Sunday 27 September 2015

Another busy weekend!

DB on the Oreo Slide!
This was my first week back home, and there were all sorts of things to do in the house - most of them didn't get done.

Friday was an excellent day.  At lunchtime I went to play ping pong with the Enforcers, and did quite well, considering I hadn't touched a bat for 43 years.

In the evening I met up with S in the docklands.  It was a beautiful evening, sunny and warm - the sort I would have loved to have while on holiday, in fact!  The Orio Cookie Company had a slide down a set of long stairs, so I glided down in a fit of youthful exuberance.  S alas wasn't able to, because they closed the slide after my trip - nothing to do with me, I assure you!  Then we went for a long walk on the riverside, sat in a cafe overlooking the skyline and had raspberry cocktails, and finally ended the evening in an Italian restaurant.  A lovely start to the weekend.

It didn't last.  At home my toilet handle had broken off, so I spent the morning buying a spare part and fixing the miscreant facility.  This involved having to saw off half an inch of piping, which took an hour with my little hacksaw and nearly did my wrist in.  Duh!  I then fled my deteriorating house and went shopping to distract myself, and bought a flan dish.

Today I almost overslept. Usually I meet a friend on Sunday mornings for coffee, and this morning I was five minutes late - unforgivable, really.  She didn't show up at all, I later read that she had a nasty cold.  I read three newspapers, gave up the wait, and returned home, taking a few photos on the way, seeing that it was a nice day.












At home the garden beckoned.  It had overgrown somewhat, and I wanted to do laundry.  First I tackled the quince tree.  The fruits were ready to pick, but so high up I couldn't reach any of them.  My garden used to be very shady, courtesy of neighbours' trees, so everything grows tall and spindly in an attempt to reach a bit of sunshine.  But recently those trees have been trimmed back, and the garden has become sunnier.  My quince tree has taken no notice of this, and continues to grow beautiful fruit half way up the sky.  So I had to pick my quinces with a hacksaw yet again.  Now I have two buckets full of fruit, and the tree looks decidedly stumpish.  Never mind, it will develop bushier growth habits, I hope.

Harvesting the damsons was pointless, they have all gone feral and smell of alcohol.  Maybe next year - I am thinking of having my holiday in October next year, that way I don't miss the harvest season anymore, and can go to the Wadham College donor dinner, and maybe even the alumni weekend.  My hotel offered me a discount if I go in October as well, so this may well be a winner.

Finally at 15:00 the garden was good to hang laundry up in, but it wasn't long enough for everything to dry, so now the house looks like a Chinese laundry with half dry clothes hanging all over the place.

To create a bit of heat inside, I decided to bake the quinces that had fallen down during my brutal harvesting and developed cracks.  I cut them all up, mixed the pieces with butter, spices, raisins, and some elderberry and rosehip syrup I had laying around, and dumped the lot into my new flan dish.  The recipe calls for baking them in a slow oven for four hours - I figured that would be enough to heat up the house.  Turned out very nice to eat, as well!




Monday 21 September 2015

Leaving La Bourboule - last few photos


As usual, the day I left was sunny and warm ...  'Course that might have changed later on.  These photos are all near the train station, taken while I was waiting for the bus to arrived (buses and trains share the same stations in La Bourboule).











Bench from a distance with newly polished placque


Not a good end to a holiday!

Well, I am safe back inside the Little House ....

Last night when I arrived back home after a long and tiring day of travelling by bus and train and taxi and another train and another taxi and another bus, I discovered to my shock and exhausted frustration that I couldn't get into my house.

It is a curious and not in any way good experience to stand in front of the door of your own house, key in hand, and the key doesn't work anymore.  All I wanted was to drop into my bed, just ten feet away, and I couldn't get through the door.  There I was, with a heavy suitcase, standing in the rain, at midnight, feeling very very sorry for myself.

What's a woman to do?  I fleetingly considered to just sit down and cry until the universe took notice and sorted something out, but dismissed this thought as unworthy of a person of my grit and caliber.  So I gathered up my belongings, and, sighing heavily, went to the next hotel.

The Coach and Horses is just around the corner from where I live, and there was still a light on, so I rang the bell.  Several times.  Finally the lady of the house came to the door, heard my tale of woe, and took me in.  She doesn't usually have guests on Sundays, being low on staff on those days, but made me up a bed, cleaned the bathroom, and made me most welcome.  Worry not, said she, tomorrow we will sort something out.

I crawled into bed and went straight to sleep - not!  Instead I tossed and turned and worried why my house was closed against me.  After fifteen minutes of this I got tired of worrying, and decided that I really couldn't be bothered to spend half the night imagining every single possible scenario of why my house had turned against me and how I could remedy the situation.  So I distracted myself by counting my scarves, and fell asleep almost immediately.

The next day I tracked down my friend who had been keeping an eye on the house while I was away.  I was lucky, she was having breakfast in the usual place and visibly paled when she saw me coming!  She had thought that I was away for another day and had planned to set her husband the task of getting into the house - she couldn't get in, either.  Guilt pored from her every pore, although it had really not been her fault, as I was to find out soon thereafter.

Having thus established that my friend hadn't become a turncoat who changed the locks to steal my house, I returned to the hotel.  My landlady knew a locksmith, who, upon being assured that I would pay handsomely if he turned up asap, tackled the door.  It took him quite a while, and any number of lock-picking tools, until he finally managed to open the door.  Apparently the lock had moved/slipped, it was an accident waiting to happen, and needed sorting out.  So now I have a new lock.  And am a lot poorer!  I am like Job, once rich, now poor ....

But I am not complaining, it could have been worse.   At least I had my suitcase, with my toothbrush etc - imagine if this had happened at the end of one of my one-day Paris trips on a Saturday?  A Saturday which is followed by a Sunday, when no one works?  Two nights in a hotel without a toothbrush etc, and the same amount of aggro.

Anyway, I am now once again Queen in my own castle.  Long may it last!

That nice lady at the Coach and Horses gave me a steep discount, too - would you believe it?  If you ever have to stay in Oxford, stay there!

http://www.oxfordcoachandhorses.co.uk/index.html

Saturday 19 September 2015

Last day in La Bourboule


Today it rained until about 16:00, and then it stopped for a while, so I nipped out to take a few last shots of the town before I am off again for another year.  I focused on houses this time - la Bourboule is full of beautiful spacious old houses, boarded up for most of the year.

The rest of the day - after taking the cure for the last time and dropping of gifts to my cure-helpers - was devoted to cleaning the apartment.  They are very strict about that here - tomorrow early in the morning is the Inspection, and then I'll start the long trek home.  Should finally drop into my own bed again at about midnight - it'll be a miracle if I show up at work on time!

City Hall, just opposite my hotel

My hotel - I couldn't possibly stay anywhere else than Les Isles Britanniques now, could I?









Ferns in dry-stone walls I get, but strawberries?

The school where I taught last time



Church




There was a wedding going on - this isn't the grrom, but the photo shows the confetti much better than the one with the lucky couple.  Anyway, I didn't want to invade their privacy ... 


Notice how the moss grows in rows - less underneath the slats of the bench!

The delicatessen I am devoted to


Little place where I often have coffee - if I can stomach it




This is where my sinuses got abused regularly







The casino - yup, there is one in La Bourboule.  Never tried to use it, yet.



Being far from the sea doesn't mean La Bourboule can't have a lighthouse!










The beach cafe is part of the casino