Red Gold

When we looked at Ellesmere back in February one of the attractive aspects of the house was its saffron garden.

Nicole Negrello proudly showed us the half-dozen raised beds, about a metre wide by 20 metres long, on the southern side of the property.

The beds were bare except for a few weeds and some tufts of grass.

"I have left you an explanatory chart in the barn," she said.

"It will tell you what to do next autumn."

Now, almost nine months later, we are seeing the magic that is happening along the sides and tops of these beds.

The previously dry, cracked clay soil has softened with the onset of autumnal showers.

The browned surface of summer has turned into a green carpet of weeds and grass.

With a strimmer I blasted this unwanted growth off the saffron beds, in anticipation of the little lilac flowers that would herald the arrival of our crop.

 A week ago, still nothing, and I started to worry that maybe this wasn't going to happen.

Then, a few days ago, they started to appear.

First came one or two, then more. They came up randomly, pushing up their little mauve stems no more than a couple of centimeters high.

They opened into flowers, with soft violet petals tenderly enfolding the red gold inside.

We were on.

According to the literature, there is only a short window of opportunity to pluck the red stigmas.

So far, we have harvested about fifty flowers and Cliona has dried the stigmas in the oven... a high temperature for a short time

There are many more to come, I hope.

It is a thrilling time ... in the garden of Ellesmere.

The Jolly Postman

I'm aware of quite a few negative anecdotes about La Poste here in France.

I complained once about what I suspected was interference in mail from overseas.

But then along comes Giles le facteur (the postman).

You hear him before you see him ... there's a loud, whistling soundtrack playing in his van.

It was around late May. We'd only just moved in when he drove up in his canary-yellow van and enthusiastically introduced himself.

Giles said if we ever had mail to post, he could do it for us. Put the letter or package in the letterbox and attach a clothes peg to the outside flap.

If we didn't have a stamp ... no worries, he would do that for us. Just leave some cash with the letter. If change was required, he would seal it in an envelope with a receipt from the Post Office.

It was easy and straightforward. Now, no more trips to the bureau de poste to find, alas, it was closed for lunch. Or, standing in a queue of people all wanting to do complex transactions.

Giles' service in La Poste began in Paris in 1985.

He then did a 10-year stint in Nantes and in 1997 went to work in Provence.

He was there for ten years before coming to the south-west.

Giles with his whistling van

Giles ... the happiest postman in the Aquitaine

Giles loves his job.

The best part, he reckons, is building and maintaining relationships with his clients.

He made an effort with us and I appreciated that.

There will be a bottle of champagne in the postbox this Christmas.