Wednesday 22 November 2006

17-19th Nov 06 - The Lobs at St Cezaire


La Siagne - the river on which St Cezaire stands

The Beaujolais was indeed very Nouveau as we pitched up at Nice Airport for yet another cultural weekend together. We'd managed to get Len on board at Luton as freight and after an event-free journey, smoothly slipped back into what is for Bryan and Sandra certainly, the routine of collecting the hire car and speeding off to 'La Siagne' in St Cezaire, prettily and cosily nestling in the hills above Cannes - Bryan and Sandra's beautiful French home and home for all of us for the next three nights. Quite rightly the luggage was immediately dispensed with in order that we could, despite the time being after 11pm, enjoy a two-bottle nightcap. We certainly started as we intended to carry on.

Pre-trip weather forecasts on the BBC's website had got us all worrying that perhaps we should really have packed brollies, rain jackets, snorkels, life jackets and distress signals. We were all delighted then to wake up on Friday fresh as daisies and greeted by a clear, warm and bright morning. That was pretty much the climatic tone of our stay, interrupted only by a fantastic firework-like display of thunder and lightning through most of Friday evening and early hours of Saturday morning, and a proper soaking on Sunday evening as we made our way back to Nice Airport. The weather in between however was splendid, to the extent that we still managed to indulge in our rituals of cutting the grass, drinks and lunch on the terrace and most important of all - wearing shorts.

Lunch on the terrace
Friday morning being our first there involved stocking the house with grocery essentials, Bryan having decided that unreasonably the previous tenants hadn't left behind enough of their shopping to feed us too !! So after Sandra did what she does so well on the phone to the fuel oil delivery company, ie bail Bryan out of a sticky spot, created by his less than perfect grasp of the French idiom and fax machines, we piled into our Peugeot people carrier (very confusing electric side doors) and tooled down to the supermarket. We even had a list, which of course went right out of the window as soon as we walked into the supermarket and were greeted by a lovely French lady with perfect English who even more perfectly was dishing out free slurps of Beaujolais Nouveau. Sampling the wine being the whole point of our trip (a bit anyway) and of course Bryan, Len and I being real wine experts we were compelled to stop, chat and gargle the goods, joined by Lynda after a bit (a very small bit) of persuading . Meanwhile Sandra and Angie headed straight for the fruit and veg, squeezing and poking where necessary as if they were locals. To be fair, we did then buy four bottles from the charming French lady.

The rest of the day was a blur of mussels, chips, wine, oil delivery, coffee, wine, Audio quiz, wine, cocktails, Len's bowel movements, wine, a fantastic Tiger Prawn Linguine courtesy of chef Bryan, Len's bowel movements, wine, a Mr & Mrs Quiz, Len's bowel movements, wine and a spectacular finale of rude charades - well that's how Lynda played it anyway - topped off with an encore of Len's bowel movements.

We surfaced a bit later on Saturday morning than we did on Friday, and not quite as bright and breezy. Breakfast soon sorted that out though and so a bit later, fuelled by bread, jam, croissants, juice and gallons of coffee, we headed for the village's Saturday market for a bit of a butchers and some splendid Gallic socialising, including a leisurely coffee with the charming and engaging Jackie and her equally charming and football mad son Joseph. UK ex-Pats Jackie, her husband Alex and their kids pitched up in the village a few years ago and have become good friends of, and not to mention a very practical help to Bryan & Sandra. Back to the house for a bit of gardening, wine, a splendid lunch on the terrace, wine, music and wine. Dinner that night was at the wonderful 'Chevre D'Or' at nearby Cabris, then we came back home for wine, a terrifically enjoyable DVD of 'Bridget Jones' Diary', more wine and Len's bowel movements.


Dinner at Chevre D'Or - Cabris

Sunday started early courtesy of a Gymnastics/Dare-devil fusion stunt display by Len who on one of his many night-time bathroom-bound trips decided to take a closer look at the bedroom floor. Once we were happy that the crash that woke us wasn't the house being hit by a light aircraft, and more importantly that Len hadn't suffered any serious injury, we saw off another splendid breakfast and headed for the as it turned out rather grandly named Xmas Market over the river and across the valley at Mons. Despite being a tad smaller than the posters had led us to believe, it was still lovely, the town even affording me the chance to pee in an old-fashioned 'starting block' loo, complete with saloon doors. How authentic is that?! Bryan was able to reassure the locals, and the Dutch Nation too, that chivalry isn't the preserve of nobility when he came to the rescue of a lovely Dutch lady and her three canine companions who were also in Mons for the Xmas fare. The poor woman was distraught at the prospect of reversing her Nissan Micra type thing into a space roughly the size of Wimbledon Common. Bryan leapt into the driver's seat and deftly completed the manoeuvre without incident or accident. His reward for such a selfless act? An admonishment from the Dutch lady for spending 'too much time in good French restaurants', a comment inspired by Bryan's less than graceful exit from her shoe box on wheels. The poor crestfallen lad spent the rest of the morning holding his stomach in and his bottom lip out.

Len - chillin'

Dietary concerns were soon chucked out of the window however when we got back to the house and began the culinary equivalent of the evacuation of Dunkirk. What food not already eaten during our stay would be dragged back to Blighty if we couldn't eat it for lunch. Hence a couple of hours and several Desperado beers and glasses of wine later we sat down to a magnificent feast of quiches with sautéed potatoes and ratatouille (an old family recipe that includes many potatoes). Tell you what though we lapped it up, and it was enough to take us through dinner time, and to our respective beds when we eventually got home.


Many, many thanks to our fantastic hosts as always for a great weekend. If laughter is the best medicine we must have done ourselves a power of good, well, maybe at least countered the effects of so much food and alcohol !!!