Avril 2018

Back to Bristol

As we’re moving back to Bristol at the end of this week, I thought I’d tie up some loose ends before we go. Things became repetitive (but not boring) after we’d been here for a year so the blog slipped a bit. It’s been interesting seeing how things have changed around town: the wonky house no longer exists, the archaeological site is almost a block of flats and two of the boulevards have been refurbished.

Wilf’s done some races and we have an impressive collection of trophies, we joined an Argentine tango class and managed to avoid too many sore toes. The Office de Tourisme’s guided tours have taught us a lot about the area’s history, architecture and traditions as well as giving me minor fame in the magazine.

The Ritzy dessert. We hadn't ordered it - just a gift from the pastry chef.

We’ve visited lots of restaurants and tried local food. I’ve proud to say I’ve eaten snails, Maroilles (the local cheese), tripe (the sauce was wonderful), weever fish (poisonous if not prepared correctly), sweet black pudding, cardoon, beef stew with crumbled speculoos biscuits on top. We’ve been world-class samplers of the local pastries: tarte au sucre, Carpeaux (our doctor recommended it with rum, so we felt obliged to try it – several times), pave du Nord, Rieur. We’ve not had a bad meal and we’ve had food fit for the Ritz Hotel in Paris (at a fraction of the cost).

The biggest smiles and the warmest welcome at La Cantine de Josephine

We’ve not been out and about as much as we’d hoped but I have had lovely trips with the Nordic walkers and, once I’d got over my shock at the flatness of the area, learned to appreciate the huge skies and open views.

 Belgium in the distance. It often is, as the border wiggles around a bit near here

Visits to the Musee de la Piscine at Roubaix and the Musee du Verre have been outstanding, as much for the architecture as the exhibits.

We have, though, enjoyed the ordinary day-to-day life in France. Living in the centre of town has meant that we’ve used the local shops more than we could at home. I’ll miss the butcher who cut a small slice of beef in the shape of a heart for a little girl, the cheese-monger who knows not only where each cheese comes from but also the history of the area. We’ll miss our bakers: the one half a mile away with an amazing array of cakes and the one two minutes away which makes my favourite pains aux raisins and tourbillons. 

We’ve been pleased to be so near to the market and have become regular customers at some of the stalls. There’s the fishmonger, who drives up from Boulogne twice a week and has whatever is in season. Many times we’ve not known what fish we were eating but it’s always been good. Our veg has usually come from a grower seven miles away. The queues for his produce are usually long and sociable and we have met several people there who greet us in the street. The produce has had a definite “freshly-picked” quality about it and his frequent rounding-down of the total balances out the mud on the carrots.  We’ll miss Abdel, who sells olives, spices, grains, dried fruit and fresh herbs on Wednesdays and who taught me how to make couscous. The Jam Lady has added to our croissant-eating pleasure and Euroman (everything costs about one euro) has been our supplier of preserving jars, detergent, pyjamas and knives. We’ll particularly miss buying fruit from Karim who, after I’d given him a small gift for his daughter (as a thank-you for several good turns), has been refusing to let us pay. This has usually turned into a serious but good-natured argument which ends when Wilf tucks the money under the till and we get away as fast as we can.

We'll miss the views over town

We’ve had lovely neighbours and made good friends and hope to be back to visit fairly soon. In the meantime, I’ll apologise in retrospect to the French who may have found our casual wave hello or good-bye to be a bit off-hand, and in advance to the Brits for trying to give them the kiss on two cheeks (left, right) which is the norm here (even, on occasions, with complete strangers).

Merci à tous qui ont aidé à nous donner un acceuil et des souvenirs si bons. 
Au revoir!