A couple of weekends ago Madamoiselle Tialys the elder fulfilled a long held wish to attend a rock festival. Complete with short shorts, a fringed top, a floppy hat and some wellies, she set off for a two night camping experience. Even though this was France and not the U.K., the wellies were still required and they got sniffed for drugs. Well, the german shepherd sniffer dog apparently took a shine to her feet and she spent an embarassing couple of minutes whilst the dog tried to decide whether she’d concealed hallucinatory substances between her toes.
Some bands I had heard of, some I hadn’t, some I actually like – well, I know The Specials have been around for yonks but then so have I – but she enjoyed herself anyway.
I found it amusing that they were searched for any glass items on the way in to the site which, in the U.K., would have resulted in lots of beer bottles being discovered. Instead, there was a huge pile of confiscated glass jars of paté! A culture difference which, I feel, reflects better on the French.
Anyway, having long ago passed the urge to spend two nights in a muddy field in a small tent with the next tent about 6 inches away and, by all accounts, being woken in the night by a forlorn Frenchman wandering around shaking all the tents and shouting ‘Julie!’ (with a soft ‘J’ of course) having apparently lost his girlfriend to a Spaniard called Raoul in the fray, I am now a vicarious festival goer only and am content with milder entertainment on a Saturday night.
Speaking of which, we were invited to a Thai Buffet, complete with a guitarist and violinist to serenade us in a lovely spot just down the road from here. Thai food is by no means as easy to come by here in rural France as it is in the U.K. so any opportunity must be snapped up. Whoever owns the property – it was a friend of a friend of a friend’s uncle or somebody so I can’t be specific – had made the garden beautiful. They had used split canes or bamboo to make an arch above each table, which they then wrapped branches of honeysuckle around and hung little glass jars (probably used to hold paté!) with tealights from the canes. When it grew dark, they came round and lit the tealights and, in the barn, huge paper lanterns were hung for lighting and some of the guests indulged in a little country type dancing to the violin. Not me and Mr. Tialys although, if we had, we probably would not have looked unlike these two.
Some imaginative scarecrows on the way in
Lots of little pathways and tempting views I wanted to explore
and little ‘tableaux’
and nooks and crannies – just love this ladder
p.s. Sorry about the photo quality but I only took my small digital camera and the settings had been messed with by the festival goer and I forgot to check them before I started, still, you get the idea.