It’s been a “happening week”.
First of all, the Tartiflette was absolutely delicious and to tell you the truth, it was a cold night,
it smelt realy good and I was hungry. When it came out of the oven, it looked so good that I served it straight away with some local “Manche” – a leafy type salady looking thing and in my haste -I completely forgot to take a photograph. But to ease the conscience, l looked on the net and I found one that looked really REALLY similar to the one we devoured in a sitting. If you stare at the pic for a bit, close your eyes and breathe in deeply, I’m sure you’ll be able to smell it. mmmmmmmm
We decided to take off a few days to explore another part of Brittany. Like most areas in France, Brittany is divided into a four districts. We are right on the very edge of the Ille-de-Villaine district which borders Normandy. We cross over all the time to the very popular Cote D’Amor district which has the amazingly stunning Emerald Coast and Pink Granite Coast. Finistaire is the furthermost western district, wild, woolly and the home of King Arthur, Merlin, Celtic Myth and mystical forests and rivers. Lastly, towards the south is Morhiban, the warmest district of all with a stunning coastline filled with inlets, bays and islands and it was to this area that we decided to head for.
We packed the doggies in the car along with a few extra bits of clothing, and a few odds and ends for the mutts and set off. The mutts just sit in the car – so good – Tass sits upright like a child and looks out of the window, she watches everything..even turning her head to get a better look. Ted gets board after a while and goes to sleep – if he was a person, he would be the child that keeps saying..”Are we nearly there yet?” every two minutes. To travel from the northern coast to the southern coast takes all of two hours, it’s not very big but its amazing how much the countryside changes and how the climate differs. It’s this that makes France such an amazing place. It would be almost impossible to say “this is the most beautiful part of France” or “southern France has the best climate” because it just takes a few hills, a cliff or two, a lake or a river gorge and you have a whole climate, different growth and another world altogether. So we traversed the north coast for a bit before turning to head south. After a while you begin to think… “Oh look, another stunning view” or “Ok another beautiful village.”
The countryside eventually gets a little more like the English one, rolling hills with vast areas of forest nestled inbetween. We visited medievil villages of Josselin, Ploermel, Malestroit 9which I just loved) and Rocherfort-en-Terre. Now this is a village you want to nestle into. If you Google it, you’ll see it in the summer. It’s been voted one of the most beautiful, authentic villages in France and it’s really worth stopping at. Even the shop signs outside are whorls of wrought iron with hand-painted plaques telling you what the shop is in pictures. The pub was original oak paneling, vaulted ceiling and mullion windows. All too cute. Miss MoneyPenny told us that from our home near Dol-de-Bretagne to this little village was actually only an hour and forty-five minutes so it will be high n the list for a drive out…if anyone comes to visit – you’ve been warned!
It’s snowed, it’s sleeted, it’s rained and then a watery sun came out. So when the husband tells you that he is going to take Anabel into the field to collect some large logs…you get this sense of foreboding. So you politely say “Are you sure you won’t get stuck?” And then you foolishly add, “Do you think that’s wise?” And the answer comes “No, no, don’t panic, we haven’t had rain for two days it’s fine!!!!” And so I think (I don’t say) to myself “Hello? What’s changed? It’s not as though we’ve had two boiling days where the ground has miraculously firmed up…” And then the feeling grows, that feeling where you know in advance that something is about to happen. So you bury yourself in doing something else until the door opens and a sheepish face says it all. Anabel is stuck in the mud. Again! This time it’s both back wheels half deep in oozing slippery sucking mud. The tread of the tyres is so full, that the tyres are now smooth. And yet we carry on attempting to get her out, a futile messy business involving gravel (which now makes the smooth, slippery, sucky mud into something that resembles choc-chip ice-cream). Then bits of grass and pine branches were added…now we have smooth, slippery, sucky choc-chip ice-cream with vermicelli.
I walked home, the husband went to ask the farmer for tractor aid.
I made tea.
The travelling pants are now in the wash…again.
A la prochaine