Rural Life

A French Agricultural Show

Last weekend the smallest village in Maine et Loire organised and played host to the biggest event of the year in the Baugeois - the Comice.  Chartrene only has 57 inhabitants, so to lay on something of this size, they called for volunteers from the neighbouring villages, in order to get the required team of 300.

Our village played its part - setting up, dismantling, running one of the bars, providing car park attendants.  We also took part in the intervillage games - this year with a more artistic feel than the normal "It's a Knockout" style event.  Bicycles were decorated, our float was done up with a windmill and donkey and was replete with miller, miller's wife and children, and everyone was encouraged to sing "Meurnier tu dors" otherwise they were pelted with chicken food and confetti.

My contribution was the song and dance routine, where we decided to stick with the windmill theme, but this time it was "A Windmill in Old Amsterdam".  Finding clogs for the team, making mouse masks for my dancing mice and creating a plausible windmill took a fortnight.  During that time we also had to rehearse, let me find my voice following a UK induced cold, and also track down a backing track for the song.

We did it - the team and I - shown below, and the village came third in the Intervilles, so we are quite proud.  The float is also shown.

In two year's time, it is our turn.  We hope to introduce some English culture into the event (afternoon tea would be good!), and while we do not have time to create a wicket anywhere, we feel an adequate welly chucking pitch can be arranged!

Mushrooms and the Cat Saga

To the more mundane first - well we thought we had the cat saga sorted, but then feckless Joel turned up again.  Honestly, there is no point in doing a dramatic farewell and flouncing off in a fit of pique and then turning up again three days later and apologising to every one!  Ninette is still next door therefore, or rather is back next door as she has spent the past 3 days between our garage and the vet's being spayed.

She has come through fine - the stitches are due out next week.

But Mushrooms?  What is that about?  Well, autumn seems to have arrived early this year (my virtual chum, the Mossy Gnome has also pointed this out).  In our case, this makes temperatures a bit more comfortable for preparations for the Agricultural Fair or Comice at the weekend (more on that next week), but isn't ideal for the chilli peppers, the green peppers, the aubergines and the frankly embarrassing quantities of tomatoes in the garden.  The pumpkins seem to be coping although a few have got to nearly ripe stage, but I don't fancy pumpkin soup, when I have the world's surfeit of tomatoes to eat and deal with.

Again that is all fairly normal stuff.  It is out in the woods that bizarre things are happening.  The secret wood is now full of bolet a pied rouge - brown capped bolletes with a red foot and a terrifying habit.  When you cut them up to cook them, they turn blue almost instantaneously!  The blue colour goes if you leave them for an hour or so, or if you cook them, which is what we do.  The texture isn't as good as a cepe, nor is the flavour, but they are nice cooked to crisp-ish in butter, and then swirled in a little cream and either horseradish cream or tarragon mustard (but not too much or you lose the mushroom flavour).

We would expect to start finding mushrooms of this type around mid-September and through to the first frosts in November, so August was a bit of a shock.  It does seem to be only the Secret Wood however, we have been round our One Acre Wood and there is not a sign of anything yet.  The One Acre Wood is higher up and dryer however, which might explain the difference.

Spot the bolet in the photo below!

The kitten saga is nearly sorted....

Well, the kitten saga is nearly sorted out.  When I last wrote, our garden was awash with small, cute flea-bags.  We had notices out everywhere and about a week ago it was all looking as though it was sorted.  Friends of ours had reserved the male and female with white socks, the black one was going back to the person who originally chose her, but had to go into detox so sent her back, and fluffy Fifi was going to a village 5 miles up the road.

So far so fine.

Tuesday, the feckless owner of the mother cat, had friends round, got bladdered and gave away the two with socks and Fifi, shut the black one in the house on her own and left the Mummy cat outside where she could get into trouble in so many different ways.

Wednesday, the detoxed one took his kitten back.

Friday afternoon, the feckless one left a note on his door bidding us all adieu, and drove off leaving both his cats and both his chickens behind without food or shelter.  Either he has gone on holiday, gone to kill himself, or run away.  Our friends whose reserved kittens were given away on Tuesday, and who are understandably rather upset, are planning retribution in the form of giving Momma cat a kind and loving home, where she will be fed, watered, sheltered, loved to pieces, de-flea-ed, de-wormed and neutered.  A bizarre form of retribution I grant you, but one that I am willingly aiding and abetting.

So here, feckless Joel, is your last chance!  Si vous ne reviendrez pas pour soigner vos animaux avant jeudi soir, vous ne trouverez plus Ninette!

There - my conscience is sorted out, and on Thursday evening, Ninette will have a loving home - she really is very sweet and deserves better than a chair in our garden.  See her below, in a blissful moment with Fifi and one of the Louis.