Little girls giggling and running from the school gates at home time singing out Macaron pour president!..again and again, laughing at their play on words. Hearing ten year olds talking of their parents wanting to move abroad if the opponent to Macron should win. Fear has blown in gusts about us for two weeks now, and disbelief at the close proximity of the alternate party. Today my husband spent the day in the garage, anxious, needing to occupy himself rather than think about the election.
Now the country has spoken and we can celebrate and support a man who speaks with positivity and reason. Keeping europe together, rather than ripping people apart.
Emmanuel Macron gives us hope and here in our home we are truly joyful at his election.
Recently I had the opportunity to go to a provençal carnaval. From February to April here in France there are many such celebrations of springtime and the banishing of the greyness of winter. Whilst most of us know this festival as a christian feast, carnival is a costume party that has existed for more than two thousand years with an enduring seasonal emphasis. In roman times, servants and masters were known to exchange dress for a temporary and definitely superficial reversal of role. Continue reading “Pets de nonne”
Several times we have visited the city of Romans-sur-Isere, a quaint city in the department of the Drome, quite famous for three things – being the former capital of shoe manufacturing in Europe, for its delicious brioche like bread – the Pogne de Romans and finally for its adorable biscuits, the Lunettes de Romans (eyeglasses of Romans).
Shrugging on coats, we laced up our shoes, scooped up three dog leashes and headed for the door. La meute (the pack) do their absolute best to restrain from barking, to avoid waking up the entire building at 7.30 am on a Saturday morning in Lyon. With little ‘shhh’ reminders, I can see the effort they are making to stay calm, so eager to please us but fizzing with excitement for a morning walk. I am blissfully in love with this city, a passion that has spanned unrelenting for more than two decades and I am ethereal as I float down the staircase to the front door. Hauling open the huge carved wooden door we are slapped by the sounds of the city. Already very much awake even for a weekend, we find cyclists pedal along furiously, traffic signals interchange and street cleaners open water valves and spray arcs of water out onto the street. Continue reading “Marché quai St Antoine – Célestins”
I recently found some puzzles that are as they would say here, a croquer, literally ‘to crunch’, so gorgeous I just want to eat them. Giddy and bubbly over these finds, I have to share one before I evaporate entirely. I encountered a man who was clearing out some old family toys from the 1950s and didn’t hesitate to snap them up. I am sure you will be really impressed, I can’t believe my luck… Continue reading “Puzzles des annees 50”
Chasing slippery egg through flour and damming it up before it escaped. A dust of gritty nutmeg sullies the strong white flour, a good sized pinch of salt scatters across the deep dark richness of ground sarrasin. Kneaded together forms a shade of pale, speckled grey. A melding of contrasts to form the smoothest, most generous dough.
I had completely forgotten that I’d ordered them when I went to the mailbox and retrieved the padded envelope. Tearing it open and tipping out the small transparent plastic container I was still in the dark; when I turned it over and found a few pieces of popcorn covered in specks I finally remembered. I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it, my ladybird larvae had arrived. Continue reading “A cultural misunderstanding”