To download a printable PDF version (no pictures) click on this link E2E2015no4.pdf (three A4 pages)

Click on the photographs for larger versions

Yesterday as MPs in London debated and voted on whether to join in the air strikes against IS in Syria, we frivolously took advantage of the sun and snow-free roads to drive across the Rhine to Breisach for a spot of Christmas shopping.

There was a reminder that wars have always been with us, as we stopped for lunch close to the small fortified town of Neuf-Brisach. Neuf-Brisach itself has an elegant street grid round a central square forming an octagon within star-shaped concentric earth works. It was planned as a new town in 1698 by Vauban, the military engineer of Louis XIV, to guard the border between France and the Holy Roman Empire, after France had lost the hilltop cathedral town of Breisach on the other (now German) side of the Rhine. The large family restaurant, Les Deux Clefs, in the next village of Biesheim was packed, and we soon saw why, as it had a cheap two-course menu of the day (9.90€) just like most roadside restaurants used to. So after starters of soup or tuna mayonnaise we tucked into succulent rump steak, salad and French fries (and then staggered through a very Alsatian tiramisu, over-filled with cream). Fortified, we drove on past the big industries flanking the Rhine, then crossed the bridge, wondering whether there would be any new border checks. But only on the return journey did we see a police car with flashing light, although we saw no-one being stopped.

On our return journey from Letchworth at the beginning of November, the high double metal fences leading from the Calais ferry terminal had felt very grim, with the migrant tent encampment at the end, so we were very aware of the tensions, though it must be much worse near the tunnel.

Since the November 13th massacres in Paris we have seen very few visible reactions here in Entre-deux-Eaux. I think most of the older generation feel very remote from the capital. The only tricoleur we have seen is next door – they have recently retired here from Paris. The Scrabble group in Sainte Marguerite are more outward looking, were very nervous of any travel which involved crossing or passing Paris, and a niece had reported slow border crossings from Luxembourg, presumably due to increased security. In Saint Dié over 1,000 people gathered in front of the Town Hall on November 16th, and the mayor has written strongly about maintaining the republic’s values of liberty, equality, fraternity, and secularism, whilst announcing the arming of municipal police, reinforced surveillance and video surveillance, and controlled access to public places. Ironically the day after the tragedy, the pre-arranged theme of the Philomatique history group was Djihad in the first world war. The lecturer talked about how the French army initially made no concessions to their Muslim troops regarding food, promotion or burial; he spoke of heroes and about those who deserted after the Grand Mufti’s declaration in November 1914 of Holy War against the Infidels, and concluded sombrely that we are reaping what we sowed a hundred years ago.

Over in Strasbourg it has been much tougher. Marie-Laure, who lives outside Strasbourg (near the Wolfisheim fort built under Bismark to defend Strasbourg against the French), wrote that there were very few people on the streets of Strasbourg; she described soldiers patrolling with big guns in groups of five or six and fire engines half-way out of their station doors with their crews ready to go. There were questions whether the large Christmas Market which has been held since 1570, would go ahead; it was thought it would, for financial reasons as well as bravado, but she concluded that it might lack the Christmas ambiance of peace and serenity. The market has indeed gone ahead (it lasts until Christmas Eve), but a lot of events have been cancelled, including a living nativity scene, advent concert, Telethon (the country-wide fund-raising event like Comic Relief), choirs, December 6th St Nicholas Day events, and the flame of peace. Vehicles have been banned from the large island forming the centre of Strasbourg, and the central car parks closed to all except subscribers and residents, with police checking papers and bags on each bridge. And the trams and buses are missing out some of the more sensitive stops. Marie-Laure assumes the right will gain a lot of votes in the regional elections on December 6th.

On a lighter note, we went over to one of the smaller Alsace Christmas markets in Ammerschwihr on Saturday. If you are wanting some craft ideas for Christmas, how about using your old wine corks to make a beige and boring Advent “wreath” for the front door, or threading your ripped-off beer-can-pulls to make bracelet and necklace jewellery? The snow on the highest point of our drive, the Col de Bonhomme was quite deep and looked very seasonal on and between the pine trees.

La Behouille memorials

The snow scenes were lovely round us too and we have enjoyed walks on sunny days One of the most colourful was up the hill of La Behouille which lies above Entre-deux-Eaux and Fouchifol. Reverting to the war theme, it was the site of a deadly battle at the start of the first world war, and there are memorials in the clearing at the top. After we’d read them once again, John spotted a little black mole frozen, paws in the air, in the track ahead, and then quite a large group of deer bounded across and disappeared between the trees. Between the dark trunks and needles of the pines, bright yellow birch leaves glowed beneath their puff balls of snow and on the edge of the forest the trees were spraying a glittering fine mist of thawing snow.

E2E walks map

Entre-deux-Eaux seems to have been given some money for marking out themed footpaths. John noticed the new blue dot signs when he was out with his camera one afternoon. So he walked back via the mairie and photographed the large new board displaying the four marked routes with eight points of information. This was wise, as, when we set out to walk the Mines route, there was no information apart from the mauve spots, which was a shame – perhaps not enough money for informative boards. We would have liked to discover the exact location of the (copper/lead) mines.

E2E parcours de la sorcière

Later John saw two wild boar there; we have never seen live boar before, usually it’s just the damage caused by their digging (bitter memories!) and the occasional road-kill. The Behouille walk was one of the two parcours du poilu (although a lot of the fighting in the first world war was around what is labelled the sorcerers’ path). However, it’s a good start to Entre-deux-Eaux “tourism”, and we passed lots of locals out with their dogs (including a lovely St Bernard). We noticed another recent addition after a walk in the woods above Mandray: the American memorial below the col de Mandray has gained an ungainly statue. Surely not Joan of Arc inspiring the troops? No, it is a (dumpy) tribute to the women of America who gave their sons and husbands to liberate France in the second world war.

We’ve only done one of the fortnightly walks organised by the Sainte Marguerite pensioners recently. They are an opportunity to discover new walks, though we don’t bother in poor weather. This one started on the outskirts of Etival-Clairefontaine, and John was distinctly unimpressed. The leaders shot off from the meeting point in two cars which presumably had no rear-view mirrors as they disappeared out of sight and made no attempt to make sure other cars were following when they took small turnings off. Consequently, the rest of the convoy arrived at what someone thought was the starting point a few hundred metres from the walk leaders. Eventually reunited, we slogged up forest tracks and then narrow footpaths, heading towards the ridge and a popular viewpoint. As ever, people were fascinated by the pitted rock formations with names like Fairies’ Cauldron, but ignored the remains of the Pierre d’Appel gallo-roman fort which stood on the opposite side of the valley from the La Bure fort, which some of you have visited. Through the trees we could see dark storm clouds approaching, the sun was getting low in the sky and there was muttering about possible snow overnight. We thought it might be a good idea to return to the cars before it got too dark to see the treacherous tree roots underfoot, but the leader wanted us to walk on and admire the view from the promontory. It was getting colder as we reached it and we had to stand and admire for a very long time. On the way down the murky narrow footpaths (with a steep drop on one side), shots rang out below (not very comforting after events in Paris, but possibly some boar or chicken-marauding foxes meeting their end).

With snow forecast, I hastily wrapped the delicate plants, while John changed Bluto’s tyres. He then decided to order some winter tyres online for Snowy. They were to be delivered to a garage in Saulcy we hadn’t heard of, on Rue René Fonck (another reminder of past wars, with this WWI flying ace whose former “chateau” or “pavillion de chasse” lurks nearby). The garage turned out to be a farmhouse, much the same size as ours. Behind its barn doors (which are just as decrepit as ours) was a car on a ramp amid a debris of disorganised parts and a dusty counter in one corner with people sipping coffee.

Jacob the camel

It felt like a sepia cobwebbed time-warp, but the tyre-fitting was efficient and prompt. Next day the heating-oil lorry arrived, blocking our road as it trailed its fat hose across the barn to our tank and topped us up. The Christmas cake is cooked, we’ve had our flu jabs and other medical checks, so after a boiler service next week we should be ready for our Christmas trip to Letchworth. Sadly we are too late to see Jacob as a camel (a speaking part!) in the early years school nativity play, but we’re looking forward to meeting up with everyone again.

Enjoy all your Christmas preparations, and do call if you’re passing!

To download a printable PDF version (no pictures) click on this linkE2E2015no3.pdf (three A4 pages)

Click on the photographs for larger versions

Michaelmas daisies

It has so definitely been a season of mellow fruitfulness here – with early morning mists, purple Michaelmas daisies, walnuts, apples and evening bonfire smoke white against the hazy blue hills.

Having spent much of August in Letchworth, the abiding image from our penultimate day is also of colour and fecundity with history thrown in: a stately couple pedalling up the drive of the old manor house in Hemingford Grey, between beautiful lawns, flower beds and vegetables, he on a penny farthing and she on 1903 upright with splendid acetylene front lamp. We were all four visiting the home of children’s author Lucy Boston, near St Ives (the Green Knowe of her books). And our guide was a man from the village who had done some of the building and maintenance work on the Norman manor house and was also keen on old cycles. So a wonderful coinciding of diverse interests – old houses, children’s books, bicycles, patchwork, DIY and gardening (for Lucy Boston also enjoyed quilting and created her garden from scratch). English nostalgia at its best.

Our harvest when we got back here in early September was courgettes (which were, of course, giant marrows by then), green beans, squash, dill, raspberries and blackberries. But our beds, alas were not the immaculate lawn-bordered plots of the old manor, but festooned with lanky weeds. Now it’s beetroot, carrots, apples, walnuts and leeks. But secretive mushroom questers have been disappointed after the extremely hot, dry summer. From the hills ecstatic barking and shots were heard, and huddles of four-by-fours and flashes of red safety jackets glimpsed as the hunting season opened.

Pierre Didier house

Sadly we have no old mediaeval manor houses to visit round Entre-deux-Eaux, but on the Journées du Patrimoine this September, Saint Dié focussed on its twentieth century buildings and concrete. For the first year, the eighty-six year old artist Pierre Didier opened his 1998 glass and concrete house to the public. Its narrow oblong shape was determined by the narrow, hillside plot, and was a dramatic statement of stacked concrete cubes from the outside. Inside bold paintings and sculptures reminiscent of Léger were dramatic against the plain concrete panel walls, with fifties style chairs, Picasso-like rugs, piled art books, a studio and fabulous views across the leafy outskirts to the hills.

Gantois factory Art Deco glass

Next we stopped to see the Art Deco staircase and glass of the Gantois factory, which manufactures strong wire mesh and has a rhinoceros as its emblem of strength and durability. Finally the lime green perforated-metal-clad recent conversion of an ancient textile factory to La Nef cultural centre (complete with rehearsing orchestra, of course). But we yet again failed to see inside the Le Corbusier factory.

Soon after our return from Letchworth it was the E2E Oldies “beginning of term” lunch, cooked, as has become the custom, by the hospitable ex-fireman’s wife. We gathered over very good nibbles and aperitif, then sat down to a typical Vosgean omelette — baked and heavy with potatoes and smoked pork bits – with green salad then some excellent Munster and Brie cheeses. But before dessert arrived, for the meal was leisurely and had already lasted two and a half hours, the ex-mayor, who leads short walks for the younger oldies, was getting restless, so we shot off for a walk at the Col de Mandray. I realised at this point that I’d brought the plastic bag containing John’s walking boots rather than mine, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too muddy. But as we approached the first stony footpath there were squeals of protest from the former school master’s widow who was wearing thin glittery gold ballet pumps, and the former farmer’s small wife who was, as always, wearing high heels. So the walk had to set off at a stroll along the tarmac road through the forest. Later the inappropriately shod ladies gave shrill reminders that the organiser back at the hall had promised to save us some cake and champagne if we weren’t too late back, so there was a rush for the cars and the cream cakes.

There have been a longer group walks though. With the Sainte Marguerite pensioners there was the added excitement of the opening “chasse” season, as, with boar diggings everywhere, the local huntsmen had staked out a large no-go area, so we had to retrace our steps and make a detour to return to the little Chapelle de Sainte Claire and our cars. As the walk leader observed, he didn’t want anyone to get shot while he was leading.

European Patchwork Festival 2015 – click on the photo to see forty-four more

Another annual September event is the Patchwork Festival in Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines. It was as colourful and stimulating as ever. The Villa Burrus in the next small town is a splendid former industrialist’s mansion now converted into a mediatheque in its formal park. Each year its ground floor panelled rooms make a dramatic setting for some of the more exotic quilts. This year was no exception. The rooms were buzzing with the chatter of ladies in long dresses and fabulous heavy silver jewellery and with wise Mongolian features. Some of them seemed to be visiting dignitaries, while others were demonstrating the intricate leather patchwork of the leather saddles of the horsemen of Yakutia (the Sakha Republic from the far north eastern part of Russia). Among the many other exhibitions, in a small modern church hung dramatic French feminist quilts, behind a café restaurant were exquisite tiny Japanese fibre art creations in white, and in a modern block the awarding of prizes to quilts on the theme of Reflection (though not to the quilts I would have chosen!).

And of course we should not forget the annual International Geography Festival in Saint Dié. This year’s theme was Lands of the Imagination and the invited guest was Australia. This seemed to give the French geographers plenty of scope to discourse at length on the fauna, flora, geology, etc. of Australasia and the geography of Tolkien’s Shire and in French fiction, but there seemed to be no money for real Australian authors to discuss their fictional worlds. And the cookery demonstrations seemed to revolve around kangaroo and pavlova of questionable flavours like fig and strawberry or fennel and celeriac. Perhaps the French puzzlement about Australian food was reflected by one lecture on Quelle cuisine en Australie? by an academic from Canada. Possibly the talk on brewing would be more positive with the intriguing title Quels seraient les territoires de l’imaginaire pour les brasseurs? As it was, the chef doing the kangaroo and one of the pavlovas failed to make it all the way from Finisterre (or perhaps he couldn’t find any stray kangaroos). The visuals were also a bit disappointing apart from a few photocopies of the Australian coat of arms in the library, some symbols (real and imaginary aboriginal) stencilled on the pavements, while the Australian tent was serving that well known Vosgean seasonal dish of pumpkin soup. However, the rugby match between England and Australia was going to be projected onto a large screen in the market place, which would probably draw in the locals. I didn’t come “nose to nose” with the promised kangaroo or hear the didgeridoos, but did spot the large shiny yellow truck squatting opposite the Town Hall, the rain sticks made by school children, and the rugby training sessions. And I was (sad person) very interested in the discussion about the building of a new library, and the new mayor’s passion for it.

La Voivre apple festival

The autumn flea markets, especially those combined with seasonal festivals have been more fun. At one centred on the apple harvest in La Voivre, a small village just north of Saint Dié, the main street had been blocked off for the day, isolating the village! Strange sack-stuffed figures lolled by the bar and food. Our trophies were the totally non pc Tintin au Congo – with en Amerique tacked on, sadly no worse than all those adventure books and comics in the forties and fifties with savages and cannibals, though Tintin’s dead animal count makes that American dentist and his lion trophy seem insignificant; a 1000 piece jigsaw of many golden pieces of Klimt’s Kiss to tax our patience in Letchworth; and a salt dough harvest wreath, appropriate for the apple-harvest mood, which is now hanging in the barn over our food shelves. At the Saint Dié annual huge street market John got a rare late-1940’s 35mm camera he’s very pleased with. As we drove over the hills to the grape harvest celebrations in Barr, the vine leaves were just turning yellow on the undulating slopes, and the mirror image Black Forest over the Rhine was hazy – almost invisible – in the mist. We gave the procession a miss, and focussed on the flea market stalls in the narrow streets, to the sound of small children shrieking encouragement to their plastic ducks in races down the fast-flowing stream channelled along one side of the road and I found a new mug for my morning fruit tea. And at yesterday’s flea market in the nearby village of St. Michael, all the stall holders seemed to be so relaxed in the sun that their prices were laughable. So beware, any family members reading this, one of your parcels at Christmas this year could well be a flea-market treasure!

But, enough of these seasonal frivolities. We need to finish taming the potager and collecting and storing apples and walnuts from the orchard in E2E before we travel over to Letchworth on Saturday. We finally got organised on our last few days in Letchworth (when not visiting Green Knowe), and stripped off one wall of the large flowery red wall paper in the sitting room. So that needs some lining paper and paint on our return! And then we’ll be happy to entertain you in our less-floral décor.

To download a printable PDF version (no pictures) click on this link E2E2015no1.pdf (three A4 pages)

Click on the photographs for larger versions

Friends had fretted about our safety returning to France in mid-January (we’d been delayed by the flu we had contracted just after New Year) soon after the appalling Charlie Hebdo massacres in Paris. But what struck us as we drove off the ferry and out of Calais was the number of fire service vans racing towards us; later we heard about the fire in the tunnel which was to cause long delays. We were fortunate not to be caught up in the chaos.

We were more aware of the state of alert when we went over to Strasbourg a couple of weeks later. Our ophthalmologist’s cabinet is a few doors down from the huge post-war synagogue on Rue de la Paix, a street name which seemed ironic when we saw the armed police guarding the synagogue. As we were early for my appointment, we went into a small Jewish bakery and café which does a good cup of coffee; we were to recall the scene ten days later when news broke of the shootings in the synagogue and café in Copenhagen. In Saint-Dié the small unlabelled mosque on our side of town, the modern but unused synagogue in the centre (there are no longer enough male Jews for a gathering to be quorate) and all the schools, have some flimsy barriers preventing parking immediately outside with red black and white triangular vigipirate signs. Normally there are no signs of armed police, though, as we passed the Turkish mosque on the other side of town last Friday around prayer time, there were flashing lights, police and a throng of young men on the pavement.

On a pleasanter note of welcome, the day after our return, four young deer stood on the field to the north of the house gazing at us, then moved slowly on, unworried. Several weeks of grey, clammy weather followed, quite uninviting for walks.

Quilt for Letchworth

So the Letchworth quilt got finished and there was plenty of time to enjoy the wonderful pile of Christmas present books. One of them was the very entertaining “1,000 years of annoying the French” (I’d enjoyed the author Stephen Clarke’s talk at the Geography Festival in October), especially informative on who started which wars. And on the First World War, there was more background on the contribution of Indian regiments in Mulk Raj Anand’s 1939 novel “Across the black waters”. In addition to those, there was the launch in Saint-Dié of the newly published World War One diary of a young woman from Lusse, one of the villages near here which was occupied throughout the war by the Germans. As she and her two sisters ran one of the bars, they saw plenty of the occupiers, between heavy bombardments by the French on the hill above. A keen genealogist from Entre-deux-Eaux also kindly e-mailed me details of some of the young men from E2E who were killed in that war. And on a more frivolous level there was a Philomatique (the local history society) lecture on the postcards issued with tins of biscuits by the German manufacturer Leibniz during the first world war.

Meanwhile, we were not without our own sugary items, thanks to the various festivities. We still had some of our Christmas cake to have with our morning coffee (it lasted until the end of February), and, although we returned well after New Year, our Scrabble group enjoyed sharing out a New Year galette des rois with cider at the end of a game. Then came Chandeleur (Candlemas) and magazines were filled with elaborate pancake recipes (we contented ourselves with Grand Marnier or Limoncello inside); that didn’t stop us from marking Shrove Tuesday a couple of weeks later in the English fashion with more pancakes with liqueurs rather than with the traditional French beignets (doughnuts). And at the February meeting of the Entre-deux-Eaux oldies, after a good walk over hill and field to Saulcy led by the ex-mayor, we returned to the customary champagne and cream cakes to celebrate all the February birthdays. Now the shops are filling up with chocolate lambs, hares and fish in readiness for Easter.

February clover

At last the had weather changed from wet and grey to white and invigorating. And the sun enticed us out for walks in the melting snow. We started off with shorter walks round the village and gradually moved further afield to old favourites round Fouchifol, the Col d’Anozel, the Col de Mandray and the hill above Roger and Dorinda’s former house in Anould.

We got some splendid, snowy views from all these, but our most panoramic must have been when we drove over to La Bresse, which is the largest ski station in N.E.France. We had in fact gone to try out a restaurant, La Table d’Angèle, which served us a good lunch of foie gras or smoked salmon, roast deer steak and desserts, which we then justified with an enjoyable walk from the Col de Grosse Pierre (between La Bresse and Gérardmer).

View above La Bresse

The snow was still quite thick up there, so children were having a great time tobogganing and adults were skiing or walking on the ungainly-looking raquettes.

A lot of you will remember meals at the Auberge Frankenbourg in La Vancelle, and won’t be surprised that we have had a couple of good lunches there. It already has its new 2015 Michelin plaque proudly displayed. On the day of our Strasbourg trip we tried out the unpronounceable-looking Zuem Ysehuet (the “Iron Hat” in Alsacian dialect), a recently renovated small restaurant fronting the canal. Apparently President Hollande had entertained Angela Merkel there the week before (presumably planning their Ukraine jaunt), but we all looked quite ordinary and undiplomatic, with no covert bodyguards.

And then the weather changed again. We would wake to white vistas, now heavy frosts, but the days were sunny and warm and lured us out to the garden and orchard. The 2014 potager crops are down to curly kale, Jerusalem artichokes and leeks, and there’s a limit to how many Jerusalem artichokes one can comfortably eat! One afternoon we picked most of the leeks and the freezer is now well stocked with soup (and it’s leek and mushroom omelette tonight). It’s the first year we’ve grown curly kale and, unlike sprouts, cauliflower and broccoli, it has flourished here and makes a great Sunday lunch vegetable with added ginger, garlic and mushrooms.

Holes in the orchard

We have just replaced the raspberries in the fruit cage, as the old ones were dwindling in output and added another blackberry. We toyed with planting some cheap gladioli bulbs, but having seen all the new vole-runs in the orchard in addition to those in the flower garden, we decided not to give the wretched voles one of their favourite foods (they’ve appreciated our tulips too), but to take the bulbs to Letchworth.

Recycled divan springs

John solved the problem of what to do with the old divan springs, which were blocking the farmhouse corridor after we got a new mattress, by cutting them into three sections and attaching them to the ugly breeze-block wall below the ramp – once the clematis and the Virginia creeper spread it should look colourful. And today I’ve been scattering seeds from last year’s plants in the tubs in front of the house and on a grassy bank. There’s still masses to do this spring with rotavating the vegetable patch and sowing, but it will have to wait till we’re back from Letchworth and the garden there!

And finally some hopeful news on John’s thirty-year-old back problem. Over the years he’s worked his way through the local kinestherapeutes or physiotherapists and the dismissive rhumatologue in Saint-Dié (“It’s normal for your age. Just get on with your life and don’t come back unless you’re in pain at the moment.” What, normal for the bottom disc to collapse completely several times a year?) After a three month wait (even in France!) John had an appointment with a rheumatologist in Epinal who was recommended by a friend. We had a pleasant drive over to Epinal in the sunshine last Friday. We strolled along the river bank and had to wait for a whole school of teenagers in fancy dress to troop across the narrow footbridge, hooters blaring and whistles blowing before we could cross. Was it Carnival? (It was Red Nose day in UK, but surely not that). After all that excitement and the inevitable wait at the consultation rooms, the rheumatologist was very pleasant, listened carefully, looked at previous x-rays, had a good (ie painful) feel and then discussed options. As a result John has an appointment with a surgeon in Nancy on May 4^th to discuss the possibility of surgery (a more long-term solution than injections which would just reduce the ongoing pain). Afterwards we sat outside in the old square and had a coffee in the sunshine and felt that progress was being made at last, even if other plans have to be suspended for a few months.