Or how we terrorised the Dordogne over New Year’s…
The story continues! By the time we were finally back at ours (6pm), we were extremely tired and not really able to cope with the thought of unpacking: we had a car full of christmas presents, dirty laundry, food from the UK and food from the local supermarket to contend with. We dragged all this into the kitchen and stood staring dumbly at it, unable to see how we would ever find room for it. Eventually, we managed to deal with the lion’s share before popping in to see Sharon and James for a highly welcome sit down and glass of red. We caught up for a little while, but we were both conscious that the house was in a state and that the first set of our New Year’s Eve visitors (Andrew & Tony) were due to arrive from Spain in a couple hours, so we came home and dealt with the last of the unpacking and then gave the house a very quick surface clean.
The boys arrived around 8.30 after a painfully long, 13 hour drive from Valencia, bringing with them their 2 lovely dogs, Teddy and Tigger. We got them all installed in the big barn room and threw together a hasty meal. It was lovely to see them again – the first time for over a year – but we all hit the hay shortly after eating as we were feeling drained after our respective journeys. The following morning, the alarm clock (a bizarre and unwelcome noise to us) woke Matt & I up to get us to Limôges aeroport in time to collect the London contingent of our NYE posse. Matt J, Roger and David C took no time at all getting through “security” at the aeroport (which is about the same size as a newsagent’s) – but apparently, they nearly never made their flight at all: that morning, a lorry full of livestock had overturned on the motorway to Stanstead, causing total mayhem – blood, guts and traffic queues everywhere. They had to sprint to the gate to make their flight. Not a good day for anyone, human or sheep…
Our plan for lunch was to go to cute-waiter-restaurant in Brantôme, but unfortunately, it had shut for the holiday season. In hindsight, this is probably just as well. Who knows what kind of mental scars the poor man would have been left with if we had all been unleashed on him… Instead, we wandered around town until we found somewhere that was actually open and installed ourselves there. Unsurprisingly, it was a bit of a tourist trap (and two of us had slightly iffy mains) but for the most part it was still a good meal. Later that afternoon, we took the boys and the dogs on one of our regular walks to our closest village, Monsec (not in any way pronounced “Mansac”, Roger), before settling in for an evening of silliness and fun at home.
The next day, New Year’s Eve, it was about 7 degrees (3 less than the day before) but still warm enough to be out and about. Based on the previous day’s experience, we decided we would eat lunch in rather than traipse about trying to find anywhere that was open. Afterwards, we headed back to Brantôme to take the boys on one of our walks. The three Londoners seemed to lag behind the 2 country-dwelling couples most of the time, but all of us made it round the loop (despite a few unimpressed comments from Roger) before heading back home to prepare for the big event. James called round in the early evening to put up some festive lights in the barn room and quickly became ensnared in a game of poker that was just getting underway. It finally broke up in time for dinner. With all of our guests, plus Sharon and James, we were 9 round the table – not to mention 4 dogs, so it was a cosy meal! Sadly, the dogs didn’t get on quite as well as the humans but they managed to more or less tolerate each other.
After dinner… well, I regret that my account of the evening from then on is fuzzy at best. I am vaguely aware of having a great time and laughing a lot. I also know that somewhere around 3am, James took on the role of ambassador for the English-speakers by essentially gate-crashing a party going on at our French neighbours’ place. We had been meaning to make contact with them anyway, so it’s great that the ice has been broken. Unfortunately, I was (ahem) a little too the worse for wear to make it over myself, but those that went over with James all came back with positive reports, so we will definitely be arranging to see more of them this year. The one other salient fact I can report about the evening is that it was a little after 7am when my head hit the pillow. Silly, silly boy.
Needless to say, I was not in the best of humours the next afternoon, when I regained consciousness. Amazingly, several of our number were fairly chipper and hangover-free, but I was definitely NOT among them. At some point in the afternoon, a very happy (and clearly still pissed) James came round and suggested we all go out and take the dogs on a walk, but oddly, this plan was less than well-received and he was forced to go it alone. We ate jacket potatoes for lunch and pre-made pizzas for dinner, then all veged in front of the telly before carting our hangovers off to bed.
The next day we went on another local walk though some really pretty woods, lunched at home, then hit Brantôme again in search of an open restaurant for dinner. It was an ill-fated mission: it was cold, dark, rainy, and the entire town was closed. Eventually, we took the hint and came back home to eat instead, before enjoying another nice evening in front of the TV. This was Matt J and Roger’s last day with us, so the next day, we took them back to Limôges and bade them au revoir. Once we got back, we decided to show the remaining boys our fave new village, St Jean de Côle. As we were now just 5, we all piled into one car and had a nice, if cold, stroll through the streets before heading home again for a bite to eat and another nice, chilled evening.
Andrew & Tony, earlier risers than we, left us before we were up the next day to get on with their monumental homeward journey to southern Spain. Down to just three of us, we decided to branch out and try something new. Google suggested some other new pretty villages close by, so we plotted our route and took David to Bourdeilles, a really stunning town just past Brantôme. Sadly, by this point, the temperature was close to freezing, so we did our best to see all there was to see as quickly as possible before climbing back into the car to defrost. After Bourdeilles, we left the Dordogne region for Charentes, home of a truly gorgeous village called Aubeterre-sur-Dronne. Again, we saw as much of it as we could without catching hypothermia, before heading home again.
The next morning, we took David to Limôges for his return journey. It was -5 degrees and after about half an hour, the snow started up. We didn’t think too much of it on the way out, but the return journey took several hours and was somewhat nerve-wracking – it is mainly along backroads and they had become highly treacherous. As it turned out, poor David’s flight was cancelled, forcing him to make his way home via Eurostar at not inconsiderable expense. We made sure to swing by a supermarket en route home to stock up on food for the week so we are now braced and ready to fend off the snow for a few days at least. We had to temporarily abandon poor Lola as she couldn’t quite make it up our snow-covered hill, but fortunately it warmed up as the day wore on and we were able to rescue her and bring her home.
Today is the last day for the foreseeable with temperatures in the positive, so we made sure to get out and take a decent walk. James took us off-piste through the nearby forests for a good 1.5 hour hike which was really good fun. For the next few days though, it is going to be cold cold cold so we will be taking it easy and staying warm. Hope you are all doing the same. A bientôt, mes amis.