The magic of words

A colourful hello from France

I am sorry I have neglected you this year, the often-unseen faces who take your time to read my words. To ghost you with my silence was unforgivable, as was losing sight of the fact that you might need a smile or a hug from France to brighten your day.

A recent chance meeting at work has made me realise that this blog was so much more than just my words and waffle.

“You’re the lady who writes the blog that kept me sane during lockdown” 

Uttered by a stranger as she walked into the Château de Javarzay this September, and wow, what an opening sentence that was. As is so often the way, the universe had aligned to ensure her unannounced visit to the museum I so often talk about here, fell on a day I was working.

Thanks to my daily blogs, written over five years ago, she knew all about me, our family life and how we’d spent those weird months of lockdown. From day one it had felt important to record our time during those extraordinary months, but I had little idea of the importance they would have on those who were looking in from their own topsy turvy lives. I still don’t even know this lady’s name, but she did share some of her lockdown story with me this week. Hers was so far removed from the blissful family bubble we emersed ourselves in, so to learn that my diary helped her through a traumatic time was humbling and I shall treasure her words forever. Her visit has inspired me to open a fresh notebook, pick up my trusted pen and let the words flow once more. 

Finding the time to write is now more of an issue for me than it’s ever been, as life has changed direction again. When I began blogging, over eighteen years ago, it was my way of remembering those early years of our family adventure in France. I was a stay-at-home mum, with a husband who worked away from home, and even with a vegetable garden, orchard and a small menagerie of chickens and ducks, there were many lonely hours when Ed was at school or tucked up in bed of an evening. Blogging filled the gap, giving me somewhere to release my thoughts, and putting a humorous spin on things that hadn’t gone to plan became like a kind of therapy. Connecting with readers all over the world as I shared our life was an unexpected bonus.

Since March of this year, I have been working at both the château and the library in Chef-Boutonne, a dream combination of roles that I still have to pinch myself to believe is true. However, with no two weeks being the same, life can feel a little crazy sometimes with no routine to follow. It is a great memory exercise for my brain though; what day is it? Where am I working today? What time do I start and what time do I finish? So far, so good – I’ve always arrived at the right place for the right time. In an almost complete role reversal of our early years in France, it is now Adrian who is spending more time home alone than I do. This has been a huge learning curve for him, especially this autumn where he has mastered the art of preparing windfall apples for the freezer, ensuring our winter breakfasts will be just as delicious as our summer ones. I’ll even admit that his method is much more efficient than mine, although it does produce more washing up.

Today, as I celebrate my 54^th birthday (if I say that quickly it doesn’t have time to register how old I am), it seems the perfect opportunity to hit publish on this blog once more and to say thank you for reading. I will be back soon, sharing some of our camping mini adventures from this summer. 

Jacqui

La vie est Belle

A bike ride along the river Belle, Deux-Sèvres

La Vie est Belle

 

September, how could you, my birth month, have been so disappointing weatherwise this year? I have vivid memories of September 2004, our first full month in France, where temperatures regularly topped 30º, breakfasts, lunches and dinners were eaten outside, and it seemed summers in France would go on forever.

Looking back on twenty years of photos, sunny days, hot bike rides, touristy days out under blue skies, and sultry vistas of our orchard looking crisp and dry at the end of the season are far more common than the low-hung grey skies, vivid greens of soggy water-logged land and the stormy days you have showered on us this year.

Had we been blessed with a summer of endless sunny days a moist September might have come as a welcome relief. As it was, summer had hardly seemed to get going as August drew to a close, and I was eagerly anticipating a September where foggy mornings gave way to hot afternoons, where despite the shortening of the days, evenings were still warm enough to be outdoor events. The disappointment of a September that has been so far from my expectations has been hard to accept.

Terra Aventura parcours, Exireuil, Deux-Sèvres

As October arrives, so does the ominous date of the 14^th, marking exactly one year since the weather turned, becoming wet and unsettled following a gorgeous six-week period of late summer heat. This year, I think I’d be hard pushed to count six decent, hot days in the last six weeks, but I do know we have made the most of them, often following the routes and answering the questions on the Terra Aventura geocaching app. This has seen us clambering over boulders in the river gorge, as we explored les puits d’enfer (hell’s wells) in Exireuil, alongside the military town of Saint-Maixent-l’Ecole in the Deux-Sèvres, as well as discovering hidden gems in Civray and Charroux in the Vienne.

A September sunset ride

The Bromptons continue to be our faithful companions, whether to and from work, enjoying rarely glimpsed sunsets after work, or the glowing autumnal colours of Chef-Boutonne on market day. We also discovered the Belle valley, less than thirty kilometres from home, where lavoirs, lost lanes and fairy bridges hidden in the trees reminded us that la vie est belle, life is beautiful (whatever the weather).

Sunshine in Charmé, Charente

I have yet to cycle my traditional 100km in a day birthday bike ride, something I have been doing since September 2015, although we did manage a fabulous 93km on the 20^th September. Our route took us through the Charente vineyards ripe with fruit, past Romanesque churches, lavoirs and fields of sunflowers with drooping seed heads, awaiting harvest. In Mansle, on the banks of the Charente River, we enjoyed a coup de soleil from a local patisserie. This new to us delight had a base of an apricot clafoutis with a lightly whipped topping of crème patisserie and Chantilly cream and was a real burst of sunshine in our mouths. Sadly, with storm clouds and thunder rolling in around us, we didn’t risk adding on the required seven kilometres to hit the 100. Ten days later and it seems the stormy showers and high winds, although interspersed with sunny spells, are still with us. I’ve had enough. Like the lizards I watch soaking up the heat on the steps of the château, I need to recharge my solar panels before winter arrives.

I can only hope that October gives us some respite from the cold and damp before winter truly sets in. 

  

Fit into 50

Cycling the Cognac vineyards

It’s the little things

I know many of you have only ‘met’ me through my words here, but it is fair to say that at 155cm (5ft 2) and 47 kgs (seven and a half stone), ‘little’ sums me up quite nicely, so as I celebrate my fiftieth birthday, I thought a list of 50 little things I am thankful for would be a good idea, and something I can look back on in the years to come.

 

I started making the list and after the first ten, my ideas slowed down, until I stumbled on the word courage. I don’t generally think of myself as a brave person. I can’t sleep during a thunderstorm (unlike Adrian) and if it’s forecast to bring strong gale force winds with it, I’m a wreck. However, it soon became apparent that most of the little things I’m thankful for have occurred because I’ve had the courage to step out of my comfort zone and choose a different, and often difficult path. 

 

Long before we moved to France as a family, I’d had the courage to realise the relationship I’d been in for seven years wasn’t one that was going make either of us happy in the long run. The easy option would have been to stay and see what happened, the brave one was what I chose, to go my separate way and risk everything on a feeling that my friend Adrian could offer me happiness. A year later we were married.

 

It was another brave move to leave the UK and our family behind, when Ed was only three years old, and start again in France, where we knew no one and only had a basic grasp of the language. With Adrian working away a lot of the time, I had to be brave and take myself out of the house, creating a life for me outside of being wife and mother. Stepping out of my comfort zone and saying yes to new things opened so many doors and took courage I didn’t realise I had. In our first few years in France, as well as helping out at Ed’s school, I’d become involved in the village monthly magazine, even though the meetings with rapid fire French were incomprehensible to begin with. Then I agreed to help out at the village library, which ultimately, many years later, led to me getting paid to work at the Chef-Boutonne library on two maternity replacement contracts. Becoming known in the village also led to me being asked to stand for election onto the local council, and get elected in 2014, for a six-year term, that if Brexit hadn’t have happened, might well have been extended for another six years.

 

Starting a blog about our life here in France and putting everything out there for anyone in the world to read, took courage (or madness), but again it is something positive that has given me so much. Not only has it led to new experiences that have boosted my confidence, like writing for a monthly magazine, but it’s also helped me to connect with some lovely people, from every continent. 

 

Before and after cycling became my thing

Having the courage to get on my first ever drop handle-bar road bike, aged thirty-nine (and three quarters), was terrifying, but ultimately led to a love of cycling and cycle touring, so that I now can’t imagine not owning a bike. I might never have natural grace or balance on a bike, but that doesn’t stop me turning the pedals and following on behind Adrian, whether we are cycling into town, touring around France or climbing mountains in the Pyrenees. The fact that I’ve also managed to encourage others to use their bikes is something I’m really proud of.

 

The French word for ‘courage’ is courage, but the French for ‘good luck’ is bon courage, which I think is actually pretty accurate. I’ve been so lucky in so many ways; to marry a good man, for our family to live a fantastic life in France and to have the health and fitness to cycle over 100km in a day, or climb mountains on my bike, but it’s taken many courageous steps to get to where I am today. As I pour a glass of champagne to celebrate my birthday, I see now that I’m braver than I thought.

 

We all need a reminder every so often of how brave we’ve been and how strong we really are. It is all too easy for our heads to get lost in the myriad of stuff we’ve messed up, or that we’ve not managed to achieve or that is on a wish list for the future. Not every success needs to be a huge one, or one that reaps financial reward; it’s the little things that make us (and those around us) smile that need to be celebrated.

 

My twenties were when I met and married Adrian, and Ed arrived in our lives.

 

My thirties were when we moved to France and I began to shed those excess kilos that had always been with me.

 

My forties were when I really discovered cycling and fitness.

 

As I ‘Fit into 50’ bien dans ma peau (to be comfortable in my skin), I’m ready to embrace whatever adventures my fifties have to offer.

 

Celebrating a second birthday in confinement

At his desk, on his birthday

We are now three weeks into our four-week confinement and according to the Prime Minister, Jean Castex, who spoke last Thursday, all being well by 3^rd May our ten-kilometre restrictions will be lifted, although our 19h curfew will remain. This was just the good news Adrian needed to hear as he ‘celebrated’ his second birthday in lockdown. 

 

A birthday bike ride

Last year, when lockdown meant lockdown and life and work were on hold, his 50^th birthday involved a virtual cycle challenge, a few friends shouting greetings through the garden gate and a sparkly candle from the boulangerie, my feeble attempt to hide the disastrous topping on the carrot cake I’d baked. Thankfully things were a bit different this year, and although we had to squeeze our real bike ride in between work and curfew, we weren’t restricted to only being out for one hour, one kilometre from home, and the sun shone down on our 23km ride through the vineyards. 

Birthday cakes and drinks in the sun

 

This year, I wisely left Ed in charge of the birthday cake and his chocolate fondant cake was delicious, plus there was enough left to share with friends the following day. If reaching 51 was not enough of a reason to open a bottle of bubbles, the fact that our post-Brexit residence permits also arrived on his birthday, certainly was. 

 

On this day last year, we had reached day forty of confinement, a significant number held in esteem in many cultures and religions as a period of trial, transformation or purification. I certainly wasn’t expecting to still be coping with Covid-19 confinement one year on, but with just this final week to go, and the peace of mind from having our new residence permits in our possession, I’m hopeful we can look forward to brighter days ahead. 

 

Another birthday, another milestone

The birthday girl in the frame

My stomach and head are a whirl of emotions at the moment. It would seem that although I am fitter and (hopefully) healthier than I have ever been, and certainly weigh in at the lightest I’ve been as an adult, time doesn’t stand still. Yesterday I celebrated my 49^th birthday and I’m hoping there will be a long, slow twelve months ahead of me before I find myself crashing into the big five-o. 

 

For an unremarkable mid-week day in mid-September, it turned out to be a pretty momentous day. Ed had been home since Saturday, so it was a real bonus to have all of us together on my birthday, that falls at a time of year when activities normally resume after the summer holidays and we are rarely all in the same place. If the best gift a Mum can ask for is a happy, confident child young adult, making his own way in the world, then I got my wish. Yesterday, for the first time, Ed packed his bags, loaded them into his car, gave us both a hug and kiss, and drove off to Poitiers university, alone. No more am I needed for school runs, after-school activity taxi services, or uni drop offs, although I do still hold the franchise on his laundry service. It is now very much up to him how often he comes home and how long he stays for. As much as it is marvellous to see him become his own person, I can’t lie, it felt rather strange to watch him drive away. The house seemed unusually quiet for the first ten minutes or so as Adrian and I both tried to look busy (on Facebook) as we wondered what to do for the rest of my birthday, and indeed, the rest of our lives.

 

Birthday flan in Niort

It didn’t take too long before a bike route had been planned and we set off to our start point in Prahecq, knowing that as Niort town centre was our destination, a patisserie stop should soothe our emotions and refuel us on the mid-point of the thirty kilometre bike ride. We have now cycled (in stages) all 75kms of a brand new cycleway, the V93 that runs close to home as it makes its way through the southern part of the Deux-Sèvres. In Niort it joins the Vélo-Francette that runs from the coast in Normandy to La Rochelle and from the Deux-Sèvres/Charente boarder it heads east towards Limoges. Our plan now is to follow it across the Charente and on towards the Haute-Vienne.

 

Sharing the courgette love

Yesterday evening we dined with some of our fantastic friends, who not only put up with our quirky cycling addiction but came up with some amazing birthday gifts too. From the courgette cushion that could only have been designed with me in mind, to the wine glasses that left me speechless and the delicate handmade key ring that has been added to the collection on my bike, I was truly spoiled. 

My new golden leaf key ring

Yes, I do know the key rings add weight to the bike, and tinkle and clink as I cycle along, but I don’t care.

 

An original birthday gift

When one friend realised there wasn’t much available in Brompton-themed gift ideas, she only went and hand etched a detailed Brompton bicycle onto four wine glasses, just for me. I am overwhelmed to be surrounded by such talented and great friends. They even managed to raise my spirits with fun, laughter and fine food, so I almost forgot Ed’s departure earlier in the day.

 

Next year’s birthday will have to be quite extraordinary to even get close to this year.

Conquering Mont Ventoux

Mont Ventoux by Brompton #KTTinyTourer

Two weeks ago, I achieved something epic, something that put me way out of my comfort zone and something that six years ago I would not even have considered attempting. I cycled up Mont Ventoux, the Beast of Provence; a barren, rocky mountain summit, almost 2000m above sea level where little grows. A cyclist’s dream ascent (or nightmare), home to many Tour de France winning highs, but also lows, notably the death of Tom Simpson, one kilometre from the top, in July 1967.

 

We had arrived in Montbrun-les-Bains on Wednesday afternoon, for the second part of our South of France, post-confinement getaway, and a quick check on the weather forecast told us that Thursday morning would be our best chance of kind weather to attempt Mont Ventoux.

 

This had been Adrian’s dream since early 2014, when the plan had been to spend some time in the area on our Mini Cooper road trip, with Adrian hiring a road bike from Sault and cycling to the top of the mountain. I would provide the back-up, food stops and water refills from the comfort of Gizmo, the Mini. It never even entered our heads to think of parking up Gizmo for the day, hiring two bikes and cycling up together. My fitness at that time would have made it impossible. Gizmo breaking down on day two of our road trip, meant it was impossible for Adrian that year too.

 

In 2017 he planned once more to give it a go. There is something about Mont Ventoux that when it takes hold, its grip is difficult to shake off. Once again, he never even made it to the start point, having crashed off his bike in the Ardeche, damaging his shoulder. There was a small part of my head that felt someone was trying to warn us away from this particular cycling challenge and the best thing to do would be to forget all about it. Then earlier this year I found myself thinking, what if we give it one more go, to celebrate his 50^th birthday and this time do it together? Everything seemed to be in alignment this time. Cycling has become a regular part of our lives, winter and summer, meaning we are both much fitter now than either of us were six years ago. His Mum gave me her blessing, even agreeing to come over and dog sit while we were away and the cherry on the top was discovering that due to road works at the summit, the road would be closed to motor traffic all this year. Then Covid-19 burst into our lives and all plans were on hold.

 

Adrian celebrated his 50^th during lockdown with a virtual ascent of Mont Ventoux on his turbo trainer in the garden, but it didn’t quite quench his thirst. A quick look on the map of France when planning our route to and from Lou Messugo on the Côte d’Azur, showed us that Mont Ventoux was once more a possibility. Something even more poignant was that our last conversation with our nephew Ben before he died, was about cycling up Mont Ventoux. This time it seemed the mountain was ready for us.

Mont Ventoux in the distance from Montbrun-les-Bains

 

The closer we got to Mont Ventoux on the drive in, the bigger and more intimidating the landscape looked, despite a pleasing, softening blush of lavender in its first days of flower all around us. The enormity of Mont Ventoux and our plans to attempt to climb it really hit home, right in the pit of my stomach. I could taste and feel my fear. A quick text to fellow blogger Julie, from Vauclause Dreamer, who has conquered Ventoux on her bike many times, helped to calm my nerves. Her advice was to take it slowly, don’t rush it, stop when I wanted to and enjoy the ride. I’m not sure I’d ever considered the possibility of enjoying it until I read her text, but it worked.

 

The climb from Sault is twenty-eight kilometres, but we were staying twelve kilometres from Sault and not wanting to use the car unnecessarily, at 8.30am I found myself cycling (uphill) towards a morning coffee stop in Sault where the top of Mont Ventoux looked a long way away. 

 

By the time we set off a steely determination had taken the place of the fear, especially as we were doing this For Ben, clocking up the kilometres on our virtual cycling challenge to get our teams the 7500kms from Loughborough to Istanbul and back. Our Mont Ventoux kilometres would be special ones as today would also be the day that the fundraiser hit its £30,000 target.

 

Lavender fields leaving Sault

I don’t remember every twist and turn in the road, but I do remember cycling through fields of lavender, the sun warming us as we slowly began the climb. The fields were then replaced with pine forest and steeper corners where cyclists who had already been up were sweeping down towards the sunnier planes. There were other cyclists with us, some who overtook us, some who we overtook. Some were friendly, some ignored us with our odd looking small wheeled bikes. Those who did speak, wanted confirmation that they were electric assist, which they are not – if only we had a euro for every time that was asked.

Tom Simpson memorial Mont Ventoux

 

At Chalet Reynard we feasted on coffee and snacks, the stark rocky mountain looking fierce from the bend in the road where the café is safely situated. The final six kilometres are the hardest, but I was ready. Slow and steady I plodded on, turning the pedals rhythmically and steadily. Some were out of their saddles, rocking from side to side with the effort, not me, I just sat and concentrated on safely getting to the top. I even managed to smile for some of the professional photographers who sit in wait to snap you at your lowest point, and although many overtook me, surprisingly there were some who I overtook too. We stopped, as is the custom, at the Tom Simpson memorial, my legs shaking with the effort to stand, the last kilometre looking to be the longest yet. The view is harsh here, with no contrast from left to right, just stark rock all around, and the only thing to do is keep looking forward and turning the pedals, each turn a little closer to the top.

Top of Mont Ventoux

 

Rounding the last bend and joining the throng of weary cyclists at the top was quite a strange feeling. I’d done it. I hadn’t had to get off and walk and my legs no longer felt like jelly as they had only a kilometre ago. My breathing wasn’t dry and ragged like I’d thought, I didn’t even need to sit down. I was smiling and elated as I stood proudly at the sign for my victory photo. Mont Ventoux was conquerable and we’d done it, in Adrian’s 50^th year and #ForBen.

Together and smiling as we cycle up Mont Ventoux

Diary of Covid-19 confinement, day thirty-seven

Happy 50th Birthday! 

Day thirty-seven, 22^nd April 2020

A lockdown birthday

Eek – I’m married to a 50-year-old! Happy birthday Adrian and congratulations for cycling up Mont Ventoux this morning, even if it was only virtually. 

Jersey in hommage to Tom Simpson

The weather was so nice today that he relocated his bike and technical bits from the indoor pain cave to the garden, ready for a ten o’clock start. It wasn’t quite the same as having the wind in your face as you cycle along, but it was much better than being stuck inside. I might have done nothing more than cheer him along, but that didn’t stop me from indulging in a morning croissant when he stopped for a coffee break.

Rouvy virtual Mont Ventoux

A respectable time of two hours saw him crossing the finish line at the top of Mont Ventoux, which is similar to his estimated timings for doing it for real. A glass of Ventoux red wine went down very well with lunch followed by a slice of homemade birthday cake. After yesterday’s disaster with the topping I think I pulled it back from the brink with the inspired idea of using a thick layer of marmalade to glaze, topped off perfectly with a sparkly candle from the boulangerie. We even Facetimed his mum so she could watch him light the candle and see the sparks fly.

It might not have been quite the birthday celebrations we’d planned, but the sun was out, we had a few distance-respecting visitors at the gate, and I don’t think it’s a birthday we will forget in a hurry. 

If you have celebrated a birthday in lockdown, how have you made it special?

22nd April 2016 - birthday boy in a beer cave

April holiday memory 

22^nd April 2016 on our Sarthe à vélo tour, we had cycled from Le Mans to the north of the department where the rain found us, but on our damp arrival in St Leonard des Bois, we found a beer shop - it was the only shop in town and all it sold was beer. What more could you ask for on your birthday than a huge selection of beers to choose from at the end of a day on your bike, enjoyed in a cosy hotel room, following a delicious meal in a domaine, and with me by your side?

Lazy Sunday in France, Ed's 18th birthday

The birthday boy

The last time I posted a Lazy Sunday in France post, it was September and my birthday. I can’t believe how quickly the last five weeks have gone, now it’s October and we’ve celebrated Ed’s birthday too. In fact, I can’t believe where the last 18 years have gone, but here are a few pictures from Ed’s 18^thbirthday bash on Friday night. Happy Birthday Ed. 

Birthday beer

Things to include for a French village style 18^thbirthday celebration:

Food and drink – it was in the bar, so there was no risk of us running out of drink and they put together a tasty selection of apero nibbles too.

The speech

Embarrassing photos and speech – well, it wouldn’t be a Brown event without a slide show presentation and what better way to mark 18 years than lots of cute baby photos, funny dressing-up photos, the annual back to school pictures and plenty of cool guitar pictures too. Also important were a few words from Mum and Dad about how proud we are, valiantly read out in French by Adrian, to the awe (and amusement of our French friends).

Music

Music – I’m guessing not everyone is the entertainment for their own birthday party, but with a bit of help from Adrian, and a lively karaoke session too, we certainly had good music.

The cake

Cake with candles – expertly made by me and decorated by Adrian. This shot really does show it in its best light.

Karaoke

Friends – oh yes! The translation of the name of our village bar is ‘between mates’ and we were lucky to gather together some good friends from the village to help us celebrate, many of whom have watched Ed grow up over the last fourteen years.

As we said on Friday, whatever you do in the future Ed, and wherever life takes you, we hope that you won’t be afraid of taking risks, that you’ll be happy and that you will never forget growing up in our quirky little French village.

Photos thanks to village photographer Martin O’Neill, always out and about with his camera slung over his shoulder, but equally happy to do family photo shoots in his studio and host photography workshops from his gîte. For more information see his website here.

Lazy Sunday in France, Poitiers

Ed was home for the weekend, so we decided to combine taking him back to uni with a day out in Poitiers. Morning coffee, a picnic in Blossac park and a tasty sweet treat, all with blue sky and sunshine was just perfect for a Lazy Sunday in France and I really can't think of a nicer way to have spent my 47th birthday. 

Morning coffee, Place du Maréchal-Leclerc, Poitiers

Sunny morning in Poitiers 

With Ed, Parc de Blossac, Poitiers

Parc de Blossac, Poitiers

Quirky ducks, Parc de Blossac, Poitiers

Sitting by the fountain, Parc de Blossac, Poitiers

A birthday Broyé du Poitou

46 and feeling fabulous

At the end of the Tour de Rêves

Well, it has been quite a week and if you can't toot your own trumpet on your birthday, then when can you?

This time last week we were just finishing off our six-day cycling challenge that had seen us complete a figure of eight, 437km route around the Deux-Sèvres department of France. 

Tour de Rêves, day 6, rain again

We had rain on four of the six days, head winds no matter what direction we were headed in, a bit of sunshine and with quite a bit of hill climbing it was certainly a challenge. However, it was also great fun thanks to the support we received, by the bucket load. If you would like to donate to the children's make a wish association Rêve, you can do so here, thank you.

Early birthday lunch with café gourmand in La Rochelle

While we were away cycling Adrian's Mum was holding the fort at home (and by this I mean conquering my ironing mountain, among other things) and although sad to say goodbye to her on Tuesday, I was happy she chose to fly from La Rochelle as Adrian treated me to lunch, with a café gourmand dessert. I need a La Rochelle fix every now and then, just wandering around makes me feel a little tingly inside. It also felt quite indulgent starting my birthday celebrations four days early.

L'Hermione in Rochefort

Not only did I get lunch in La Rochelle, I also got an afternoon in Rochefort where we saw L'Hermione, the replica of an 18th century French frigate (built to defeat the British) that was launched in 2015 when she sailed across the Atlantic to commemorate her predecessor's voyage to aid the American War of Independence in 1780.

Swallows ready to fly south

Nature has also put on quite a show for my birthday week, every morning the village has been decorated with hundreds of swallows, perched on the phone and power lines like bunting. It's always sad to see them go, but an incredible sight to see too.

Handmade birthday gifts from the sewing club ladies

Friday was sewing club day and I was spoiled with handmade gifts including a zero calorie (crocheted) cupcake, some not so zero calorie homemade fudge, warm hand knitted socks and homemade walnut wine.

Birthday gift

We have a tradition in our family - a birthday is not a birthday without some tinned fish and you might note most of my other gifts had a food theme too.

Birthday breakfast

While we are talking about food, a croissant from the boulangerie, a pear from the orchard and some homemade quince jelly, served with a coffee and dark chocolate. This was the perfect start to my special day.

New exercise clothes

Those of you who knew me in my youth would probably not have thought exercise clothes or six day bike rides would form any part of my future, let alone feature at my 46th birthday. Well, if I'm honest, neither did I, but I'm glad they did. The rest of the day will also involve cycling, beer, Cremant d'Alsace (think Champagne) and homemade pizza - bring it on!

Cheers! To your good health.