Even in this urban age, every small child in Britain knows that conkers (the gloriously shiny fruit of the horse chestnut tree) ripen in autumn and lambs are born in spring. So it is somewhat disconcerting to look out of the building to the lawns under the chestnut trees, where the fruit is falling, to see pregnant sheep and lambs. It turns out that sheep in this area – we can’t speak for the rest of France – have two lambing seasons. So for those of you who are about to hit the long British winter, the following picture is a foretaste of spring.
Other news. Alison has had her shoulder fixed with a deep injection, superfast but expensive. (We really must get the full health insurance sorted out.) Chris discovered French thyroxine isn’t quite the same as the British one and is trying out a lower dose for his underactive thyroid. He had the blood test on Tuesday, the results downloaded from the web on Wednesday and the physician modified the dose on Thursday.
We went to Bargemon, a charming village surrounded by forest, to look at houses. The Beckhams have a house in the area, so it must be ok. Unfortunately the rocks the village is perched on are dipping the wrong way and there were cracks in the walls of all the houses we looked at. In fact, one of them even had a ‘crack meter’ glued to a wall. You don’t need to be a geologist to realise it’s not a good idea to buy a property which might decide to slide down a hill. We continue our search.
And finally, another sign of autumn. French supermarkets seem to go in for much more seasonal fruit and veg than their British equivalents, and this is the time for the grape harvest. You can just make out the ‘origin France’ signs at the back.