Thurs 11th
This week has seen the arrival of our two new goats. They are called Mama and Princess; both female and mother and daughter. They are very tame although a little timid. My only experience of goats was being butted by my uncle’s goat when I was a child, at which point I took an immediate dislike to them! However, I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for the moment, and so far they have given me no reason to suspect them. The mother is apparently still giving milk, although the daughter has long since stopped feeding. We have tried to have a go, but she is very wary of us going anywhere near her udders and we don’t want to frighten her. The previous owner told us that the last time he milked her was two weeks ago. If anyone knows how long it takes for a goat’s milk to dry up then I would appreciate a comment, because I don’t know if it still worth trying to milk her!

We have started reading Anne Frank, which I get the feeling the boys are finding boring. It can’t be as bad as Robinson Crusoe! I can remember reading Anne Frank as a child although I don’t remember whether I enjoyed it or not. We’ll persevere. I think it’s one of these books in which the impact is from what is left unsaid rather than what is said and also in the reflection of Anne’s fate afterwards.

Formal lessons have again gone by-the- by this week. We just don’t seem to have time for them! Admittedly the children have worked on their French and maths, but alone because Grandma has left them a lot of ‘homework’ whilst she is in England.

A very French affair!

Saturday 6th
Today we attended our first French wedding. Our friends Stephanie and Laurant had decided to get married and Stephanie had asked me to be her witness. I felt very honoured; I have never been anything special at a wedding before – except the bride of course! As this was the only French wedding I have attended, I can’t tell if it was typical or not, but it was hugely different from any wedding I have attended in England. For a start, there was no pomp and ceremony. The bride wore a simple, woollen, short, red dress and black boots, and the groom an everyday pair of trousers and shirt, but accompanied with a very bright red and white jacket : a testament to his zany character. The ceremony itself was held in the Mairie (the town hall) and was performed by Monsieur le Maire himself. It commenced with the playing of an old, crackling version of “Here comes the Bride”, to which our lively friends danced around the room to the cheers and delight of the guests. Then, the very brief formalities were spoken, the signatures were made and it was all over. Back at the bride and groom’s house the celebrations continued in this informal style. Drinks and canapés provided by the parents were followed by a delicious main course of ham and potatoes brought in by the local butcher; followed by a cheese course and then deserts which I had offered to make. I had prepared pears in red wine served with crème fraiche and flapjack, then a traditional (English) fruitcake, iced and decorated with flowers to have with the coffee. It all went down very well and our dear friends were very happy. After we had eaten, the groom’s brother, a marvelous singer, sand us two, ancient (medieval I think) French love songs, the father of the groom sang a wedding song, and Francis and James played some Irish and Scottish jigs on their guitar and mandolin. It was a wedding as weddings should be…all about the couple and those closest to them who wanted to enjoy the day with them and wish them well. England can keep its ‘20 grand’ weddings with its flash outfits, cheesy disco and expensive dinners in posh hotels!

Charcuterie chez nous

4th December
This morning early the farmer returned to do the butchering of the pig. James, Lizzy and I all got up early to watch the proceedings and very interesting it was too. I hadn’t realized there would be so much meat on her as she was such a small wee thing, but by the end of the morning we had about 50 pork chops, about 8 joints of varying sizes, two fillet mignons; which are my favourite for making the little round ‘medallions’ of pork, bacon slices, 12 jars of paté and 76 sausages.

There were lots of other odd bits which I haven’t a clue what to do with…trotters, liver and the like, but for now I have bunged them in the freezer. I suspect the dogs will end up enjoying them. Lizzy took an active interest in all this and helped turn the wheel of the sausage machine and then count the sausages and bag them. She’s really not very squeamish at all…just like her mother. By contrast, the boys didn’t even come downstairs but as usual, stayed at their computer screens. However, they were happy to sample the sausages at lunchtime (which were delicious by the way).

As frequently happens, our formal educating seems to have gone by the wayside – at least, as far as the children are concerned. I, on the other hand, am having a full and varied education in farming matters!

A pig's tale

3 December
After a night of tossing and turning, we awoke properly at about six o’clock this morning. It seems something had been stopping us from having a peaceful night’s sleep and the most likely candidate was the fate of poor ‘Big Face’ the pig this morning.

We came downstairs and made a cup of tea and James confessed that he just didn’t think he could face the thought of sending him for the (pork) chop. I did have to agree that it was an unpleasant thought and so in a dramatic reversal of fate (again!) we decided that the female pig would be our candidate when the farmer arrived this morning. Consequently, at about 10 past 10 this am, the female pig was dispatched and by 11.30 am she was hanging up by her feet in the old hangar. The old farmer was very matter of fact and admitted he had been doing it for 45 years. He was certainly very quick and efficient which was a blessing for us and for the poor old pig! He’s coming back tomorrow to carve the carcass into appropriate joints. She’s not a huge pig, but there will be two reasonable sized hams and he’s going to make us sausages and patés along with all the other obvious cuts. We’re going to pay close attention to the ‘butchering’ as the intention is to do it ourselves next time.

The children kept out of the way, although after it was all over, Thomas and Lizzy did venture out to have a look at the carcass. Lizzy (8) seems the least phased by it all. She wants to watch with us tomorrow to see how the meat is jointed!

I never dreamt that one day we would be processing a pig on our own premises. It’s been quite an experience for us all !

Breton galettes

2nd December

We have some very lovely neighbours – two elderly couples who live in adjoined houses. The ladies are sisters and were born in the house nearly 80 odd years ago when it stood as one large house belonging to their parents. Standing in the grounds of this house is a small cottage; a partially renovated dwelling with one large room downstairs, which they use when they all want to eat together or if they want to invite guests to eat with them. Today we were all invited to their little cottage for galettes.

For the uninitiated among you, galettes are a savoury, buckwheat flour pancake which is fried on a large flat hotplate and then filled with all manner of delicious things. To finish them off, the galette and its contents are folded into a parcel. We are generally offered a ‘complet’, which consists of egg, cheese and ham, and then finished off with a generous blob of yellow Breton butter. (Now and again we buy readymade galettes from the local shop and make them ourselves, but ours are not a patch on Marie’s, because she makes her galettes from scratch to her own recipe and the filling is added whilst the pancake is still cooking on the hot plate. )

The conversation at these mealtimes ALWAYS gets round to the children’s education and whether they are working hard. I suspect they are slightly worried by the concept of home education, but they are too polite to say so. However, we are so used to the same questions being asked time and time again that we now know how to make the right noises to keep people happy.

As usual (this is a fairly frequent occurrence as our dear neighbours are very sociable), we all ate too much and felt too fat to do much this afternoon.

Ah well, such is life in Brittany!