Short tales

A LinkedIn Network Update arrived in my English mailbox this afternoon entitled, 'Looking for something special for the nun in your life?' Seemed unlikely, but strangely appropriate, given my mental and verbal wanderings round Fontevraud the last few days? Nuns have featured in my life. Not that I know any now. As a child I was sent to a Catholic School in London, possibly Forest Gate, and was taught by nuns, who like all my other teachers hadn't the means to inspire me mathematically.  I'm not sure why I went there as I was brought up C of E. So that question remains open to speculation, as there's no one around now who has the answer. Then there was a pause of about forty years with absolutely no nun contact, until we took a last minute long weekend break to Rome - about twelve years ago. We had been trying to cross a major road for about ten minutes. Traffic was hurtling round and we just couldn't find the courage to put our best feet forward and make a dash for it. There were no zebra crossings. Fortunately, a nun arrived and without hesitation began to cross. The traffic literally ground to a halt. I'm sure that at this point, there are all sorts of biblical references to be made - parting of the waves etc. Anyway, not wanting to miss our chance, we followed closely on her - what's best to say?  Habit, habit tails? and got across with no trouble at all. We tried another road crossing a couple of days later. This time it was with a monk, But sadly he wasn't as effective. There must be a moral here somewhere.

 

Thinking about crossing

We've just had some friends over for a short stay. Lovely to see them, and we were so lucky with the weather. Went out for lunch and dinner a few times and to our Thursday morning market. Visited a few wine producers and also stopped off at a viewing point over towards Candes Saint Martin to see La Confluence, or the point where the Loire and the Vienne meet. It's a great view. I was driving and had parked the car in the shade. Mike got out followed by our friend Dave, who was looking at or doing something as he got out. Once he'd closed the car door, I then locked it, automatically, and started walking towards the viewing point. Suddenly, I heard this little voice and a sort of tapping sound. I turned round to see a face peering at me through the car window. I'd managed to lock Sue - Dave's wife - inside. She was wearing a black t-shirt and being on the side that was now in the shade, I just hadn't seen her. Sue was quickly rescued.

Table Etiquette

We had a momentary aberration with table implement protocol recently. The occasion was my birthday, when we went over to a gorgeous restaurant near Richlieu in the middle of the countryside, with exquisite food, presentation, surroundings and this time, as a final touch, a jazz trio. The restaurant is a converted house containing the kitchen and a restaurant area, which is beautifully decorated. The owners, Carol and Philippe, a couple from Paris, also have a private house in the grounds hidden from view behind a walled garden. In the summer the restaurant extends out beyond the house into vines which are part of the estate.  

The evening was quite warm, so all the tables had been put outside. We arrived on time and could choose whichever table we wanted. So went for the one directly in line with the musicians, but close to the vines. It was quite lovely and just for two and already laid up with cutlery, napkins and decorative plates. There was also an assortment of glassware: three wine glasses, a champagne glass, a plain tumbler glass and a blue tumbler styled glass which matched the blue water jug. The menu and wine lists were delivered and while were discussing what we were going to have, apéros (pétillant) had arrived with freshly made nibbles. Mike offered me some water, so poured some water from the blue water jug into the matching blue tumbler styled glasses.

Other guests had arrived. Carol came to clear our table of any unnecessary items as our starters were ready, and then had taken something out of her pocket and picked up a blue glass. "Oh non non non non non",  as she tipped the water out on to the grass, "les verres bleus sont pour les bougies ne sont pas pour l'eau". There had been so many glasses on the table, and because they'd matched the jug, we'd used the blue glasses for water, when they were actually meant for the little nightlight candles. We could hear Carol laughing all the way back to the kitchen, where I'm sure the tale went down well.