Oh! How it Rained

It rained most of yesterday morning and afternoon, and the rain was accompanied by gusty winds.

The weather forecast wasn't looking promising by mid morning with the wind warning uprated from 80km/h to 95km/h, and it certainly felt like that on the road from Preuilly to Châtellerault. There was some flooding and a lot of debris on the road, and when we came out if the hardware shop it was absolutely hammering it down.

These photos of the Claise were taken a couple of days ago. If anything, the river is higher now.

Casting for Les Bodin's

Les Bodin's is a comic double act created in 1994 and based at Descartes. Comedians, writers and directors Vincent Dubois and Jean-Christian Fraiscinet have created the characters of Maria Bodin, a cunning and manipulative old widowed farmer in her 80s, and her gormless son Christian.

Every July for the past 19 years they have put on a big outdoor show called 'les Bodin's, Grandeur Nature' on a local farm. It has become a cult and is already sold out for this year.

The duo perform live as the characters at festivals and charity events around the country, and every so often they make a film or a television show.

I've never seen them perform, but it is clear they are madly popular in the district (at least with an older crowd -- I don't think the under 40s are so enamoured). My guess is that if you like British comedies like Mrs Brown's Boys, you would like les Bodin's if you were French speaking. I would also observe that the French taste in comedy can be remarkably unsophisticated...

Anyway, great excitement in Preuilly when it was announced all over Facebook that les Bodin's would be coming to town and casting 600 extras for their next movie. Hundreds of people duly turned up at the salles des fetes to try out as villagers, cattle herder, goat farmer, receptionists, militant ecologists, police officers, acrobatic dancers, musicians, marching girls, accordionist, tie wearing public servants, little girl and a teenage boy. Our friend Mathieu didn't even have to audition. The production team approached him at work behind the bar of his restaurant, l'Image, and asked if he'd play himself in a bar scene.

So I guess we'll go and see the movie once it's released. There will most probably be a special pre-release showing in the salle des fetes.

Renovation Update 2

Work on our house is progressing.

The plasterers have finished, but now the plaster has to dry. As is normal in old houses they have had to do a fair amount of thinking on their feet, the main problem being the ceilings. Of course, the house being a bit old nothing is either square or level, and in order for us to be able to open the windows a split level ceiling has been installed - a 5 cm higher section above the window opening.

In addition to working on the fireplace in the bedroom, I have done some further work on the stone wall in the salon. This is a dirty and dusty job, which involves removing layers of soot, grime and dust from the stone and cleaning the joints between them. Some of this appears to have been mud (I'm being polite) which either falls off in clumps or turns to brown dust. Most unappealing.

The electrician returned yesterday to do the lights (and light switch) in the salon then it's a couple of weeks of dirt, grime and dust before we start painting.

The wall mounted up lighters are in place

and they turn on (don't worry, they're not as

bright as it would appear in the photo)

Joy...

What's the Rush?

Once upon a time there would have been a rush weaver in nearly every village, and the plant they used would have been abundant on the edges of rivers and étangs (dams) where the water was shallow and still. Now the plant, true bulrush Schoenoplectus lacustris, is sufficiently rare that if you have it growing on a site you can have it declared a Zone Naturelle d'Interet Ecologique, Floristique et Faunistique (ZNIEFF). It is easy to cultivate, but rush products went out of fashion and the skills to process the plant were lost. Nowadays it is making a comeback, but as an aquatic plant used in environments that need stabilising.

 

True Bulrush at the Etang du Louroux, a great purpose built pisciculture dam, hand dug in the Middle Ages, so this is a scene that has barely changed for eight hundred years.

In French bulrush is known as Jonc des chaisiers ('chairmakers' rush') because it was used to weave the seats of chairs. And it was used by coopers to bind barrels before the iron hoops were put on, hence it's alternative French name of Jonc des tonneliers. Up until the 1960s, rush harvesting was a quite lucrative side hustle for farmers with marshy land (particularly in the Marais Poitevin). These days though, 'rush' seats are made from twisted paper fibre or seagrass.

Rush matting on the floor, specially made in the 16th century style for the garderobe of Chateau of Azay le Rideau by an English rush weaver experienced in historical reproductions.

Some years ago curators at the Chateau of Azay le Rideau recreated Philippe Lesbahy's 16th century bedroom and included rush matting.

Taking their cue from a well known portrait of a royal mistress in the bath, hand made rush matting was commissioned from an English artisan who is one of the few remaining professional rushworkers in Western Europe. The painting shows the walls of the room the woman sits in as lined with rush matting. The chateau sadly does not have the original painting on display -- that's in Washington -- but it does have a 19th century version that you can get extremely close to and scrutinise for details.The actual braiding pattern for the matting is based on a fragment found at Hampton Court Palace.

Detail of the rush matting.

The matting is made from true bulrush Schoenoplectus lacustris (not reedmace Typha spp, which is commonly called bulrush), which in Philippe's day would have been harvested from any of the local rivers or wetlands and worked by a local artisan. It is plaited into long strips then sewn together to form a mat. Its lifespan isn't all that great on the floor, and it would have been treated as sacrificial -- strewn with aromatic herbs to keep it fresh smelling, but removed and burnt once too dirty, worn through or the population of fleas it harboured got unbearable. Because it was 'modular', clean unworn strips from the edges of rooms could be salvaged and combined with new strips when the floor covering was replaced.

You can see the rush matting on the walls of the bedroom at the Chateau of Azay le Rideau.

Rush matting was a relatively cheap and easily available alternative to expensive carpets and tapestries. The purpose of all of these soft furnishings was to prevent cold radiating from the stone walls and to deaden sound in large echoing rooms. Housekeeping was easy -- dirt mostly just falls through, but it is a good idea to periodically mist with water to keep the rush in good condition and pleasantly aromatic.

 

True Bulrush in a ZNIEFF at Chambon.

Creating A Stink in Normandy

Normandy is on everyone's social media at the moment, in the lead up to the 80 anniversary of the invasion. So I've had several conversations recently about Normandy and what one can do there. One of the things one can do is seek out Pont l'Eveque cheese. Below is a repost from ten years ago about the stinky Norman cheese.

****************************************

France is famous for its cheese, and quite a few French cheeses are distinctly aromatic. One of the stinkiest comes from the area between Deauville and Lisieux in Lower Normandy. Simon loves to tell people the story of us spending Christmas in the area and taking a block of the local Pont l'Eveque cheese home on Eurostar.

The other day he announced that the fridge smelled, as if there was stinky cheese in there, but he couldn't see the source of the aroma and was mystified. Eventually I remembered that I had bought a Petit Pont l'Eveque some days earlier. It was unopened, and hidden under something else, but after a few days in the fridge had completely stunk it out. We happily unwrapped it and ate it and the fridge problem disappeared. A clear win-win.

There is a very fine line between good stinky and bad stinky with cheese. Once the lactic aromas go over a certain level or develop in a certain way the cheese turns from being a delicious treat to something disgusting that turns the stomach. But the cut-off point between delicious and disgusting is different depending on where you were raised and what foods you have been exposed to.

The French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss had quite a lot to say about this particular aspect of our approach to food and how our attitudes are culturally acquired. He points out that these distinctions are entirely learnt, and not instinctive or innate as one might think. He illustrates his point at one stage by relating how, in the days after D-Day, American troops would occasionally encounter fairly whiffy dairies in the Norman countryside. To the unsophisticated Americans, who had never been exposed to anything more challenging than processed cheddar, they assumed the dairies were full of dead bodies, and burnt them to the ground. They were revolted and wanted to eliminate the smell.

Beer Tales

When we first moved to London in 1997 we didn't have much time or money to spend exploring Europe. Our focus was very much towards visiting family in Australia, or taking visitors around England.

Once both of us were working we had a little disposable income, the channel tunnel had lost a little of it's novelty, and companies were doing cut price weekend deals to Brussels and Paris. Our first two European adventures were Friday evening to Sunday evening trips to Brussels, and this was followed by a similar trip to Paris.

The Stadhuis van Brussel, last year

This means we have an attachment to Brussels. Our first trip we stayed just outside the city centre. The weather was very warm and dry, and we found ourselves in the Grand Place in front of the Stadhuis van Brussel (town hall). The square is lined with bars with inviting umbrellas, and as it was a hot day we decided that a beer at 11am wasn't a decision that needed much thinking about. We ordered, and on receiving Susan's order the waiter said "it's a tripel" in a warning tone of voice. Susan took the attitude that she was an Aussie and beer didn't frighten her and said "yeah yeah", only to discover she had half a pint of beer so strong it made her gums go numb. Before lunch.

Jolly japes.

When we visited Brussels with Lisa last year we had to go back to the Grand Place. It's a pilgrimage to the place where we started to realise they do things different over there.

Walking From Etableau

On Monday 12 February we joined the Phoenix en Claise walking group on a 5.5 kilometre circuit from Etableau, up to the Chateau de la Vienne, across to Courvault then back to Etableau on the voie verte (greenway). It took us an hour and a half.

 

 The wicker (Fr. osier) weaver's workshop in Etableau.

The walking group approaching the 19th century Chateau de la Vienne (privately owned and not open to the public).

Snowdrops Galanthus sp are out everywhere in the Claise Valley at the moment. It's hard to know if these are native or naturalised.

The gable end of this barn in Courvault is constructed mainly of flint.

The hamlet of Courvault.

Renovation Update

We've written bits and bobs about the insulation and lining of our salon and bedroom, so it's time to give an overview.

The exterior walls of the rooms are being given 120mm (5 inches) of insulating rockwool, which has heat and acoustic insulating properties. It should keep our bedroom cooler in summer, as well as retaining heat in winter. It's all being hidden behind a plasterboard wall on a metal frame. Of course it will reduce the size of the rooms - quite surprisingly so - but the house should be much more liveable.

The builders arrived on Monday last week and started immediately in the salon. I realised that if we wanted to have a stone wall in the salon I should remove the concrete before work progressed too far. This involved two evenings of bashing my thumb (and occasionally a cold chisel) with a hammer, the tidying away the rubble before the builders arrived next day. It was dirty and dusty work, but the end results should be worth it. It already looks a lot better, but now the stones and the gaps between them need cleaning with a wire brush.

By Friday most of the insulation and much of the plasterboard had been installed so it was time for Stan the electrician to do his first fit. Over the weekend I attacked the fireplace in the bedroom, then worked continued on the remainder of the walls and the ceilings.

By yesterday evening we had reached this stage: the walls and ceiling of the bedroom are 90% insulated and plastered (and the joints done) while the salon only awaits a ceiling. Then the electricity has to be finished, then sanding and painting the walls, sanding and varnishing the floor of the bedroom, scrubbing the tiles in the salon, and doing the pierre apparent - also in the salon.

Walking From Maire

On Monday 5 February we joined the Phoenix en Claise walking group for a 6 kilometre circuit from the small pretty village of Mairé, overlooking the Creuse River. This is always a challenging walk, as it includes the most elevation change of any of our local walks. We had to struggle up a further 145 metres from our start point -- nowhere else has this much climbing! And it was very muddy in places. We had to stop twice to lever  mud off our boots with sticks we found at the side of the track. The walk took one and three-quarter hours, including fording streams, climbing hills, taking photographs and shedding mud build ups.

 

Mairé town hall and war memorial.

The main street of Mairé and looking down into the Creuse Valley.

Palms in a front garden in the village (I assume Windmill Palm Trachycarpus fortunei).

A view from the heights.

Fording a stream...

...because the foot bridge looks like this...

Abandoned agricultural machine.

A Renovation Bonus

(Some photos may not be in full focus. It's the dust in the air confusing the camera)

Back in October 2009 we had the fireplace in our salon replaced with a brand spanking new old recuperated fireplace. We were sad to see the dark red marble fireplace go - but less so when we discovered that it was painted concrete.

In our bedroom, which is currently being insulated, we have a red marble fireplace which we assumed was the same arrangement. When we were clearing the room so the builders could do their thing Gael said "oh! It's stone" and our plan of removing the fireplace was put on hold while we had a brief period of reflection.* We didn't know what stone, or if the whole construction was stone, but chips in the paintwork led to a suspicion on my behalf it was local tuffeau.

On Saturday I stopped thinking and grabbed my  sander to have a proper look see at what the fireplace is made of. I have no idea what the paint was, but I suspect it was lead based, over a black sealant/primer. It was very hard - harder than the stone it was applied to. It made an incredible amount of black dust - followed by even more white dust as I smoothed the stone.

You want dust? We have dust!

Seven hours of work, 29 sanding disks, 1 orbital sander and 3 vacuum cleaner bags later we have a 90 million year old late 19th century fireplace. The finish wouldn't please a stone mason, but I had to get it done before the workmen arrived on Monday.

Pleased? I should co-co!

*We're good at putting things on hold while we have a brief period of reflection. That's how come the house still isn't fully restored after 15 years.

A Meal With Ukrainian Friends

Some weeks ago our friends Antoinette and Niall replaced their television, and asked me if one of 'my' Ukrainians would like their old one, which still worked perfectly as a television but wasn't as modern and connected as a new one. I knew my Ukrainian friend Natacha D had been without a television since she and her family arrived as displaced persons in April 2022 so I offered it to her.

Natacha now lives in Tours because her teenaged children will have better opportunities there. Her son M is training with the firefighters (perfect for him as he is very sporty and not at all academic) and her daughter V is attending high school (lycée). We don't have a high school in Preuilly, and most kids board during the week in Tours or Loches.

I messaged Natacha to say Simon and I would drop by with the television late morning. Natacha promptly messaged back to say 'don't eat too much for breakfast, I'm going to make something!' I thought she meant a cake for morning tea, but it turned out she meant a proper Ukrainian meal, with kotleti (Ukrainian rissoles), potatoes topped with cheese and baked in the oven, chunks of red pepper, cucumber and tomato, blue cheese and olives, plus homemade pizza, washed down with soursop tea. What she didn't realise was that we were due to go to lunch with a colleague after visiting her! So that was two lunches! I tried to stick to mostly salad in both cases...

We talked a bit about how things were going. She's doing an internship in a small neighbourhood shop. V is doing very well at school and all her teachers are impressed. They had just come back from Romania, which is where her parents have fled to. She said it is very hard for her parents as they are in their mid-seventies and there is no State financial support in Romania. So they find themselves working in a paint factory. She also showed us a video from her cousin's wife as she planted a flag to remember him by in Maidan Square in Kyiv. He was killed not so long ago. Her cousin had been a strawberry farmer. By chance his flag was being planted very close to an Australian flag and some International Brigade flags. M and V's father is still in Mykolaiv where they come from. It's a big river port city in the east, on the Dnipro. He has found work as a window fitter. There is a lot of call for new windows because of the shelling, but he is afraid of heights, so it is not his ideal job. He had sent a huge box of Ukrainian lollies (candies, sweets) and Natacha sent us on our way with a big bag of them, and some of the soursop tea leaves. She says she won't return to Ukraine if the Russians take power.

Cement Tiles

I wrote yesterday about having to remove the plinth in our salon before the builders arrive.

The tiles in the salon are one of the things we really liked about the house when we first looked at it. They are cement tiles, very fashionable in the first half of the 20th century. The pattern layer is about 6mm thick, with a plain cement backing. They are often confused (especially by us, who were convinced) with encaustic tiles which are glazed clay tiles with a deep embedded pattern and fired in a kiln. Cement tiles are much more durable and don't need firing 

The tiles are made by forming a pattern in a metal mold with mineral pigments in Portland cement. A thick layer of ordinary cement and sand is laid over that, and the whole is compressed at very high pressure. Our tiles were made by a company called B&C in Tours. I have managed to find out nothing about them.

We weren't looking forwards to removing the plinth as we had been told the tiles were the very devil to remove because they are laid on a surface with cement. Luckily (or unluckily) our plinth was cemented directly to soft(ish) limestone, so came away easily. What might not be so easy is removing the cement used to mount the tiles from the cement of the tiles themselves.

The red lines show the thickness of the tile - between the yellow lines is the pattern layer and the blue lines the backing cement. The white lines show the cement used to mount the tile, which has to be removed

We managed to remove about 60% of the plinth tiles unbroken, plenty enough for the feature band we want to reinstall. The floor tiles themselves are remaining in place, to be thoroughly cleaned.

Another set of renovations

People who follow us on Facebook will know we are having renovations done on the house. The work started in March last year with the windows.

On Monday the professional crew arrived to insulate our bedroom and the salon, but that was not the start of the current phase. First we had to empty both rooms, remove the plinth (skirting board) and demolish tatty old inbuilt wardrobes in both rooms.

The plinth in the salon. We're hoping to reinstate some of these on the new walls

We were not looking forward to it, and I was apprehensive about having to be both efficient and effective. Luckily, Susan had asked around town, and our friend Gael came over on Friday afternoon to help us move furniture and destroy stuff. We had allowed ourselves 2 days, but with Gael's assistance it was done in 5 hours.

Gael and I shift furniture out through the window. It's bigger than the door

Gael carefully removing the plinth

Because our bedroom had been dismantled we were lacking somewhere to sleep, but lovely Lisa and sensible Simon offered us their house in Boussay for however long it takes. So now we're installed in Boussay with warmth, comfortable beds and a lot less dust than we'd be experiencing at home.

Both rooms empty and awaiting the arrival of the professionals

Work is progressing well, we'll keep you informed!

A Baby Girl is Born

 In January I posted about the Franco-Ukrainian Christmas party, and happened to mention that one of 'our' Ukrainians was pregnant and in fact due to give birth before the end of the month. I'm pleased to announce that little Arina arrived a fortnight ago and mother and baby are doing well. Mum is supported by her own mother, which is good, since it is her first child. Dad is on the front line.

 

A beautiful little cardigan and two soft baby blankets arrived in the post.

After I posted a link on Facebook, someone got in touch with me and said she would like to send some hand knitted baby items. I thought initially that she was one of the very many very nice people out there whose heart is going out to the Ukrainians, and who want to make some gesture to help. It turned out she has a very personal reason for wanting to help, which I won't divulge, as it is private. But it did add a whole new layer of significance to the gift.

 

Proud Dad (who got a few days leave to come and meet his daughter), Grandma and Mum with baby Arina. (Bertrand with camera in the foreground.)