life in the Limousin

Over the last couple of months I’ve really been looking after myself. I’ve significantly cut down on my alcohol consumption, upped my fitness levels through squash and gym visits and finally extinguished the last burning embers of my 25 year smoking habit.

However, during the last week I’ve suffered a bit of a blip in my new routine. I’ve spent much of the week away with work, have done very little exercise and yesterday went on a 12 hour bender at the Cymau music festival in North Wales. Our friends Robin and Karen invited us to this event, which consisted of live bands and gargantuan quantities of alcohol. My memory of the day is a little hazy, like some kind of mirage that disappears when I try to focus on it but helpfully Mel is on hand to remind me what an absolute turkey I was. She tells me that by 6pm I had already lost all volume control, was stuck on some kind of loop repeat and was asking strangers to stay at our house in France. I also pestered one of the bands to allow me to sing with them and consequently murdered the Jams “Town called Malice” live on stage. We then retired to the local pub for a lock-in and sing-along. We both had a great time, though Mel was somehow unable to get drunk and therefore forced to witness my outlandish behaviour through sober eyes. It can’t have been pretty.

My hangover could only be cured by hair of the dog so today was spent in the pub watching football and nursing several brandy and cokes. I now have raging indigestion, a head that feels like the inside of a birdcage and the awful shit-pit feeling in my stomach that there are further embarrassments and revelations about my behaviour to be revealed.

Tomorrow is the final bank holiday of the year and I shall take myself outside and kick myself up the arse before resuming my healthy regime.

On Tuesday I have been invited as a guest by BBC GMR (Radio station)to their studio for a weekly programme about Manchester City. My recent complaint letter to the Marketing Director of Hollands pies about the inclusion of Sultanas in their Chicken Balti Pies has achieved its original purpose, in that they have now revised their recipe and sent me samples of their Mark II pie. They want me to do a taste test on air of their various pies and I will be interviewed about the letter by one of my footballing heroes Paul Lake. Eating savoury pastries may not sound like a component part of an elite athletes healthy training regime and thats because it isn’t. But then I’m not an elite athlete so I’ll just have to soldier on.

News from France from fellow bloggers Neil and Roz. They were kind enough to find and order a supply of wood for this winter and it was duly delivered on Friday. We’re reallty grateful for their help and Mel and I would like to publicly apologise to their friends who spent a morning of their holiday unloading the wood into our barn.

We need to get our act together this week and book our crossing for the end of September. With autumnal weather already in evidence in the UK, we know what to expect for our holiday in Chalus. It should also be Chestnut season and I intend to investigate what culinary possibilities exist. We did roast some on our fire last year, but Mel forgot to prick holes in them which turned them into exploding vegetable matter. I’m blaming her anyway.

It is coming up for 8pm on Sunday evening and I am only just writing my blog. Ordinarily, as part of my weekly routine I would have it completed by 10am. This delay has resulted in urgent enquiries from my Mother-in-law who is on holiday at a caravan site at Blenheim Palace and has travelled out of the site to find a Wi-Fi zone only to discover I have not submitted my weekly missive.

I’d like to say that the reason for the delay is down to my swashbuckling adventures and high jinks lifestyle. I’d like to tell you that squeezing in 45 minutes of blog writing has been unbelievably difficult as I have been too busy experiencing the thrills of 21^st century living. I’d like to tell you those things, except they are just not true.

Melanie and I have had a relatively sedate and social weekend following a hectic week. On Friday night I cooked dinner which is an event rarer than a total eclipse of the sun and twice as dramatic. I made a Goan Prawn curry which was so hot that I had to take my tongue to casualty. Mel didn’t mind a bit and described it as the best curry she has ever had. As I had made the curry from scratch with the multitude of spices and herbs described in the recipe book, the kitchen resembled a war zone and it took longer to clean up than it did to actually cook.

Saturday we went to the gym and then on to Manchester City’s opening home game before attending a 50^th birthday party for someone we hardly knew. Amazingly it appeared that everybody else in attendance hardly knew him either which made for a slightly surreal evening. Of course, surrealism dictates binge drinking and by the time we got back we were both sozzled particularly Mel who had got a bit over excited and accidentally consumed two bottles of champagne.

Sunday morning was recovery time and I was unable to put fingers to keyboard without it hurting my head. We met our old next door neighbours for lunch where I sampled a couple of strands of hair of the dog and I therefore required a strategic sleep on my return. I awoke just in time to witness England retaining the Ashes and start my blog. So there you have it, not spectacularly exciting and in truth slightly tardy.

This week we will book our crossing for the end of September. We plan to travel to France on my birthday (the 25^th) and will be in France for 10 days. Our recent house move has allowed us to sort lots more stuff to take over with us such as curtains and drawers. I’ll also be taking my vast collection of fishing equipment and am hoping to get some quality fishing time.

Mels parents and her sister will be in Chalus too and Fred and I will be planning the next phase of development for our holiday home. The shell of the barn is complete and we now need to fit out the interior. The Plaster-boarding, cabling, plumbing and loads of things I don’t really understand need to be costed and we can then start the work and work out what help we’ll need.

With the economy beginning to improve and a little more surety around my employment we can crack on with our project. We are also planning to demolish the piggery at the side of our house and replace it with a small log building for additional holiday letting.

The heatwave that the other bloggers have described in the Limousin will be a thing of the past by the time we arrive and chilly evenings will replace the balmy, summer nights we experienced in July. After the stresses of house moving and work trauma our countdown has begun.

Apologies to Robin in case he makes a post this week but we have finally made the move to our new apartment and I will be unable to post tomorrow. Naturally, BT have been unable to complete the relatively simple task of moving our broadband connection. They have promised to have this scientific miracle completed by the end of next week and consequently I am forced to post this blog from the hotel where our gym is located, just down the road from our new apartment.

With the help of Mel’s parents we decided to make the move ourselves. Given that we have shipped two removal lorry loads of stuff to France, we laboured under the misapprehension that it would be a small logistical hop. There are as yet undiscovered life forms clinging to the sides of hydrothermic vents on the ocean floor that knew that wouldn’t be the case.

However, after two days of hard labour and various bumps and bruises resulting from pushing washing machines and sofas up the stairs to our first floor apartment, we are finally in. My recent gym regime really paid dividends during the move, indeed just a couple of months ago I’d have been a physical wreck afterwards.

Quite how Mel made it through the move given the way she was feeling is beyond me. I’d have been cowering in the back of the car demanding lemsip and 24 hour medical attention but she really did remarkably well. The fact that I do not appear to have contracted it leads me to believe that I have metamorphasised into some kind of superior life form immune from such afflictions. Either that or I’ll get it next week and I’ll realise how pathetic I am at being ill.

Our apartment is in Cheadle, which is not quite the trendy, buzzing metropolis that Didsbury is but equally it is less pretentious for it. It’s also on the flight path into Manchester Airport and I’m sincerely hoping that I quickly get used to the feeling that a jumbo is about to land on my head. The windows are thankfully all triple glazed, significantly reducing the noise but being able to make out which airline’s plane is passing overhead is a new experience for me.

We already love our temporary home though. It’s a testament to Pat and Fred’s organisational capabilities that it already looks like we’ve lived here for months. There is not a single box left in sight, every electrical appliance is in situ, every book in place on the shelf. However due to the vast amount of drawers, cupboards and storage units in the apartment, I can’t find anything.

Living without the internet is such a weird feeling. I first had access in 1992 and have been connected in one form or another ever since. It has become something that I take for granted and I feel like I am missing a limb. Alright, maybe not a limb but perhaps a digit from my hand. Ok, perhaps not the whole finger, maybe just the fingernail. You get the point.

Anyway, onto more important matters. This morning a pleasant surprise parcel was delivered to our new apartment. Six fresh Chicken Balti pies.

As regular readers will be aware my love for Manchester City knows few bounds. One part of supporting City that I have grown particularly attached to is the Chicken Balti pie that they serve. So much so, that I may have to get them flown to France when we make the move. However, there was an alarming development recently when the suppliers of said pastry delights changed. At first this appeared good news, as the new pie providers were Hollands Pies, the purveyors of the finest savoury pastries in the discovered world. However all was not well, as you will read in my letter to their Managing Director.

“Dear Leanne,

Like any right minded pie fan, I was delighted to hear that Hollands have now become the pie purveyor of choice at my beloved Manchester City. I am originally a Rossendale lad and therefore approx 50% of my diet growing up, came from your Baxenden factory. In fact Leanne, the conundrum in our house was not whether to have a pie every day but which flavour to have.

I have also been a Manchester City season ticket holder for over 25 years and have always felt that putting the two things together would be a marriage made in heaven. It appears that all my dreams have now come true……..

except…….

There is one very big cloud on the horizon though and I thought it best to give you early notice as to a very grave situation that will inevitably develop. You see, the pie vacuum created by the absence of Hollands Pies at Manchester City has been filled for many years by a very worthy substitute - the Chicken Balti Pie. The version that has been sold at Manchester City has seen us through several crises, umpteen managers, some very sorry relegations and some very worthy promotions. It has become somewhat of a pie-celebre and a Manchester institution. The Chicken Balti Pie and its natural bed fellow the packet of Rennie has been a staple part of the Matchday experience and for some, like me has become almost a reason for going to watch City in itself. (less so now there is decent football to watch but under Alan Ball, I almost cancelled my season ticket until I thought about the pie related consequences)

Therefore, when I heard that Hollands had been appointed as Official Pie makers to Gods own football team I was at first delighted, naturally. However, my delight Leanne was peppered with concern. What about the Chicken Balti pies Leanne? What would happen to our preferred pie? It began to claw away at me and in truth put me off this years transfer window. It’s all well and good signing £100m+ worth of football talent but if it meant doing without a Chicken Balti pie then is it worth it Leanne?

In an effort to ease my rising panic, I logged onto your website to seek some re-assurance and lo and behold, amongst your stadia pies (including the extraordinary football emblazoned meat and potato pie) was a version of the Chicken Balti pie. I attended the pre-season friendly against Celtic with a slight spring in my step, my concern having dissipated and it felt like the clouds had parted and the sun was shining. Well actually the clouds had parted and the sun was shining both physically and metaphorically.

Anyway Leanne, I’ll cut to the chase. I raced to the concourse and cut a swathe through the queues to obtain one of your comparison Chicken Balti pies. I bit into my savoury delight only to find something terribly amiss. It appeared that somebody had mistakenly placed a sultana in my pie. I removed the said item from my mouth and took another bite. Another one! Now, everyone likes sultanas Leanne, but not in a savoury pie. Worse, the pie was flaccid and distinctly lacking in spice and heat. For the first time in my life, I failed to finish a Hollands Pie.

Now, happily I can pick one of your other pies for the time being. I’ve tried the new Peppered steak variety and indeed they are a pie of innovation and beauty. The meat pie, Cheese and Onion Pie and even the humble Meat and Potato pie are solid dependable pies that will never let you down. However, not every City fan is as forgiving as me Leanne and there will inevitably be an outcry and howls of protest from the Chicken Balti faithful. I fear for your reputation and I think you must act with haste to fend this one off.

Fortunately Leanne, I’m not just bringing you problems, I’m bringing you solutions. My strong reccomendation is that you immediately acquire the manufacturer of the previous Balti pie. They did other kinds too but forget about them, just swap their Balti pie for yours. If you act quickly Leanne, nobody will notice and the rumour that your Chicken Balti has sultanas in will be go down as another urban myth. I mean seriously, who would believe that anyway!

I know that times are tight and buying companies in the current climate is no simple task. If you are struggling with the business case then ask the good Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan to help out. I understand he is partial to the odd pie himself and god forbid he finds a sultana in one. I’m sure he will be only too pleased to help you with your pie acquisition project as he wants every little detail of his football club to be perfect, even pie wise.

I thought I’d better flag this with you Leanne. My advice comes free and if you need any more feedback, you simply must let me know.

Thanks & Best Regards

Alan”

So by return I received an e-mail explaining that due to feedback received they were changing their recipe and would I be kind enough to sample their new Chicken Balti Pie recipe and report back my findings.

It was hard work but someone had to do it. I am delighted and relieved to report the new recipe was a significant improvement and this recipe will move from prototype to production.

There are now just Five weeks to go until our return to Chalus. We are planning to restart our renovation project in the coming months and so this trip will be less of a holiday and more of a planning and reconnaissance trip. More on this next week.