The latter half of November was spent in Normandy. We enjoyed an evening meal with our English friends who live near Crasville and came away with the promise of a lamb for our freezer. This, apparently, to be barter for the fishing expeditions that Stephen has enjoyed with Nick through the year. Bri and Georgy came to us for supper and a game of cards but by the end of the evening my pack of cards remained unshuffled.
A highlight of our sojourn was to treat Fefe and Francois to lunch at les Fuchsias. It was to celebrate Fefe’s birthday and the fact that she had undergone some surgery for a replacement hip. Not a week later she took a tumble down the stairs and, remarkably, such remedial work as had been carried out by the surgeon remained intact.
They live in Rue Verrue and this was where the lowlight of our current stay occurred. It was raining and I wanted to buy a couple of recipe requisities at Maison Gosselin. I was in the car and the road was tightly packed with parked cards on both sides of the road. I found a space in the narrowest part of the road, which would be a bit tight but with enough manoeuvring I knew my car would fit. I successfully inserted the car into the available space managing to stay clear of the bumpers of the cars fore and aft. Unfortunately I had not noticed that in the process of executing my positioning of the car I had repeatedly scraped the side of the car parked on the other side of the road. The driver in the car behind, who had patiently waited for me to clear the way drove ahead, stopped and got out of his car and came over to me and pointed out my carelessness. He had apparently been tooting his horn to attract my attention but the music playing on the CD player had masked the noise of his horn. When the owner of the car came out of the shop she was not best pleased but, in short, after exchange of names, addresses and later insurance company details Nick and I were invited for apero and parted friends with the promise of dinner when she and her husband return from a spell in Paris.
Rather than end on a lowlight I wrap this current blog post up with a gallery of pictures taken during the Cholsey interval at our house in August.