The bells are tolling in Paradis. As I walked around the village yesterday, touching ancient crepi walls, I bid a silent farewell to our home of six years. Nothing much had changed. The swirling waters of the Aveyron were still gurgling over the weir at the Moulin; the charming old men still doffed their hats. So why?
Nothing in life's perfect. Village life's a bit like Trumpton of yesteryear: there the miller, there the firemen, there the grocer. But, can life be lived permanently like this? For those of us who've reached that benchmark of 60 years, it becomes increasingly obvious that more is needed. A car here is a necessity. But, what if eyesight fades so we can't drive any more? What if we can't reach the shops? Idealism is all well and good, but at some point reality kicks in.
So, merci beaucoup Paradis but we're now moving on. La vie francaise must continue but tweaked a little. Like the French Derby winner yesterday, Pour Moi is now tout important.
Showing posts with label French village life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label French village life. Show all posts
12th November 2008
Whilst President Nicolas Sarkozy was yesterday laying a wreath at Verdun, we decided to attend a much smaller ceremony in the heart of our own village. In France, national days are always held on the actual date, rather than on the nearest Sunday or Monday, as in the UK. It's always difficult to know what time to attend, as the Maire has to perform the same ceremony at each village in his commune. So, at around 10.30 a.m., and wearing black coats, we walked up our lane, avoiding the enticing aromas emanating from the boulangerie. Although every other shop was closed all day, it being a national holiday, the boulangerie was open as usual. And so the temptation continues.......
Crossing over the main road - not a car in sight - we ambled down past the crumbling facade of our ancient castle, and approached the place which houses the bronze figure of the unknown soldier. It is a tiny, garlanded, site with the tricolour flag at half-mast. Fortunately there is a bench as nothing moves fast in France. At around 11.30 a.m. the Maire arrived direct from the ceremony at nearby Verfeil. In previous years the service has been heralded by an accordionist playing la marseillaise. But it seems that this unfortunate gentleman had now died, so the music had to be played on a portable music player instead. Domage. As we looked at the faces around us, we were pleased to see a good proportion of English. I think it's so important to try to integrate, and what better way than to attend a ceremony commemorating when both countries fought side-by-side.
After the ceremony, Him indoors (especially) was pleased to discover that the Maire had sponsored drinks at the village's only bar, le cafe sport. But for me? I'm not much of a drinker. One glass of wine is the most I can take at any one time - unless it's champagne of course! But it seemed that Pernod was the proffered drink. Uggh! Still, chacun a son gout. (Everyone to his own taste).
At least we've done our duty this year.
Crossing over the main road - not a car in sight - we ambled down past the crumbling facade of our ancient castle, and approached the place which houses the bronze figure of the unknown soldier. It is a tiny, garlanded, site with the tricolour flag at half-mast. Fortunately there is a bench as nothing moves fast in France. At around 11.30 a.m. the Maire arrived direct from the ceremony at nearby Verfeil. In previous years the service has been heralded by an accordionist playing la marseillaise. But it seems that this unfortunate gentleman had now died, so the music had to be played on a portable music player instead. Domage. As we looked at the faces around us, we were pleased to see a good proportion of English. I think it's so important to try to integrate, and what better way than to attend a ceremony commemorating when both countries fought side-by-side.
After the ceremony, Him indoors (especially) was pleased to discover that the Maire had sponsored drinks at the village's only bar, le cafe sport. But for me? I'm not much of a drinker. One glass of wine is the most I can take at any one time - unless it's champagne of course! But it seemed that Pernod was the proffered drink. Uggh! Still, chacun a son gout. (Everyone to his own taste).
At least we've done our duty this year.
22nd October 2008
This week a new phrase has entered the French vocabulary - la semaine bleue. What is it? It seems that it's a new French initiative to celebrate the burgeoning numbers of retired and senior citizens. I'm not sure about the 'blue' part though; reminds me of all those blue rinses back home. But, on the whole, I'm all in favour of recognising this sizeable part of the population. In our village, the local seniors' club, V.A.L. Joyeux, decided to celebrate this annual weekly event, naming its 2008 theme Jeunes et vieux, connectez vous. Good idea, but in practice the only youngsters connecting with the old at yesterday's celebration were the waiters! It was a jolly meal though. I always enjoy these kind of events, with lots of small courses so that if you don't care for one of them, you just wait awhile, and sure enough another comes along - just like the buses back home really. The wine was readily replenished all afternoon, literally keeping him indoors' spirits up. And, la creme de la creme is always the entertainment. There was one singer, in particular. She wasn't much to look at - tiny, rotund, with grey hair - but her voice! It was Edith Piaf all over again. Merveillaise. It made me wonder what would've happened if she'd walked onto the X-Factor stage in London. Would they have dismissed her out of hand merely by how she looked? That's really why I like writing: because most people don't get to see what you look like, talent might just out in the end. Chance for me yet then.
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