My Pyracantha bushes trained against our outbuildings

Since my return from France I have a new project: finding the perfect Shortbread recipe. This cooking quest began innocently enough last weekend after Nigel and I had polished off a batch of my mince-pies and again remarked how utterly delicious the pastry was – sort of melt-in-your-mouth like Shortbread.

Naturally, this got me thinking about making my own Shortbread. After delving into my cookbooks and trying out a number of recipes (all unsatisfactory I might add), I then did a Google search and found a super article in The Guardian written by Felicity Cloake entitled: How to make perfect shortbread. So tomorrow I’m going to try out her recipe and will keep you posted (with photograph) of my (hopefully) edible results.

Still in cooking mode, this morning I baked my third Dundee Cake – we ate the other two some time ago (sigh). However, I have a sneaky feeling that I may have to bake another one before Christmas lands on our doorstep as this Dundee Cake will be crying out to be eaten too!

Like any good tradesperson, I believe in using the right tool for the right job and, where cooking is concerned, I’m in 7th heaven. As luck would have it, Norfolk has the largest independent cookshop (The Kitchenary Limited) located in Taverham – which is not quite down the road from us – but nearly. This shop is jam-packed with wonderful utensils, pots & pans I never knew I needed. Thankfully our chimney is nice and wide so Santa won’t have too much of a hard time coming down, laden with a sack-load of cooking paraphernalia for yours truly!

Lest you may think I’m spending most of my waking hours in the kitchen, think again. I’ve also set myself the task of working one hour every day in the garden. How else am I going to work off all my cooking calories? Today I battled with a very thorny and dense Pyracantha bush which grows along the side wall of our outbuildings. Tomorrow I have the pleasure of doing battle again but, knowing how great it is for wildlife, I don’t begrudge the few scars I get while clipping him.

And of course, sandwiched between my cooking and gardening I try and work! Never a dull moment, I can tell you!

Freddy and The Little Fairy - both happy to be back together

Last Friday, 4th November, my best friend Ineke and I drove to France in Thomas (my Range Rover) to pick up the cats: The Boy, Little Fairy and Smiley Cat. Included in that journey was also the overseeing of the final move from Peymeinade when the last bits and pieces of furniture and my outdoor plants would be transported to Belaugh by Tony, our removal man.

Earlier in the week I’d received an email saying that the weather that weekend would not be brilliant in the South of France as heavy rains were forecast.  As it turned out, it was to be far worse – life-threatening in fact!

After our overnight stay in Buchères, Saturday morning found us up early and away in Thomas to complete our journey. As we chatted so the kilometres rolled by and we were soon driving through Lyon. Here we encountered a light rain but the skies told nothing of what was yet to come.

Approaching the outskirts of Toulon we both felt something wasn’t quite right as dark, iron-grey skies and darker Cumulonimbus clouds bubbled up around us. By the time we reached Toulon the heavens opened and we found ourselves in one of the worst storms ever experienced in the Alpes-Maritimes.

Driving became almost impossible as the motorway vanished under a deluge of water and merged with white-out sheets of rain. Spectacular lightening strikes of awesome magnitude hit from all sides as cracks of thunder blasted our senses. It was simply awesome – and incredibly scary.

Amazingly, we made it through the storm and arrived in Chateauneuf-de-Grasse where our Campanile hotel was booked. It rained continuously throughout the night with more thunderstorms thrown in for good measure. Sunday dawned and it was still hammering down. We arrived in Peymeinade to further thunderstorms – but which magically stopped as Tony arrived with his van – and my last move was done under clear skies.

And they were still clear when Ineke and I arrived to pick up the cats on the Monday – although we had to walk to the cattery as their road had been completely washed away, leaving jarring crevices no car – not even Thomas – could negotiate.

Ineke say’s she’ll write a book some day about our many adventures and while we’ve had some pretty amazing ones – I think this one tops the lot.

The cats are now here in Belaugh and none the worse after their six-week stay in the cattery and their two day drive in Thomas. However I do wonder, if like the Pope, they didn’t kiss the ground when they arrived  – thankful to be warm and safe – and home.

This is how it looked when we first arrived in Belaugh

Once the workmen had emptied and cleaned the lake

How our lake looks now.

It took the workmen (three of them) just under a week to empty the lake, clear all the bulrushes and refill it.

Needless to say Freddy couldn’t resist taking a closer look and returned covered from top to tail in sticky, vile, smelly mud. Thankfully, Bertie was much more sensible (well, he would be wouldn’t he?) and steered clear of it, mooching around on the soft grass to his heart’s content – something he’s not seen or had for over a year!

Once spring is here I’ll work on adding bog plants and water lilies as I’d like to encourage more wildlife. I’m told that otters used to visit – perhaps our smart new lake may entice them back.

The Mallards and Moorhens seem happy with the way the lake is now and in fact, we seem to have more of them splashing around. Even the local heron has come round to inspect it, finding the odd eel here and there.

As per the plan, I’d taken the dogs the day before to our vets in Chateauneuf-de-Grasse to be inspected, flea, tick and tape worm treated. Passports were duly completed, timed, stamped and signed. The clock was now ticking as we had a ‘window’ of not less than 24 hours but not more than 48 hours to drive through France and reach the Control Zone in Calais.

Our journey was identical to our two previous ones – only this time we had to contend with extremely strong gusty winds, from Aix-en-Provence onwards and steady rain (but thankfully abated winds) as we reached Lyon and which continued throughout our  entire journey up to Calais.

After an overnight stay at our usual Premiere Class hotel outside of Troyes, we continued our drive towards Calais, reaching the French Pet Travel Control Building shortly before mid-day.

A large black paw print on a yellow background to the right of the Eurotunnel check-in point and passenger terminal building helped direct us in the right direction.

Parking in the designated area we took the two dogs for a short walk around the grassed exercise area before entering the control point building. I honestly expected to be greeted by white-coated vet-like personnel but instead found two typical French ‘fonctionnaires’ well cocooned behind their desks.

After an initial ‘Bonjour’, I handed over the passports and the desk clerk began to enter the details into their computer system. After being asked which Shuttle we were booked on, I was then passed the chip reader to scan both dogs. Not once did the clerk leave her desk to look or inspect the dogs.

With doggy details now in their computer system we were handed a printed paper with the date and time the control was done along with a reference code, the number and type of animals. All hand-written I might add . . .

Interestingly, both dogs dealt with the journey totally differently. Bertie hid most of the time under the blanket on the back seat, while Freddy sat peering through the window, captivated by the moving scenery and traffic. He never slept or rested his eyes but sat upright alert – ready to take on the world.

Needless to say – who’s a very (very) tired boy now?

My main worry was that we’d capture one of them in full sight of the other – who would then freak out and do a runner on us. With only three days to go (we’re leaving this coming Saturday), my fingers (and toes) stayed well crossed.

As it happened, we captured Ginger first in one of Leslie Frasier’s larger capture cages. Nigel hid behind the kitchen door and as soon as I saw the cat well inside the cage, he pulled the string et voilà!

A couple of hours later it was the turn of Percy.

Yesterday evening we met with Leslie and did the hand-over. It was a sad moment (I do wish I wasn’t so soppy) as I tried to hold back the tears, telling myself that we were picking them up in January and to stop being so silly and upset. But I was – upset that is.

The dogs are now back with us and enjoying being home. I feel like God for the moment as I know the adventure that awaits them and they don’t. Odd feeling!

After we filmed this property last Thursday, there was little doubt in my mind that sunset and sunrise from there would be spectacular. I therefore asked if we could return a few days later to film these two events – which is how I came to wake up myself to this stunning view.

At my feet lay the entire French Riviera and vastness of the Mediterranean Sea and above me an immense unblemished sky as far as my eye could see. This view would have moved me at the best of times but it was particularly emotional as this is my last week of living on the French Riviera and so, as it turned out, I was able to bid a discreet and sad farewell to a much beloved region before I departed.

Packing has now started in earnest and I am yet again surprised at how much there is still to box up. Yesterday I did all the DVDs, books and magazines – today I’m packing up my office- tomorrow I’m making a start on the kitchen.

We have now set up the capture cages for Percy and Ginger and with luck these two rascals will be captured in time to hand over to Leslie Frasier (Les Chats du Mercantour) tomorrow evening as she is kindly looking after them until we come to pick them up in January.

Watch this space!

Once in Peymeinade we set about assembling our gear to film what turned out to be a most delightful villa situated high up in the hills over-looking Tourrettes-sur-Loup.  As I mentioned in my previous scribbles, Christine Davis of Chrisma Estate Agents had asked if we could film the property for her and take photos for inclusion in Belles Demeures‘s website.

Currently on the market for (a meagre) €2,200,000 there is no doubt that this is a beautiful villa with exceptional sea views and as soon as I saw the horizon pool I knew there was a photo opportunity just calling out to be done.

“No worries” Nigel happily chirped up. “I’ll go in”. He strips off (we forgot to bring our swim suits) and jumps in. “Yikes, it’s a bit chilly” Nigel mutters through clenched teeth. “You poor old thing”, I reply with a wry smile, “I could have sworn it was a heated pool. The things we do for our art – absolutely no holds barred, eh?”

And of course you know me, I simply couldn’t resist taking a sneaky shot of Nigel in the pool and plastering it for the world to see . . .

Apart from filling up the bird feeders and working on a couple of client websites, since our return I’ve been mainly editing a wedding trailer for Mark Shipperley Films. You can read more about the making of this film in Alice Barker Weddings.

A call yesterday from my friend Christine Davis of Chrisma Estate Agents means that, upon our return to France, we’ll be filming a property for her over in Tourrettes-sur-Loup. I find filming properties somewhat less stressful than filming weddings . . .

Although a busy bee, I did manage to get bum off seat this afternoon to visit the Norfolk Arts, Crafts & Design Show out at the Norfolk Show Grounds. Various stalls displayed artwork, jewellery, local and Mediterranean produce and craft-ware but on the whole it was a little disappointing. Not much of a turn out either.

On the other hand I did meet the owner of Wild Norfolk and loved his work. Peter Mallett has a farm in North Burlingham and has taken some fantastic photos of his local wildlife on and around it. I so aspire to photograph as well as he does.

This evening as I walked round the garden I was greeted by a very friendly swan, oddly on its own. She seemed very curious by the various cabin cruisers and small boats making their way downstream to Cottleshall until she spied me and came over to say hello. Having only my tiny Canon IXUS100 IS I did the best I could to photograph this beautiful creature.

As I walked past our lake I wondered how much wildlife would still come and say hello to us once the dogs (and cats) are here – Bertie and Freddy arrive with us when we return to Belaugh on Sunday 9th October. We then return to France to collect the cats in November and the Mexican Jumping Bean (Muffin the Chihuahua) in December.

We stayed at what we have come to affectionately call The Cabin (in reality a Première Classe hotel) as the size of the shower rooms remind us of those found on ferries. This particular hotel is located next door to a Campanile, so after winkling ourselves out of the MG, we made our way over to their restaurant, where I must confess I ate 1kg of Moules Marinières – their evening special . . .

The following day we whizzed up to Reims, Béthune and Calais where we caught the Channel Tunnel. This time our destination was Gilwell Park, rather than Belaugh, so, after going through the (wretched) Dartford Tunnel, we took the M25 anti-clockwise to Waltham Abbey and Gilwell Park Conference Centre to attend an IOV workshop being held there (more about that workshop in ABW).

Dating back to the 1400s, Gilwell Park today stands in 108 acres of mature parkland, and offers conferences, corporate activity days, wedding receptions and parties. But more importantly, since 1919, it is the home of the International Scout Leader training centre created by Robert Baden-Powell.

His small green caravan trailer, nicknamed Eccles, and presented to Baden-Powell by the Boy Scouts of the World in 1929, still exists much to Nigel’s astonishment. For he, like so many boys in his early teens, was a scout and remembered seeing the caravan when he attended scout camp at Gilwell Park in the 1960s.

Which probably explains why he’s such a very good navigator . . .

Over the years, whenever he came to visit us in France or we’d visit him in the UK we’d buy a couple of bottles for him and he’d literally be in 7^th Heaven at the thought of tasting it again.

So prior to his recent visit, yours truly dashed over to Leclerc to buy a couple of bottles of Pink Floyd. There were none. Zilch. ‘Must have sold out’ I thought. He too drove over there a few days later, hoping to buy a case full. Still nothing on the shelves.

Could we find it on the internet we wondered? And we did and discovered that it is issued from one of the most historic domaines of Provence: Château Miraval. We also discovered that the  Château, winery and extraordinary vineyard was rented by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie (if you’re a wine-buff you’ll enjoy reading this article by Elin McCoy) and that this particular rosé is now just made for export. Which is fine if you live outside of France – which Simon does.

But a man weeping into his hankie after driving over 900 miles to enjoy his favourite tipple is not a pretty sight. What could I do? And then yours truly had a brain-wave. Off I drove to the tiny hamlet of Plascassier and popped into their Super-U supermarket. There they stock a sublime wine grown from a small vineyard in Mougins, Vigne de Pibonson, that produces a gorgeous rosé (cuvée Nicolas) and a delicious white (cuvée Christopher).

The day, and evening and Simon’s holiday were saved!