LETTER FROM BARFLEUR
Monday eve listening to Glen Gould and Bach on the rather tinny radio.cd player I brought with me. No TV signal so out of touch with the world which is probably a blessing because the Brexit nonsense must be building up until next week’s referendum. As I get so angry at the very existence of this occurrence which is sapping all energy when the country has real problems which need solving. – and then at the nonsense coming from both sides [the Brexit being just that much worse with their soundbites]. I think I am more or less resigned to the result being negative with all the years of the country being run down as the lawyers make a fortune. So perhaps a temporarily Brexit free zone is a good idea. My advice to ANY politician is NEVER have a referendum except about a very local very simple matter like – to have or not have street lighting. A ridiculous way to decide a complex and life changing matter.
Of course with my smart phone I could of course get news – theoretically. I find I am ducking getting to know it. And to date have only entered Bryan and Margies numbers in the Contacts, and am terrified in case someone phones as I don’t know how I would access it. I can however see my emails. But with travelling by car I am working here on my old computer, having not even opened the hated tablet, much less tried to find out how the phone works. I must be brave. I don’t have a 12 year old in the house to help me so I really will have to move myself into the 21st century.
So back to France. Almost the longest day so Im able to sit here in the conservatory with no light on although it is a dull day. We’re settling down to some sort of routine in this small town. We have stopped moaning about the lack of the creature comforts we have at home and which get more and more important as one gets older. But the awful lighting in even expensive houses [and particularly French ones] does get one – very difficult to find a place to read. But otherwise the house is big and well equipped, and we potter down the road to the supermarket on the edge of the town for basics – NO general food shops left in the town, but still two boulangeries. A long straight road down to the quay with a lovely harbour and bay still full of real fishing boats. So tomorrow we aim to pick up some fish down there. Then perhaps a coffee perhaps even in some sun at one of the many cafes and restaurants.
We find we are in the middle of English history – how ignorant can one be. The main street is Rue Thomas a Becket. Guillame Conquerant looms large. And this weekend we have 3 days of HISTORY to look forward to. Friday night in the church a concert of old music on medieval instruments. Saturday in the Hall at 5.0 some enactment of something. A full size replica of William’s boat [which was supposedly built by someone from Barfleur – legend/history looms large] and was sailed round the coast to where he set sail for Hastings], and medieval buildings, shops and not doubt food and drink miraculously appear on the quay. We are going to be busy. Oh and on 21st June celebrations of the liberation of Barfleur only two weeks after D Day.
Meanwhile Margie and I go for walks around and out of the town daily and in spite of quite a bit of rain have not yet got wet. Bryan cooks – last night a lamb dinner- so eating [and drinking] instincts are going to have to be held in check. Today a meander in the car up the coast with the idea of having a delicious light lunch somewhere. Monday, so a rather ‘old fashioned English small town café’ lunch was all we found – just about edible. With the need to get food SOMEWHERE before 2.0 [because being France one was fairly sure that after that NOTHING would be possible] we didn’t carry on trying to locate the rocks where all those years ago Philip was shipwrecked. And in the mist no photo would have been worth it. On Saturday more nostalgia as we went down to St Vaast for the big market. This is where Peter H Peggy and I spent some weeks, and it was Peter’s bday – 90? Years ago.
Tomorrow to the very helpful Office du Tourisme woman to ask her to organise a walk round Barfleur offered by an English resident. Should be interesting. Apart from the history one becomes aware, in these fishing towns, of the perils of the sea. Memorials to those lost a sea, and a few huge boat/ship losses, one in 11th? 12th?13th? century when the English king’s two sons were lost, and with no other male heir endless dynastic wars followed. A very basic 11th century Sailors church with the small remains of a fresco, built on a Merovingian necropolis – this is real history! And ex English territory! Perhaps this is what the Brexit supporters hope for again???? – England [by this stage once again lacking Scotland Ireland and Wales] will invade France and we can all feel great again. This is one of the few things I haven’t actually heard anyone say, but somehow the spirit of past greatness seems to loom large for many of these somewhat deluded people, so I would not count it out as really ridiculous. Here I am on to Brexit again. Really must switch off.
Barfleur 2 – Thur 23rd June
DECISION DAY
Two weeks of escape are coming to an
end. Quite by chance, have avoided Brexit, and even football in spite of being
in France. The only gesture to football has been the one boulangerie having red
white and blue decorations. But asked about the result of the last all
important French match, or about who they play next, both assistants expressed
apathy and lack of knowledge. But Barfleur has gamely supported Guillaume le
Conquerant with shop window displays and some rows of bunting around. So, an
excellent time and place to retire to – 1066, 950 years in the past is not a bad time to
escape to, with a little of 1944 and how America won the war.
The
weekend celebrations – Friday to Sunday- could have been called ‘worthy’, or
[for Bryan and no doubt others] ‘awful’ or boring. But we entered into them and
I enjoyed the spirit, and the view from another country. So Friday evening
Margie and I went off to what was an excellent concert in the church. A
Cotentin ensemble of 10 talented players and singers performed 11th- 14th century music on early music instruments.
Beautiful authentic, handmade costumes created locally from old paintings. Then
Saturday and Sunday we were promised a mediaeval village on the quay. Friday
night up went sort of tepees, and Saturday the stalls. Such fetes etc bring
these people together to show off and hopefully sell their wares. Quite a lot
of celtic looking carving and knick nacks, a wood carver making a large
something; a magnificent [live] goat etc. Long beards and hair, and clothing
made of rough materials, clomping around in large boots etc. As the village is
jumelled with Lyme Regis and there were 10 Lyme Regioneers formally welcomed at
the concert, we wondered if we might have an English contribution to the
celebrations with some morris dancing. But no.
A Highlight [for me] was the arrival
of the fullsize replica of William’s boat, escorted in to the harbour by the
life boat. On the internet I found it was made by a Suffolk man. Beautiful
carving, and rather small to have conquered England. – but there were apparently
900? others. The Barfleur connection is that it was built by a Barfleur man,
and then sailed down the coast for the invasion. As the lifeboat is only able
to leave the harbour when there is a medium or high tide the tides were luckily
in the right place that morning. Or for it to leave some days later.
Then Saturday at 5 in the community
hall [found with difficulty] was an enactment by a man and a woman of a
children’s book on the great Invasion. They were excellent actors so one could
follow more or less, [particularly when they stuck up on the board heads of all
the aristocrats involved and all their tangled relationships] They put the
question WHY?. And left it hanging as a question.. They had even translated the
book into English, and there was a very light pressure on us to buy a copy,
which we resisted.
So Barfleur as [temporarily] the
centre of our universe, and many centuries ago VERY important. Our walking tour
of the village by Christopher a retired teacher who has been coming here since
1976 and now owns a flat here, was very interesting. He is that much immersed
in the place to have been made an honorary town citizen and to be made [as the
first foreigner ever] to be made one of the two vice chairs of the town
council. ‘Foreigner ‘ in this context might be NOT from Barfleur he told us, i.e.
not from another country, because of the
extreme rivalry between communities. Barfleur has what every town needs to
attract visitors – a saint, Julie Postel
an uneducated poor girl who created schools for girls all round the Cotentin
and whose order still exists world wide. At Barfleur only 2 nuns now, and the
headquarters further down the Cotentin in St Sauveur have recently elected a
Congolese nun to lead them. Unfortunately the more we heard about her life the
less Barfleur seemed to be able to claim her, except for the fact that she was
born here.
Simply because of where it is,
Barfleur was for centuries [a long time ago!] an important port and town
particularly in relation to England. With silting and other changes its harbour
now has only small working boats, and a few bigger trawlers in it – and the
lifeboat, available for distressed sailors when the tide is right. It was a
mussel port but because they have overfished, there is a ban now, presumably
doing many out of jobs. Christopher says they don’t want a marina. Why not? The
fishmonger in the village was shut because of illness so we have made many
excursions down to the quay in the hope of acquiring lovely fresh fish.
Beautiful crabs have been on offer but none of us felt able to tackle them. So
we have only managed a skate, and from a stall or shop small bream, and a bass.
Lovely. When early on we got the skate from the fisherman right at the end of
the quay I asked when he would be there again. I understood 8.30 to 9.0 every
morning. Only days later did it dawn that a few days later at that time the
tide was out and ofcourse he couldn’t be there. Hence abortive fish hunting
trips, with no one able to guide us. Obviously if you should know when and
where to get fish you do know, because they probably shouldn’t sell other than
to their contractor. We didn’t try to
get info from the very good tourist office with its unusually enthuastic and
helpful woman
We have eaten very well, with Bryan
cooking – sometimes too much. My household tasks are to carry trays of vast
quantities of crockery and cutlery to the dish washer in the extension at the
back, and to carry the trays of clean ones back. Also occasionally to empty the
dish washer and sweep the kitchen floor. So I have been very well looked after.
I haven’t even driven much because Bryan doesn’t really like being a passenger.
So the lazy life consists of being
fed, going to walks around the village and into the countryside with Margie,
people watching on the quay, reading, napping, twice laboriously reading Le
Monde, and sudokuing. Occasionally starting to understand my new smart phone
[oh dear], and a little bit of TV in the evening. Luckily we don’t start TV until
after the early uk evening news, and finish before the later. So we have
instead seen a feature on kittens, one on Battersea dogs being trained to help
disabled people, and even a bit of Endeavour [early Morse]. You never know what
you learn when away from home.
But Brexit last night for a bit, being impressed with
the women on a panel, and amazed [yet again] at the enthusiastic response to
Boris’ usual non-answer. I fear the news tomorrow. A low turn out and a close
result either way will be awful. But meanwhile I try and just keep clear. Would
have liked to have had some more French reaction but didn’t dare turn the TV
off the UK part, and Le Monde is very careful about not conveying that they
think the British are silly.
We have been lucky with the weather –
never summer. But only one bad rainy day on Monday, so we went to the Change
and had lunch in Cherbourg. Otherwise never caught in the rain. And even that
day ended dry and slightly sunny. Compared with what we have heard of storms in
SE England, and Paris we were lucky – until last night that is. Huge storms
apparently, through which I slept – the best night I have had for many months!
Perhaps I need static or whatever it is to have a good sleep?
Only big excursions to Utah beach [the
nearest landing beach to us] where the excellent visitor centre told us how the
Americans, and two months later the French, had won the war. To St Vaast [the
oyster town down the coast] a couple of times, and an abortive attempt to have
lunch at a recommended mill because of its bakery with excellent cider and
omelettes – now defunct.
A good visit, with immense frustration
at not being able to have a meaningful conversation, as the people are really
friendly. But as the aphasia grows with English words, no hope with French –
too late. Tomorrow back to real life.