A Summer In Gascony by Martin Calder

Author:Martin Calder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2008-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

HANS AND LOTTE

JACQUES-HENRI WAS GRUMBLING. A NEW OIL STORAGE TANK was needed for the Auberge, but it was going to be expensive. The old one was going rusty. It had already been patched up with welded panels, but might leak again before long and would have to be replaced. Jacques-Henri was looking through the catalogues. The world of oil storage tanks, cuves à mazout, looked very complicated. There were different types, in different shapes and sizes, ondulée, cylindrique, rectangulaire, and an array of different specifications. It looked as though he was going to continue grumbling about the oil tank situation throughout lunch. Fortunately, Anja and I had our date with Hans and Lotte.

We walked through the village. Most of the houses were spread out along the one main road. Many were very old. Built of stone in a similar style to the Auberge, each was set behind an enclosed front garden, with a gate in the front wall. The gardens were given over to vegetables growing in tidy rows: runner beans, courgettes, tomatoes, onions, celery, lentils… There were very few flowers. Every strip of land was put to some use. Several of the bigger houses were quite imposing, with elaborate iron railings along the front wall and arched doorways with fanlights. One house at the crossroads had an arched window in its wall, right on the road, set up as a shrine, with a statue of the Virgin dressed in a pale blue robe, raising a beatific hand.

Turning the corner by the Mairie, we recognised Hans and Lotte’s big blue house. Their home was charmingly eccentric. The large front garden was full of different kinds of vegetables. The name of the house, Les Rossignols, was hand carved into a wooden sign by the garden gate. A rusty old bicycle stood by the gate, the basket on the handlebars used as a flower container. Flowerpots painted bright yellow and green were attached to the front of the house.

Hans and Lotte were sitting at their outdoor dining table. It was made from old shop signs bolted together and stood in the middle of the vegetable garden, in front of a line of tall, thistly-looking globe artichokes. The couple waved when they saw us walk up. Entering their garden was like stepping into an enchanted world. A calmness prevailed within the tumbling confusion of vegetables, flowers and makeshift furniture.

We sat on chairs that were in fact old wine barrels with a section cut out to form a seat.

Lunch was simple fare, starting with boiled artichoke hearts, still warm, for us to pull apart with our fingers and dip in oil, and a main course of choucroute and saucisse de Toulouse.

‘We’ve been living here for, er, let me think, six years now, or is it seven?’ said Hans, vaguely. ‘We’ve never looked back. Life in Frankfurt was so stressful. Life here is so self-contained.’

‘They’re very good at keeping things hidden in these parts,’ said Lotte. ‘There’s a lot more going on than you think.’

Village gossip! Hans and Lotte were incomers, they would tell us things the natives would never let out.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.