With our first summer season is behind us, and the nights drawing in, it seems an appropriate time to respond to the hints we have received that an update is due.
And there is certainly plenty of progress to report since May.

After a relatively slow start, due to our determination to get the place finished before we went to market, our season did not really get going until July. Then it really took off.

At least by July we had a pristine swimming pool with a tiled surround (well, except for a small area at the far end that not many seemed to notice), and a pool-house that was rendered and painted (on the outside, at least). But we quickly came to realise that guests were not unduly concerned by such details: with the hot weather, the pool was a huge success and well used by all our summer guests, including children from 1 year upwards. We loved to see our guests enjoy the water, and were as proud as the parents of one three-year old who learned to swim during his stay..

Mrs Cow was popular in the swimming pool.

It was not long before we had our first topless female sunbather. Although the pool is well screened by fencing, we thought it prudent to ask her to avoid positioning herself where she was in full view of our next-door neighbour. Now an 80 year old who behaves at times as if he were still 20, Aristide has already had one heart attack and we did not wish to cause him another one.

The rapid rise in guest numbers kept us on our toes, especially in high season when French guests arrived in strength. With some hasty improvisations the four seater dining-room table grew in length to accommodate ten or more diners, and despite some scenes in the kitchen reminiscent of out-takes from ‘Ready, Steady, Cook!’ we managed to produce evening meals that seemed to be enjoyed by all. We will not, however, be held responsible for the excess weight that some of our guests complained they had put on during their stay!

The cats adapted well to the comings and goings. Both adored the attention they received from the many cat-lovers who stayed with us. Fred particularly liked one guest’s description of him as ‘world-famous’ because of his Internet appearance, and took to sitting in the entrance hall where he could meet and greet new arrivals. Some guests would even ignore the offered drinks and help with luggage on arrival, and insist on meeting their real hosts, the world famous Fred and his lovely assistant, Fifi. .

The new stove is a big hit.

The new en-suites were much admired and functioned well, thanks to our plumbers. Even their high standards, though, could not cope with the exploits of an over-amorous couple on a long weekend from Paris. After their somewhat furtive departure, we discovered that they had managed to rip the entire shower tap unit off the wall (speculation on how it happened is still a popular dinner-table topic). Typically, the room was booked for the same night, and if that wasn’t enough, the next family arrived early, to find us and our friends Jon and Helen, who had (perhaps unwisely) chosen that weekend to stay, careering about in search of a strong, fast-acting fix for the taps. Despite our best efforts the shower was out of commission overnight, so we offered the family the use of the shower in the adjoining bedroom which had not been used before. This seemed a good idea – until they took their showers. Just as we were preparing for dinner, water began cascading into the dining-room. The resulting scenes were close to farce as the four of us scrambled for buckets and mops to clean up before any guests appeared, while still trying to get a meal ready on time. To this day we like to think that they had no idea what chaos their quick shower had caused downstairs.

But there were also plenty of tranquil moments, when we could sit outside in the warm summer nights with our guests, accompanied by two glow-worms who quickly acquired the names Gilbert and George. Or watch a hedgehog trundling across the lawn past Fred who, in his characteristic statue-like pose, pretended it did not exist. Fred would have been wise to adopt the same tactic with a praying mantis which appeared in the garden during the autumn. On that occasion his curiosity earned him a sharp smack on the nose, something he is not used to from a three-inch long green thing.

During the autumn our guests were predominantly house hunters, and we shared their enthusiasms and disappointments as they returned each day from another gruelling round of house viewing. Many were extremely curious about the inner workings of French houses, and we were a little surprised to find ourselves giving detailed explanations of how our sewage system works - not something we had envisaged sharing with guests!

So we have reached late autumn. The sun is low in the sky, the nights are clear and frosty, and in the shops singing Santas lurk in corners. In contrast to last year, the house is now extremely warm, with a new wood burning stove in the dining-room proving very popular with the cats. But in other ways we have a curious sense of ‘déjà vu’. We have resumed decorating the remaining bedrooms, while outside the garden has been dug up to install a major new drainage system to cope with next year’s planned expansion. One year ago a large yellow digger was ripping up the garden to install the swimming pool: the only difference this time is that the digger is a rather fetching shade of lilac. And there is Aristide in the garden with his bucket, collecting worms for next season’s eel fishing. As the French would say, ‘plus ça change’…..

Here we go again..

The last review left us with the familiar scene of the garden being ripped up: happily, the drainage was successfully installed, leaving a garden that was reasonably level, albeit looking like a ploughed field over the winter. The only hitch comes on the final morning, when the terrassier accidentally severs the mains water pipe with his digger. Within minutes we had a second swimming pool forming beside the house, and an urgent request to contact the rather grandly named ‘president of the water syndicate’. It was not a serious enough problem, however, to interrupt the sacred ‘heure de déjeuner’. The president finally arrives at two o’clock, maps in hand, and amid much hand-shaking he joins the terrassier and our next door neighbour to admire what had now become a tributary to the river Boutonne. Eventually the local plumber is called and the leak fixed in minutes. The president then pats Ianthe on the cheek, and with a beaming smile announces that there would be no charge for the repair.

We spend Christmas with guests, which gives us a wonderful excuse to make Christmas puddings and mince-pies, and to dig out long-forgotten Christmas decorations. The local choir with which Ianthe now sings enjoys our Christmas offerings: the mince-pies are declared ‘super-bon’, even though the French are totally flummoxed by the fact that mincemeat isn’t meat.

Freddie enjoying Christmas 2004.

After a relatively mild winter we suffer an exceptionally cold February, with the temperature one night plummeting to an all time low of minus 6 degrees. The early Easter means that Mardi Gras falls in February, yet another excuse for the local children to dress up and solicit sweets from every household. It is now standard in French primary schools for children to be introduced to English from the age of five, and our young neighbours are keen to practice what they had been taught. “In the morning, you say ‘good morning. In the afternoon, you say ‘good afternoon’…”.

In between visits by our regular guests, we take the opportunity of the prolonged cold to finish decorating the house: the last two bedrooms are completed, and then the kitchen. It gives us great satisfaction to tick each room off the list. Another small but significant step is to get a sign up outside the house (at long last!): last summer several visitors commented on the low profile we appear to keep, although everyone in the village now knows how to direct people to Chezfreddie. Fifi is making a determined bid for a change of name (see photo), but we remain convinced that ‘Chezfifi’ might attract a somewhat dubious clientele.

Fifi making a bid for a change of name.

Eventually Spring arrives, and the garden begins to turn green again. Work starts on the outbuilding that will become our home for the summer, and, typically, as soon as the old roof was removed we have a week of heavy rain. The French menuisier and his team persevere, however, refusing to leave even when it is tipping down, and within a week we have a new roof with beams carefully sculpted to match the old style. In the interim, the lack of a roof gave us the opportunity for a unique view of the garden (see photo).

A unique view of the garden.

In late April the sun reappears to lift our spirits. As well as cuckoos, the first golden orioles are heard. We also have the pleasure of seeing a hoopoe on our lawn, and hearing a nightingale singing in the hedgerows. By mid-May the crickets have started their chorus, and lizards are beginning to emerge, although many are now tail-less after an encounter with Fifi. We are now in the final stages of preparation for summer lets, and with the rising temperature the swimming pool is looking more and more inviting…

The pool is looking more and more inviting.

Our preparation for the summer rental season becomes a frantic rush as the weeks fly by, and our list of decorating, gardening and clearing out jobs seems endless. Help is summoned, both locally and in the shape of Richard’s father, who does a sterling job getting the garden into shape. When our first guests arrive, the house is spotless, the pool fully tiled and with a new shower/loo installed, the drive newly gravelled, and we are in a breathless heap in the cottage surrounded by a jumble of possessions.

After such a manic five weeks, we suddenly find ourselves with unaccustomed leisure time. With guests relaxing in the house and garden, DIY is definitely off the agenda (save the occasional emergency repair), and gardening can only be done when guests are out. This happens relatively rarely, as they seem to find the place much to their liking. As one guest put it: “Why should we go out when we’ve got everything we want here?” So we begin to enjoy the lazy days of summer, sharing the occasional bottle of wine with our guests in the evenings, or a morning cup of coffee and joke swap under the willow tree outside the cottage.

We have many fond memories of the summer, for example the family ‘Olympic Games’ on the newly-grassed play area .

The Chezfreddie play area.

By this time we had accumulated a wide range of outdoor and indoor games, which were enjoyed as much by the adults as by the children (in the case of the Scalectrix, the children barely got a look in). We are also entertained by children’s boat races on inflatables in the pool, and by treasure hunts by ‘Freddie’s team’ versus ‘Fifi’s team’.

Making a splash.

The cats adapt effortlessly to the new domestic arrangements, making occasional visits to the main house to make the acquaintance of successive guests. Fifi decides to offer a new service in decorative arts, with tasteful paw-print designs on guests’ cars.

Fifi's new line in car decoration.

Too soon, however, we discover Murphy’s Law of house letting: domestic appliances that have worked perfectly all year will suddenly break down when made available to guests. We are fortunate in being able to summon help quickly: when the washing machine packs up, our local plumber (who installed all the en-suites) arrives the same day. His solution is to tip the offending machine on its side, hit it with a spanner a few times and call it a ‘putain’ (obviously a technical term). It has worked perfectly since.

August sees a change of pace as we revert to B&B. The first night is the hardest: apart from finding that nothing in the kitchen is where we left it, we find that only two burners on the gas oven are working, while the electric oven has given up altogether. Cooking an evening meal for 14 people is therefore something of a challenge. We stagger through, and by 11pm have loaded up the dishwasher with some relief, only to find that it isn’t working either. Fortunately all these problems are rapidly put right, and we are able to get back into the swing of things.

At the end of August the guests leave, and we greatly miss the sound of conversation and laughter drifting through the cottage windows on a warm summer’s evening. Despite the improvised facilities, we love our ‘posh camping’ in the cottage. We are so reluctant to leave it that only the autumn cold of late September drives us back into the main house. Ironically, we then enjoy a glorious ‘Indian Summer’ that lasts until the end of October, enabling us to sunbathe by the pool in shorts and tee-shirts. We are only sorry that we do not have more guests to share it with.

Our Indian summer gives way to a long and cold winter, in common with the rest of Europe. We are forced to move back into the main house, as the small stove we have installed in the cottage is unable to compensate for the lack of insulation upstairs. We start work on the cottage in November, repointing interior walls in gloves and overcoats while the wind whistled through the gaps in the eaves.

Unlike the rest of France, we did not have any snow (it is still rare in this region), but the cold weather did bring some very beautiful scenes of frost-covered trees.

The Boutonne in winter.

However, by early 2006 we began to feel as if winter would never end. In late January Richard’s father, who had given us so much help and who had spent a quiet Christmas with us, died in the UK. That was followed less than a week later by the death of one of our closest English neighbours, Bill, whose DIY knowledge had been invaluable, and who had unstintingly helped us out on occasions. Bill was buried in the village cemetery, which gave us an insight into funeral procedures in France, particularly the role of the maire. As well as acting as local registrar, our maire was closely involved in the funeral arrangements and gave enormous support to the family. It was touching to see most of the villagers present for the burial, on a bitterly cold February day.

At the end of February comes the annual celebration of Mardi Gras (Shrove Tuesday). The cold weather does not deter the village children from going round in fancy dress, collecting goodies from householders, and afterwards burning an effigy, or bonhomme (fortunately, not of the maire) on the village green. 

The village children celebrate Mardi Gras in fancy dress.

The first signs of Spring come at the beginning of April. The first hoopoe is heard only a day after the first cuckoo, and the black redstarts, the male resplendent in his black and white plumage with vivid orange tail, return to take up residence in the garden. During the winter we put food out for the birds and had much pleasure in seeing how many permanent residents the garden hosts. During the spring, the stonework of the open barn hosts nests of redstarts, robins, wrens and flycatchers, who seem neighbourly enough, and unite in a cacophony of warning calls when one of the cats was nearby.

During the winter, the large willow tree on front of the cottage has a long overdue haircut, which is necessary to prevent damage to the roof. Despite a severe pollarding, it very soon grows new shoots, but not before we witness a very interesting silhouette in the spring sunshine!

The willow tree's silhouette.

As the summer season draws near, we have our usual mad rush to get the cottage habitable and the house ready for guests, although this year the list of tasks is a little less daunting. The late spring, combined with a wet May, works in our favour in the garden, as the roses look superb this year, and everything is fresh and green. By the end of May, the temperature is rising nicely, and the pool is warm enough for the arrival of our first guests.
 

Once our first rental guests are settled in, we are able to enjoy some of the highlights of
the village social life. Not least of these is the annual ‘vide-grenier’ (literally
translated as ‘empty attic’). In Cherigne this is as much an excuse to chat to the
neighbours as it is to buy anything. Although these events now feature many professional
traders, the villagers are out in force, selling everything from outgrown children’s toys
and handicrafts to any old junk they think somebody else might buy.

Buy your old tyres or rusty bedsteads here.

In late June we welcome a new arrival to the Chezfreddie team, in the small black and white
(and female) shape of Freddie 2. We had for some time been considering the possibility that
Fred, our esteemed marketing director and logo, might some day wish to retire, and so had
been on the lookout for a suitable successor. Little Freddie, who came from a local vet’s,
bonded instantly with Fred senior. The two appeared inseparable, Fred behaving like a
tolerant uncle towards his miniature replica, with only an occasional gentle
smack to remind her who was boss. . 

Freddies 1 & 2.

Sadly, within a few week’s of Freddie 2’s arrival, Fred senior’s health began to fail and,
to our shock, he was diagnosed positive for both leukaemia and feline AIDS. While still
enjoying the summer sun, he gradually faded over the following weeks, and died in early
August. He has been buried in a spot he chose himself, behind the swimming pool where, in
his declining days, he enjoyed listening to the voices and laughter of our guests.

So little Freddie suddenly found herself in charge of the business at the tender age of four
months. While we would have liked her to have had longer with her mentor, she is evidently
taking her new responsibilities very seriously indeed.

Paying last respects.

In early September our last rental guests depart, and for the first time since our arrival,
we manage to take a few days holiday ourselves. In the event, we only manage 4 days, before
we welcome the first of a steady stream of B&B guests throughout the autumn. They, and we,
are able to take advantage of one of the warmest autumns on record, with daytime
temperatures in the high 20s centigrade. The only clue that we are not still in high summer
is the early arrival of nightfall.
 

Our warm autumn gives way to a mild winter, punctuated only by two or three days in January when the snow returns - the most we have ever seen here. We are happy to be able to keep the heating bills down, as we move back into the main house for the whole of the winter while the downstairs of the cottage is refurbished.

So once again we are back to mess and dust in the cottage as we clean and re-point the old stone walls, lay a tile floor, put up plasterboard walls and decorate (the electrics and plumbing we leave to a professional).

The cottage kitchen to be.

However, the hard slog is well worth it and we are delighted with the results. We are now able to start moving all our belongings permanently out of storage into our new home: some of which haven’t been unpacked since we moved here four years ago!

The cottage kitchen - April 2007.

We also make an early start on the garden, but our work here is interrupted as Richard has a three week spell in hospital with blood clots. Despite the perception of the French that their medical service has deteriorated, we are still impressed by its quality. Richard’s after care in particular is excellent, with weekly visits from the district nurses.

During this period, winter suddenly turns into summer with the warmest April on record. Our summer visitors return early in the month: the cuckoo beats the hoopoe by a day or two, the redstart and black redstart seek their usual nesting places in the barn, and by the end of the month the golden oriole is regularly heard by the river. Sitting outside during the day, we can watch the buzzards drifting gracefully in the thermals; at night, we listen to the crickets and a distant nightingale.

One of our most spectacular garden visitors is a newcomer: an impressive 12-centimetre wide giant peacock moth. 
 

A giant peacock moth - first ever sighting.

These normally live nearer the Mediterranean, but perhaps global warming is bringing them further north. In any event, the richness of the wildlife here continues to amaze us, and we look forward to further interesting sightings.
 

The premature heat of April gives way to an unsettled summer, with
more rain than we are used to, although our sheltered position
spares us from the extremes of climate suffered by much of Europe.
Our guests cope gamely with the rainy weather, and the indoor games
and videos are much appreciated. Fortunately, everyone has at
least some sunshine, and it is rewarding to see the outdoor games
and bikes being used to the full. We particularly enjoy the
inventive ‘jeux sans frontieres’ of one family group.

Family Games.

The house copes well with the influx of visitors, apart from some
minor plumbing problems. Our local plumber responds promptly to our
phone-calls for help, turning up at 08:30 one morning dressed in a
checked shirt, shorts and bedroom slippers. It turns out that he is
in fact on holiday that week, but still fixes the problem with
minimum inconvenience to our guests. Nor has he lost his sense of
humour: on discovering that long hair was the cause of a blocked
shower, he solemnly advises us only to have guests with short hair.
We respond with equal solemnity that we will amend our booking
enquiry form accordingly.

Little Freddie starts to show increasing independence, spending the
summer nights out, and on one occasion disappearing for three days.
despite being fully mature she remains a small cat: unlike Fifi,
who on a routine visit to the vet’s is declared clinically obese
and required to go on a diet.

Fifi pre-diet - can anyone see the ping-pong table?

Fortunately (for us and for her), four weeks of slimming has the desired effect, and she
has now regained some of her old agility.

With perverse predictability, as soon as the summer guests depart
the weather settles and we have a glorious autumn. The start of
September brings the return of the hunting season with the annual
‘fete de la chasse’ on St Hubert’s Day (the patron saint of
hunting). As well as displays of hunting dogs and horn-blowing, the
attractions include ‘guess the name of the pig’.
 

Guess the name of the pig?

One local wit is overheard to comment that it can only be called
‘Sarko’ (the French nickname for President Sarkosy) – a name,
strangely enough, that is not on the list.
 

The major event in the village this autumn is the introduction of street names (only a year late). The tasteful burgundy and cream street signs are installed by the local farmer and his assistant who are responsible for the maintenance of the village’s roads and waysides.

Street names come to Chérigné.

Our Christmas and New Year guests, both extended French families, give us an insight into how the French celebrate the festive season. The main event, as always with the French, is the meal: the garage is transformed into a temporary larder which plates of carefully prepared seafood and entrees (4 boxes of
oysters are consumed by one party). Their hospitality is extended to us, and we are invited in for a drink, although we find it difficult to sit back and let others do the fetching and carrying! Perhaps one day we will get used to being guests in our own house.

The first major event of the year is the municipal elections in March. Although the commune of Chérigné has a population of only around 250 people, it is required to have a council of at least 11 members. And the residents take their civic responsibilities very seriously: the 85% turnout puts English local elections to shame. Most of Chérigné’s council members are standing for re-election, and their names, along with new volunteers, are listed on the ballot paper. In true French style, however, residents can vote for whoever they like by adding names at will. This makes the counting process a lengthy, and public, affair, as a large crowd gathers in the Mairie to hear the votes read out. It seems that practically everyone in the village has at least one vote: some people vote for entire families, although with many villagers sharing the same surnames, family connections are baffling to the outsider. Even the vote-counters are sometimes confused: one vote has to be discounted as it is not clear which of the two Robert Nocquets in the village is intended. Three hours after the polls close, the results are finally confirmed, and celebratory glasses of wine handed round. And the outcome? A council virtually identical to the previous one: a reminder, perhaps, of the seemingly unchanging nature of life here that attracted us in the first place.

A wet spring, with unseasonably late frosts in April, has done nothing for this year’s fruit crop, but on the positive side we’re unlikely to have a water shortage this year. We start the season with the lawns lush and green (although we curse the need for twice-weekly mowing!). And for the first time, we are sufficiently well organised to get the vegetable plot going, and will hopefully be sharing the produce with our guests during the coming months. Last summer’s uncertain weather also convinced us of the need for a heat pump for the pool, so by the arrival of the first guests in May the pool is a comfortable temperature.  

This year’s rental season starts almost before the warm weather, and the newly-installed swimming pool heat pump has a few teething problems. Judging by the cries of ‘Oh! Mon Dieu!’ emanating from the pool enclosure, our first French guests in May find the water a little bracing. The kids, as ever, are totally impervious. By June, the heat pump has settled down and both the weather and the water temperature are much more agreeable.

This year Chezfreddie plays host to a wide range of groups in terms of party size (4 to 13), age (from one month to over 90), and interests. The visit by an MG owners’ club coincides with the village’s ‘vide grenier’ in June, and arrangements are made with the maire for the cars to be displayed on site.

  
MG Club makes an entry at the village vide grenier

These classic models attract a lot of interest, although their owners are anxious to stress to the locals that they are most definitely not for sale!

In July, the local town of Brioux-sur-Boutonne is the starting point for a stage in the local departmental cycle race, the ‘tour 79’.

Tour 79 starts in Brioux

The very next day is the 14 July, and it is traditional for local communes to organise a cycle ride. Chezfreddie is hosting a party of cycling enthusiasts at this time, and they join the village of Chérigné for this event. The turnout is impressive, with children, parents and grandparents taking part. Our maire arrives on a bike that looks like a vintage World War 2 model – a far cry from the high tech machines of the previous day’s race.

Tour 79 it ain't!

The cycle ride is also a much more leisurely affair, the weather is glorious and the countryside at its most beautiful.

It is rewarding to see full use being made of all Chezfreddie’s games and facilities. As this is Olympic year, one party organises its own Olympic games in August, complete with award ceremony and singing of the national anthem (a fitting balance, perhaps, to a rather rousing midnight rendition of the Marseillaise from an earlier group). As always it is the little ones who provide the most entertainment, albeit unwittingly. Particularly touching is a makeshift cross, with a note in childish handwriting, marking the spot on the lawn where a ‘baby butterfly’ was accidentally squashed.

In late autumn, Richard leaves Chezfreddie. For some time he has felt at somewhat of a loose end now that the building and decorating work, which he found the most rewarding aspect of the enterprise, is finished. Ianthe, on the other hand, is quite happy to swap hours of tiling and plaster-boarding for the day-to-day running and routine maintenance jobs. So we decide to go our separate ways, and the business will now be run by Ianthe - ably supported by the two cats, and a team of friends and neighbours who are already helping out on changeover days.

 

The winter this year is consistently cold but calm, and the clear skies result in some spectacular sunsets, especially when accompanied by a ground mist that gives the river an ethereal quality. The village, as usual, is decorated with sprigs of conifer on every gate, and individual householders show considerable ingenuity in adapting everyday objects for their displays of Christmas lights.

  
Homemade Christmas decorations

The calm weather is briefly interrupted in February by a fierce gale that leaves the village without electricity for nearly two days. The B&B guests who are staying at that time seem unconcerned by the loss of light and heating in the house, and are very appreciative of the candles, torches and extra blankets offered. Our maire shows commendable concern for the commune by visiting every household during his lunch hour to check that everyone is coping.

The cold continues throughout April, but with frequent rain that provides perfect conditions for the fruit trees. Unlike last year, when almost nobody in the village had any fruit, this year promises a bumper harvest. The evening is the best time to enjoy the heady scent of fruit blossom, and also to listen to the nightingales whose non-stop melody is a joy to hear, until the arrival of the crickets in May almost drown them out.

During the light spring evenings some rather different sounds can be heard. Two of the lads in the village are learning to play the French hunting horn, or ‘cor de chasse’. Unlike the English hunting horn, this is a long instrument that coils round the body, and judging by the number of cracked notes is not the easiest to play. Unfortunately their efforts cause all the dogs in the village to start howling, so the two boys resort to practice sessions down by the river.

Horn practice

Even if the fish object to the noise, their protest is rather less vocal than that of the dogs.

With the light evenings, nocturnal visitors are more easily seen. Mitten is clearly fascinated by one of them, even though her attempts to make friends appear to be ignored.

Mitten meets a new friend

Finally the hot weather arrives. The first of the summer fruit is suddenly ready, and all the neighbours are invited to pick the overwhelming quantities of cherries and raspberries. Any spare moments between harvesting fruit and the lawn-mowing are spent in the swimming pool, which has reached a comfortable 28 degrees centigrade without the need for the heat pump.

 

As predicted, this is a bumper year for all types of fruit: the plum trees are so laden that their branches break. All efforts are made to harvest this bonanza, the freezer ends up bulging, and jam-making skills are brushed up. But there is simply too much, and the majority ends up going to the birds.

By the summer the ‘vide-grenier’ season is in full swing: the popularity of these village events has not waned, and they remain as much a social occasion as an opportunity to buy and sell. Despite the turnout of the crowds, the economic recession has affected trade – buyers are much more selective, and reluctant to part with their money. Consequently, some hard bargaining can be heard at the stalls.

Other village traditions remain almost unchanged. The midsummer ‘Feu de la St Jean’ (Fire of St John) is held as usual in Chérigné. This ritual, which has its roots in pre-Christian religions, involves a procession of lanterns and a bonfire around which all the villagers dance (see photograph).

  
The ritual of the 'Feu de la St Jean'

This was originally held to encourage the summer harvest, in the belief that the crops would grow as high as the flames (pretty impressive, if true). Traditionally, all the young men would then jump through the fire, a practice intended to ward off bad backs and other maladies (an important consideration, when all harvesting was done manually). But modern health and safety regulations have now intervened, and the maire puts a barrier round the fire as soon as the dancing is over (not before one or two lads have managed to keep the old tradition going, though).

In August the village organises a bicycle ride in the Marais Poitevin. This important tourist site is now fighting hard to regain its ‘Regional National Park’ label, lost some years ago due to intensive agricultural development. Considerable efforts have been made to clean up the waterways of the ‘Green Venice’ and to create a network of marked bicycle trails, to enable the visitor to appreciate the delights of this special landscape.

Marais Poitevin trip August 2009

After the bike ride almost the entire village assembles for a picnic: being English, of course, we had forgotten that for the French this means a table and chairs, table cloth, china, and a five-course meal. Sitting on the ground with our plastic mugs and plates, we attract some pitying glances, but the locals are liberal with their offerings of home-made Pineau, the regional aperitif, and each person’s vintage must, of course, be sampled to avoid giving offence!

The summer gives way to one of the mildest autumns on record, with the result that in December the raspberries are fruiting, and the bees are out in swarms on the flowering ivy. Concern about the diminishing water reserves in the area has led to the construction of new reservoirs around the area, but heavy rainfall means that these are full almost before they are finished. There is a brief spell of cold weather during December, including half a day’s snow, but Chezfreddie’s winter guests experience a mild and very wet Christmas.

The mild Autumn gives way to a long and cold winter. In January the snow arrives - typically, just too late for the Christmas guests. The following months remain persistently cold, with a steady Easterly wind, punctuated by a violent storm in late February. This causes havoc on the Atlantic coast but little damage here, apart from blowing over a very pretty viburnum (‘boule de neige’) behind the swimming pool, which, undeterred, blooms during May from its new horizontal position.

   
The boule de neige flowers in horizontal position

The cold start to the spring does not alter the natural progression towards summer. The cuckoo is first heard, appropriately, on the first of April, closely followed by the hoopoe. By May the nightingale is in full spate every night, but towards the end of the month he has stiff competition from the nightly chorus of frogs and crickets.

Spring also sees the start of a new programme of work at Chezfreddie. The swimming pool is completely retiled by a local builder, accompanied by his very enthusiastic five-year old grandson.

All generations at work retiling

Be reassured, little Theo’s contribution was entirely voluntary: France does have laws against child labour! Work also starts on a new games terrace which will eventually be roofed over, and will become a permanent home for the games rather than simply a new sun spot for Fifi.

 
May 2010 the new games terrace

As the days lengthen and the warm weather returns, we have the opportunity to meet some of the countryside’s natural producers at work. A neighbour takes us to see his beehives in the local woods, and it is a pleasure to watch him calmly moving around the hives without any special protective clothing, while the bees come and go as usual.

Michel's bees

This is truly a chance to appreciate the slow, measured way things are done in the countryside – something that we don’t always appreciate in our rushed daily lives.

We would like our guests to be able to sample as much locally produced food as possible. Sample pots of honey are available in the kitchen, and can be bought from the producer. The fruit trees promise a plentiful crop again this year, and the vegetable plot is well stocked with plants, many donated by neighbours, even if the weeds are also flourishing!