Category Archives: News – 2025/26

Angels, nonnettes and polar bears: a tale of Entre-deux-Eaux, six villages and three cities, August – November 2025

by

As well as the highlighted links in the text,
there are comprehensive sets of photographs
– Noyers-sur-Serein and Flavigny-sur-Ozerain –
– Dijon –
– Auxerre –

The printable PDF of the text is E2E2025no3a.pdf (six A4 pages)

Commune employees have been stringing their illuminated Christmas decorations between lampposts in neighbouring villages. But Entre-deux-Eaux’s roads have no lampposts. After nightfall pedestrians rely on starlight, moonlight or a good torch to navigate its dark roads with dark shuttered houses. But in recent years the village competition for the best decorated house has led to strings of lights appearing in late November along the fences of vegetable patches, under eaves and along balconies, along with illuminated Bambis grazing on lawns. This weekend the communal hall will probably be blazing with lights from the traditional November thé dansant, and a tall Christmas tree by the steps will be gaudy with baubles.

As if entering into the pre-Christmas spirit our first snow fell last week. We returned from a 9.30 am hospital hearing check in Saint-Dié-des-Vosges to find our new gardener, hooded and gloved, shivering among the pruned saplings in our field and rushed to revive him with hot coffee. It felt cruel to have him slaving away outside in the cold, especially as he had toothache and left shortly after for the dentist in Saulcy-sur-Meurthe. But sympathy faded later when he sent us a larger bill than expected.

Noyers-sur-Serein

Much as we like Entre-deux-Eaux, it is never likely to be listed among the most beautiful villages of France. On 11 November, which is a public holiday in France, while we were taking a short break in Burgundy, we parked outside Noyers-sur-Serein which is a member of Les Plus Beaux Villages de France Association just before two girls with wreaths of red and white flowers led a procession of officials and inhabitants out through the old gateway to the war memorial. The emptied mediaeval village with its cobbled streets, timbered houses, wrought iron and ceramic signs and carved beams was a photographer’s paradise, with a couple of old Renault 4 cars thrown in for picturesque effect. After climbing uphill towards the site of the old castle and admiring the view, we descended a steep passageway gingerly, followed a backstreet, looked round the church and its misericords, then headed for a coffee. The Mairie door was invitingly open, and from the festive sounds within, we deduced that the procession had returned and was drinking to the village’s war-dead. We sat down outside Mimi’s cafe facing the Mairie. Mimi patted his shaggy dog, adjusted his slouch hat and disappeared into the bar to make coffees. The walls of the tiny WC in one corner of the small bar were covered with rude cartoons, mainly with sexual innuendos. A rare political one showed Tintin, Captain Haddock and the Thom(p)son “twins” scanning the ground with the caption a la recherche d’un ministre jamais mis en examen. It was hard to know whether the cartoon of President Macron in frilly skirts, boots and a pearl necklace labelled L’Emmanuel de survie was a sexual or political comment.

Toilets also featured, as they inevitable do when travelling, in the next Burgundian village where we stopped. Flavigny-sur-Ozerain is a hilltop mediaeval village, famous for the pea-sized aniseed sweets it produces in the former Benedictine abbey. The streets of stone houses (with red roses still flowering in November) were calm, the church was closed for renovations, and shops like the book seller and the épicerie were closed on this public holiday. But people were sitting at trestle tables outside the ferme-auberge which is run by a group of enterprising farmers wives to showcase their farm produce. The women were just sitting down with friends and family for their own late lunch when we went inside, but cheerfully served us coffees. Afterwards, as there was no discreet WC sign, Helen asked if they had a loo. Amid appreciative laughter from her friends at her wit, one of them replied in mock-horror that they were not angels and directed Helen outside to a cellar doorway and their immaculate facilities. We read later that in 2001 seven weeks of filming took place in the village for Chocolat with Juliette Binoche and Johnny Depp, but we saw no chocalaterie tourist signs or souvenirs in the sleepy village.

Riquewihr bear shop

In October we celebrated John’s birthday closer to home in the picturesque and touristy village of Riquewihr in Alsace. As we drove over the col de Bonhomme from Entre-deux-Eaux, the forest colours were yellow, ochre and gold against the dull sky. Then, as were driving along the Alsace wine route, a huge rainbow appeared over the black branches and yellow leaves of the vineyards. We parked outside the walls of Riquewihr (glad of our reserved hotel place as visitors had parked everywhere else) and strolled through the gateway and down the cobbled main street of craft, food and gift shops, one with an eye-catching upright polar bear outside, and out through the far gate to the quirky restaurant we have visited before with the unmemorable name of AOR la table le gout et nous. We climbed the steps to the closed wooden door of the restaurant and John pulled the doorbell which clanged noisily. The website describes the chef as a traveller, chef, poet and rocker (so AOR – Album-Oriented Rock – with LPs and CDs as place mats). He’s worked in Hong Kong, South Africa, USA and Qatar (as chef to the wife of the Emir) so uses interesting flavours in all his dishes.

Moni-K-Bill smoking chocolate cigar

We were served a tasty surprise five-course lunch with local Alsace wines. The most exotic-sounding course featured Patagonian tooth fish and the dessert was his signature Moni-K-Bill smoking chocolate cigar.

Riquewihr metal sculpture

We stayed overnight in a comfortable traditional hotel, the Saint Nicolas, within the walls of Riquewihr. When the rain lifted in the evening we had a pleasant stroll round the quiet cobbled streets (all the daytime tourists had magically disappeared). The metal animal sculptures outside the walls looked surprisingly menacing in the dark. After breakfast next morning (the croissants ran out – unheard of in France!) we paid a short visit to the famous Christmas shop on the corner of the street. No-one wants an angel without arms, and our glass angel for our Letchworth Christmas tree had broken beyond repair. We surveyed the arrays of angels in glass, straw, terracotta and faïence, with trumpets, cymbals, violins or harps, and selected a simple one, before driving home to E2E in heavy rain.

damaged radiator

We had spent from mid-August to the end of September in Letchworth, which was longer than usual, but enabled us to do a lot of useful things like repainting the dining room (such alluring colour names – chinoise and elderflower) and arranging boiler maintenance and the reattachment of the radiator which we found had mysteriously leapt off the bedroom wall and was leaning at an angle – perhaps due to the shock of a lorry accident on the nearby road as various items in the workshop had also fallen to the floor.

workshop roof

John hopes that the thermostatically-controlled condensate trace heating wire he inserted in the external boiler condensation pipe, together with insulation, will stop the freezing condensate this winter. While he was overseeing the replacement of the workshop roof by three energetic men from a Stevenage firm, Helen was gallivanting in the Lake District with Jessica and Sue, the sadly diminished Train Gang of three.

Sue lives in the old school house of High Lorton village. You get to see a village when you dog-walk, and stop to chat with neighbours. First stop the village church (and its excellent book exchange) and last stop the village shop. It sounds as if Sue and her husband Hugh have played or sung in choirs in most of the surrounding villages, including at Christmas Nine Lessons and Carols. There were no choirs of angels in September, but Sue was booked to play the grand piano one afternoon for visitors to a stately home, Mirehouse, on the edge of Lake Bassenthwaite. The sound of her music rippled from the music room through all the downstairs rooms as Jessica and Helen walked round and chatted to the charming woman on the desk without realising for quite a while that she was one of the owners who still lived in the upstairs rooms. In the nursery (which had been moved downstairs for the public to visit) there was a copy of a poignant letter from two of the earlier children, “Dear President Kruger”, it began, then begged him to stop the Boer war which was killing so many young men. It had not been allowed through by the censor. The traditional train element of the reunion was a surprise visit to the former Bassenthwaite Lake railway station (the line had closed in 1966) where we had coffee and cake in the stationary replica French steam train used in the 2017 Murder on the Orient Express film. The finale of the re-union was an interesting talk in the village hall about a couple of archaeological sites.

There are no choral involvements for Toby and Rachel in their much smaller village outside Melton Mowbray. The small thirteenth century church has been closed after the theft of lead from the roof, but Toby has been roped into the Holwell Church restoration/fundraising committee. When we visited them at the end of August with Leila, Ann and Derek, another group of volunteers were hard at work in the nature reserve along the disused Holwell Iron Company mineral track. We did not see any orchids as we walked along it, but there were plenty of blackberries and the bushes were dripping with elderberries, and we returned to the magnificent Sunday lunch that Toby had cooked.

Ashwell church graffiti

Back in Letchworth we spent a morning with Ann, Derek and Leila in Ashwell village. Their spacious fourteenth century church has some remarkable graffiti from the 1300s including one about inhabitants surviving the Black Death, a sketch of Saint Paul’s London before the Great Fire of 1666 and a grumble in Latin, presumably from an architect or clerk of works, “The corners are not jointed properly. I spit on them”. Some of the congregation of the Wednesday service which had just finished lingered to chat with us, before we headed for coffee at “Rhubarb and Mustard”.

City life has provided an occasional contrast to village concerns during the last four months. The main reasons recently for driving an hour north from Entre-deux-Eaux to Nancy have been to visit not its art nouveau or late baroque splendours but either the hospital or the Honda car showroom. The hospital has reassured John that all is well after his melanoma removal, but the showroom was less convincing, if not misleading, in the information it provided on a Honda we were considering.

We ended up with a more useful test-drive of the Honda in Colmar last week and as a result are reflecting on purchase in the New Year. We had already visited the Nissan deal in Colmar but had been unable to test drive their offering as the person with whom we had an appointment was not known there. (It turned out it was a new appointee who had not yet started work there!) Rather than waste the journey we drove into the centre and walked round the attractive Petite Venise area. Unfortunately John stumbled on a two-level edge of the riverside pavement and fell flat on to the cobbles, to the consternation of other tourists who tried to haul him to his feet. Fortunately his wrist was all he had damaged, and he was able to enjoy a meal at a nearby restaurant Bord’eau. We had eaten there years ago when it was JY’s with its showy chef, but this time we enjoyed the calmer atmosphere and good food. The wrist took longer to recover.

Auxerre crypt fresco

Our November break in Burgundy had started in Auxerre, where we sampled the annual Saint Martin Fair (which we did not know about before we arrived), had an interesting tour of the Abbey and its ninth century crypt frescoes (some of the oldest in France) and ate Kosovan and Indian meals. But it was the city of Dijon that we fell in love with. We had enjoyed lingering in the two villages described above en route to Dijon but we were glad that we had booked a hotel and parking on the edge of the historic, and largely pedestrian centre of Dijon, even if it meant driving through the extensive outskirts and criss crossing a tram route. Our Ibis Styles Hotel Central turned out to be an elegant 1928 art deco building, renovated in 2021, with a super polite, smiling, efficient staff, and comfortable rooms. Their breakfast spread was lavish and we lingered over it, finishing with coffee and nonnettes, round spice cakes filled with orange jam and coated with honey, a speciality first produced in Dijon by the monks of the abbey of Saint Benigne. Sometimes one wonders if all the monks and nuns did was producing alcohol and cakes to sell. The fancy épiceries we later passed in the pedestrian streets, with their goods temptingly arrayed outside, offered fancily packed little nuns, or nonnettes along side expensive jars of Dijon mustard.

Dijon Les Halles

Our hotel was just round the corner from the picturesque 1845 Boutique Maille with its earthenware jars of mustard, but we didn’t visit that or the Moutarderie Edmond Fallot. Supermarkets are cheaper. The best arrays of cheese we saw were in the covered market, whose impressive iron framework was inspired by Dijon-born Gustav Eiffel (even if another planner and construction firm were used).

We spent most of our visit to the Beaux Arts Museum looking at their magnificent mediaeval altarpieces, paintings and tombs which we knew little about. Leaving the intervening centuries unvisited, we then struggled to find the right staircases or working lifts to the nineteenth to twenty-first century galleries. A different art experience was the Musée Magnin private collection of two amateur art lovers in their still partly-furnished former mansion.

And of course there were all the churches – the splendid portico of Notre Dame with its three rows of expressive nineteenth century gargoyles and highly venerated little statue of Notre-Dame de Bon-Espoir who twice liberated Dijon (in 1513 from the Swiss and 1944 from the Germans); Saint Michel with the golden reliquary of Dijon’s Carmelite nun, Elisabeth de la Trinité, who was beatified in 1984; and the Cathedrale Saint-Benigne whose interesting-sounding Romanesque crypt was unfortunately closed when we visited. Walking past the north transept doorway of former Église Saint‑Étienne we were amazed to see monumental figures which turned out to be plaster casts of Le Départ de 1792 (or La Marseillaise) taken as a precaution in the second world war from the sculptures on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris which had been made by Dijon sculptor Francois Rude. Excavations in the choir showed the remains of the castrum of Dijon and its gateway. Not to be outdone, the nave housed the municipal library, but it was closed for renovation and surrounded by hoarding. We did however come across another library, the beautiful reading room in the former Jesuit College des Godrans. with its long tables of silent readers of all ages and strings of overhead silver fairy lights.

Dijon house wood carving

But we were happy just wandering round the streets of timber-framed houses with their wooden carvings and arcades or their stone mansions with sculpted lions’ heads and huge gates opening into courtyards. In tiny shops we could see woodwind instruments being repaired, chocolates, pianos, a distillery, or antiquities (if a paint-blotched step ladder and piles of old magazines really count as antiques). We encountered fountains and statues (like the surprising Compteur du temps by Gloria Friedmann), and a carousel from 1900. We saw a memorial to a resistance hero, but no plaque marked the six-storey former Gestapo headquarters. We would have missed the tiny stone owl on a cathedral buttress had it not been for the passers-by touching with their left hand and lifting up children to have their wishes granted; over the ages it has been polished and worn till it is almost unrecognisable as an owl.

Pompon bear (replica)

But a replica of Pompon’s statue of a white polar bear in the park was very recognisable, despite the children climbing on it.

After the breakfast spreads, we were not hungry till evening. Our first evening’s Sublime restaurant (contemporary French/Italian) was not mis-named, the second evening’s L’un des senses struck us as having more of a sense of its own worth than of flavour, and on our last evening the more modest Grand Café cheerfully served us their 29 euro Burgundy menu which (especially the jambon persillé and boeuf bourguignon) brought back memories of other visits over the years to Burgundy (though we were glad of a comfortable hotel rather than a tent). As we ate our last breakfast and nonnettes, we were sad we had no longer than an evening and two days to spend in Dijon this November.

Now, as Christmas approaches, the windows, houses and shops in Alsace will be decorated with white bears of all sizes, joining October’s large furry polar bear in Riquewihr. Village friends tell us that nonnettes are a Christmas delicacy here as well. And we must not forget to pack our angel from the Christmas shop in Riquewihr before we set out on December 12 for the UK.

With increasingly ridiculous postage costs, do not worry if you do not receive a Christmas card from us, but accept our very best wishes through this newsletter for a peaceful and happy Christmas and for year ahead in 2026.

Hay bales, gas masks and flying children: everyday life in (and short breaks from) Entre-deux-Eaux, May – August 2025

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As well as the highlighted links in the text,
there are comprehensive sets of photographs
– Maison Heler Metz, Curio Collection By Hilton –
– Around Metz including Marc Chagall and Jean Cocteau windows –
– Shaker exhibition and Vitra Campus and Design Museum (Weil am Rhein, Germany) –
– Bourges including Palais Jacques Coeur, Fanny Ferré sculptures and Brinay l’Église Saint-Aignan –

The printable PDF of the text is E2E2025no2.pdf (four A4 pages)

One summer when our grandson Jacob was very young, triumphant shouts of “Hay bales!” could be heard from the back seat of the car during long journeys when one game involved being the first to spot particular items, including hay bales. The prize was probably a mint sweet.

Alas, the prize was probably more gratifying for E2E children this summer, as they gloated over the flames from burning hay bales which spread towards the forest, as the firemen struggled to extinguish the blazes. Despite the lack of confirming surveillance footage, children are the main suspects in several incidents. Paul, on the other side of the village, actually spotted one of the hay bales on fire as he and a friend were setting out on a photography trip, and they called the firemen.

We are frequently annoyed that bonfires of garden rubbish are no longer allowed. But we would never have lit one close to our house at mid-day on one of the hottest days of the year, as an imprudent retired couple recently did. The charred roof-timbers of their newish house are a sad sight. But at least they are now covered with tarpaulin, unlike the pizzeria in Saulcy which has been untouched for several months, presumably because of an insurance problem.

Although far less severe than the forest fires that have raged in other areas, the village fires have nevertheless meant that the firemen have used up most of the commune’s limited water supply. So the mairie again urged restricted water use (no refilling swimming pools) and we were saving our shower and washing-up water for watering plants. The firemen were seen down our road refilling their tanks from Ludo’s large fishing pond. But we had heavy rain at the end of July, which should have started to refill the village reservoirs.

smoked ham roasting

It was another fishing pond and another hot day for the annual barbecue of the Marguerites (as the club for retired people in Ste Marguerite is now called). Even the barbecue had been renamed this year as a mechoui (possibly to sound more upmarket). In fact it was not north African style lamb, but local smoked ham and we waited and waited as it slowly cooked. The marquee had been upgraded (larger and with lightweight but sturdy metal supports) so we were well shaded as we ate the home-made paté and limp salad starters and drank the rosé wine we’d brought with us. And after the smoked ham and potatoes in a creamy sauce, we had a nice religieuse (a small profiterole wedged with cream on top of a larger one, resembling a nun) for dessert. The raffle afterwards was a bit chaotic; John won a tin mug, someone had already helped themselves to Helen’s “prize”, and Paulette nearly gave us her large dark bottle of Mateus wine in disgust, thinking it was cold tea.

Helen still goes most Fridays to the Marguerites’ alternating games and brain exercise sessions. It was her turn to prepare the mental exercises and refreshments for the last session . “Don’t make them too hard” they pleaded. They struggled with a pen and paper version of battleships or demineur but fared better with calculations on the weight of the bells of Notre Dame and the cost of bunches of lily-of-the-valley! However John had made them a rich almond and chocolate cake to have at the end, which they enjoyed a lot more than the logic exercises. He got all the thanks! The two subgroups also had an “end of term” lunch together at one of the two restaurants on the Col de Bonhomme.

Talking of meals (as we so often do) we stopped after a walk for coffee at the village shop where Stephane is now running a restaurant alongside his catering business. Alas the shop has vanished apart from a shelf for baguettes and all the space is devoted to the bar run by Stephane’s partner. The menu board was chalked outside, but no one apart from us came in while we were drinking our mid-day coffees.

A more successful venue is one of our favourite Alsace restaurants, Chez Guth. After ten years it has, this year, been awarded a Michelin star. The downside is that it is much harder to get a table – we can no longer just ring up the day before. But we were lucky one day in May as they had a cancellation. Every dish was perfect, as it has to be to keep a Michelin star, so quite a burden for them now. The young waitress who had been there a long time has left and has been replaced by a mousy older woman who scurries anxiously – not quite the suave Michelin style! 

We have probably mentioned that our activities this year have been restricted by various medical appointments. We are fortunate that medical services are still quite good here, despite the increasing lack of trained doctors. The Romanian surgeon who removed John’s gall bladder in early June at St Die hospital (a precautionary follow-up after a gall stone blocking John’s bile duct was removed in April) was one of the many Romanian and Hungarian doctors filling the gaps in our hospitals. After operating in the morning, he came round in the afternoon to check on John. Having in the past worked on a research project at Queen Mary College London for about 18 months and lived in Canary Wharf, his English came flooding back and he chatted for an hour about his work, living in France, and tourism in Romania, especially recommending Maramures (his wife runs a tourist agency). Amazing what you can learn after a gall bladder operation! But what happened to his other patients that afternoon?

juvenile kestrel

As for the kestrels (whose return to our attic window ledge we mentioned at the end of our last newsletter) they had duly laid eggs and, at the same time as John went down to surgery that day, the first egg hatched. We had five little fluffy white chicks on the windowsill until the weakest died and was eaten. The remaining four thrived, tested their wings and eventually flew away. Will they return next year?

Metz Maison Heler Hilton room number

Meanwhile, we too were feeling restless. So we planned a couple of short breaks in July between a couple of procedures to remove a melanoma and then the surrounding tissue on John’s shoulder. John had read with interest about a new hotel in Metz designed by industrial architect/designer Philippe Starck with its whimsical 19th century style villa perched on top of a multi-storey concrete block. We booked a room there for a couple of nights as John had an appointment nearby for a bone scintigraph. We began to wonder if the hotel had actually opened as our e-mail about parking was not answered and the phone-line was not working. On arrival the hotel receptionist was off-hand about their lack of response and phone contact, and demanded a deposit (did we look as if we were about to destroy our room or run up a huge unpaid bar bill?). Disconcertingly, our fifth floor corridor was lined with photos of men in gas masks and of explosive devices and was carpeted with strange symbols. Design seemed more important in our room than guest comfort. Stark had written a strange, slim novel about an fictional inventor Manfred Heler and his love Rose which apparently explains the gas mask inventions and coded symbols on the walls and carpets. The restaurants are named after the two characters, but looked pretentious and we escaped to cheaper Italian ones. Sadly the current exhibitions in the nearby Pompidou Centre were also not to our taste. The following day we revisited the Cathedrale Saint-Etienne de Metz with its Chagall windows, the Cocteau windows in St.Maximin and the painted Templars’ chapel.

Shaker apple sauce label

The following week we had a more successful trip to Wihr am Rhein, across the Rhine from Basel, where there was an exhibition on the Shakers, their culture and furniture at the Vitra Design Museum. It was fascinating, not only exhibiting chairs (inventive tilting feet, wheelchairs, shoemaker’s unit), tables, and cupboards (including for sewing) but also details of their worship, community celibate living, and produce and seed trading. The rest of the Vitra site was also interesting with architect-designed modern buildings for their high quality furniture production, the Charles and Ray Eames archive, a good café and attractive gardens. We had a comfortable traditional hotel this time and a very good evening meal in the nearby restaurant Café Gupi, partly furnished and decorated from Vitra.

Fanny Ferré sculpture

Once John had been stitched up after his second melanoma procedure, and the nurse had changed the dressings several times, we again felt itchy feet so booked a last-minute four-night stay in Bourges in early August. The weather got hotter, but the narrow streets of criss-crossed timbered houses around the cathedral were shady and picturesque to stroll around. We spent a long time looking at the thirteenth century stained glass windows in the cathedral apse, with their detailed illustration of the parables and the lives of saints. The most unexpectedly enjoyable visit was to the 15th century Palais Jacques Coeur. Having had his elaborate palace constructed, the wealthy financier was disgraced and imprisoned, and never lived there. But what gave interest to the unfurnished rooms were the life-sized clay figures of trudging, exhausted travellers (like troubadours or dispossessed exiles) who plodded across the courtyard and rested in the rooms. They were selected by their sculptress Fanny Ferré to reflect the themes of the rooms (a child surreptitiously stealing food in the kitchen/pantry, a woman regarding her bottom in a mirror in the steam room, musicians suspended from a ceiling upstairs, a row of puzzled children on a bench in the study). Both of us recalled our childhood sensations of flying as we looked at the statues of winged children (definitely children not cherubs). And what were many of the grouped figures looking upwards towards?

St Aignan church 13th century frescoes

We also explored some of the villages around Bourges: Brinay with its beautiful 13th century frescoes in St Aignan church; La Borne with its disappointing, lumpy pottery; La Chapelle d’Angillon, birthplace of author Alain Fournier, where he returned every summer to stay with his grandparents and the Chateau de la Verrerie which inspired the scenes of the enchanted, lost world of Fournier’s Le Grand Meaulnes. Someone was playing the piano as we sat in the courtyard of the lakeside château – like an echo of Meaulnes’ elusive love. On the way home we stopped to see the market and cathedral in Sens.

It made an interesting start to August. And, as all was well when John’s stitches were removed, we will shortly be on the move again – this time to Letchworth which has been sadly neglected since our April/May visit. As ever, we are looking forward to seeing family and old UK friends again.

Nazi cows, Ballons and Puys: everyday life in Entre-deux-Eaux, January – mid April 2025

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There is a comprehensive sets of photographs
Around Clermont-Ferrand
Clicking on a photograph in the text will open the image in a separate window
The printable PDF version is E2E2025no1C.pdf (four A4 pages)

Arts and Crafts urn and jugs

As our neighbours were leaving one January afternoon after Christmas cake and wine with us, Jean-Marie, who collects old cigarette lighters among other things, commented on the two metal jugs and the cauldron by our door. We had found them back in 2003 on different stalls in a flea market in Turkheim, Alsace. We thought they might be holiday souvenirs from a village coach tour in Tunisia or another North African country, an impression reinforced when we saw a similar jug in Huttenheim’s flea market a couple of years later. How wrong can you be! After Jean-Marie’s interest, John looked on the internet and found an identical one on an antiquarian website; it was labelled Arts And Crafts: Cruche à Décors D’alpha Et Oméga 1900. It sold for 130 euros. It clearly pays to go to flea markets – Helen’s diary records that we had paid 5 euros for each of our Art Nouveau treasures.

Hanna Cauer plaque

Curiosity aroused, Helen looked for information on other Alsace flea market purchases. We have always said that they have better quality fleas on the Alsace side of the Vosges mountains than of our side. But it was uncomfortable to read about the stylish small cast iron wall plaque which now hangs in our hall in Letchworth. It depicts a young man and woman leading two cows and reminds us of the cows back in Entre-deux-Eaux. It had caught our eye in Ammerschwihr’s flea market and seemed a bargain at 1.50 euros. The German sculptor of the large cast iron relief, on which the smaller plaque was based, was Hanna Cauer. She had complained in a letter of 1933 to the new National Socialist Minister of Culture that “the reigning Jewish-Marxist circles were absolutely hostile to my German approach to art” and appealed for support “with renewed hopes in our national government”. She was awarded a string of public commissions, including a bust for the Reichstag, two statues for the Nuremberg Opera House, and a fountain for the Olympic celebrations in 1936. In 1937, Adolf Hitler gave her a one-off payment of 5,000 Reichsmark, and she received special subsidies for materials well into the war years. Joseph Goebbels, minister for propaganda, called the Olympia fountain ‘wonderful’. He and Hitler visited Cauer’s studio in December 1937. Goebbels wrote in his diary: “Hanna Cauer has created marvellous female sculptures. She has great talent. I’m giving her a whole series of commissions. The Führer, too, who joined us a little later, is giving her commissions and advances. She is very happy.” And we still like our plaque.

Our “flea” researches provided interesting interludes between various medical appointments, car appointments and meal engagements. We had spent New Year’s Eve at Stevenage Hospital trying to get some strong pain relief for John before the long drive back to Entre-deux-Eaux on 3rd and 4th January with what he assumed to be a kidney stone. It was all very efficient in the Adult Urgent Treatment Centre, given all one hears about Emergency departments, and we did not have a lot of waiting around. The downside was banging the car against an unseen low wall in their multi-storey car park! Our Letchworth neighbour told us afterwards that it was notorious for accidents and thought there must be at least 10 mishaps a day there from people who were not forewarned. Both John and the car have had follow-ups. John’s ultrasound and MRI scans (taken long after the pain and the kidney stone had gone) revealed that he had a stone stuck and partially blocking the bile duct, and, although it is not causing any problems, he had an ERCP done in Colmar on 15 April to remove it. As for the car, it has been at a garage in Saint-Dié for bodywork repairs. We tried looking at new Honda cars, but the Epinal salesman was still at lunch, and the Colmar one was half-hearted, did not yet have a model he could sell, and hasn’t followed up our visit. So we still haven’t bought another car.

Our gastronomic engagements have been more interesting though less essential than our medical ones. We are, however, still uncertain about aspects of French etiquette. When our neighbours invited us for aperitifs at 18.30, we wondered how long we were expected to stay, whether to take a bottle or some other offering and whether to have a meal ready for when we got home. John found a useful website, but Paris customs might not be the same as village ones. Ghislaine, who comes for English conversation, said that she and her husband had just been to aperitifs with friends and, as he is so talkative, they had not left till midnight, so their friends had had to make them some bread and terrine. Perhaps that would not be what our neighbours were expecting. In the end we took a jar of John’s marmalade (they always seem to like that) rather than wine. Daniele had prepared several plates of savoury snacks, so we had no need of a meal afterwards. And we stayed for a couple of hours.

In January the Entre-deux-Eaux municipal council, despite Mayor Duhaut’s complaints about reduced grants due to government budget cuts, found funds to invite the over 65s for their annual lunch with music and dancing, unlike some neighbouring villages. Alas the villagers are ageing. The very annoying man who used to bring his castanets and leap around accompanying the musicians was only able to manage a slow shuffle round the dance floor (mainly with all the most attractive females, to his wife’s annoyance). Their next-door neighbour, the wife of the former schoolmaster, used to love dancing, but now has Alzheimer’s and is in a home; she was brought to the lunch and clearly relished the music, dancing and company. The widow of a former fireman had fortunately not brought her inseparable new companion, an excitable, noisy dog (who Helen has noticed at previous events peeing against the drinks trolley).

Another annual event is the Amnesty Book Sale in Saint-Dié in February. This year we got some more old Michelin travel guides, including one for Auvergne. In September as we drove down to visit Val in the south west, we had been very struck by the grandeur of the scenery we passed through around Clermont-Ferrand with the Puy de Dôme and chain of volcanic Puys. So at the end of March when we had a week without appointments, we left the mountains of the Vosges, whose rounded summits are named “ballons”, and headed for the puys, clutching our Auvergne guidebook. We were prepared to be impressed, as the highest ballon is the Grand Ballon at 1424m. whereas the Puy de Dôme summit is1465m. We were disappointed on arrival that, after a previous week of sunshine, the skies had clouded over, and the top of the Puy de Dôme was shrouded in cloud.

Clermont-Ferrand Basilica of Notre-Dame du Port

We were staying in an apartment in the centre of Clermont-Ferrand, off Place Jaude, lively with cafés, restaurants and a shopping centre. So on our first cold morning we turned our back on the obscured Puy de Dôme summit and explored the old town with its narrow pedestrian streets, covered market and 12th century basilica. “Mosaic” conjures up images of intricate Roman floors, but in the case of the basilica referred to the striking patterns in black (lava) and cream (arkose) stone round the outside of the apse. Inside, the nave resonated with the ritual prayers of two men in a side chapel, the carved capitals told their stories, and the miracles of the black virgin in the crypt were thanked on marble ex-voto plaques. Outside, after passing an Art Nouveau bakery and small sewing and dry cleaning shops we warmed up over good coffee and the best-ever cinnamon buns in a café near the black lava cathedral. Inside, the cathedral was noisy with drilling and the crypt was closed, but some fresco remains and early twentieth century windows were attractive.

Next day, we were glad of Waze GPS to direct us through all the roadworks and improvements which are being undertaken in Clermont-Ferrand (the tourist office had said Waze was essential with the constantly changing closures). At the end of all the chaos, the town should also be able to display the archaeological finds uncovered during the works.

Issoire l’abbatatiale Saint-Austremoine

Issoire l’abbatatiale Saint-Austremoine

Inspired by the beauty of the basilica, we made a circuit of Romanesque churches in nearby small towns and villages, starting at Issoire. Its church had a similar striking mosaic stone pattern outside with the unusual addition of sculpted stone signs of the zodiac. Inside it was a riot of colour, as a nineteenth century “restoration” had controversially painted all the walls, columns and capitals, like a rich tapestry. Colour continued in a nearby pretty-pretty pink patisserie with a fastidious pink lady and silent grey daughter.

Saint Saturnin Église Notre-Dame

Fortified by coffee and crumble we drove on small country roads to Saint Saturnin with its Romanesque chapel and church perched on a rocky outcrop and dedicated to the martyred first bishop of Toulouse.

Saint-Nectaire Église

We had heard of Saint-Nectaire, having eaten its cheeses, and we passed plenty of farms advertising their cheese, as we approached the village of Saint-Nectaire in the valley below us. We were ignorant that it was protected not by a saint of cheeses, but by the evangelizer of the Couzes valley, over whose tomb the church had been built. There were scenes of Saint-Nectaire’s life along with scenes of the Passion, Resurrection, Last Judgement and from the Book of Revelations on capitals round the choir – the finest we saw that day. Helen was amused by the wide-jawed crocodile threatening the rescue of the baby Moses from the water on a capital at one side of the nave, while on the other was a donkey with a lyre.

Basilique Notre-Dame d’Orcival

After that playfulness, the volcanic stone and grey flagstones of Orcival‘s church in a pilgrimage resting village seemed cold and unwelcoming despite its reputation. Our route back to Clermont-Ferrand took us close to the Puy de Dôme.

Puy-de-Dôme

On our last day, the weather was clearer, and we drove to the huge, but almost deserted, car park at the foot of the Puy de Dôme. Once we would have relished trudging up the Chemin des Muletiers to the summit, but now we were glad of the eco-friendly electric rack train (or train à crémaillère – just showing off recently acquired vocabulary!).

Temple of Mercury, Puy-de-Dôme

From the station near the top, we climbed the steps almost to the summit where there is a transmitter for FM radio and TV, and physics laboratory/observatory dominating the remains of the Roman Temple of Mercury. We walked on, enjoying the panoramas of the surrounding puys, though they were getting hazy and the wind was cold, before visiting the small museum with its information of the construction methods of the Temple, the Via Agrippa, the quarries and also the Roman remains in Clermont-Ferrand.

Montferrand

After our descent, Waze guided us to the Montferrand part of the city (Clermont and Montferrand merged in 1630), which was interesting to walk round, though the bars offering coffee were dispiriting.

We had tried different restaurants each evening in Clermont-Ferrand, and on our last evening the highlight of our dinner at Popina was the Pariou dessert, a delicious nutty cake based on a Creusois cake, but made with different flour and nuts; when it sank in the centre like a volcano, the chef named it after the Puy de Pariou.

Next day we returned from the Puys to the Ballons, as the clocks changed, and we embarked on a round of rendez-vous, medical (rheumatology and visceral) and mechanical (boiler and car) with light relief of lunch at the Imprimerie in between. All being well with body work (human and car), our next trip will be to the UK just after Easter.

male and female kestrels

As in previous years, a pair of kestrels has been visiting the nest since mid-March so hopefully they will take up residence and raise a family without any of the problems that occurred last year.

Individual sets of photographs:
 Clermont-Ferrand, Issoire, Montferrand, Orcival, Puy De Dôme, Saint-Nectaire, Saint Saturnin