The good, the bad and the ugly of life in rural France

Sunflowers and sunny skies

As we approach our twentieth anniversary of arriving in France, we have experienced the good, the bad and the ugly of rural French life - and all in one week. 

Note - to keep things on a happy note, all the photos in this blog are from our days out enjoying the sunshine.

The Cognac vineyards

The good

Since my last post about the year without a summer, we were treated to almost four continuous days of sunshine and heat, which miraculously coincided with days off work for both of us. It would have been the ideal time to head away, but that wasn’t possible with Mini the dog’s age-related issues – which are to be expected now she is 16 ½. Not ones to waste our days lounging around, we set off on the bikes every afternoon, exploring some hidden gems in the Charente vineyards, and Marais-Poitevin marshes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on our skin. This felt so good after bike rides in the rain, cycling into head winds, or summer commutes cool enough to cause goosepimples and runny noses. There is something quite special about real summer cycling where you learn to appreciate the subtle temperature changes as you ride into the shade of the trees, or follow a cooling river, enjoying the caressing breeze as you move through the air.

 

We drank in the endless vistas of smiling sunflowers, saw young deer sheltering in the vineyards, dusty combine harvesters working the wheat fields, and stopped to admire old lavoirs or wash houses. We fuelled our 235kms of pedalling with patisserie stops where croissants, éclairs (coffee and Grand Marnier) and tartelettes (apple and lemon) were appreciated on shady benches. Summer in rural France is good.

 

Grand Marnier éclair

The bad

Despite getting much less usage than the bikes, the time had come to replace all four tyres on our car. Adrian got a few online quotes before booking an appointment at Feu Vert in Niort, paying up front as requested. We live about an hour’s drive from Niort and as we approached the garage, in plenty of time for our appointment, the phone rang. The line wasn’t good, but I understood enough to realise that the tyres hadn’t been delivered, so they were calling to cancel the appointment to fit them. This was frustrating. They had taken our money four days ago and we’d now committed to a two-hour round trip, to coincide with our days off, and had nothing to show for it. Had we lived closer, we might have been able to save ourselves the wasted journey, but this is one of the downsides to living in rural France. Thankfully, it wasn’t all bad as cancelling the order was straightforward and the full refund arrived within the 48 hours promised. Adrian is now back online, searching and checking availability of four low-profile, all-season tyres.

 

Romanesque church, Charente

The ugly

Heading out and about from the village this last week, the vehicles we have seen more of even than the combine harvesters, have been Gendarme vans, normally a pretty unusual sight around here. There were convoys of them in Niort, heavily manned check points appeared on the way in and out of Chef-Boutonne and the only car that we saw on the quiet backroads heading to the château on Sunday morning, was a Gendarme. The reason for this activity is the controversial construction of mega-bassines or huge water reservoirs, that has put our local area on the global map.

 

The idea behind the reservoirs is that farmers who irrigate their crops build a reservoir, fill it from the rivers over winter, so they won’t run out of water during the drier summer months. Sounds simple, but this causes a massive imbalance for the local ecosystem and water table levels, that affects us all, purely for the benefit of a few farmers who choose to grow water-thirsty (mainly maize) crops. Add to this the huge financial costs to their construction, that are massively funded by the state, along with the responsibility we all have to conserve water, and this has become a highly controversial topic. Greta Thunberg was among the activists visiting the pop-up water village in Melle over the weekend, and she shared the following about the reservoirs on social media:

 

“Construction of mega-basins have accelerated in recent years partly as a result of the climate crisis and more intense and frequent droughts. But this is no way a solution…This only digs us deeper into an already deeply flawed policy-system that benefits big agro-industrial interests representing a small minority of farmers, while ruining the environment and destabilising the climate”.

Cycling the Sèvre Niortais in the Marais Poitevin

 

I am not a fan of the bassines, but when thousands of protestors from all over the world arrive in our quiet corner of France, accompanied by thousands more Gendarmes, riot police and helicopters, the situation quickly got ugly. Whilst many protestors were genuine, there were others who had weapons confiscated, and I can’t help but think of the negative environmental impact of all these extra vehicles on the roads.

 

So as not to finish on an ugly note, something else happened last week that highlights why we are happy with our rural French village life. At the same moment we were about to fill the boot of the car with lots of garden waste to take to the tip eight kilometres away, the village gardener’s truck pulled up outside and Monsieur began to unload the commune’s lawnmower. When he saw what we were doing, he took one side of our loaded groundsheet and with Adrian’s help emptied it into the truck, saving us an afternoon’s work. That is why he will always find a cup of coffee by our front gate when he turns up to mow the patch outside our house in the mornings.

 

Tartlettes au citron et aux pommes

I’m working this week, so I hope summer returns and encourages lots of visitors to enjoy all that the Château de Javarzay has to offer. 

The year without a summer

Arriving at work in the rain, June 2024

Yesterday was the 14th of July, France’s fête nationale, and as I welcomed the morning visitors into the Château de Javarzay (and out of the rain), we were all in agreement, the weather this year is rotten.

 

“It’s more like autumn than summer, I’ve put my coat on to come out today” exclaimed one lady and another agreed, “I thought the weather this spring was bad, but summer is no better so far”.

 

It’s depressing, and the longer the gloom of cloudy days that block out the sunshine hang over us, the lower our moods are slipping. I know the blog has been quiet, aside from the book review tours I’ve signed-up to do, and this ongoing lack of sunlight has certainly played its part.

 

Water restrictions

Way back on 13^th of October, when the sun still shone consistently for days in a row, we were put on water usage restrictions. The water table was at an all-time low and rain (or the lack of it) was on everyone’s lips. As if to prove that she had the upper hand, Mother Nature sent in the rain on 14th of October, and there are some days when it’s hard to remember a week without heavy rainy days, strong winds or storms since then. By Christmas, the water table was at a healthy level, by Easter, it was full to bursting and many local rivers flooded, the water rising to levels not seen in over forty years. There are still waterlogged areas in some of the local fields and the summer sunflower crops are late, the first flowers only just beginning to open.

The level of the Boutonne river, December 2023

 

We are now sun deprived and fatigued by the rapid growth rate of the grass and weeds that have become even more difficult to keep on top of. The cherry crop rotted on the trees. We didn’t bother with a potager as the weeds would have strangled the courgettes and keeping the tomatoes free of blight would have been more stressful than beneficial. It’s not all doom and gloom though, as the figs are of giant proportions and the plum crop is looking great.

Giant figs, July 2024

 

The year without a summer

There have been times when it feels like summer just isn’t going to arrive, but I learned recently of events in 1815 that caused 1816 to be known as “the year without a summer”, and the more I delved into the history books, the more grateful I became for our lives 108 years later.

 

In 1815, one of the deadliest volcanic eruptions recorded, occurred at Mt Tambora in Indonesia. As well as the devastation, death and destruction locally, a sulphur-filled ash cloud formed that caused disruption over part of the United States, Europe and China throughout 1816. This resulted in temperatures being colder than normal and more days recorded that were wet or with heavy cloud cover, than sunshine – something that feels very familiar this year, although we haven’t suffered with the summer frosts or snowfall that also hit them. The effects of this were catastrophic on the wheat, potato and grape harvests in Europe and it couldn’t have occurred at a worse time for France. Following the Napoleonic Wars (1799-1815), France and Europe were already economically struggling, so the poor harvests led to famine and illness, including a typhus epidemic. The death rate in 1816 was ten times higher than the normal average for that time. As is often the case when pushed to our limits, we realise how strong we are, and great things arise from the devastation.

 

The first bicycle

Many horses that families relied on for transport and to work the land had either died of starvation or were eaten to avoid the family starving, which led to Baron Karl von Drais inventing the Velocipede. These two wheeled, steerable, human-propelled machines were patented in 1818 and regarded as the first bicycle. I can’t thank him enough as cycling has certainly helped to keep our spirits up, even if the weather has meant far less longs days out on the bike than usual.

Cycling in the Charente, summer 2024

Frankenstein

Mary Shelley and friends spent the summer of 1816 in Switzerland and instead of relaxing in the sunshine, the weather kept them all indoors, searching for other things to do. The dark days of that summer inspired her to write Frankenstein, that was first published in 1818.

 

Jean-François Cail’s potato grater

I’d like to add another event to this list, that ties in nicely with my life and the museum at the Château de Javarzay. Part of our museum is dedicated to the incredible life of French industrialist Jean-François Cail. He was born in Chef-Boutonne in 1804 and finished school at the age of twelve, as there was no money to pay the fees. Most young men at that time would have become farm labourers, but as he turned twelve in 1816, it is no surprise this wasn’t what he wanted from life. Whilst looking for a metalwork apprenticeship he began making a potato grater, piercing holes in an iron sheet, that he sold at the weekly market. This simple device helped to make a potato flour that could be added to the wheat flour and used to make bread. With the poor wheat and potato crops that summer, anything that could reduce waste and help to put food on the table would have been lifesaving. From his humble beginnings he became a great industrialist, building railway locomotives and infrastructure, as well as modernising agriculture and running sugar refineries all over the world. Knowing what I now know about the year of no summer, I like to think he was more than a little bit influenced by this event.

Jean-François Cail museum, Château de Javarzay

 

While I’m totally fed up with our lack of summer, at least we haven’t had to endure the hardships of those living through 1815 and 1816.

You can read more about the Château de Javarzay in these posts here:

My five top tips for a visit

The stonework

Mysterious markings

Goodbye June, hello July: summer in France

June hollyhocks in the garden

I’ve always liked June. It is a transitional month that promises so much; spring becomes summer, the days are long and evenings lazy, and there is a sense of pre-holiday mood all around. Normally, the weather is neither too hot nor too cold, although this year proved to be an exception. Now it’s over, I’d go so far as to say I’m glad to see the back of what has been a demanding month, with lots to challenge our routine. 

Sarlat, Dordogne

 

The month of May ended on a high with a four-day holiday in Sarlat, in the Dordogne, cycling, eating and seeing the sights. Covid-19 then reared its head and got a bit closer to home than was comfortable. Adrian’s Mum, in the UK, tested positive and was rapidly put on the new antiviral medication and monitored daily by a team of specialist nurses from her local hospital. Whilst it was worrying she had the virus, the care she received was incredibly reassuring for us and I’m pleased to say, she made a superb recovery. Here in the Deux-Sèvres, Pearl’s parents also tested positive, meaning Ed and Pearl were contact cases and we had to make the tough call to cancel a planned weekend with them. Thankfully they escaped, which was just as well as all this happened within a week of Ed’s planned wisdom teeth extraction. My poor baby had to have all four taken out, under general anaesthetic, in one morning, but thanks to an excellent selection of drugs, was remarkably chatty by the evening. My parents in the UK were also contact cases for Covid-19, but miraculously stayed clear, then my boss at the chateau tested positive. In all the time since the pandemic began, I’ve never known as many people Covid-positive, as in June. It was a timely reminder that it hasn’t gone away despite the vaccination programme and the relaxing of rules and mask-wearing requirements. 

The church in Aubigné

 

The weather in June was a real challenge, swinging from an officially categorised heatwave, that resulted in weather warnings severe enough to cancel indoor and outdoor public events, to storms that wreaked havoc. The local village of Aubigné, which had one of the prettiest churches in the area, was struck by lightning. The resulting fire felled the spire and caused major damage to the steeple. The local news was full of articles about storm and hail damage to houses and cars, as well as sunflower fields in the Charente and vineyards in Cognac and Bordeaux that were flattened by hail the size of tennis balls. Many areas around Angoulême suffered flooding from rain that once it started to fall, seemed never to stop. 

 

The thermometer has fluctuated from crazy highs of 39°c to lows of just 7°c, resulting in bike rides that have been hot and sweaty or so cold my nose hasn’t stopped running and my fingers have turned a deathly white from the Reynaud’s that normally only hits over winter. Some days at work I’ve been wrapped up in three layers, glad I’d packed my emergency vest, other days I’ve walked barefoot on the cool flagstone floors while the rooms at the top of the tower have been a stifling 46°c. 

 

If this isn’t a wake-up call to climate change and the damage we are doing to the planet, I don’t know what will make people take note and act. 

 

We tried our best throughout the madness of the weather to stick to our rule of only using the car for journeys over ten kilometres, but flooded roads and rumbling storms forced me into the car twice, which did nothing to improve my mood. 

July sunflowers and a return of the blue skies

 

July has begun with a promising start, in that there was no sound of pouring rain to accompany my first waking moments on Friday. However, at only 10°c it was a chilly cycle to the chateau for work and I abandoned my summer dress for jeans and a jumper. The Tour de France is now underway and this year we get a full month of the best of French road racing, three weeks for the men’s tour followed by one for the inaugural women’s tour, and I can’t wait. We will also have the excitement of Le Tour 79, our local professional cycling stage race, coming through our village before the final stage finishes in Chef-Boutonne. July will also see a return to village summer outdoor events, many that haven’t taken place for the last two years. Covid-19 numbers are rising here though, and masks are once again being advised, so I can only hope that the weather and the virus allow these planned events to go ahead. 

The July edition of The Deux-Sèvres Monthly

 

The blog might have been a bit quiet recently, but in the July edition of the Deux-Sèvres Monthly magazine (that you can read online here) you will find my top five tips for enjoying a visit to the Chateau de Javarzay, as well as my usual five-hundred-word column.

 

I’m also delighted to share that I’m one of the writers who has a short story published in an anthology that is available now on Amazon. I’ve Got Something MORE to Say: Transition, by Women’s Voices Southwest France, is a collection of short stories, poems and art from 45 women, on the theme of transition. You can read more about this inspiring group of women in this excellent blog by local author Harriet Springbett, who was at the launch party last weekend. Much as I would have loved to be there, work at the chateau would have meant making the ten-hour return drive in a day, and I’d rather have taken my time and gone by bike. 

 

Here’s wishing you a fantastic July, we all deserve one and I hope France will feature somewhere in your plans, even if it is just watching some stages of Le Tour de France on TV, or escaping to France in the pages of a book. Here are some links to my last book reviews if you need any inspiration:

Summer at the French Café

The Italian Job (it’s over the border but it is set in a chateau)

The French for Murder

Daisy’s French Farmhouse

Five Dead Men

  

Feeling awesome on my bike

Along the Thames with London skyline in the background

Hey Britain, you don’t need Brexit to distance yourself from the EU, take it from me, your overnight road closures for Smart Motorway upgrades are doing a pretty effective job of blocking the access to your major ports. After a return trip using Dover and Portsmouth, to say I’m sick of the sight of road cones is an understatement and the only journey I enjoyed in the ten days was our adventure into London; two days, one night and 107kms – by bike.

The safe cycle way over Blackfriars Bridge in London

With river towpaths, Quiet Ways and Cycle Super Highways, cycling in London is exhilarating, far easier than I expected and much cheaper than taking the train or the car. Having commuted the 50kms from Woking to London by train for many years, making the journey by bike was awesome. I saw places and buildings up close that I’d only ever seen whiz by through a train window, as well as discovering new corners of London and rediscovering old haunts from my working years there. Making the journey by bike was something I never dreamed I’d ever do but is now up there on my top bike experiences to date.

The irony is that after years of disruptions and millions of pounds invested in upgrading to Smart Motorways (that I’m sure by the time the last stretch is finished the first areas to be completed will be out of date) traffic congestion will still be an issue. The only way to relieve the roads of cars is to make the alternatives more appealing. While many cycleways are well marked and safe, many more are on narrow roads with huge potholes and dangerous drain covers that force the cyclist to weave around them. This is where the investment needs to happen, not on roads exclusively for cars and lorries.

Along the Thames in London

Sitting in my elevated window seat enjoying breakfast in London and keeping out of the way of the rush hour, it was obvious commuting by bike is popular for both men and women. As Adrian regularly commutes by bike all over the UK, I needed no convincing, but this is a fact that is worth sharing. You can be female, work in an office and arrive by bike.

With the catastrophic bush fires and soaring temperatures in Australia and the extreme rainfall and flooding in parts of France, climate change must now become something we all consider when making our daily choices. It must not just be an item on a political agenda, it is real life and we can all make a difference if we try.

I do appreciate cycling isn’t for everyone, but aiming to make less car journeys, by combining tasks in town with shopping, or car sharing with friends will also help. I’d also like to point out age shouldn’t be an issue as my neighbour Pierrette will soon celebrate her 80^th birthday, had a hip replacement last year, but still rides her bike every week and Robert Marchand, who we met whilst cycling in the Ardeche a few years ago, is still riding his bike, and setting records, despite being a mere 108 years old. Awesome!

I’m making 2020 my year of being Awesome and I’d love you to join me. Take it from me, one journey by bike instead of by car will mean you are awesome too.

 

Thanks to the Pimlico Plumbers for their Bollocks to Brexit slogan