Juillet: Tango, chaussettes, le 14 juillet, des collines et la cimetiere

July started off with a challenge: weekly Initiations au tango sessions at the bandstand up the road. The teacher pays great attention to detail and gives good feedback. The sessions last over an hour and then there is time to practise. Everyone is friendly and we go back every week: too close to wriggle out of it – and it’s free. After about ten sessions, covering mostly the same ground, we are making progress, if only slight.
 

From first and third pairs.

I’ve started knitting socks. “Why?” you may ask. “Why not?” would be my reply. In fact, it’s because the yarn is dyed to create the pattern so it’s a surprise as you go, they’re a challenge (five needles, fine yarn, the heel turn), don’t take long and are easy to carry around if wanted. Three pairs are now finished and waiting for warmer weather to be fully appreciated.

The increased security since recent terrorist attacks is a necessity, often a nuisance but sometimes gives unexpected treats. The Bastille Day concert in one square meant that more roads were closed this year than last. One of these was the Avenue de Liege, leading out of town (presumably to Liege, though I’m not planning to find out). My walk to the baker's meant I could walk along the middle of the road and admire buildings on both sides. 

I should have realised the baker’s would be closed and had to walk 2.5 miles before I could buy bread. The French do make the most of their holidays. We had a lazy evening and watched the firework display from the balcony rather than walking across town as we had done last year.

A friend invited us to have a day walking in the Ardennes. We had a lovely day, going up and down hills (now there’s a novelty!) on thickly-wooded slopes, rather like the area around Tintern.  

The same friend took the Nordic walkers to the area where she’d been brought up. Apart from more hills, fields and trees, though all on a smaller scale, we were treated to a cracking thunderstorm (not of her doing) and a great (and inexpensive) 3-course meal in an unprepossessing restaurant at Etroeungt. I realise that it's unlikely that anyone who reads this will have heard of the place but it's a good name.

We’d had notice that work on cleaning and repainting the outside of the building would start  at the end of June and the workers reached our part a month later. I’d seen them abseiling off the roof to work on the neighbouring flats but nevertheless it was disconcerting one morning to go back into the bedroom before I took a shower and see a pair of boots dangling at the window. I got quite used to them as we were the first stop, being on the top floor, for all the work they did on our section.

At the end of the month we had a guided tour of the cemetery. This is a lot less ghoulish that it sounds! The town has, over the years, produced several well-known (in France at least) artists: Carpeaux, Watteau, Pater, among others. They are all buried at St Roch and, as artists, have impressive tombs. I still have questions about parts of the grounds but the day was hot, so they’ll have to wait a while.

Means, approximately "Tomorrow this will be you."

Nobody particulary famous but it's a lovely sculpture.

The tomb of the sculptor Derycke.

A question to be answered - all marked with just the name and years of birth and death. Double-sided headstones.............

Juin. Les Cinq Sens: la vue, la touche, l’ouîe, le goût et l’odorat

I’m very aware of how lucky I am. The weather’s been great and I have few restrictions on what I can do. I did manage to limit things slightly by falling hard on a gravel path when out on a Nordic walk. I was completely winded (as opposed to out of breath) and struggled to speak until I could get enough air into my lungs. Fortunately we had a fluent English speaker with us: my French disappeared with the air and I just managed to gasp that I wasn't seriously hurt. Nothing broken, as far as I could tell, but I found it uncomfortable to tie my shoelaces or carry the teapot for a weeks or so.

Local produce

The early part of June saw us heading to a small music festival, Les Belles Bretelles (Beautiful Braces) focussed on accordion music. We got there late morning, to find it was just starting to get going but enjoyed looking at the stands. There seemed to be a problem with the sound system so we had food and a beer, chatted to a few stall-holders, had an ice-cream, then came home.

A few days later, I took part in the Trail des Sarrasins. Sarrasin means buckwheat but it could as easily have been called after barley or peas. Seven miles, mostly through fields. It was lovely evening, not too hot, and all went well until I remembered The Lady of Shallot and we crossed a small river. Somehow the rhythm of the poem fitted in with my pace. I could only remember the first verse, then the first line of the refrain, so by the time I’d covered a few miles it was becoming rather monotonous and I tried to switch to French. The miles passed and I had plenty of people to chat to when I wanted, followed by water, cakes and a free waist pack.

I’d been invited for a mammogram (apologies in advance if you don’t want to know more – skip on a few lines). The big advantage here is that it happened five minutes’ walk away from home. The mildly disconcerting part was that it was done by a male nurse. I have no problem at all with this and he was a lovely guy but I did find it slightly odd to be chatting about his various trips to the UK (we both loved Scotland) while he manhandled my boobs efficiently into the various positions. The results were fine, fortunately and the X-rays arrived a week or so later in the post. I’m thinking of having them framed as a souvenir of living here.

I had another ‘first’ when I went to meet a friend for tea. Caroline is an English teacher who had lived in the UK and had stayed with me when I fell while the instructor fetched her car. A couple of classes at her school have their lessons entirely in English for their last three years, then sit the Cambridge Exam in English. I’d love to go sometime and see how it works. It was great, when I wasn’t injured, to just sit, have a chat and put the world to rights.

Piles of food! We struggled but managed it.

Things are starting to wind down for the holidays, which seemed to mean food with people. The first meal out was for the helpers at the seniors group to thank us for our input: an estaminet which served mostly local food plus rather a lot of wine. My grandma used to go to a Darby and Joan Club but I don’t think it was quite like that.

The Nordic walkers went for a meal after a walk: another estaminet, plenty of great food and good company. 

Midsummer’s Day here means the Fete de la Musique. It’s great just to stroll around town and see what bands are playing: jazz, hip-hop, metal, folk, rock, there is something for everyone. Our little local square hosted metal and rock bands at one end, and seventy yards away at the other end, a band and DJ. In the end we went inside the new beer store for a drink and could talk without shouting over the music (usually!).

 

The lime trees blossom around midsummer. The flowers are fairly unspectacular but the smell, when the sun’s on them or after rainfall, is wonderful. On several occasions I took circuitous routes home to smell the tilleuls and sitting with the windows open watching the sun go down has been lovely. If it hadn’t been for the lack of madeleines I could be the new Marcel Proust.

I managed to bookend June with another fall: exactly the same thing – my foot slipped on some sand at the roadworks in town and I went straight to my usual prone Superman position. This time I got straight back up and had to reassure the three people who’d come rushing to assist that I was perfectly fine. I could only think that it would have made a great GIF. 

Have fun.