AUDE FLYER 04/2005

Letter from a new Limouxine

WHOOPPEE AND HURRAH FOR WARMTH, TWEETING BIRDS AND THRUSTING PLANTY THINGS ETC ETC

Like all other people crazed with the first rays of real spring sunshine we have rushed forth to garden centres, been beguiled into buying bargain fruit trees in supermarkets, and trying to de-rust the barbecue. This year saw an even more spectacular change than usual from deep winter into early summmer; thermal vests cast aside, ski socks discarded, and dust covered mules rediscovered from under the sideboard.

We know very little about gardening. This I am aware of more each year, but I will attempt to pass on a hints that we have picked up from our very helpful ‘land neightbours’

Sheep poo is the best manure, better than cow or horse…BUT it must be old, otherwise you burn roots. You’re probably supposed to put in in the soil when there’s a full moon, but we were happy just to have found a source of it from some lovely friends who have charming brown and cream sheep.

It’s much better to plant trees in November, but if you have to do it now, it must be before the end of March. Spring planted trees will need a lot more water the first year. We, of course have done it wrong, and are planting now….

I visited a very interesting tree nursery a few days ago, which Gabi and Pierrot (jardin Bouichère) told us about, Burri at Brenac, near Quillan. They specialise in ancient and ‘rustic’ types of fruit trees. They have a catalogue which contains a very large choice of apple, pear, fig, plum, cherry etc, grown organically. He was very helpful with advice about planting, pruning, soil types, etc.

If I didn’t already mention it, you should visit jardin Bouichère, near Mr Bricolage, LeClerc, etc in Limoux. Beautiful, stunning collection of plants, trees, herbs and parrots. Extremely inspirational for those struggling with a big rubbly bit of land as that’s exactly what they started with…look at it now.

Its one of the great pleasures of living here, to see the markets coming to life the first geraniums and little vegetable plants. However I shall be a bit more cautious this year. Last year I planted tomatoes earlier than anyone else in the Aude valley and spent troubled nights wondering if the wind protection I had put up would be enough, and whether courgette plants would benefit from a hot water bottle.

I’m sure we are a constant source of amazement and hilarity amongst our fellow gardeners who are all about 80 and have been planting and reaping the benefits for most of those years; however they are very kind to us. I often go to the land to find a plant has mysteriously appeared, or an area of earth has been expertly dug for us. The other day Mr Combe appeared while I was digging another tree hole and shook his head sadly at my totally unplanned pattern of trees. “it should be straight he said, so you can pass with the tractor easily” I reminded him that we have no tractor, that most of the field will be attractive wild flowers (weeds) as we haven’t used ‘round-up’ and that we are stupid and romantic and therefore like the idea of a rambling orchard…butterflies, lambs, Enid Blyton-type children skipping and picking ripe apricots etc…He’s probably right; the field will no doubt be a sea of the most pericious weed life, lumpy rock-like ground, and trees in need of the right sort of pruning…we can dream…

Along with the burgeoning plant and animal life at this time of year comes an increase in the amount of confusing bits of paper to do with the tax system.

This week we decided it was time to stop shoving nasty looking forms to the bottom of the in-tray and to actually try and find out what is going on.

Through some friends we found a very helpful person who specialises in aiding people like us who have got into a complete confusion with the system. We had a meeting this morning. The file was brought out, Sophie asked lots of perfectly reasonable questions like “when did this arrive’ and did you reply to this one” Mark developed more worry lines on his forehead, and I tried not to giggle hysterically. It was decided generally that all our attempts so far had been totally and utterly…rubbish. The recently recieved forms were indeed complex, possibly inappropriate, but rather a nice lilac colour.

I noticed, and have noticed this before that when human beings are involved with trying to sort out unfathomable messes to do with tax etc, there is a lot of grouping bits of paper together and tapping them on the table to square them up, rather like news readers. The more stressful the situation, the more this happens, I suppose it’s a sort of pathetic attempt to feel that things are under control…..things were not…A trip to the tax office seemed a good idea. Armed with the file, and sweaty armpits we followed Sophie into the ministry of love. An efficient but not overly friendly woman told us to go to room 101…”what is in room 101?” Actually it was room No 8. The lady there (whom we have seen before, and is a bit scary, was very occupied with one person and another waiting (also sweating and with a file). Another lady appeared and invited us to talk to her in her room tastefully decorated with restful and calming pictures of horses and local scenery. An interesting contrast to the hallways which have been painted in a cheery yellow but with a paint effect that looks as if it was created by screaming clients clawing at the walls. She was KIND and almost motherly. No leather gloves or angle poise lamps here. She showed us through the forms as if we were choosing wedding stationary and steered us carefully around incomprehensible sections of writing. It was, dare I say….almost pleasant.

There then came a point where she was unsure… what should we do about our tiny bit of earnings from the U.K? It was decided that we would have to go upstairs and see ‘THE MAN IN ROOM 17’ All built-up security was dashed. This was it, more forms and grim shaking of heads. We would be found out to be useless Mathless English people who can not play rugby or use the past subjunctive properly. Room 17 was in fact pleasant and airy, full of plants and pictures of the Carnival and a very charming man. After hearing that our English earnings would not buy so much as a few bottles of decent Cremant, he made a phone call, and assured us it was simple to deal with and explained how. We shook hands and wished each other ‘bon appetit’. I can’t quite imagine the same scenario happening in the London tax office that I once had to go to for my ex-employer. Her accountant rang me and said ‘take the black file marked invoices, go to floor 3 and hand it to Mr Knee-crusher, DO NOT speak to anyone, DO NOT answer any questions, and get a cab straight back”. I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my life.

We still have to figure out the mysteries of U.R.S.S.A.F and lots of other things with titles such as W.R.D.I.S, R.R.R.T.R.S.S.D.R. T.T.Y.T.Y.T.Y.T.S.S and R.S.U.F.H. but I feel a little more confident now.

I hope everyone that went enjoyed Toques et Clochers. It was stunningly beautiful day. Our piece of land is a couple of minute’s walk from Cournanel so having placed trees in the back of the suitably filthy car, the security guards let us through to do our planting. They looked slightly less believing when the car had made a few trips back and forth to Limoux with the trees in the back, and our gardening clothes replaced by slightly more respectable ones. We did indeed plant the trees, and strolled into the village to battle with the crowds, taste some wine and ‘enjoy’ the music… one or two bandas groups in a village that size might have been sufficient, not eight or whatever it was.

We left at seven as Ezra had had enough of being trodden on, and wandered back to the land, the distant sounds of bandas and an occasional broken glass drifting on warm spring breezes. It was a long winter, but there is all the spring, summer and autumn to come!

Sophie Preston can be contacted on 0633126513 for help with tax, social charges, setting up a business in France, etc.

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