Mel and I have just returned from a fantastic weekend in the Limousin. I’ve always wanted to say that. Jetting off for the weekend makes us sound really cosmopolitan and cool (in my twisted mind anyway). The reality is that a chance discovery of £10 each way flights made the weekend feasible but we grasped the opportunity with both hands.
We flew from East Midlands Airport which is a two hour drive but the Friday evening flights are perfect for a weekend away. Last weeks biblical weather in the UK had left me slightly apprehensive about the flight. Sure enough, it was extremely turbulent but we arrived safe, intact and on time.
Neil and Roz were kind enough to pick us up from Limoges Airport and before we knew it we were guzzling wine like our lives depended on it and heartily tucking into Neil’s fantastic casserole. The stresses and strains of a week away travelling with work evaporated in a jiffy. Less than an hour later I was slurring my words and acquainting myself with Roz’s most recent Pet rescue, Tammy the kitten. In truth, I’m not a cat lover mainly on the basis that I am allergic to them but he/she/it is extremely cute and definitely worth rescuing.
On Saturday I just could not wake up and Mel and I both slept in until 11am which is pretty much unheard of and probably reflects how hard we have both been working recently. The silence of the Limousin always has a soporific effect on me and I never have a problem sleeping when I’m there, the challenge is always getting up again.
Saturday was spent lazing, listening to the football on the radio and enjoying various combinations of fine cheeses, crusty bread, cold meats and freshly laid eggs. I had a brief worry about all the jobs that need doing around the place but had to remind myself that was not the purpose of this trip and returned instead to self indulgence, casual drinking and relaxation.
In the evening we went to the village dance at Champsac as discussed last week. I can assure you, dear readers that France did not disappoint on the accordion front. Each song was accompanied by one of the bellowing blighters as well as a saxophone and a full band. They reminded me of a French version of the Worzels although if anything, slightly older. I would have thought they had a combined age of 340, maybe more. Weirdly, there were also three different drummers throughout the course of the evening. I’m not sure if that was a deliberate rotation policy or whether it was due to age related exhaustion.
The dancing began before the meal had started and interestingly, without the aid of any alcohol whatsoever which I’m afraid is a concept lost on me. To me alcohol and dancing are natural bed fellows though when I think it through, I might be alone in that as I can’t imagine the contestants on Strictly Come Dancing imbibing cheap cider before they hit the dance floor.
Some of the dancing was really quite sophisticated and some unrecognisable songs triggered some very specific unrecognisable dances - which was nice. However, no amount of alcohol would have encouraged me onto the dancefloor. I’m just not sure that the French or indeed our English friends would appreciate either of the two dances that make up my meagre repertoire. My first is the ‘Geography teacher trying to be groovy at the school disco dance” which involves swaying from side to side. The second is a less energetic version of the dance made famous by Bez from the Happy Mondays only without the maracas. Irrespective of the tempo, style or song – those are the two dances I deploy sometimes switching seamlessly from one to the other. Consequently, Mel penned me into the corner of the room in case one of my two dances slipped out.
Our table of twenty people consisted of several couples, four children and two adults who were driving and yet by the end of the evening there were approximately twenty empty wine bottles on the table. Every other table had perhaps 2 or 3 wine bottles and several empty bottles of water. I don’t know why this particularly surprised me. The differing attitudes of the French and the English towards alcohol are well documented but it was strange to see it so amply demonstrated and being personally responsible for such a significant part of the comparative difference.
It was a great night, in lovely company and we eventually got to bed about 1am, thereby ensuring Sunday morning was a write off. The weather which had been kind to us on Friday and Saturday turned into the same weather we had left in the UK. Squally showers and blustery winds put paid to our planned horse riding session though it should be noted that Roz and Neil still went.
Mel and I opted out on the basis of having inadequate attire which was certainly true though my hangover was an equally valid reason. Instead we relaxed in front of the fire and made Sunday dinner, that French classic lasagne(!) and before we knew it we were back at Limoges Airport and back home on the sofa by 8pm.
All in all, a very successful experiment in weekend mini-breaking to France and one which we will now repeat several times a year if we can find the cheap flights.