A busy week

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We seem to have achieved this week.

On Tuesday, we had a wood burning stove fitted. What a treat. Cosy at last. Hard work keeping the beast fed with logs, but who cares when the heat is so generous and comforting?

On Thursday, I enjoyed lunch in Foix with a new friend, and took some Winter-Wonderland type shots on the way home, if only to remind myself that it’s not ALWAYS raining here at the moment.

Still the rain has meant we’ve got on in the house. We now have, amidst the continuing grot that is our kitchen, a new and thoroughly hygienic sink and one new kitchen unit, which may come as a relief to those of you who’ve witnessed the previous arrangement. This may seem like an extremely minor achievement, but it’s not. Not at all. The sink, in order to be plumb level, had to have the height of 4 corners of the unit receiving it padded and tweaked, then tweaked again…and again, .Then the unit next to it, linked by a worksurface to the adjacent sink area also had to be eased up, down, left, right, down a bit…. Each of its 4 legs is a different length, because the floor, like the walls, is not flat or even, even though it looks it. Our friend Martin, who’s a fantastic joiner, did much of the difficult groundwork but the final placing of the whole wretched thing occupied many hours this weekend.

Time for rest and recreation by Friday night. Our local church boasts an organ given by Lois XIV, and goes in for great concerts. This time, the organ, a harp, and a fantastic young people’s choir from Toulouse were centre stage. The choir’s directed by an Englishman, Mark Opstad, and they’re certainly a crack squad. A most wonderful interpretation of Britten’s Ceremony of Carols, with a heavenly voiced girl of 13 or so as principal soloist. Brilliant evening.

On Sunday though, a church event of a different sort. For the last 4 years, the cathedral at Mirepoix has held an Anglo-French carol service, based on the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols, which is an unknown event here. I joined the choir that comes together for the event, even though ordinarily I avoid specifically English events. We were all, of course, English and French, as was the congregation. There were carols in English and French, and the lessons were alternately in the two languages. I so enjoyed hearing the familiar stories in French:

‘Le peuple qui marchait dans les ténèbres a vu une grande lumière ; sur ceux qui habitent au pays de l’obscurité une lumière a brillé. Car un enfant nous est né, un fils nous est donné. L’empire repose sur son épaule et on lui donne pour nom : Conseiller merveilleux, Dieu-Héros, Père- à -jamais, Prince de la Paix’

Mirepoix cathedral feels like the coldest place on earth in winter, and like most people, I wore a lot:
1 sleeveless vest
1 long sleeved vest
1 black polo necked jumper
1 black woolly jacket
1 pair ankle-length long johns
1 pair black trousers
1 pair thin socks
1 pair hiking socks
1 pair lined boots.
AND, most importantly, a thick piece of cardboard to stand on to insulate from the cold stone beneath.

As we sang, warm clouds of steam issued from our mouths into the frozen air, but the church was full of the English lustily singing along, while the French were obviously totally bemused by tales of The Holly and the Ivy and dear old King Wenceslas. Still, the English didn’t know their way through Douce Nuit either. Afterwards, we all crowded into the church hall for vin chaud (wonderful mulled wine made with chillies) and mince pies, and the event was just what it should have been - French and English together, enjoying sharing this experience of Christmas

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Photos

The hearth before the stove went in
Pity he's a bit hidden now. But he's till there....and warmer now

Warmth at last....
.. ........ our stove in action

On the way home from Foix....
...the road at Roquefixade

New units do not a kitchen make....
.............. but it's a start......