A cat’s life can be tough

Trying to get some shut-eye

I often envy our cat, all she does all day is snooze when the mood takes her, go for a little walk if she fancies, run around chasing things and generally doing things she thinks are fun. She eats when she likes, from the food that is always available and she get cuddles on demand.

But the last couple of weeks I have really felt sorry for her. We have redstarts nesting in our vide.

Safe in their nest

Now what could be yummier for a little cat than fresh chicks from a nest? Fortunately for the chicks, the nests are well out of Fifi’s reach, but this is where my empathy with my poor cat comes in.

Anyone who has had any dealings with redstarts will know what a heck of a noise they make. Tick, tick, tick, tick loudly and endlessly, on and on they go. The noise is to divert your attention away from the chicks, but what these stupid birds don’t realise is that all this constant ticking alerts everyone else to the fact that there is a redstart nest nearby.

Poor little Fifi is being driven potty. She has found the nest but can’t get at them and is constantly reminded of that fact. The blasted zooming backward and forward and loud ticks drive me insane when I am just carrying plants or garden tools in and out of the vide, what it must be like for a little cat who is trying to snooze in her basket and ignore the fact that a nice snack is just out of her reach.

Daddy keeps watch while....

.....Mummy brings home the dinner

So here are some photos of the offenders and the quiet little chicks. Hopefully they will fly the nest soon and our garden will go back to the quiet place it once was where people and cats can snooze undisturbed.

The chateau at Berzé-le-Châtel ravaged by fire.

There is a quite superb mediaeval chateau in Berzé-le-Châtel, you can see if for miles around and it is the last landmark I see as the train nears Mâcon TGV station on my trips back from the UK, the definitive sign that I am almost home. Imagine my horror when I saw in the paper that there had been a huge fire on Thursday night that had completely destroyed the Burgundian style roof.

The fire brigades from as far away as Charolles (40km) and Le Creusot (70km) had attended. Just looking at the photos, that I have taken from Le Jourmal de Sâone-et-Loire website, you can see what a huge fire it was.

The chateau is not open to the public as people live in it, but you can have a guided tour of the grounds, the ramparts and the chapel. To be honest it is one of the most interesting tours I have taken of a chateau, the guide explains the defences of such an imposing construction, how the different walls, moats, gates and twisted internal passages combine to make such an edifice almost impenetrable.

During the weekend, I managed to talk Cees into going to see what was left of the castle. We set off into a thunder storm, which seemed quite appropriate considering the sombre mission. We neared the castle and could just make out its form through the driving rain. We parked and waited for the rain to pass and to our surprise we saw the castle in all its glory! No charred ruin at all.

Maybe the paper had exaggerated the extent of the damage. We headed off round the other side of the hill to see the roofs from a different angle. Still no sign of the damage. It had only been three days since the fire, there was no way that they had managed to repair the roof. So we headed up the hill to the castle entrance and we saw tourists with their umbrellas up touring the ramparts, but no sign of even the remains of a bonfire.

Considerabley confused we headed home and paused for one last photo, which seemed to show that part of the roof had recently been replaced. That must be it, after all it is an historical monument, maybe the National Architect had managed to come out and get someone in quick to construct a temporary (but very good looking) roof over the damage to prevent further deterioration of the building.

On arriving home, all was revealed. We re-read the newspaper article and we now realise that there are two chateaux in Berzé-le-Châtel, the mediaeval one and one that is a wine chateau. And guess what? Yes, you are right, it was the wine chateau that had the fire. No less upsetting for the owners of course, but at least “my” chateau was still in one piece even if I hadn’t believed with my own eyes!

For more information on the beautiful castle in Berzé-le-Châtel clck here or for details of our gites nearby, click here

Famous in Paris

Back in March we had a long weekend in Paris. We have visited so many times, you wouldn’t think that we could see anything new, but this weekend gave us a number of firsts.

The first, first was to be greeted by a sign, when we entered the metro system, announcing that public transport was free for the whole weekend. On the one hand great for our purse, but on the other hand not so good for my asthma, the reason for the free transport was due to very high levels of pollution.

When we arrived at the flat we had rented in Montmartre we went up to the Scare Coeur, just look at that beautiful blue sky – what pollution? Then look the other way over Paris and can you actually see the Eiffel Tower through the smog?

After seeing some tremendous art and just enjoying the wonders of Paris, soaking up the atmosphere, our last morning was to be spent in a TV studio being part of the audience of the only programme we actually watch on TV - “Questions Pour un Champion”.



The outside of the studio was not as glamorous as I had envisaged it in my mind and the studio was a lot smaller than I had expected, but it was exciting none the less.

So why a blog now about a trip to Paris in March? Well yesterday and today the programmes were/are on the TV. At last, time has caught up with us and just to prove that Cees was there, here is a screen shot of yesterday’s quiz. I've added an arrow in case you don't recognise him. Of course I am just off screen, almost on TV yet again… I’ll get there one day!

Camping is good for you – it’s official

Beautiful sunset at La Tuilerie

The camping season has started here at La Tuilerie. Our first campers of the season turned up last weekend and pitched up for the week. The fact that many people come back year after year does not really surprise me because as any real camper knows, camping is good for you.  After a week in the open air, enjoying all that nature has to offer you, you feel just fantastic and you are set up to face anything that real life can throw at you.

Snoopy's got it right

Whilst that is of course my theory, I have now had it confirmed.  I was browsing the BBC website the other day and came across an article that stated just what I say - camping is good for you.

Apparently if you spend a week camping, you reset your body clock by setting your melatonin levels straight again. This will of course bring you enormous, untold health benefits.

So get your tents out and start planning your next holiday on our lovely campsite !

La Tuilerie Website

Gone crazy ? Here’s how to solve your problems.

X marks the spot..

On one of our Romanesque church hunts, we came across an unusual feature in the church of St Germain en Brionnais. We found a débeurdinoir.

So what is one of these things anyway?

Well I’ll be honest, this is not our first visit to this church. The first time we saw the notice announcing the débeurdinoir, we didn’t know what to make of it. The second visit we went searching for the blooming thing and couldn’t find it and on this, our nth visit (where n is greater than or equal to 4) I gave it a go.

The débeurdinoir

The story of the débeurdinoir dates back to the legend of Saint Menoux. He was a chappy who fell ill and died, but what happened after his body was put into a sarcophagus is what created this wonderful contraption. His servant was a bit loopy and decided to cut a hole in the side of the sarcophagus to see his master one last time. He put his head into the hole and he was cured of his craziness.

All of this happened not so far from here in a village called Saint Menoux - named after the aforementioned saint. His followers set up a priory in St Germain en Brionnais and brought the idea with them. They built a stone sarcophagus-like structure and put a hole in its side to cure the locals of their madnesses. The local patois for beast or demon is beurdin, hence the name of the contraption being a débeurdinoir a de-demoner.

I'm cured!!

So there we were, one sunny morning and I decided to give it a go. I put my head inside the débeurdinoir and I am now officially sane.

If you want to be cured too, beware, there are only two of these devices in the whole world and one of them is near our gîtes, so book early for your insanity cure!

Easter in Taizé

Well it’s that time of year again when Taizé fills up to over capacity. For the 9,000 young people who will officially be staying in Taizé over the two weeks of Easter, there have been some interesting things going on. The Holy week started with an unusual Palm Sunday service down at Saint Stephen’s spring. With the congregation holding their sprigs of green surrounding the brothers, it had an air of the druids’ spring solstice even though the message was clearly Christian.

Holy week culminated this morning with the Easter Eucharist. The size of the crowd for this service frightens me, the church is packed to over capacity and the brothers tip-toe through the crowds parading the huge lit Paschal candle, so I stayed at home and imagined the scene from the safety of my garden.

This year the crowds were so large I could hear the singing while I was outside hanging up the washing and then the bells rang out and I could hear, in my mind, the shouts and cheers as “Christ is risen” would have been spoken in too many languages to count. A joyous day on this beautifully sunny Easter morning.

Happy Easter to everyone!

Fame and fortune

Monday evening we were invited to the opening of a photo exhibition of Romanesque churches and the first exhibition of the season at Buxy Office de Tourisme. We had a look at the lovely photos and generally chatted to those there, waiting for the speeches and the obligatory glass of wine and nibbles to celebrate the event. But on this occasion, we were not just there for the free glass of wine, we came to see the launching of a book.

This particular book give architectural details of the 19 Romanesque churches in and around Buxy. “But why is this such an important book?” you might ask. Well I’ll tell you.

A few months ago Cees received an email asking if he would be willing to allow some of his photos to be published in a tourist guide. He was of course thrilled to agree and sent off all the relevant photos that he had. The problem that the writer was having, was that one of the churches to be in the book was under internal restoration and so photos could not be taken. But snap-happy Cees had of course captured the relevant church in enormous detail before the scaffolding went up and so he saved the day!

Cees' name in print

One of the perks of this inaugural evening was to receive a copy of the aforementioned book, with Cees’ name in it. So when you go an buy your copy at Buxy Tourist Information Office, flip to Saint Martin du Tartre and admire the internal church photos taken by our resident photographer. Sadly he is not receiving any royalties, just the honour and prestige of seeing his name in print, but if you would like any commissions done, just drop us an email, his rates are very reasonable.


For holiday accommodation near Buxy and some wonderful churches click here.

Picnic Weather

Picnic in the woods

We have had such beautiful weather these last few weeks, what else can you do than to go out for endless picnics? And while your on a picnic mission, why not visit a few Romanesque churches on your way? Our latest picnic turned out to be a voyage of discovery.

The source St Thibault

We had heard that there was a chapel near a source called St Thibault, not far from a village called La Chapel-au-Mans. The internet revealed no more information and no pictures, so we were on our own. First we headed for the village in the hope that someone might know where the chapel was. No one in sight.

Up the hill to the chapel

What is it about French villages, they are relatively well inhabited (you can tell that by the open shutters and locally registered cars) but you rarely see anyone, even at the weekend. After scouring the notice boards at the church in case there was a clue there, we were just heading out of town and we saw a notice board with information on local walks and low and behold there was our chapel. It was several kilometres away and we had a long day ahead of us, combined with the “fact” that navigator said he knew what road it was on, so we headed off by car.

Romanesque cheapel, worth the search

Many kilometres further and a random left hand turn landed us in a housing estate (thanks navigator) but at least we saw a person! I zipped out quickly to ask where this chapel might be to be greeted with the reply “Oh goodness, that’s nowhere near here”. I’d figured that one out for myself, but I smiled and asked if she could give me instructions. She seemed hesitant but then she started at speed. It seemed to go like this, you go right here, and keep turning right. The road goes up and down, then you go right again, then the road goes up and down, then you turn right at the house with the well, then the road goes up and down, then you get to the end by a lake and it’s on your right. With all the right hand turns and the ups and downs, I wasn’t at all confident that she either knew where it was or that we would find it. Off we went, turning right and going up and down through some lovely countryside for many kilometres and just when I was about to give up and knock on a farmhouse door, there it was!

Well worth the detour. The climb and the picnic were worth it too.

The Secrets of the Taizé Pottery

Taizé pottery

I love Taizé pottery, the simplicity of the designs and the beautiful colours of their glazes. I have one of their oil lamps and I drink my wine out of a pottery beaker I was given, which is in my favourite of their glazes “Bleu”.

Last weekend, Taizé held an open weekend to show their workshops to the public. We were there straight after the Sunday morning service, champing at the bit to see all the inner workings of the brothers’ studios.

How to make a bowl, Taizé style

So how do you make pottery? Well you get hold of some clay and you model it, you dry it to make “biscuit”, then you glaze it, then you fire it and you have a plate a bowl or a cup depending what you wanted to make in the first place. Simple right? Well I was really surprised at the lengths they go to, to make their pottery. They don’t start with a lump of clay at all, they start with earth, they mix it with various other types of earth and water to make the clay.

Dip the bowl in a glaze

Depending on what they are making, they then chomp it up into bits and using various machines (the one in the photo is one of the more manual ones, they did have slightly more automated ones) they turn out plates, bowls saucers, cups, beakers, depending on the day’s production order.

These are dried then dipped in the day’s glaze and the fired in one of the two kilns.

The glazes are mixed by hand in small quantities made from various ashes, iron oxide, cobalt oxide but one of the prettiest is Omnia, which is made up of leftovers!

Half a jug - cut open so we could see how it worked

The real surprise for me was the jugs and other small delicate items. How do you make a jug? I assumed it would be thrown on a wheel and made that way, but no, the jugs are moulded. Very running clay (ie liquid) is poured into a mould until it is full, left to stand for 20 minutes and the runny stuff is poured back into the liquid clay vat. The mould is made of plaster and so absorbs water fast, so there is a layer of clay that is “stuck” to the mould. Once that dries, a perfect jug emerges. Now isn’t that clever!

Next time I’m in the shops, I will certainly look at their offerings with different eyes.

How do you prove who you are, when you are not who they think you are?

Just call me Rose

When we registered to vote in French local elections about 10 years ago, I didn’t put in too much thought about the consequences of my actions. The French (and the Dutch for that matter) have an obsession with only using maiden names for women. They do not realise that a woman in England can legally and forever change her name and that, that maiden name no longer exists, has no legal value and is non-traceable.

When I was young and first registering in The Netherlands I entered into endless arguments with officials about my name and at the end of the day, they did understand, not everyone addressed me by the name Nixon, but enough to keep me happy and all important official paperwork was in that name. When I arrived in France I was a lot older and more chilled out and took the approach, I couldn’t care less what you call me, I’ll answer to it anyway. It did not occur to me that I might have actually created a rod for my own back by not being argumentative.

For the first time, voters in small communes (less than 1000 people) were having to show identification when they went to place their votes. After waiting with excitement for polling day to arrive, it dawned on me yesterday, how do you show identification for a name that is not legally yours? So this morning when preparing for our election visit, out came the Big Folder, the one with all our paperwork, births, deaths, marriages and my cycling proficiency certificates and I proceeded to construct a legal paper trail to show that I was in fact not who they thought I was, but I am in fact, me.

Wrong Nixon

Armed with all this stuff and two passports with the name Nixon in them, off I went to vote. Our non-French national voting cards caused a bit of confusion, but they were stamped by the Mayor himself, so they were accepted and then on to attempt the vote itself. I popped into the voting booth and put the list I wanted to win in my blue envelop and then went to be crossed off the list to enable me to put my envelope into the ballot box.

Deep breath. Kiss, kiss from the Mayor who then went to the foreigners’ list. I took out my passport and started with “It’s a bit complicated”, to be met with “Oh don’t bother with that, I know who you are. Is that you?” pointing to a name he had never heard me use before. I agreed it was me and signed with the name Nixon and the deed was done. Oh how I love our little town.

On leaving the town hall we went to buy this morning’s paper and in it we found, that at the last minute the requirement for identification had been scrapped for small communes, because in small rural towns many old people don’t have any identification papers anyway. So despite all my worries, I was off the hook this time.

The next election will probably be next week, when we get to have the final fight for power in our little part of the world. But I think I am going to have to have that difficult discussion with the Town Hall one day soon and get my name changed to Nixon. I don’t want any more sleepless nights like last night!

Daffodils

Lovely bunch of daffodils, BTW he didn't pick
them, he only posed for me!

It’s that time of year again when wild daffodils spring up in the forests and people turn out in their hundreds to pick them. I can’t bring myself to do it, it is so against everything I was brought up to do, to respect nature and not to pick wild flowers, it is even illegal in England, so quite why it can be done here, I don’t know. But it is done and people in their hundreds come to pick flowers in their thousands and the social clubs for miles around vie for a good place near a parking area on the edge of a forest to sell drinks and food to the punters.

Keep those waffles coming ladies

Friends of ours were manning just such a stall today, so off we went to watch the event from close up.

After eating a gauffre (French waffle) and drinking a glass of wine, we went on our way and being such a lovely day we decided to go for a drive.

At the Tourist Office annual general meeting a week or so ago, we heard what had been done this year with the tourist tax which we collect every year from people who stay in the gîtes or on the campsite. The Merovingien cemetery at Curtil-sous-Burnand, one of this year’s beneficiaries, was not far from where we were looking at the daffodils, so our little expedition was to see how some of that tax money had been spent.

Curtil-sous-Burnand Merovingian graves

The signage at the Merovingien cemetery has been updated and I was very impressed with what they have done. The new signs clearly show how the cemetery is laid out in relation to the hill you are on and the road you have driven on to get there and there is also some very interesting information about that time period and what the archaeologists found when they dug up the site. So well done to all of you who have contributed with this tax and well done to our local group of town councils for upgrading this site.

For information on holiday accommodation near Curtil-sous-Burnand click here.

Getting old ? Me ?

A third of our delivery, being supervised by Fifi

I still have a good head of dark hair, I have kept my youthful good looks (not too many wrinkles) and when I do a Facebook test it says I am only 19 years old, so it has come as a bit of a shock to me to realise that I am not as young as I once was. So what has happened? I hear you say. Well this last week has happened actually and two events that have dented my faith in my everlasting youth.

Firstly the annual load of wood arrived. It took us seven hours to shift all the logs into their stack and I have an aching back, shoulders, hands, knees etc etc etc to prove it. About halfway through Cees decided we should get gas central heating, but we both agreed it wouldn’t be so much fun!

My first selfy

So there we were, wheel barrow in hand shifting the best part of ten tonnes of logs that will take us through another year. As the picture shows, not all the residents of La Tuilerie were helping, one of them decided that as she is not allowed into the house to enjoy the log fire, she would just loll around and supervise, even that got too exhausting after a while.

In focus this time - mastering new technology!

The second event was a new telephone. I have been dreading the day that I would be dragged into the 21st century and get a phone that does more than just make calls, this one takes photos too, sends smses and connects to the internet. Wow.... I used to love gadgets, but I am beginning to dread them. It took me the best part of a day to get to be able to telephone my Dutch mobile (the sole reason for getting this contraption) and the only SMS I could send was HI as it has pre-programmed things that I can’t fathom. I took my first selfy and isn’t it very, ummm, out of focus, I even had to put my glasses on to find the photo button. And as for internet access, I have given up.

So all in all a week to realise that I am getting older than I was, I can’t shift wood all day without consequences and as for mobile phones let’s not go there………


For information about holiday accommodation near a big wood pile click here.

Village Politics

For or against mulled wine?

Don’t worry, I am not going to bore you with local gossip about who has fallen out with whom. I am not going to go into why we no longer have a village gallette des rois at Epiphany - suffice to say not everyone agrees you can drink mulled wine it and it certainly can’t be eaten in the open air.... I am not even going to go into why we no longer have a proper village party at the end of the summer.... No I am talking about REAL politics. The type you go to a polling station for to put your cross on a ballot paper. Election fever is gripping our small community, even uniting the mulled wine and anti-mulled wine factions and creating two new groups, the “for” and the “against” our current mayor. In March (the 23rd to be precise) we will be going to the polls to elect a new town council.

Who's on the ballot paper?

Elections in France work differently to any system I have seen before. As a commune of over 500 people (only just mind you) we have to have 15 town councillors. But you can’t just get your name on the ballot paper by registering and letting the masses say if they want you as an individual or not – definitely not - you have to be part of a “list”. So the current mayor has set up his list of 15 people and on polling day, we will be asked if we accept the list or not. That means that if someone wants to stand against him, they have to come up with a different list of 15 people who want to run the council. In a community the size of ours, trying to find 30 people who want to run for council is a tall order, in fact finding 15 is difficult enough, after all this is a thankless task and only the ultimately elected mayor and his/her deputy will get a small monthly payment - the rest do it for free.

So you can imagine that election day tends to be a bit boring, you go to the polls and you generally vote for the only group available. There is however, another little French twist to add a bit of spice to the occasion. Even if there is just one list, you can always scrub off the names you don’t like and replace them with someone you would prefer and if enough people do that, coming up with the same set of scrubbees and additions, the finally elected 15 could in theory be changed.

Well this year big moves are afoot. It looks like there may be a second list. Furtive meetings are being held in front rooms all around the commune, telephones are buzzing, swapping names of those in the pro- and anti-mayor camps and it looks like we may actually have a real election. The mayor’s list has been published and I don’t know when the others have to go public with their list, but they are running close to the wire I think, so we are all on tenterhooks.

Our future council members?

I hope we do have a real election, it will silence the whingers and moaners from both camps and give us a council that is seen to have the majority vote, so that they can get on and do their work rather than fighting off criticism. So good luck to all the candidates and may the best man (or woman) win. You never know, next year we may even have mulled wine.

For information on holiday accommodation near this hotbed of politics click here.

Burgundian Wave

After last week’s blog, I have had a number of questions about the caption to the photo of Cees. What is the Burgundian wave and why did you take a photo of Cees not quite doing it?

Well the Burgundian wave (Ban bourguignon in French) is done as a sign of appreciation during most, if not all, events round here. For example “let’s do a Burgundian wave for the organisers” - everyone stands up and we do it. “Let’s do a Burgundian wave for the caterers” - so we all stand up and do it again. “Let’s do the Burgundian wave for… well who the heck cares let’s do it anyway” - so we all stand up and do it yet again. It is probably one of the silliest things I have been talked into joining in with in my life, but it is great fun.

So what is it? First a bit of history. Legend has it that it originated in a café called Le Marais in Dijon in about 1900 and whilst it fell out of fashion during the war, it re-emerged with greater strength all around the region in about 1945. It is described as a song/action which consists of 5 notes, 2 onomatopoeias and 9 hand claps. It involves raising your hands to either side of your head and wiggling them back and forth whilst singing the song to a cute little tune, then you have to clap nine time in groups of three claps, wave again, clap again and at the end of our the local version, you raise your right hand and shout “hoy”.

I managed to find a website which actually gives the lyrics, so you can study these and learn them to join in with the video.

La la la la lalalalalère
Lalala Lalala lalala lalalala
La la la la lalalalalère
Lalala Lalala lalala

So altogether now….. just click and join in the fun…



Back to Cees’ photo last week. Cees is not a great one for things like this and so he manages to get away with not joining in most times, but last Sunday he did. I just missed him wiggling his hands, he’d already moved on to the clap, but it was an event worth recording for posterity. I hope you agree.

A Sunny Day at Last.

St Vincent parade in Malay

Sunday lived up to its name this week and actually brought us some sun, which made the St Vincent parade all the more pleasurable. It wasn’t too cold to go and watch and was as colourful as ever. The whole of the village of Malay was cut off for the parade, so we ended up parking on the main road and walking the last kilometre or so to the main square. Malay has only 220 inhabitants, so the parade was small, but very vocal as they all sang “Proud to be a Burgundian” as they walked from the town hall to the church.

We headed home to change for lunch, forfeiting our chance to go to mass - the hunters’ horns blasting during the service don’t do your eardrums any good!

Looks like shadow to me..

When we got home I realised that whilst it was lovely to see the sun after months of grey cloud and rain, it was in fact 2nd February – Groundhog day. Groundhogs aren’t native to this part of the world and so we have always relied on our trusty cat to tell us the weather for the coming months. And oh dear, it looks like there’s a shadow on this photo, let’s hope Fifi didn’t notice it.

Off we went to lunch - programmed to start at 13.15. The lunch is always late, but if we had known we’d start at 15.00, I think we might have had a snack before we left. It was well worth the wait though.

Pâté en croûte volaille, foie gras – divine
Cassolette d’escargots aux champignons des bois – I’m told was superb, I have never plucked up the courage to try snails, I’m not sure if I might be allergic or not, so I just watched as mouths around me drooled.
Trou Bourgignon – blackcurrant sorbet with the local fire water poured over it – burns a nice hole in all the food that’s already gone down, making way for the main course.
Filet of goose, with Maxime potatoes and Provencal tomatoes – my first taste of goose and I was not disappointed, lots of complaints from my neighbour about the colour (it shouldn’t have been so dark apparently) but no complaints on the taste and definitely no complaints from me.
Plate of cheeses - brie, goats’ cheese and St Agur – truly yummy
Tiny desserts – chocolate mousse on a feather light sponge base, a mini mille feuilles and a little cherry tart – what can I say?

Cees almost caught doing the Burgundian wave

Now it wouldn’t be a celebration of the patron saint of viticulturists if there wasn’t a stunning array of wine. Sadly just tasters for me as I was driving. Yet again, we started with OK wine and moved up to superb, not a concept we understand. By the second glass I am not sure many people can tell the difference. I was one of the few I think who really appreciated the Domaine de l'Echauguette with the cheese, I wish I could have had some more of that one. Crément and coffee finished it all off.

We were invited to the home of some friends for pancakes, as the 2nd February is also Candlemas - pancake day in France. How anybody could have squeezed another crumb into their mouths after that lunch I do not know, so we politely declined the offer and waddled to our car just as the dancing started at about 19.00.

Another successful Burgundian lunch, I’m looking forward to next year already.


For information on gites to rent not far from Malay in Burgundy click here.

Sunday Opening and Tourist Towns

Cluny - worth a detour

I can remember the debate about Sunday opening, when I lived in the UK, more than 25 years ago. But the battle, to keep Sunday special in England, has long been lost and sadly every High Street is now open. The Dutch held out longer and they went to Sunday opening in the last year or so, but here in France, the debate is just starting.

The current law (dating from 1906) states that a weekly day of rest must be given to employees and that day shall be a Sunday. There are exceptions to this law, one is for establishments that “are essential to life”. Hospitals are an obvious example of this category, but food shops creep in, as well as hotels, restaurants, petrol stations and interestingly tobacconists. Another exception is for establishments in a designated tourist zone.

Chateau de Cormatin, most visited tourist site in Saône-et-Loire

In the lead up to Christmas, the big department stores in Paris wanted to open every Sunday to cash in on the Christmas rush, but apparently the Boulevard de Haussmann is not classified as being in a tourist area. However, they and the DIY stores around Paris cocked a snook at the government and defied the ban by opening anyway. A wonderful French solution was been found to this problem. Rather than confront these establishments, DIY shops have been included (rather dubiously in my opinion) into the category of shops that are "essential for life" and the Boulevard de Haussmann has been granted opening status by declaring it a “tourist site”.

All of this has raised some interesting debate in the newspapers, but particularly interetsing is that we now know the official list of tourist sites in our own corner of the world.

Paray-le-Monial, not even mentioned

If you were to choose only 5 tourist towns in our département (Saône-et-Loire), which ones would you choose? Well Cluny is an obvious one for starters and that is in fact the case - Cluny is on the list. Being rather parochial, I’d go for Cormatin, we do after all have the site the most visited in the whole département – the chateau. And yes! We make it into the hallowed five. Tournus gets in there and with it’s Abbey church I can see why, but then the list gets a little confusing for me. The last two communes are Dompierre-les-Ormes and Montceau-les-Mines. Umm interesting choices. What about Autun, with its cobbled streets and stunning cathedral? What about Mont Beuvray with Bibract? What about Paray-le-Monial, Anzy-le-Duc, Semur-en-Brionnais? I could go on.

Dompierre-les-Ormes, worth a visit?

I must be missing something. What do these two privileged towns have that the others don’t? Well Dompierre-les-Ormes has a wood museum and an arboretum, but it must surely have more to offer than that to get such glorified status. We went there this week to find out and I took some photos. Does this look like a town that is going to attract a multitude of tourists? And as for Montceau-les-Mines, that is not even worth wasting my time by taking a photo.

But what does this mean for the tourists? Does Cluny open up in all its glory? If you are a Sunday opening fan you will be disappointed - the vast majority of the shopkeepers would prefer to stay at home with their families. Here in Cormatin, you can always find the wine merchant, the jeweller and the arts and crafts centre open, but on the other hand Tournus always seems pretty shut to me on a Sunday and whether the pharmacy in Dompierres-les-Ormes will bother to open, I very much doubt.

What are all those avid Sunday shoppers going to do? Chalon and Mâcon are not on the list, consequently they should be shut on the day of rest, so it looks like everyone will have to go to Montceau-les-Mines. Montceau-les-Mines has therefore become a tourist attraction as the only large town for miles around that has its shops open on a Sunday. That must be why it is on the list!

Montceau-les-Mines - one of the top tourist sites in Burgundy ummm...

For information about holiday accommodation in an official tourist town, that's actually worth the visit click here.

January Stupor

What a mover!

What is it about the first week of January? I always feel lethargic and not up to doing much, hence my two week blog silence, we’ve done plenty, but I just haven’t got round to writing about it. Don’t worry I won’t bore everyone with all that we have done, suffice to say we had a lovely Christmas with my mum, brother and his family, then new year with some French friends - lots of good wine and good food on both occasions of course.

I have finally started to wake up this week, buoyed up by the arrival of my very first Tai Chi suit, all the way from China via Italy - long story let’s not go there. I was so excited I had to pose in it didn’t I? What a picture.

This morning I went up to my first service in Taizé for quite a long time. The local parish was having its weekly mass in the main church, so I thought I would go along and see how it went. The brothers had sensibly put benches down the left-hand side of the church, these were full as were the steps and the usually benches on the right, so it was a very good turnout. The floor was mostly covered, but with space to move - unlike the summer months which can get very claustrophobic in the crowds. It was a pity though that the parishioners hadn’t been given a few tips in advance, very few on my side of the church had the song book or the song sheets, which left them sitting in the sidelines as spectators rather than participants.

Taizé  songs with verses

So how was it different from a normal Sunday morning service? We actually had some songs which had verses, unheard of in the usual Taizé repertoire. As they were rather Christmassy, they may have been used for the Christmas services which will also attract a number of locals I think and this way, it gives the service a little more familiarity to non-regulars. Another move away from the norm was that we were treated to organ playing as we arrived as opposed to the usual taped music. I have not heard the organ played that much so it was an interesting experience. The organ was built to be quiet, which it is by church organ standards, but I felt that the higher notes lacked something. By taking the power out of the instrument, it has lost that glorious organ effect, it wasn’t so noticeable on the lower notes, but it left the higher ones a bit shrill.

As anyone who has been to a service will know, the majority of the brothers leave at one point, but you can stay as long as you like, accompanied by a few remaining brothers who will sing along, as long as anyone remains. As usual I left just after the main bulk of the brothers, but the vast majority of the congregation remained sitting, probably wondering what was going to happen next. It made leaving the car park very easy!

Finally, for those waiting with bated breath about that chap who was lurking around the church a couple of weeks ago. It turns out he was one of wise men, phew, I was a bit worried he might be trying to steal the chicken feed. So here is one final photo (taken last week) and we will now have to wait another year to see the crèche again.

Happy new year to everyone!

For information on the gites we rent out, very near Taizé, click here.