I didn’t realise it when I sat down to write this, but it turns out there was quite a bit to cover in this entry. First off, our meal last Sunday with Lisa & Dave. They got to ours around 7 and after the obligatory tour we settled to enjoy our cocktails. They are both long-term veggies, which is fine for us as we have a large repertoire to choose from, and the meal turned out to be a great success. The starter was a caprese salad, tomatoes and basil du jardin bien sûr. For the main, Matt made a tart of caramelised onions, figs and blue cheese. It’s a recipe from a couple years ago that always comes out during fig season and is mightily tasty. This was served with a courgette gratin dish, recipe courtesy of Matt’s aunt Barb. We cheated on the dessert (peach clafoutis) in that it was made for us by Mauricette a few days beforehand.
Lisa & Dave are really great company and we spent few hours after our meal getting to know one another. There is a chance they may be moving to Ireland for a few years for work, which would be a bit of a shame as we get on so well. Even if they do though, they plan on keeping their home and coming back whenever possible so either way, we will stay in touch. Their place is right in Brantôme itself, opposite a superb pizza restaurant, a fact that makes us duly envious. Living in town like this makes a real change for them as they have spent nearly all of their time living in places so remote that by comparison, make our set up in Mazeroux seem positively urban.
Next thing to report is that it is tax season in France, malheureusement. We have received 1 bill out of 2 so far, and are pleased to report that the price has increased by a mere 3 euros since last year. We’d read online that new tax relief measures had been introduced this year for those earning very small incomes (which we assumed would definitely include us), so we trotted off to the tax office in Nontron on Tuesday to see what was what. This being a new initiative, there was only one person at the office who knew how it worked, and she of course was not in that day. We arranged to come back on Thursday and this time managed to track down the right person, who was incredibly helpful and kind.
It turns out that the rules are different for the 2 different taxes that make up property tax in France (Taxe d’Habitation and Taxe Foncière). For the former, if your bill amounts to 50% or more of what you earned the previous year, it is basically slashed in half. Regrettably, this won’t apply to us after all, although it will apply to Lee & Richard who, as they technically own two properties and live in town, pay considerably more than us. I’ll be visiting their tax office with them sometime this week to try and sort that out for them. For the other tax, l’Habitiation, the reduction is calculated automatically by the tax office and she confirmed that ours this year will be €77, down from around €320, which is good to know.
Lola however, has more than taken care of our wee windfall. After our motorway scare on the way to Toulouse, we decided to take her in for an oil change, so booked an appointment for Friday. We left her at the garage in Périgueux and pottered around the shops then headed back to get her a couple hours later. The news wasn’t great: her 2 front tyres were worn below the legal limit, her front brake pads were knackered and the rear shock-absorbers leaking. They dealt with the tyres then and there and then gave us a quote for the rest of the work, all of which amounts to somewhat more than our tax reduction, and entails another imminent trip to Périgueux. What is quite galling is that both tyres were only a year old. The mechanic implied that this it to be expected with the state of the roads in these parts. The joys of car ownership…
To compensate for our less than fun outing in the big city, we went out for a meal that evening at our fave restaurant, Les Saveurs in Brantôme. This was not spontaneous frivolity: the 21st of Sept is our anniversary, and this year was the big 1-0, can you believe. Anyway, we met up with Lisa & Dave for some apéritifs beforehand, which was most enjoyable (they even gave us an anniversary present – v sweet of them!) and then on to the restaurant. I’ll not do a ‘Matt’ and wax lyrical about each dish. Suffice to say they were fantastic. Unfortunately, I wasn’t really in the best of humours that evening, thanks to the Smoo.
Both pusses have fairly steady routines, and the Smoo broke his on Friday. He’d gone out in the evening the night before (normal), appeared briefly in the night for some nose-biting (also normal), but in the morning, was nowhere to be found. Not so normal. When he’d failed to materialise after lunch, we did a tour of the area calling out to him, but to no avail. As we had to leave for the garage, Matt asked both sets of neighbours to keep an eye out for him. By the time we left, I was really quite worried. I was doubly so when we got home at around 11 after our meal to find still no sign at all and, worse still, that the food bowl hadn’t been touched. We were out again with the torch, calling his name and the word “treat”, which normally never fails to produce two very interested kitties. Louis was there in a flash, but still no trace of the Smoo.
After a good half an hour, I began envisioning the things that could have happened – snake, car, hunter’s trap, boar etc. – and was frantic. I was sat on the front step steeling myself for a sustained forage in the woods when all of a sudden, Smoo trotted up out of nowhere and mewled a casual hello. I could have throttled the little bugger, but settled on a big hug instead. I am obviously highly relieved he is ok although if you’d have asked me at 7.30 this morning when he was being a complete pain in the arse, I might have seemed less so. Both sets of neighbours checked in the next day to see if he’d come back and were relieved to hear all was well. Much-loved, is our Smeagol!
We did little of note on Saturday, apart from whip up yet another fig recipe (cream & fig sauce with pork roast), which made enough for 3 nights. This follows the fig tart, a chicken and fig dish, the production of 16 jars of fig jam and the giving away of several bagfuls to friends. And still the tree is ridiculously laden. We shall be nice and regular throughout the Autumn here in Mazeroux.
Sunday was a very hot and sticky day, reaching the high 20s. At noon, we went to the local bar in Milhac to meet a few members of Matt’s conversation class. We’d never been before and, cheapness of the beer aside, can find little joy in the prospect of a repeat visit. Words like “rustic” or “authentic” would be used by a kind person. “Filthy” and “decrepit” would be more accurate. The clientele consisted of a few loud, drunk old men, and a few young lads who, we learnt, are Front National supporters. Nice. With us were Carol & Barry, a couple who have been here about a year, and Josianne, a very lively and amusing French lady. We managed 2 drinks apiece before heading back for lunch.
We sat outside in shorts and read for the rest of the afternoon, something that today would quickly result in numb extremities and chillblains. That evening, a fairly impressive storm broke, bringing with it 15mm of rain and gusts of 85km an hour. Luckily we were expecting it so brought in the plant pots etc and escaped any damage. The cats didn’t cope quite so well and were intolerable from the wee hours of this morning until they finally passed out, around 9. They were squealing, fighting, scratching things and doing laps of the house, all of which makes it quite hard to sleep. The wind and rain kept up until around lunchtime and it’s still fairly gross out there now. Worse still, it’s due to be cool and rainy for the foreseeable. I appreciate we really need the water, but the glee Lucien seemed to take in the forecast when we saw him earlier today is just incomprehensible to me.
Ok, now I finally come to explain rest of the title. Matt had a phone call today from his old boss at BCMD to see if he was able to work on something for them. He was out at a physio appointment, so I said he’d ring back. When he got back to her, it turned out that she actually wanted him back for 3 months on a full-time basis! It’s all just the same arrangement as before – same pay, twice a week in the office. It’s obviously good news that we’ll have regular funds for a while longer, especially after the car and tax bills – though poor Matt only got to enjoy his unexpected freedom for about a week. Right, that’s enough from me, I think. Bonne soirée.