The weather this year, in my little corner of France has been shocking. During this miserable period however, I had a very important visitor - from Australia!!!!!!

​Many years ago my grandfather’s sister emigrated to Australia with her husband and children. It must have been a daunting trip back in the 1950s with no hope of regular visits home to her family in Wales. My father always kept in touch with his cousin and sadly they both died about the same time as each other - continents apart. I knew I had one Australian cousin as Paula had visited Wales to visit my father many years ago, but I didn’t know I had another. 

I received a message (how wonderful is the internet) from Helen saying that she would be visiting the UK with her husband James. They would be touring around Europe and could they visit me in France? Well France is a big country but has a brilliant infrastructure. So one wet miserable morning I drove to Angouleme to meet them from the Paris train. They had spent a few busy days in our beautiful but cold capital city. The weather in the UK and Paris must have come as a shock to them after Australia - I hoped that rural France would not be too much of a disappointment after their adventures.

Thankfully they were happy to just chill. They had wonderful tales of their travels around England Scotland and Wales and they met another unknown cousin (hope to meet you soon Mark) in Wales. Helen actually knew more about my father’s family than I did. We got on like a house on fire. It was as if we’d always known each other - it was weird! Although I have to say she was significantly quieter than me!!!!! 

The rain didn’t stop!!!!! ​So one day we ventured into town. Well it was shopping weather!!!! Grammar school husband joined us. We were honoured as he hates shopping - but he was with us for the impending lunch!!!!! 

Angouleme is France’s Ville de l’Image, capital of comic books. It has over 30 cartoon paintings on the walls and buildings of the town. It has a cartoon museum and a labyrinth of medieval cobbled streets full of bars, restaurants and exclusive boutiques. It sits on a hill overlooking the Charente valley and has a wonderful 19th century indoor market, Marché des Halles with stalls brimming with local produce, wines and street food style diners.

Helen and I hit the clothes shops!!!!! ​We were warmly welcomed by Veronique at Le Boudoir de Marguerite (see previous blog post) and we then went to a favourite boutique of mine called Strass. The beautiful Iris always looks so chic and helped us with our purchases - French gifts for Helen to take home down under. Strass Angouleme has an amazing Facebook page with videos of all the new clothes arriving at their shop. Watching the fashion shows is excellent for my French, especially the difficult numbers (prices) - lol.

Our last night was spent at the Beau Rivage restaurant in Mansle overlooking the river Charente. I even lent Helen my coat to go out - such is our family love!!!!!! We talked all night and the next morning we sadly had to say goodbye as they headed off by train to Bordeaux to fly to Italy. What jet setters!!!! 

I found out that Helen is a brilliant artist, so every day I rush to my postbox as she’s sent me one of her paintings to hang in my French house. ​You can look her work up on her Instagram account helengerschwitz_art. That’s one thing we don’t have in common, I couldn’t draw a stick man with Banksy to help!!!!

​​It takes just 30 minutes on the fast train from Angouleme to St Jean Station. I leave a quiet sleepy village and get off the train to the hustle and bustle of city life.  I've visited many times before but this time we will be staying in Le Grand Hotel. Normally out of our price range but we are pushing the boat out on this occasion.
 
Whenever my now departed father and I visited a city together, he would drag me into the poshest hotel and ask for a coffee. I used to be mortified if we weren't staying in the hotel, but he always did it. He told me that you can get a feel for a hotel by not being a resident. Will they tell you to go away? (that happened to him once in Dubai). Is it snobby? Does it have a pleasant ambiance? I have visited some beautiful places with my father - all for the price of a coffee.

​Winding down the cobbled streets of Angoulême lies a hidden gem - Le Boudoir de Marguerite. It looks like the sort of shop that only stocks a size 8 and you may need a small mortgage to purchase anything. The clothes are ​très chic and very French. I never ventured inside, I just admired the colourful window displays from afar - how wrong was I?
​
The first time I visited the shop was by sheer fluke. I was dog walking with my friend Jackie (Mrs Fit) and our fox terriers H and Jackpott. We had parked down the bottom of an extremely steep hill by the River and I huffed and puffed up the incredibly steep steps to the remparts of the city. We strolled through the café lined courtyards and she said 'let's pop in here'. I was mortified! Donning scruffy dog walking clothes and trainers (very unchic) with a bright red face, we entered the shop. Actually, to be truthful, I hovered outside and got dragged in!!!!

​Inside were beautiful clothes, designer shoes and vintage handbags. Not expensive at all but second hand or pre-loved. 

I am delighted to be featured on Shelley Wilson’s popular blog Motivatemenow   

You can read the interview HERE

Motivation has always fascinated me as it often evades me and featured highly in my previous teaching career.

‘Motivation is the key to success’ so they say!!

Enjoy!!!!

Belinda

When I was a child in the sixties, milk arrived in bottles straight onto the doorstep. The milkman collected those bottles each day and they were recycled. This was long before recycling became fashionable. We used to reuse lots of things. Wool, curtains, fabric from clothes and buttons. Collars were turned on shirts, socks darned - I could go on. Furniture was painted, chairs recovered and fixed. Nothing went to waste. Clothes were handed down through families and then passed on down the street to somebody else. Plastic was a new material for modern furniture and picnic plates.

In France plastic carrier bags were banned over 15 years ago. If you shop in the supermarket you need to buy or reuse a large Eco bag. If you forget to take them, you have to buy more, or put your groceries into the car and bag them up when you get home. I was always forgetting my Eco bags at first. Now they live happily in the boot of my car for when they are needed, and this is the best bit - when you shop at any other shop you get a beautiful cardboard carrier bag with the shop's name on it. If it's a gift, bows and brightly coloured trailing ribbons tinker over the edge of the beautifully wrapped parcel. What a treat!!!
​

But where does all the recycling go? How does the plastic end up in the sea? Are they really recycling the plastic? Are they washing out the bottles and reusing them for milk or are they being turned into something more useful? We don't really know what happens to our recycling or do we?
​

​Please please please will somebody of extreme importance stop the use of plastic carrier bags and bottles. It's not very Eco you know!!!!!


What do you think?



Next time a much lighter subject. Shopping - French style!!!

​ Brittany Ferry sat in what used to be the back seat of a BMW spitting out seat lining.) And the dog would not ​be allowed upstairs. I agreed.

​The next week we visited the SPA in Mornac to view a Jack Russell which had just arrived. My husband didn't look keen and paced around with his hands in his pocket. The dog nearly bit his hand off and it didn't like the look of me. My husband literally ran to the car with a relieved look on his face. We were interrupted by my dear friend Jackie Butler who happens to be a dog walker there. I told her the Jack Russell wasn't for us and she asked if I'd seen the fox terrier she walks. I hadn't. My husband looked defeated, started walking like a monkey and followed us back in.

​David et Sebastien from the village (these two can do anything) offered to clear the area when we visited the UK -  It took four men three days. On our return I excitedly ran across the yard and prised open the door. There was a beautiful walled garden with a small patio, but it had been terribly neglected.

Piles of Charentais stones and mounds of brambles and grass lay on the floor. There were large rectangular stones lying everywhere and I spookily thought that they were gravestones. David rolled his eyes and said non. There were a few established fruit trees and a beautiful persimmon tree with bright orange fruits hanging like Christmas baubles.

The gravestones turned out to be the tops of an ancient stone wall, but we were three short!!!! Monsieur Guy (our wonderful 82 year old neighbour whose champagne order has increased with his supplier since we have moved in) had three spare in his garden - what a coincidence!  He said to come and collect them, but grammar school husband and myself couldn't pick them up! Once again David et Sebastien came to the rescue with their van, a smile, a piece of rope and two pieces of wood! The stones are now patiently waiting to be put back on the wall when we rebuild it next year - Result!!!

An elderly lady in a shabby blue overall cycled past yesterday and peeped over the wall. 'Oh my' she said, 'I haven't been down this lane for a such long time and now there is a wonderful garden here again'  - Praise indeed!

Must dash, I'm off to the jardiniere to get my final tree - a walnut. Grammar school husband can plant it and I can stand and watch!!!!

Next time we'll be meeting Jackpott the rescue dog.

See you then.
​

Lunch time beckoned and we rushed over the road to the Petit Palais, its sister museum. This building was even more impressive. Huge ornate gold gates at the front, beautifully painted vaulted ceilings inside. 

The most incredible feeling of space. An exotic courtyard sat in the middle of the building with a very smart restaurant. We queued and feasted on salmon, mashed sweet potato and ​salade des fruits. My halo almost fell off in my plate!!!

A young woman in a black velvet dress and donning high heels, sped past us on the pavement on an electric bike. She was being chased by a young man with a video recorder. As she rushed past we viewed the back of her dress which was backless and braless. She looked so gorgeous. Only in Paris!! Now fully motivated I put my heels back on and soldiered on. Most of the shops were quite uninviting with bouncers on the doors, the biggest queue being outside the sport shirt shop. (Try saying that after two Kirs!!).

We headed back to Montparnasse tired and hungry (with crippling feet). A leisurely champagne for me and a cocktail for Debs - fuel, then we sped off down the side streets to where the Parisians eat. We decided on a small Middle Eastern snack shop selling fresh falafel in a homemade flatbread with crunchy salad. It's not very French I know but it's difficult to find falafel where we live!! A gooey baklava and sugary mint tea followed. The halo slipped off!!!!!
​

We rushed to get our train, which then meandered noisily through the cool dark night and took us both safely home. A very successful day and our next trip is already planned (flea markets and not so touristy shopping) but I must remember to wear sensible shoes - or hire an electric bike!!

Next week I will be back to earth in the garden. (Excuse the pun!).

See you then.

Belinda