Salad anyone?

The salad output from the garden is increasing, and is in danger of overwhelming us. We've already done all the courgette freezing we might fancy, and now the tomatoes (2 varieties), lettuce (3 varieties) and the cucumbers are all in full production at once.

We need people to come and eat some! Or at least make some new recipe suggestions. Salad for breakfast doesn't appeal, and it already makes up most other meals . . . .

Relief

It's Saturday and clearly the weather has decided to give me a weekend break. I am happy to say that it is raining. Yes, lovely cool, wet stuff, falling from the cloudy sky and raising my spirits.
Today I will keep the shutters open and watch the birds feeding on the balcony. Today I will open the doors and let a refreshing breeze drift through the house. Today I will celebrate the drizzle and enjoy the absence of blue skies. Tomorrow, I will probably be moaning about the mud, and the slugs, and the fact that I can't dry the washing. But today I am happy.

This morning, in between the welcome showers, we did the usual round of llama visits and progress continues on all fronts.

Elif will now let me touch her head and even her neck, while I'm feeding her from my hand, and I think it may have dawned on Fatma that letting these strange people touch you is a good way to get extra grub. She has started trying to get in on the act, while I'm communing with Elif, and I'm thinking that I may as well work on her at the same time.

Capucine, although she still doesn't eat anything other than natural vegetation and hay, always rushes to greet us at the gate, and this morning even tried to help get it open by lifting the rope off the post using her mouth. It was probably just a random bit of 'mouthing' behaviour, but we like to pretend there was an intelligent intent behind it.

Over at the Walker's field, Simon took Valentine for another walk while I stayed behind with the other two. I get to have all the fun!

Actually, watching how the left-behind-ones behave is quite interesting, if a little bit anxiety-provoking. They always become very agitated when one of them is taken out, and if I keep them in the small enclosure near the gate, they pace around frantically, breathing heavily, humming in a high-pitched tone of uncertainty, looking as if they will try to jump over the fence at any second.

After the difficulty we had the last time Simon took Duc out, when Valentine and Ana tried to barge their way out of the gate to follow, I thought we'd better get them out of the catch pen before Simon got to open the main gate. So this morning that's what we did, with the result that, as soon as Simon and Valentine headed off down the track, Duc and Ana charged back into the field and up the hill and round to the side fence-line, as if trying to see where they had gone.

When llamas are running around at full pelt, particularly when they seem a bit anxious, they can be quite a scarey sight. The narrowness of the steep pathways they have forged between the various open areas on the land, make it impossible to easily get out of the way if you get caught midway when they decide to stampede down them.

This morning, when Duc and Ana had headed up the hill, I decided to lead them on to the open area on the other side where we could all see Simon and Valentine walking sedately round the wheat field in the distance. Which was fine, until they went out of sight again, whereupon, Duc decided to head off up even higher, with Ana in hot pursuit. (I really don't know what she would do left to her own devices - she seems to copy everything the boys do all the time. Sometimes I wonder if she might have a gender-identity crisis when she's a bit older).

As I knew Simon would shortly be coming back, I wanted to get back down to the catch-pen to be ready with a food treat for Valentine, and I calculated that, if I was quick about it, I could probably get down the steep narrow path before Duc and Ana came hurtling down behind me. I set off.

About half way down I heard the unmistakable sound of large animals thrashing through the undergrowth. I didn't turn to look. I started running.

But the undergrowth they were thrashing through was not behind me where I thought, but slightly to the side, and as I was running full speed down the hill, I suddenly came face to face with Ana, who had taken a short cut through the middle and was now galloping up the path, full speed towards me.

A nanosecond passed in which I visualised the inevitable consequences of the impact of two bodies accelerating toward each other at great velocity. GCSE physics equations sprang to mind.

Whilst unable to immediately halt my forward motion (I tell you, that hill is steep!), I continued onward and downward toward my doom. I shouted (in an oh-so-commanding, and a little-bit-scared-witless voice) "STOP!!".

Much to my relief, she did a cartoon-animal screech to a standstill, turning broadside on, with head up and ears back, and let out a loud clucking noise (of which Elif would have been proud). I suspect she had the same thoughts as me, when she saw me hurtling towards her. So, in llama vocabulary, I now believe that clucking means "Stop (where you are)". And when I think of the occasions on which Elif has used it near Pedro, it certainly has had the result of stopping him in his tracks. It's not so much a warning sound, as a direct command. If only French was as easy to understand as Llama.

Ah well, never a dull moment with llamas. Who said 'life's calmer with a llama'? They didn't know our llamas, obviously. Although, when they were all reunited and kushed down in their favourite spot after the morning's excitement, you'd think they were the zen-est creatures around. Appearances can be so deceptive.

Down Time

It's a long time since I wrote anything on here. And before you ask, No, I haven't finished the Pooh Corner map yet, and Yes I feel guilty about leaving Simon to keep the blog up to date all on his own.

I'm in a bit of a motivationless morass at the moment. I'm just too hot and itchy (from insect bites) and tired (from waking up at night because I'm too hot and itchy) to be bothered to do anything. I can't help fantasizing about green, wet, cool places - even though I know that if I was in one, I'd be dreaming of being somewhere warm, dry and sunny. I guess some people are never happy!

So, just for the benefit of all those people who may be envious of our move to the idyllic, sunny rural life in Southern France, here are some of the things I miss about Derby:

• Seeing the ducks on the lake in Markeaton Park.
• Lakes.
• Seeing my children every day.
• Walking the dog in woods full of tall, leafy trees and blackbirds.
• Tall, leafy trees.
• Being able to pass a few moments idle conversation with a stranger in the check-out queue in a supermarket, without having to rehearse every sentence first.
• Carpeted floors and inside window-ledges.
• Dunelm Mills and B&Q.
• Echinacea and Raspberry teabags and Simple moisturizer.
• Knowing what people around me are talking about.
• Knowing what people talking to me are talking about.
• Being able to make jokes and take the mick.
• Drizzle.
• Abundant green gardens with rampant nasturtiums.
• Being able to leave the back door open without worrying about the house filling with heat and insects.
• Being able to sleep under a duvet without melting.
• Being able to sleep.

Of course, I really don't miss having to go to work every day. I'd have to be insane to miss that. (Although I do miss the fun I used to have there, and the people that made it funny.)

And I don't miss the relentless sound of the A38, and the sporadic whine of police sirens. And all the chewing gum on all the paving slabs on all the pavements in town. And all the drunken yoofs doing The Mile, and leaving their chewing gum on all the paving slabs on all the pavements in town.

But just for the record – life in Roquetaillade isn’t all a bed of roses.

Fencing and neighbours

We have the fence posts and the galvanised netting to construct a boundary around the garden. This is needed before we get the chickens, partly to keep away animals like dogs and foxes during the day, and partly to stop the chickens roaming into our neighbours' land. We particularly don't want to annoy the mayor, whose garden adjoins ours.

Also we don't want to worsen relationships with our other neighbour, whose son we are challenging for the right to buy the additional land. All very complex, but when we went to see the SAFER yesterday, we had a really useful conversation with one of their staff. He suggested that we should try to reach a compromise with our 'rival' as the two of us were the only people to have applied to buy the land. He's intending to set up a meeting with us both next week – so I need to have broached the topic with the rival before then.

Stress inducing, but I guess all will turn out well. The key is to be able to feel positively about whatever the outcome is . . . .

Anyway, we have also found that we can get chickens from the same supplier when he comes to Limoux (only 5 miles away) every Friday morning. This means that the arrival of the chickens has been postponed from this Saturday to the following Friday – and I have more time for the fencing. Very welcome, considering the current heatwave, which makes the idea of hard work outside in the middle of the day very unattractive!

Walk on . . .

We're on a roll with the mass walking


This morning we went out again with Duc, Ana and Valentine. They seemed more relaxed - and so were we!












A really pleasant bit of training - and the llamas certainly enjoyed the reward when they got back to the field!

After the llamas . . . . .

The hens are coming!

Sumi and I have built a mean hen house. Now all we need is some fencing, and then next Saturday we'll get the hens.

Anyone offering interesting recipes for eggs, courgettes and lettuce? - all of which are likely to be in surplus!

Success!

The walk was fine!

With three of us, we were confident that we could take all three walking llamas out together. It all went remarkably smoothly . . . They all accepted having halters fitted after they had eaten their customary breakfast. Then, the new bit - leads attached - and all was still calm.

We set off down the track - Val leading with Duc, me in the middle with Valentine, and Sumi bringing up the rear with Ana. We had reasoned that this would be the most settling combination, and allow Sumi to have the smallest and least powerful llama.

This turned out not to be a brilliant idea. Ana has only been walked twice - and both times with me. By the time we reached the wheat field, she was getting pretty jumpy, and giving Sumi a hard time. Although Sumi was incredibly calm, a change was needed. She and I swapped llamas, and we turned them all round and headed for home.

The return went very smoothly, and they were soon unhaltered and relaxing with us on their favourite bit of the field. As you can see in the video, they were not exactly distressed after the first mass walk!

Let's go walking!

This morning we are off to take the three walkers out for their first joint expedition. As my daughter Sumi is here staying with us, we have a chance to have all three out at once . . . . .

Who knows how this will work out? More later!

Tour de France

Today Sumi and I went to see the Tour de France. For me this has become something of an annual event, as it always comes somewhere within easy reach of our village.

It's an amazing mixture of tatty commercialism and brief sighting of a mass of athletes. But it's such a French institution that somehow it carries it off successfully, and everyone who spectates seems to have a great time. One of the strangest features is the 'caravan' - a succession of bizarre floats advertising the Tour sponsors. From these, you get showered with freebies, like hats, keyrings, bags. And we came home with a shed-load, thanks to Sumi's enthusiastic dancing and waving . . .

The road is closed for about two hours, and the riders go by in about 40 seconds. And no-one minds!

A summer morning update

It was a beautiful morning - at least it was before breakfast when we were up with the llamas, before it became really hot and windy . . . .

The three walkers (soon to be walkers in a real sense, if we can get ourselves organised for some expeditions next week when Lily and Alfie come to stay) are having a great time on the rough land. (Yes, I know, you're all waiting for Val's promised Pooh-corner map . . . . it's coming, slowly).

You can see that they've eaten and rolled their way to a nice flat area, where they spend much of the day surveying the countryside. They seem really relaxed together, and it's a very calm place to spend time.

Then on to the breeders . . .

You remember Pedro, the stud who suddenly attacked all male llamas in sight, and who would not let himself be touched by anyone?

Well, Val has been working her charms on him for a while now. And her skill and persistence has paid off, so that he will now (literally) eat out of her hand. More than that, she has managed to remove the halter he has been wearing since April. More even than that, he'll even allow a bit of a cuddle while he eats his breakfast!



Is there no end to this woman's talents?

Well, next she is to tackle aloof Elif, who is right at the top of the llama hierarchy, and makes all the others quiver with just a glance or a snort.

She's actually a beautiful llama, with a perfect straight back, and great poise.

She specialises in reaching the tender leaves high up in trees, and has recently taken to bending young oaks over with her neck, even allowing the other females to get in for a nibble while she holds the upper branches in reach.



I can't wait to see what sort of baby Elif produces. She is pregnant by Pedro, and should be giving birth sometime in August. Apparently, you know when females are within a few weeks of delivery when their teats enlarge. Of course, Elif is far too proud to allow anyone to get close for a look at her teats, so we can be seen occasionally sneaking up on her for a crafty glimpse. . . . .






Capucine, who really could do with a sibling to play with, still runs around like a loony most evenings. She manages to bounce across the field, as though she is using pogo sticks - video to follow, with luck, but so far we've just stood open-mouthed watching her perform! She is partially weaned, and eats hay and vegetation, but still doesn't take any concentrate from us. However, she is now very happy to be stroked each morning, and shows every sign of becoming as friendly and biddable as the delightful Ana.

Dog days

It's very hot. Thanks to my new weather station - a brilliant gift from my son Mike - I know just how overpoweringly hot it is . . . . we thought yesterday was a bit much, but today is more than 3 degrees hotter at 34.7°. (If you're curious, you can see the experimental weather log on this webpage which opens in a new window, and there's a summary of current conditions in the column to the right of this blog.)

Our French teacher, the admirable Mme Gleizes, has taught us a range of words for this weather: I like 'un chaleur caniculaire'. La canicule is the French name for the hot weather that coincides with the long summer holiday that most French workers take, and the name has its origins in Latin - with the same root as the English word canine, to do with dogs.

Apparently, the ancient Romans noticed that the hottest days of the year, in July and early August, coincided with the appearance of Sirius - the Dog Star - in the same part of the sky as the Sun. Sirius is the largest and brightest star in the Canis Major constellation, in fact it is the brightest star in the sky. The ancients believed that the star contributed to the heat of the day. And so into French as la canicule, and into English as dog days . . . .

My etymological ramblings should convince you that either I've finally cracked up completely, or just that it's too hot in the middle of the day to do anything except stay fairly still in the shade. The llamas are behaving much the same, with 'the breeders' neatly slotted into the shade of the field shelter and 'the walkers' lying stretched out to catch as much breeze as possible. You'd have thought that it would be unbearable having a thick fur coat on all day, but they do seem to be coping better than we are. Their drinking rate has increased, meaning we have to make more trips up the hill with large water containers, but the walkers - who have loads of vegetation to browse - still seem to be getting most of their liquid through eating. Not for nothing are they members of the camel family!

Max, being a dog, loves the dog days. The hotter the better. As the sun moves around the house, so does he - so in the late afternoon, for him there's nowhere better than the balcony, where he can get fully exposed. He's not so good at walking any more, and rarely runs at all, but lying in the sun is really his specialist subject.

Meanwhile, I manage to dart out into the sun every now and again to water the flagging seedling vegetables. We're having a courgette glut, and are eating lettuce as fast as we can. The tomato crop should be good. If only I was a bit more organised, we would have a balanced diet. As it stands, we shall have to eat the various components of a good salad each in separate weeks. And I'm definitely losing out to the snails with the radishes and beetroot. My organic beliefs are being sorely tried by the rampant chewing of thousands of molluscs . . . . We hardly ever see any in action, because they have the knack of hiding away from the sun all day and then emerging to feast overnight. Any non-lethal ideas welcomed!