Saturday, 20 June

So there's a Fete de Musique going on in Lalinde tonight, it's sort of a French night market with a bunch of bands, I think. AND there's one going on in Couze. We're not going to either one, as Phil has finally tackled the mountain of back work on (I think) the online ecology journal. Martin phoned to tell me that some French lady had answered when he phoned on the free line; I suggested that just maybe he got a number wrong...his mower isn't working right, and it's probably yet another belt problem, and how exactly am I supposed to deal with it on a Saturday afternoon from over here?

A French night market is a phenomenon totally different from an Asian night market, the only two I've ever experienced. I am not certain, but I suspect it may be unique to this part of France, too. It's not a "market" in the sense that you go to shop. It's a market in the sense that you go to eat and drink and in some cases, dance. There are all these stalls set up around the edge of the old market place in a village, and they have tables and chairs set up in rows. You bring cutlery, plates, etc., or you don't, and you stake out a spot, and buy food and wine, and eat, drink and be merry. Moules frites (steamed mussels with French fries), oysters (and the lovely guy you buy them from opens them for you!), bottles of wine, Phil gets some foie gras, you buy a loaf of bread, stuff like that. It's a summer phenomenon, and I don't have a clue where all they have these night markets, but I'm certain they didn't have them in Avignon or Villeneuve-les-Avignon. Or that place we stayed that time in the Ardeche.

I forgot about tomorrow being Sunday, and don't exactly have meals in the works. But then I figured out that Sunday morning is market day at Issigeac (yet another village not too far from here...) so we won't starve. AND I may be able to get some plants to put in those planters.

Phil did a string trimming job on the "garden", "jardin", which is about the size of the terrace. Jeannette next door had not only tidied up the beds and cut stuff back, but also had re-organized the storage system in my kitchen. She chewed me out because I had left last year with the glasses stored top side up, and a few things like that. She's a piece of work in some ways, but she's very territorial about the cottage, not to mention opinionated. I think she's a hoot. Evidently they are going to put a sewer system through up here. Good news. What we (and everyone else up here) have is a crazy self-contained septic system that I do not understand AT ALL.

Something has gone crazy with this Blogger gizmo. I do not understand it.

I am trying to figure out how to post pictures.

Another thing though, that I am occasionally reminded of; you do not realize how tired you are until you slow down. Sarah's wedding really, really wiped me out. My shoulder hurts, my hip hurts (the rheumatologist thinks it's bursitis), and it's hell getting up and down the steps to this place, but boy is it nice not having a ton of stuff to do...

On a happier note, we had black wine of Cahors with lunch, along with chicken salad (rotisserie chicken from the other day, celery, mayonnaise out of a jar that makes Hellman's taste like Miracle Whip...) and leftover potatoes cooked with butter, an onion and lardons (a relative of bacon). Life is good. It beats the alternative...