Advent Day Twenty-three, seeing the light

Christmas lights

Advent Day Twenty-three

Seeing the light

Light is important at this time of year, and with the solstice this week, we (in the northern hemisphere) can celebrate those precious extra minutes of daylight each day. In the nativity, it was a bright light that announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds and even with the energy crisis, Christmas lights are popping up everywhere. These can be anything from a simple advent candle to a house and garden flashing away and visible from space. In the last few weeks, my Mum has attended a couple of Light up a Life services where candles have been lit to remember loved ones who have died this year.

 

A December rainbow

Our region of France has a small number of unusual historical features called lanternes des morts. These lanterns are tall, thin needles of stone with a cross and an opening at the top, that date from the 11^th to 13^th centuries. Traditionally found in cemeteries, they were lit when someone died and are thought to have helped guide the soul to its final place of rest. Many were destroyed during the Revolution and others were lost when the original cemeteries they were constructed in were moved to larger plots further out of town, meaning those still in existence are quite rare. There is one in a cemetery in Poitiers that when we drove past it this week, I noticed was lit. As there is still quite a lot unknown about them, I find them fascinating and will always try to detour a bike ride to visit one.

 

La Souterraine Lanterne des Morts

This year we have also seen the one in La Souterraine, in the Creuse and Sarlat, in the Dordogne. In La Souterraine, the lantern is fairly typical, with a hexagonal column, topped by a pyramid and a cross and set in the centre of the cemetery, although it’s only been in this location since 1850.

Sarlat Lanterne des Morts

 

The one in Sarlat differs to most of the others we have come across as it has a domed roof, typical of the Perigordian church turrets, and is much larger and more rounded. It is said to have been built to commemorate the miracle of Saint Bernard de Clairvaux and the healing loaves. Returning from the crusades, according to the legend, St Bernard passed through Sarlat and blessed bread that went on to cure the sick or injured who ate it. It is certainly worth a visit if you are in Sarlat.

 

I’ve had a lightbulb moment this week and am now convinced that not only do I feel better and sleep better if I’ve been out on the bike, but that there is also a direct correlation between pedalling and my brain’s ability to remember things. Basically, for every day without a bike ride, my brain cells are dying off - eek!

 

On this day in 1888 Vincent Van Gogh cut off his left ear. Was it madness or because of an argument with Paul Gauguin? Or maybe it was the stress of Christmas that drove him to it, or simply the fact that he hadn’t been out on his bike. 

Challenges and milestones

Sometimes it's difficult to keep going

Looking back to the pre-pandemic glory days of 2019, I note that ‘challenge’ was the word I used to describe the year. If only I’d known what was just around the corner, as 2020 has certainly been the year of challenges so far. Some were expected, like the ones I set myself on the bike, some were not. Covid-19 rocking up and locking us all down, and the knock-on effects hampering Adrian’s ability to travel and work, were not what I expected, but then neither was losing our nephew Ben to suicide, and the huge hole that he has left in our family. 

 

There are some days when I still struggle to fully comprehend where we are now, and I find it quite difficult to think about what lies ahead. Which might explain the lack of recent blog posts. I’m not sure that the three of us have grieved properly for Ben yet, and not being able to spend time together with our family in the UK (many of whom are vulnerable and still self-isolating) hasn’t helped.

 

Cycling #ForBen Team Kharma

During lockdown it looked unlikely that I’d see any of my cycling challenges come to fruition, but as restrictions were lifted, we realised that in this extraordinary year, we owed it to ourselves to seize every opportunity that came our way. Cycling has given us the focus and motivation to keep going, and that started with us taking part in the virtual cycling challenge From Loughborough to Istanbul; For Ben. Being just a small part in this amazing event, which has raised over £30,000 for charities working to prevent suicide in young people, was very humbling but also a great help.

 

Triumph at climbing my first Col, on the Côte d'Azur

The challenges I set myself this year were in two sets of twenty. The first being to ride in twenty different French departments (states/counties), and as August draws to a close, I've managed a respectable thirteen. 

The other twenty was made up of:

Climbing five mountain cols (passes).

Five consecutive days cycling over 50 km a day. 

Five 100 km in a day.

Five shopping trips using the bike instead of the car.

 

Conquering the Cols in the Pyrenees

Living somewhere flat meant the cols were conquered whilst on holiday in Provence and the Pyrenees, and earlier this month I smashed my target having climbed thirteen cols and got to the top of Mont Ventoux. 

 

August has been a month of milestones. Last week I clocked up a pretty impressive 418 km, making it the furthest distance I’ve cycled in a week this year, as well as completing my five consecutive days cycling over 50 km, and the second of my 100 km in a day. 

 

This August I have also beaten the 2019 mile (3250 km) target I set (and achieved) last year, despite hardly using the bike for the two months of lockdown and I’ve hit another first; cycling over 1000 km in a single month. 

 

In the Marais Poitevin, August 2020, 1000 km cycled

Yes, you did read that correctly. Almost 49 year old me, with my short legs, small frame (me and the bike) and little wheels, has cycled over one thousand kilometres this month, almost three thousand five hundred this year so far and nearly seven thousand since buying my Brompton #KTTinyTourer at the end of 2018.

 

Market shopping in Montbrun-les-Bains

The one I'm struggling on the most is the shopping, which I thought would be the easiest. Thanks to Covid-19 we have stopped popping to the shops for a few bits but have been more organised doing a regular big shop by car and eliminating some of the risk of going to the supermarket. We have, however, managed to reduce the amount we use the car by making the bikes our main mode of transport for social journeys and tasks like picking up prescriptions from the pharmacy and even parcels from the local delivery point. Friends are now so used to seeing us on the bikes we’ve had a few comments when we’ve been spotted out in the car, along the lines of “not on your bikes today then?”

 

I've climbed Mont Ventoux, all the way up there

Some of the things we have challenged ourselves to, including climbing Mont Ventoux at an altitude of 1912m, the Col d’Aubisque (1709m) and the Col du Tourmalet (2115m), have been hard work on the body and the mind and I’m still amazed I did it. One thing it has taught me is that there is something quite cathartic about pushing my body to its limits, hearing my heart pumping and feeling my lungs bursting with air, knowing it is a privilege to be alive in a year when so many have been lost.  

 

A family bike ride at the end of a hot summer day

I may not be quite there on all my challenges yet, but for a weird year, I'm pretty pleased with my progress so far. I do have a niggling worry though, what if I have peaked too soon achieving all this in the year I turn forty-nine, rather than in the run up to my big 50? I’ll just have to hope that 2021 has something much bigger and better waiting for me to achieve.

 

Our next challenge is to get Ed back to Poitiers for a safe university rentrée and to adapt once more to life as empty nesters. 

 

 

 

Life after confinement, normal, but not normal

First coffee at the village bar

Normal, not normal

On paper yesterday seemed to be a perfectly normal day. Get up, have breakfast, join friends for coffee at the village bar, home for a yoga class, lunch, head to Niort for big shopping, dinner and then a council meeting. In reality, it was a long way from normal.

The village awakes 

At 08h30 the bar opened its doors for the first time since the middle of March and whilst we weren’t queueing up waiting for the key to turn in the lock, we certainly made sure we were there for a morning coffee with friends, like normal. What wasn’t normal was the lack of hugs or kisses to say hello and our smiles were hidden by our masks, that also did a great job at muffling our greetings. The owners were wearing full visors and although masks were removed when we sat at the outside terrace, where the drinks and conversation flowed, it all felt a bit strange. It was also rather disturbing to see local French friends arrive, remove their masks and say hello in the normal French (cheek kissing) way. I know I am not ready for that level of intimacy outside of immediate family just yet.

Yoga

Yoga was as normal as it has been since March, a log in to an online class where Marc the teacher fills the screen of my laptop, the others are tiny thumbnails at the edge of the picture and the only other thing in my yoga nook with me is Mini the dog, snoring on the bed. There is now the possibility of starting real life classes once more, but on a restricted basis that will involve a lot more work and effort from Marc and Kate who run Phoenix Yoga. From discussions after class, it seems most of us are agreed, for now, online is still the way to go.

Niort

I’m not really a fan of days out shopping at the best of times, but every now and then, needs must. Post Covid-19 confinement shopping takes things to a whole new level of stress and unpleasantness. Some people are wearing masks, some are not, some shops insist on masks, some do not. Some people respect the distances expected between others, some do not. Everywhere seemed busy and slow, with queues to get in as people stopped to apply hand gel, queues at the checkouts and traffic queues all over town. I was tired, grumpy and so glad to get home, which if I’m honest is my normal reaction to having to go shopping.

Council meeting

Under normal circumstances, I would not still be on the village council, but as the confinement meant the cancellation of the second round of elections, back in March, it is the old council who are still in control. The second round is now scheduled for 28^th June and it will be just after that, when the Maire and deputies are voted in by the new council that they take over. Last night’s meeting to agree a provisional budget for 2020 was a very different meeting to normal. Rather than being held in the normal small meeting room in the Mairie, we were vastly spread out, at our own tables, in the salle des fetes, with adequate distances between us at all times. Even the attendees were not the same as normal as this was an extraordinary mix of old and newly elected councillors, the vote being ours, but in reality, it will be the new team who have to work with the budget we voted for. We normally end each meeting with a chilled glass of something and more informal conversations than the meeting itself allows. Last night, we finished, we said goodbye, we left and it all seemed rather flat.

Wearing pink for Ben

A very un-normal day

Today is not going to be a normal day either. It is not normal to lose your 22-year-old nephew. It is not normal to be prevented from attending the funeral of a close family member and it’s certainly not what I think of as normal to be given a log-in to watch a live stream from the crematorium. 

Ben was a bright and sparkly character, who lit up a room with his smile and also his collection of colourful shirts. We are dressed in our finest bright clothes for him today, as requested. One of the things we bought in Niort yesterday was a bright pink flamingo for our garden, in memory of Ben, who was often photographed with a pink flamingo. Rest in peace, Ben.

Ben

Diary of Covid-19 confinement, day forty-three

Day forty-three, 28^th April 2020

Loss

I thought long and hard about what to write today, or indeed if I should be writing anything at all. Yesterday we received some tragic news that really has shaken us, but as I find writing to be therapeutic for me and have had such great support from you since lockdown began, I didn’t think it was right to just go silent. When you get the shocking news that someone has died unexpectedly it is like a stone being thrown from a height and landing in the pit of your stomach. A heavy feeling settles there but just like a stone breaking the surface of the water, the ripples travel up and down your body, so it feels hard to breath, your legs feel weak and your head aches. Then a numbness takes over until the reality sinks in.

This was not a Covid-19 related death, but we are living in a time when many more thousands of families are experiencing loss and grief than usual, and it doesn’t matter whether it was a virus-related death, an expected death from a long-term illness or one from an accident or unexpected tragic circumstances, loss hurts. It takes time to come to terms with and the new normal of social distancing means our usual methods of comforting each other and beginning the grieving process together have been denied. We can’t jump in the car and return to the UK to hug our families, and it is still too early to know if we can be there for the funeral.

RIP to our lovely, sensitive and caring nephew Ben, aged just 22 and taken too young. Life is precious and should never be taken for granted or thought of as worthless. Please, please reach out if you are struggling with anything, as someone is always there.

 

Mind UK

Stay indoors, stay safe and keep those special ones you love safe too.

28th April 2012 Pyrenees

April holiday memory 

There is something quite majestic and reflective about a towering mountain, so I thought I would still share this memory from 28^th April 2012 on the drive from St Gaudens to Ax-les-Thermes where we saw some fantastic sights as we twisted and turned across the mountains, sometimes on roads so tiny we were sharing them with sheep and goats.