Family Life

We have the pleasure of family visiting from Ireland and England.

The days have been warm and sunny.

Already we have done and enjoyed much.

A visit to Sarlat la Canéda has, so far, been the highlight.

We had lunch today at the lovely Panorama Restaurant in Laparade, overlooking the Lot Valley.

Sarlat centre ville

A smiling face and glorious food

Macaroons

A cheese cutter

A charcuterie stall

Sarlat holds a farm day

lunch at Laparade

More of Puy L'Eveque

The dreaming serpent

Upstream, the Lot starts to meander, snaking through dreamy landscapes.

It twists and turns and in some places almost loops back on itself.

We drove past Fumel and followed the river's course towards Cahors, through the towns of Soturac, Duravel, Puy L'Eveque and Prayssac.

Medieval stone villages, lush countryside and the serene river made for an enchanting day.

Puy L'Eveque

A closer view ... showing the garden and the pool. Oh to live here!

Prayssac

Prayssac ... the town square

Carte de Sejour

Well, I finally got it.

It's a great relief, after many disappointing trips to the letterbox.

I've been waiting three months, but it seems longer.

Titre de Sejour ... Carte de Sejour ... I don't know the difference. It tells me the Nature of the Titre is the Card.

I hold it in my hand and look at it intently. It's pink and blue with the outline of a charging bull over my head.

A ghostly image of my face floats in the centre, beside the floral insignia of the Republique.

The stress of the Carte de Sejour (CdS) was not in the gathering of documents, nor the interview; it was the wait.

Last Friday, in desperation, I rang Mme Lafargue, the woman who interviewed me.

Trying to sound casual, I told her my recipisée (application receipt) was about to run out and I had not yet received my CdS.

She said, no problem, I could come in and get another recipisée.

Hang on, she said, let me just check.

She came back to the phone. Oh, it's here, she said.

In the centre of Agen, I sit under a pepper tree at a ricketty table, and marvel at the narrow wedge of city buildings jutting into the square like the bows of ships. Cliona spends time in Galleries Lafayette.

For the first time since arriving in France on the 30th of November last year, I can completely relax.

Evening sky

Returning home from an enjoyable break in the splendid city of Vienna, we were greeted by an ethereal evening sky.

Vienna

Vienna reveals the puzzling dichotomy of human nature. It is a city of great beauty and culture, with an illumination of architecture, art and music.

It's ethnic diversity and tolerance were a feature.

Then came the darkness of the late 1930's.

The wheel of history rolled on.

The light did return. And so Vienna's glory was restored.

Le Panorama

In a hilltop village called Laparade, overlooking the Lot valley, is a small restaurant, Le Panorama.

Its courtyard,  under the leafy plane trees, has many tables and chairs. But they are empty, as it is a chilly day and the middle of the week.

Just inside the doorway, a neat stack of hay is decorated with broken egg shells, the remnants of Easter.

A matronly woman shows us to a table near the front window, from where, through the trees, we catch a glimpse of the valley below.

A large, portable blackboard details the menu de la semaine and the menu de jour.

Our visitor, Jill, goes for Fred's Burger ... a deluxe variation on a theme, with a tranche of foie gras.

Le Panorama is nicely decorated and has a great feel.

The doorway to a village house is beautifully adorned by climbing roses ... and its shutters of Greek-island blue.

This is the view.

The owl, the squirrel and the fleeting deer

She sits on a ledge under the roof just outside our window.

With my camera, I move slowly to the curtain and look through the narrow gap.

Her eyes bore into me, with that stern, penetrative owl-stare. I know that if I flinch, if I move a muscle, she will be gone.

I do ... and she flies. To the pine tree, where her grey colour camouflages her among the branches.

Meanwhile, out on the front lawn, near the border with our neighbour's wheat field, two squirrels forage in the grass.

One disappears into the wheat. The other does his funny, jumping run across the grass, his long brown tail stretched out behind him, as long as his body.

He scampers up the large poplar tree at the corner of the yard and disappears.

The other day, I was sitting under the veranda, reading. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement. Just a metre away, was our little squirrel. He looked at me. I looked at him. A precious, thrilling few seconds passed. He bolted.

Yesterday, while driving back from the beautiful village of Issigeac about four in the afternoon, on a narrow country road, we encountered two young deer.

They stood, seemingly unconcerned, as we slowed to a stop about fifty metres from them. We put on our hazard lights. A car came up behind us.

The deer leapt from the road and into a field.

It was an exciting sight.