque chose d’unique.
Lorsque Izzy, notre premier petit-enfant, est née, je décidai de lui faire un dessus de lit en patchwork. N‘ayant jamais essayé patchwork  auparavant, j’ai acheté des magazines et des livres; utile pour les techniques, je trouvais les dessins répétitif et ennuyeux. Je ne voulais pas suivre un modèle, ce qui rend beaucoup de blocs répétitive; donc j’ai commencé à faire mes propres dessins.
Il y a de nombreuses années, je acheté un magazine lors d’une exposition de patchwork. Il y avait un article sur “l’art portable”; des vêtements totalement unique; il y avait des vestes, des gilets et des robes, mais ce qui a vraiment attiré mon attention était un haut de robe fait de morceaux récupérés de la dentelle. J’ai gardé le magazine; un jour, je ferais quelque chose comme ça.
Cette année, ce jour est arrivé. Je écumé Emmaus aussi que des vide greniers pour les morceaux de la dentelle, j’ai acheté des voilages, des nappes, des couvre-lits, des mouchoirs, des vêtements, même un abat-jour,n’importe quoi, en fait, avec de la dentelle attaché, prêt à couper.

J’ai choisi un patron pour le prototype, qui serait non teint, j’ai acheté du tissu soluble dans l’eau (comme faire la couture avec du film étirable!), et me mit à travailler. Il a fallu des mois, j’ai cousu délicatement les morceaux de dentelle à la couche soluble, et également l’un à l’autre; je ne voulais pas qu’il tombe en morceaux! Une fois la couture a été fait, j’ai commencé à attacher des centaines de petits perles,  de couture main. Finalement, il a été terminé, je fis disparaître la base soluble de tissu et il est avéré meilleur que j’osais espérer.
Je me suis inspiré! Maintenant, pour le projet de rêve, d’être prêt pour la fête de mariage de Kieran, en seulement deux semaines.
J’ai choisis les morceaux de la dentelle que je voulais utiliser, les divisa en trois. J’ai mélangé des teintures en bleu et vert dans des proportions différentes et j’ai commencé à teinter. Le marmite le plus verte était trop verte, donc je les ai mis tout de suite dans une casserole de teinture bleu. Ce vêtement devait être fermé avec laçage au dos, donc il fallait être plus solide que le prototype; J’ai trouvé un peu d’organza à utiliser pour la couche de base, et j’ai commencé à attacher les morceaux de dentelle. Chaque morceau de la dentelle différente avait pris le colorant différemment, donc je eu beaucoup de nuances à partir de laquelle choisir, des turquoises claires aux verts foncés de la mer.
Nick sait trop bien que, une fois je suis immergé dans un projet, je suis inconscient de tout le reste; il a fait tous les taches ménageres, et m’a traînant hors de ma caverne au moment des repas et de sommeil et petit à petit mon haut de robe a pris forme.
Deux jours avant la fete et il était prêt à essayer; mais le dos, au-dessous du laçage, coincé à un angle terrible, la patron était pour une  arrière plus grand que la mienne et je ne l’avais pas remarqué lors du montage de l’organza.

Quatre heures plus tard, et beaucoup de dégrafage délicate et il était portable, il ne fallait que faire les perles,  et aussi de faire une jupe à porter avec.

For a while I’ve been concerned that our Irish band wasn’t long for this world. Jacques, our front man and driving force, who plays an array of penny whistles, mandolin and chanter amongst other things, is selling up and hopes to move to Majorca in the next couple of years. And if that weren’t bad enough, Alain, a lynchpin as he plays guitar, fiddle and banjo, recently announced that although he can still come to rehearsals, he can no longer play gigs. That only left a few, lesser-talented individuals, not a band.

But then I remembered a fiddle player who joined in with us one evening a couple of years ago; he seemed very talented and picked things up very quickly. A couple of phone calls and I’d got his phone number.

I dithered for ages; would he be interested? Would he fit in? And how would it change the dynamics of the band to add another English member? Up to now it’s very much a French band with a few foreigners, but without Jacques and Alain the balance will be very different. But then again, went the argument, if the alternative is no band at all, what had we to lose? I plucked up my courage and phoned; his wife, Vera, answered, she was sure Lester, her husband, would be delighted by the invitation. He plays not only fiddle, but also mandolin and banjo – perfect! As an added bonus, Vera herself plays piano accordion, which will add an extra dimension to our sound.

They’ve been to two rehearsals now; lovely people, they fit in perfectly and seem really committed to learning the music as well as improving their French, so we need to translate less for them. But as they say, music is an international language.

Pendant quelques semaines, je m’inquietais que notre groupe irlandais ne pourrait pas continuer. Jacques, notre force motrice, qui joue un tableau de flutes, la mandoline et le bombard entre autres choses, espère démenager à Majorque dans les deux prochaines années. Et si cela ne suffisait pas, Alain, un pivot parce qu’il joue de la guitare, le violon et le banjo, a récemment annoncé que, même s’il peut toujours venir aux répétitions, il ne peut plus jouer aux concerts. Il nous restait seulement quelques individus, moins talentueux; pas un groupe.

Mais je me rappelai à un monsieur, une violiniste qui a rejoint avec nous un soir, il ya quelques années; il me semblait très talentueux et a appris très rapidement les pièces de musique que nous jouions. Quelques appels téléphoniques et j’avais obtenu son numéro de téléphone.

Je tergiversé pendant quelques jours;  s’intéresserait-il?  S’intégrerait-il? Et comment serait-il changer la dynamique de la bande à ajouter un autre membre anglais? Jusqu’à présent, il est vraiment un groupe français avec quelques étrangers, mais sans Alain et Jacques la composition sera très différent. Mais, si l’alternative est pas de groupe du tous, que-ce que nous avions à perdre? J’ai pris tout mon courage et je lui ai appelé; sa femme, Vera, a répondu, elle était sûre que Lester, son mari, serait ravi de l’invitation. Il ne joue pas seulement du violon, mais aussi de la mandoline et du banjo  – parfait! Comme un bonus supplémentaire, Vera joue de l’accordéon, qui va ajouter une dimension supplémentaire à notre son.

Jusqu’à maintenant ils sont venus à deux répètes; des gens charmants, tout le monde s’entende bien et ils semblent vraiment déterminés à apprendre de la musique ainsi qu’ameliorer leur français, donc nous aurons besoin de traduire moins pour eux; mais comme on dit, la musique est une langue internationale.

Our friend Nellie is a stained glass maker, she creates the most beautiful contemporary pieces of glass. But if you saw her workshop, you’d wonder how anyone can produce anything in such an environment; ivy and all sorts of greenery grows over the inside of the walls, the roof leaks like a sieve and there’s hardly any natural light. It’s also completely uninsulated and bitterly cold in the winter. At last Hervé, her partner, has decided to do something about it and Nick, along with several other friends, has been working on replacing the roof this week.

The common language being French, Nick feels it has helped improve his grasp of the language, but not before he made a huge faux pas. Someone arrived who I know slightly from when the band played a gig and Nick told him that he thought he knew me; innocuous enough in English, but apparently this doesn’t translate to French in the way Nick intended, but implies “knowing” in the biblical sense. The guys on the roof at the time laughed so much they nealy fell off, leaving Nick wondering what he’d said, until it was explained to him. He corrected himself, hopefully leaving my reputation intact.

It’s mushroom season. They spring up everywhere; in the garden, on walks through the forest and in the hedgerows. But of course, not all are edible and people die due to eating the wrong sort every year.

Nick’s been helping our friend Hervé wire his new kitchen recently; Hervé is a real countryman who worked as a shepherd for 25 years, so when it comes to mushroom identification, he’s something of an expert. But a Frenchman’s mushroom picking spot is generally a closely guarded secret, so we were very surprised and not a little flattered when Hervé invited Nick to go mushroom picking with him.

They set off early, looking for cepes, very highly prized, but there weren’t any so they had to be satisfied instead with a variety of other types; but each of them arrived back with a carrier bag full, enough for two meals.

Il est la saison des champignons. Ils poussent un peu partout; dans le jardin, dans la forêt et dans les haies. Mais bien sûr, ils ne sont pas tous comestibles et de personnes meurent en raison de manger le mauvais type chaque année.

Nick a aidé notre copin Hervé faire l’electricité dans sa nouvelle cuisine recemment; Hervé est vrai paysan qui travaillait comme berger pendant 25 ans, alors quand il faut identifier des champignons, il est expert. Mais le lieu ou un Français trouve des champignons est généralement un secret étroitement gardé, donc on a été très surpris et pas un peu flatté lorsque Hervé a invité Nick aller ramasser de champignons avec lui.

Ils sont sortis assez tot, à la recherche de cèpes, très prisée, mais il n’y en avait pas alors et ils ont dû se contenter avec une variété d’autres types; mais tous les deux sont arrivés de retour avec une poche complète, assez pour deux repas.

Since starting the tiling of the floors, Nick has begun to have pain in his knees; I put it down to the tiling, but he was having none of that – he thought it was due to too much driving. During the summer, while neither driving nor tiling much, his knees improved; until he started tiling again, when, standing up, there was a horrible cracking noise and his knee didn’t feel great. He had to admit it was probably tiling.

The solution seemed obvious to me; but tiling floors, it seems, is most definitely a blue job and it took all my powers of persuasion to convince him to let me help. Finally a compromise was reached; he’d mix and lay the sticky and I could put down the tiles. We’ve always worked well together and this time is no exception and two of us working means we can get a lot done during each session, so we can see progress being made.

In order to prevent the same thing happening to my knees, Nick’s insisted that we have a day off between tiling days. A friend was looking for a guitar for her daughter and I found one in Pau; so we picked up the guitar en route to the Pyrenees and had a few hours in the hills.

We parked beside the river in Louvie-Juzan, ate a quick picnic and cycled to Laruns; Nick wanted to do the Col de Portalet, a 30km climb that starts just above the town. I did the first few km of the climb with him; it’s a long time since I’ve been able to do any “proper” cycling and it felt great to be back in the hills, especially on the descent, with the wind whistling through my helmet. I cycled back to pick up the car and take it to Laruns, where I wandered around the pretty town and read my book in a pavement cafe till Nick got back, just minutes before it started to rain. En route for home, we dropped off the guitar, so everyone was happy.

Depuis il a commencé faire le carrelage des sols, Nick a des douleurs aux genoux; je lui ai dit que c’est du au carrelage, mais il pensais que c’était dû à trop de conduite. Pendant l’été, quand il n’a fait pas beaucoup de conduite ni de carrelage, les genoux ont amélioré; jusqu’à il commencé carreler encore, quand, debout, il y avait un bruit de craquement terrible et son genou ne se sent pas très bien. Il a du admettre qu’il a probablement été le carrelage.

La solution me semblait évident; mais faire du carrelage du sol, il semble,est un metier pour les hommes et il a fallu tous mes pouvoirs de persuasion pour le convaincre de me laisser aider. Enfin, un compromis a été atteint; il mélange et tartine le col et je pose les carreaux. Nous avons toujours bien travaillé ensemble et cette fois ne fait pas exception; nous pouvons faire beaucoup plus chaque séance de travail qu’une seule personne, afin que nous puissions voir du progrès.

Afin d’éviter que la même chose se passe à mes genoux, Nick a insisté que nous avons un jour de repos entre les jours de carrelage. Un ami a été à la recherche d’une guitare pour sa fille et j’en ai trouvé une à Pau; donc nous sommes allés chercher la guitare en route vers les Pyrénées et avons passé quelques heures dans les collines.

Nous nous sommes garés à côté de la rivière à Louvie-Juzan, mangé un pique-nique rapide et pédalé à Laruns; Nick a voulu faire le Col de Portalet, une montée de 30km  qui commence juste au-dessus de la ville. J’ai fait quelques premiers kilomètres de la montée avec lui; il est longtemps depuis  je peux faire  le “vrai”cyclisme et il me sentais bien d’être de retour dans les montagnes, en particulier sur la descente, avec le vent qui siffle travers mon casque. Je suis allée chercher la voiture et je l’ai pris à Laruns, où je promenais autour de la jolie ville et lisais mon livre dans un café jusqu’à Nick revint, quelques minutes avant qu’il a commencé à pleuvoir. En route pour la maison, nous avons déposé la guitare, donc tout le monde était heureux.