Beetle Mania

The other day I was waiting for clients at la Maison des abeilles/Happyculteurs on the outskirts of Champigny sur Veude. Next to the picnic table where I was sitting is a mature Horse Chestnut, no doubt planted to provide shade back in the days when this site was the railway station. 

I spotted a beetle at the base of the trunk, a very striking red and metallic blue creature, and quite a size (more than 20 mm). I could see at a glance that it was a longhorn (Fr. capricorn) beetle of some sort, but a species I had never seen before. It was struggling to climb up the tree as it had lost its foot and tibia on one back leg. I was able to take lots of photos with my phone (but I didn't have my camera with me).

Once home I identified it as Rhamnusium bicolor. It doesn't have an English name, but its French name is le Rhagie ermite. There was a flurry of excitement amongst my coleopterist friends, who were not at all jealous...ahem...

The French National Natural History Museum page for the species tells me that this is a widespread but uncommon species, favouring old deciduous trees such as Horse Chestnut, Poplar and Beech in damp environments, often in towns. So where I found it was exactly its preferred habitat. Most observations are in May or June.

The head, thorax (pronotum), legs and base of the antennae are brick red. The elytrae (wing cases) are blue, but in some individuals, can also be brick red. There are no lookalike species, so it is easy to identify. 

The larvae develop in cavities in old deciduous trees. They eat the damp decaying wood that lines the cavities or damaged parts of the tree. They slice the wood in very characteristic long thick strips of fibre. The adult beetle is rarely observed, except occasionally at the opening of a sunlight cavity. Their life cycle, from larva to adult takes one to three years.

The species is present throughout Europe, to the Urals. In France it is widely distributed but rarely seen, because it tends to be active at dusk or at night. It is found more frequently in parks, tree-lined allées and gardens than in the forests. It is assumed to be dwindling in population, linked to the increasing rarity of trees with cavities.

The Pool is Open!

Late on Tuesday it was announced via Facebook that the town's swimming pool would be open on the afternoons of all four days of this extended long weekend. The hours are from 15h (3pm) to 19h (7pm) at the weekend. For the month of June it will be open at the same time on weekends, and on Mondays and Wednesdays from 16h (4pm) to 19h.

Selfie time. It was a lovely day

A lot of work has been done at the pool: new wooden benches, the foot washer has been given a ramp to exit rather than a trip hazard, and hooks placed on the fence on which you can hang your towels. The whole building side feels really spruced up, for which the town council need to be applauded. It's good to see the amount of support they give this valuable resource.

We arrived at about 15h15 yesterday, to be the second and third person through the doors and into the water. I was the first person to finish my swim (a very slow 250 metres of breaststroke). Susan did 500 metres of Australian Crawl. After we left the water about 20 mums and children arrived for splashing and networking.

The water was very fresh, and the showers haven't yet had time to heat up, but it was great being back in the water: in my case, it's been almost two years since I was there.

Once again, this year the Maître Nageur is Filou, who makes the place feel relaxed and welcoming. He is a huge asset to the pool, and popular with everyone we know.

Undoing the good work.

Afterwards we called in to the Guinguette for a snack and a drink. The snack is a mixed cheese and charcuterie platter (8€) which we shared.

We hope to be swimming again today, but first we have to visit the tax office.

An Unwanted Anniversary

I realise with shock and not a little bit of dismay that it is now a year since I last worked. Not that I have stopped thinking about working, or stopped helping Susan by making 'useful' suggestions, but a year since I last made an unfeasibly early start to a day by driving to a hotel to pick up visitors. I really miss it.

I thought I would retire at 70 on my own terms - and it may yet happen. But before that, I just have to start working again.

What to do About Snakes in the Touraine Loire Valley

 A juvenile and non-venomous Viperine Snake. This species is quite common, especially near water, and often mistaken for the less common and venomous Asp Viper.

In Europe, even if you are bitten by the most venomous snake species you are unlikely to die if you are a healthy adult, even without medical treatment. The last person to die in France from snakebite was well over a decade ago, and before that, a similar time gap. If you want to avoid sudden death you are much better off avoiding travelling anywhere by car. Which is not to say that if you are bitten by a venomous snake it isn't extremely painful, and you should indeed seek medical treatment. If you are bitten by a non-venomous snake disinfect the bite thoroughly because they carry streptococcus. Neither event is very likely unless you are handling the snake, which is illegal unless you have a licence. Always call your local herpetological group if you need a snake moved. They can advise, identify the snake accurately and usually provide a service to capture and relocate.

 

A juvenile and non-venomous Western Whip Snake. This is our only snake species which is expanding its range and not declining in numbers.

Here in the Touraine we have a volunteer group who are always on hand to help with snake related matters if you call them. They are called SOS Serpents and their phone number is 06 16 10 02 13 if you are in the Sud Touraine. Nine times out of ten if you encounter a snake here it will be a non-venomous species.

 

A mature Western Whip Snake. This is the species you are most likely to encounter.

 

A mature and venomous Asp Viper. I was within a few metres of the snake to take this photo and at no time did it attempt to threaten me.

If, by any chance, you are with someone who is bitten by an Asp Viper, the steps to take are simple. Lay the victim down and keep them as comfortable and calm as possible. If bitten on the arm or hand, remove rings, because the fingers will swell alarmingly. Call for medical help by dialing 15. But suction techniques should never be used, even with the help of devices that can be found in pharmacies. Compression bandages are also no longer recommended.

Whilst the risk of being bitten is never completely nil, it is very rare. Fewer than 400 cases of venomous snake bite a year are reported throughout the whole of France. Nobody has died for many years (if you discount hundreds of needless and illegal snake killings). The Pays de Loire, to our west, is the area where the most bites by venomous snakes occur, with about 70 people presenting every year at the antipoison centre in Angers. Snakes in the Loire Valley are out and about from April to October. In the colder months they hibernate.

If you live in France you may be told that some time in the last quarter of the 20th century there was a government programme to air drop boxes of live snakes into the countryside because ecologists were worried about their declining numbers. Needless to say, this story is utter tosh and nonsense.

Further reading:

My page on the Western Whip Snake http://loirenature.blogspot.com/2014/10/western-whip-snake-hierophis.html

My page on the Asp Viper https://loirenature.blogspot.fr/2016/11/asp-viper-vipera-aspis.html

Green Asparagus in the Loire Valley

Everyone looks forward to the new season asparagus appearing at the markets in France. The beginning of the asparagus season can vary by about a month. Sometimes it is available from the beginning of April, but sometimes you have to wait until May. Then it has all finished by the end of June.

 

In the Loire Valley the asparagus you get at the market is mostly white, and mostly grown in the Sologne or around Richelieu, where the soil is sandy. If like me you prefer the green you quickly learn which producers will sell a bit of green in addition to their white. I'm currently getting my green asparagus from a producer from Loudun who comes to the markets in the Loches area. I never buy asparagus from the supermarket, as it will be three weeks old. It is important to buy asparagus that has been freshly harvested. If you buy from the producer you can check when it was harvested.

 

Yesterday's lunch.

Cook your green asparagus the same day as you buy it, or the day after. Prepare by bending each stem so it snaps just at the natural point where the tender tip meets the woody stem. Steam for about 5-8 minutes depending on thickness. Once plated, season with sea salt crystals, freshly ground mixed peppercorns, a few crispy lardons, a squeeze of lemon juice, a knob of butter and some grated parmesan cheese. Place a poached egg on top.

£10 Takes You To Australia

My parents moved to Australia in 1967 (and luckily, took us kids with them). They only paid £10 per adult as part of the Australian Government's Assisted Passage Migration Scheme, "Bring out a Briton".

As they were sponsored by the Anglican Church we didn't go into a migrant hostel, but rather a boarding house in Neutral Bay, Sydney organised by the church. Within a couple of days Dad had a job, and had found a apartment in Hunters Hill. My uncle's family followed six months later and went to a migrant hostel (Cabramatta, I believe). We visited, and it was dreadful, Nissan huts on an ex army base. Luckily, another apartment became available in the same building we were in, and they moved there not long after.

This poster and explanation were part of an exhibition at the National Library in Canberra.

Simon's Latest Medical Stuff

Some of you may have noticed that the blog has been irregular of late. There's a reason for that.

About 10 days ago I had trouble ( I'm going to use official medical Franglais here) making pipi and I was in considerable pain from sort of the stomach region. Things weren't shifting as they should, as well. Everyone assumed it was a stone, possibly caused by the massive amounts of calcium I am taking to counteract a side effect from my cancer treatment.

A visit to the Doctor resulted in a recommendation to get a CT scan, and Susan rang every imaging place in the book, only to be told it would be 3 weeks at least before anything could be done. A second visit to the Dr, and we received some inside information about an "échographiste" (ultrasound clinic) that operates every hour under the sun. Ringing him produced an almost immediate appointment and off we went.

The ultrasound was on Friday evening. Hé could see a problem with the left kidney, but he couldn't actually see a stone, just the damage in my urinary tract that is typically caused by one. Then I had a really bad evening on Friday - was in agony from about 8:30 to 4am and just sat up waiting for it to ease. 

Sunday was an excellent day, until the evening when it all kicked off again.

I didn't get any sleep at all on Sunday night it was so painful. I sat up from 10pm to 8am taking painkillers every 4 hours, then stopped taking painkillers and went to bed in agony at 8am, took a handful of painkillers at Monday morning and the effects were almost immediate so I slept for 4 hours.

I went to the Dr the same Monday (Doctolib is amazing), she wrote a letter for Urgences at the hospital (any hospital) so I could get all the tests done. I kept the painkillers happening all Monday and Tuesday, and Tuesday after lunch we presented at Tours Vinci, mainly because I already have a urologist there: the same man who removed my prostate.

We weren't in the waiting room long before I was called in to see a Doctor. She handed me over to another Doctor, who handed me over to a third. Three hours later I was wheeled in to the CT scanner, where a 4mm stone was discovered hiding in my kidney. At that stage my kidney function was down to 50%.

Another ride through the atomic donut.

The long and the short of it is that on Wednesday afternoon the urologist pushed a 1950s TV camera and a chainsaw up where no-one has the right to push anything, and they extracted a stone the size of a tic-tac. Thankfully it was done under a general anaesthetic, but the lingering pain was not inconsiderable. A stent was fitted that has to be removed in 4 weeks (oh joy) and that should be that.

An A.I. generated image of what I assume went on whilst I was asleep.

On Thursday I was released, and yesterday I celebrated by walking 600 pain free, but very "old man shuffle" metres. If the weather's nice again today I may repeat the effort.

Memories with Food 1: Watermelon

Those who have read À la Recherche du Temps Perdu will know about this: the unexpected memories bought on by the taste, smell, or sight of food. I had a moment on Sunday: Susan sliced a watermelon for me and suddenly I had memories of the first time I heard of such a thing.

I am pretty certain that watermelon wasn't a thing in London of the early to mid 1960s. I just can't see Sainsbury's or the East Ham market having such a technicolour thing back then. I certainly don't remember it, and I have a particularly good food memory.

I do remember my mother returning from shopping not long after we moved to Australia, and telling us about seeing a row of boys sitting on a wall eating watermelon, and spitting the seeds out of the corner of their mouths.

Watermelons have less seeds these days, but the sight of freshly sliced watermelon bought back that memory, and with it the incredulous look on Mum's face as she recounted the story.

Green-winged Orchid

This year I was introduced to a large colony of Green-winged Orchids Anacamptis morio (Fr. Orchis bouffon) that I previously had no idea existed. As is often the case with this species, the colony is associated with old vineyards. Once upon a time the south facing slopes above Yzeures sur Creuse were planted with vines. Now the vines have gone, but the orchids which grew amongst them remain.

The inflorescences are made up of a maximum of about 20 flowers, which can range in colour from violet to purple to lilac pink or even white. The petals form a cap which is faintly striped with grey-green on the outside. The wide labellum has a pale centre, often spotted with purple. The nectar spur is short, thick, flattened and dimpled at the tip.

This is a species that flowers early in the season, which is April here in the Touraine.

It grows in full sun in natural grassland, woodland edges and clearings.

Its natural distribution is vast, from Iran to Norway, and all of the Mediterranean basin.

In the Touraine the species is not threatened although habitat destruction must be a concern. In Asia Minor colonies can be wiped out because the bulbs are used commercially to make salep, a flour made from the tubers that is used to make drinks and ice cream.

Out and About with Claudette

Not a huge voyage, but a significant event after the week I had last week.

Yesterday was their third meet-up, and our first. It coincided with us having Claudette at home, and me feeling vaguely human. In fact I felt so human we stayed for lunch at the Guinguette.

A row of 2CV kit cars

If you look in the background you can see Claudette

It was nice to get out of the house and meet up with friends - and meet people who share our interest.

We were saying at lunch how successful the Guinguette is, and how it attracts the widest cross section of patronage. If you're in the lower parts of the Touraine do visit. It's ace!

I've Seen a Pardalote!

The striated pardalote (Pardalotus striatus) is the least colourful and most common of the four pardalote species. It is a very small, short-tailed bird that is more often heard than seen, foraging noisily for small creatures in the treetops.

This is the first time I've actually got a clear view of one, at Providence Portal on the shore of Lake Eucumbene, part of the Snowy mountain scheme.

You'll notice I said I saw it. I didn't spot it, that's a different bird.

The Nancy Wake Memorial Ride

Meeting the cyclists at the stadium in Chateauroux. Later this year this will be where a stage of the Tour de France finishes.

More than a year ago the Nancy Wake Memorial Ride came to my attention on Facebook [ https://www.facebook.com/people/Nancy-Wake-Memorial-Ride/61555790881536/ ]. Led by Australian Armed Forces veteran Liz Wheeler a group of fellow female veterans planned to recreate the epic cycle ride made by Franco-Australian Resistance heroine, Nancy Wake. Working with them was the Franco-Australian cycle tour company Velotours, based in the Pyrenees [ https://velotours.com.au/].

  

The cyclists with the Velotours support vehicle at the stadium.

Nancy is not as well known as one might think. She was an Australian living the good life in the south of France, married to a French industrialist, when the Second World War broke out. Both she and her husband were active members of the Resistance. He was captured and killed but she survived, known as the White Mouse, despite the price put on her head by the Nazis. 

 

Riding into town between Sylvie in the white car and Claudette.

As a member of SOE she participated in many acts of sabotage and hand to hand combat. Her most remarkable feat was to ride from a village in Puy de Dome, through Montlucon, Bourges and Issoudun to Chateauroux and back, a distance of nearly 500 kilometres in 72 hours, in order to get a radio message through to London.

 

Outside the public library and theatre, posing for the newspaper photo.

The Australian veterans took it a bit more leisurely, but they made stops along the way to meet locals and spread Nancy's story. Our meeting in Chateauroux was no exception. I was able to put them in touch with a local journalist and members of the local Friends of the Resistance Museum (ACRDI), including Michel Fouassier, the secretary of the association, and Jean-Louis Cirès, the Chateauroux town archivist [ https://www.helloasso.com/associations/amis-du-centre-d-histoire-et-de-memoire-de-la-resistance-et-de-la-deportation-dans-l-indre-acrdi ].

Storing the bikes in the theatre café.

Chateauroux does not in fact currently have a Resistance Museum. It is a project 'de longue haleine' as Michel put it ie it has long been in the planning, but funding has been elusive. Consequently he was very pleased to have reason to collar a journalist and get some publicity showing how interested people are in Resistance history and how important it is to keep these memories alive and honour the brave people involved.

The cyclists posing outside the building where Nancy Wake arrived hoping to meet 'Samuel' the radio operator.

The cyclists arrived spot on time and we met them at the sports stadium on the edge of town. Then Sylvie, a colleague of Michel's, led us all in convoy into the centre to town to meet the journalist outside the public library. After parking the bikes in the adjacent theatre café (closed because it was a public holiday, but Michel had a key!) we walked the short distance to the building Nancy came to meet with a radio operator code named Samuel (real name Amédée Maingard). At the time it was the Café du Cygne, now abandoned and with a name change, but the building still exists. Unfortunately for Nancy, Samuel had fled for his life the day before, and she had to move on. 

Having lunch in the Italian restaurant.

Sylvie had booked us a table at an Italian restaurant nearby, so we enjoyed a well-deserved and agreeable lunch. After lunch there was time for a bit more sightseeing and we encountered the American Army reenactors in the main square. They were offering rides in their vintage trucks and jeeps. We went to see the house where the very first radio message was sent by the Resistance to the Allies in London, and then the War Memorial and the memorial to the Righteous among Nations.

Second World War American Army re-enactors, offering free rides to the public in their vintage vehicles as part of the Victory in Europe activities on 8 May. 

After that our doughty cyclists needed a rest and a freshen up, so we parted company. They went to their hotel, we came home. It was quite a special day and we've made some great new friends, both French and Australian.

At the house where Georges Bégué sent the first radio message from the Resistance to London. All subsequent SOE radio operators were known as 'Georges', and referred to as 'pianists'.

Further reading: Article in the Nouvelle République (in French, behind paywall) https://www.lanouvellerepublique.fr/chateauroux/cinq-australiennes-dans-la-roue-de-la-resistante-nancy-wake-dans-l-indre-1746727637

Wikipedia page on Nancy Wake https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nancy_Wake

The War Memorial, which honours not just combatants, but those civilians who were deported to concentration camps.

The nearby memorial to the Righteous Among Nations, with Michel indicating his cousin's name at the bottom.

Another Day with No Blog

There was no blog post yesterday or today, and the arrival of new posts may be a bit hit and miss for a while. We're catching up on all sorts of stuff medical.

European Buckthorn in the Touraine Loire Valley

European Buckthorn Rhamnus cathartica (Fr. Nerprun purgatif) is one of the few European species in a genus which contains about 100 species, most of which occur in the tropics. It can be found in England, south to the Mediterranean and east into Asia as far as Kyrgyzstan. It's French name 'nerprun' is a corruption of 'noire prune' (black plum). 

The plant forms a bushy shrub up to 5 metres tall. The wood is dense and solid, but not used very much. The black fruits are toxic to man, but birds will eat them and disperse the seed.  Both the fruit and the bark are violently purgative. An extract from the berries has proved very effective in treating coccidiosis in domestic rabbits. The fruits and shoots were once harvested for use as a textile dyestuff.

The largest specimen I've ever seen, on the Etang Purais nature reserve in the Brenne.

 

It is the caterpillar food plant for the Brimstone butterfly Gonepteryx rhamni (Fr. Citron) and if you see a bright yellow male Brimstone fluttering about there is likely to be a Buckthorn in the vicinity.

Parisian Bubblers

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about Australian bubblers. These are the Parisian equivalents.

There are 103 Wallace fountains in Paris, supplying fresh drinking water in the streets. They were a gift to the City of Paris by long time resident Sir Richard Wallace, an Englishman. Wallace, the illegitimate son of the 4th Marquess of Hertford had inherited a fortune in 1870. 

Installation of the fountains started in 1872. They are cast iron and painted in the dark green approved for streetscape furniture by the City. The biggest ones are 2.71 metres tall and weigh 610 kilograms. Wallace himself sketched his idea of how they should look, and decided on their size, construction and cost before taking his design to a professional sculptor for refining. Their principle design feature is the four caryatids, in four slightly different stances or attitudes.

Today visitors and residents of Paris are encouraged to use the Wallace fountains to refill their water bottles, and reduce plastic waste. At the moment the fountains run a continuous stream of water into their basin and users simply put their bottle underneath to catch it. But in today's world that is wasteful so experiments are underway to see if pressing a button to dispense set quantity of water will work.

Sydney Rock Oysters

When we were on the South Coast of New South Wales we were treated to oysters for lunch, which Susan declared to be the best she's had.

Sydney Rock Oysters (*Saccostrea glomerata*) are the preferred species of oyster in Australia, found in the estuarine waters of New South Wales and southern Queensland. They are threatened in the wild (and in some fisheries) by the invasive Pacific Oyster, coincidentally the species of oyster now dominant in French cultivation. They thrive in sheltered bays, rivers, and estuaries, attaching themselves to rocks, piers, and other hard surfaces. They main centre of production used to be the Georges River in Sydney, but that fishery was closed after multiple pollution events and poisoning.

Sydney Rock Oysters take 2 to 3 years to reach market size, and their growth is influenced by water temperature, salinity, and food availability. Unlike Pacific Oysters, they are well-adapted to Australia's fluctuating coastal conditions, including variations in salinity and water temperature. Their shells are usually thick and irregular, varying in color from white to dark purple or brown.

The Australian aquaculture industry has invested heavily in breeding and disease resistance programs to improve the sustainability and quality of the oysters. We had them raw on the half shell, opened and nicely presented by the bloke at the oyster shack.

Now Wash Your Hands

When we were driving back to Canberra from Queensland in November last year we stopped for lunch (as tradition dictates) in Cudal, something I have been doing since the late 1980s. I can't remember the previous names of the establishment I stop at, but the latest incarnation is "Platypus Pantry" - and it's the best of the lot.

I had an excellent toasted egg and bacon ciabatta (with tomato sauce, thank you Susan), but of course, before you eat you must wash your hands. This is done in the very Australian way: at the water tank, drying your hands on a towel hanging on a nail. The only jarring note was modern style hand wash.

It's a bit tricky photographing this kind of thing with people sitting around, but Susan managed it.

Teaser

This photo is a teaser for a blog post that will probably appear next week.

Yesterday was a very long day, but a very interesting one. Stay tuned...

May 8

Today we are off on a date appropriate adventure. Here's a clue.

We saw our first poppies of the year yesterday.

No Blog Post Today

There's no real blog post for today: this week has (so far) been mainly medical.

Susan had a physiotherapist (kino) appointment on Monday, yesterday I had an appointment in Tours for a trip through the atomic donut, and today I'm at our GP. And... last Friday Susan was at the opthalmologist. Which hasn't left a lot of time for anything else.

Let's hope neither of us get old.

Melanoma

Warning: photographs of a medical nature follow.

 

 

 

I imagine most Australians have at least one skin cancer spot of some sort removed in their lifetime, and Australians are very aware of the damage the sun can do. Here in Europe the sun is not so fierce, but if you are Australian you should still go for annual checkups on those spots and flaky skin blemishes.

We have always tried to see a dermatologist once a year, but a few years ago the one we had been going to, in le Blanc, retired. It proved remarkably difficult to find a replacement. Luckily, after a tip off from our GP (Fr. médecin traitant) we found a new, much younger, dermatologist in Cormery.

I had a large freckle on my left arm, near my elbow. Some time ago it had doubled in size and changed shape and become two tone. Our old dermatologist saw it and pronounced it nothing to worry about. But I was sceptical nonetheless, and when we were in Australia my sister spotted it and sucked her teeth. And many years ago when we still lived in Australia I had had a spot cut out very close to this current worrying one.

So I was very glad to get an appointment with a dermatologist who was more modern in outlook and skillset. I phoned in January, and the appointment was in April. 

The dermatologist checked all my spots carefully, burnt a couple off with nitrogen and told me she needed to cut the suspect spot out. So I returned a few days later for the surgical procedure.

It bled a bit and I had a change of dressing even before I left the clinic and I had four stitches.  Being on the elbow it was a rather awkard position, but I had very little trouble with it. I carefully dabbed it with antiseptic every day and changed the dressing. Two weeks later I was back, to have the stitches out and get the pathology results.

It turned out to be a melanoma, removed just in time. The lab results show it was quite shallow, and the doctor managed to get all of it. However, she didn't take a big enough margin around the cancerous cells so I need to go back in June to have a bigger chunk taken out by another doctor who does more surgery and is at the clinic every Friday. The appointment clashes with our cardiologist check up, so I'll have to phone and change that.

Unfortunately the original wound has opened up a bit since the stitches came out, so I'm still having to swab and dress it every day. I hope a bigger wound isn't going to be too problematic. Luckily I have a window with no work in June and I've been able to block off some recovery time, just in case.

We liked the young all female team (a specialist dermatologist, a locum, and a practice nurse/receptionist) that make up the small dermatological department at the clinic. They clearly work well together and are very organised. The atmosphere is relaxed, kind, respectful and professional.

A Cake for the Fire Brigade

As you may remember we had a chimney fire recently. As a thank you for coming out on Easter Sunday and attending to our emergency I made the crew some ANZAC biscuits (recipe here), and some hedgehog cake (recipe below). 

Hedgehog cake is a no-bake cake. It was a favourite in our family during my childhood. I don't know where the recipe came from (this one is not the original, but adapted from Lynn Hill's chocolate tiffin on Clandestine Cake Club website). I don't know where the name hedgehog cake comes from either. Places like Starbucks and the Candelo café sell it as chocolate biscuit cake. Others, like Lynn, clearly know it by the name chocolate tiffin.

Ingredients
200 g butter
50 g soft brown sugar
30 g cocoa powder
200 g Golden Syrup
400 g plain sweet biscuits
500 g dried fruit (any mixture of sultanas, apricots, cranberries, citrus peel, figs, cherries that you like, in any proportions)
250 g very dark chocolate

Method

1. Grease and line a 20 cm square tin, making sure you have a generous overhang of baking paper (for ease of lifting out the finished cake).
2. Crush the biscuits so you have about half very fine and half in chunks of about 1 cm. 
3. Cut any of the larger dried fruit so that everything is roughly sultana sized.
4. Put the butter, sugar, cocoa and Golden Syrup in a large saucepan and heat gently to melt the butter and mix everything together.
5. Add the dried fruit and the crushed biscuits, stir well and make sure everything is well incorporated. This will take longer than you think, but it will all come together eventually.
6. Tip the mixture into the prepared tin and press it down firmly with a glass.
7. Leave in the fridge to cool and set, at least an hour.
8. Break up the chocolate and put into a bowl. Set the bowl in a cast iron pan half full of simmering water and leave the chocolate to melt. Or carefully melt in the microwave.
   
9. Once the chocolate has melted take it out of the water, stir to ensure the chocolate is smooth, then spread over the cake.
10. Leave to set at room temperature, which will take ages (several hours). Before it is completely set, score cutting lines in the chocolate to make it easier to divide up and serve.
11. Once cold and set solid, lift the cake out, carefully peel off the baking paper, then cut into 16 generous squares, or 32 half squares (logs or triangles).
12. Serve with a rich semi-sweet Loire Valley white wine from appellations such as Savennières Roche aux Moines, Jurançon, Pacherenc du Vic-Bilh, Vouvray or Coteaux du Layon.

Vintage Hermes plate courtesy of London Bruno.

The biscuit used by my mother for hedgehog cake was the otherwise very uninteresting Marie biscuit. These are not available in France except occasionally with Polish labelling, in Noz. Any really dull plain sweet biscuit will do. French supermarket shelves are full of similar biscuits. I used two packets of petits beurres.

You could try it with a well aged Chinon too...

If you live in a Golden Syrup free zone, use a mild supermarket blended honey, or Dutch apple syrup. 

 

I dropped the cakes off with one of the fire officers mothers, and they messaged me to say they were very touched by the gift.