We're in Puyricard

It has been a big week for us both. I started my new job and Harry started his later in the week at a training organisation. Both our initial impressions are promising. My job is about a 45 minute bike ride from home, mainly on the flat. I work in a new division designed to improve customer service to commercial road users and in the first week I have managed to forecast budgets for the next 18 months. The building is on four floors and I’m on the top floor which gives a 360 degree panoramic view of Bristol (there are few tall buildings in Bristol and the view is only broken up by a couple of high council apartment blocks not far away). There is also an outdoor balcony where you can enjoy either the cold or the sun depending on the day. Just across the car park is the outdoor setting for the tv series ‘Casualty’ – apparently once a fortnight ambulances and people in uniform with guns and some patients all turn up for the filming (I may not be doing much work that day and just might have to watch my first Casualty ever sometime in the UK). We have flexitime for staff which means I can work slightly longer days and have a day off occasionally which I think I might just do.
Harry’s ride to work has halved – 20 minutes but most of the way is also along my route. He will train apprentices in light vehicle and panel and paint – as you can see right up Haz’s alley. He spent day one in the workshop observing some students going through automotive technician accreditation testing and day two had his first lunch out with the rest of the team (eggs and chips – yes that was lunch!!) at a ‘greasy spoon’ type cafe. Friday finished with him explaining in a broad kiwi accent who he was and why he was here and why he was so keen to work at the staff meeting of about 35 staff. The company seems to have quite a good reputation in the industry and now turns applicants away as classes are full.

And it is Saturday and we are in Puyricard not far from Marseilles. We caught a bus in Bristol from the long term car park to the airport and then another from the airport gate to the plane (it wasn’t really that far but I suppose it meant everyone could be herded in the same direction without anyone wandering off). In Marseilles we were expecting quite a long wait for Jim and Margot to pick us up as they were at the All Black vs Italy game. But just as we were off the plane and contemplating a coffee they text us to say they were not far away. It was so good to see them. Jim and Margot enjoyed the game and said that all the French newspapers had a headline news ‘Catastrophe’ with France losing to Argentina. Sandra our hostess and the waitress at the restaurant we had dinner at certainly looked sad, dejectedly waved hands and saying ‘catastrophe’ so I think we got the picture. Jim had mastered the left hand drive, six gear car and Margot had the navigating down to a T so even though a bit jet lagged they got us to our B and B without too much trouble. First impressions of the south of France - well if I could describe Ireland as Green and England as Grey then France would have to be Brown. The buildings are a light brown colour and the ground is either ploughed or not seen much rain for a while and of course some of the trees are beginning to take on their autumn tones and rather than change colour just seem to look as though they are dying.

We drove down a very overgrown lane, with a truck depot at one end and really wondered if we had arrived at the right place – long grass, shutters at the windows, but with a look at the nice swimming pool we sat down under the acacia tree (where breakfast is tomorrow) to wait for our hostess Sandra to arrive which she did shortly to serve us juice under the same tree and take us to our rooms. We waved goodbye to Jim and Margot (who are staying at Jouques about 30 minutes drive from here).

Sandra recommended a pizzeria in Puyricard (about 1 km away) for dinner saying the other restaurant was not that good. We took along our phrase book and once again thought ‘we must learn a language’. The waitress laughed as we looked into our phrase books to interpret the menu and shook her head when we described the pizza as ‘gentil’ (the phrase book says this means nice but I now think it refers to a gentle woman rather than a pizza) and finally learnt from a German that ‘bon’ means good in relation to food. The waitress was suitably impressed when after dinner we could say ‘tres bon’ – thanks to the phrase book rather than the German. We have since learnt that tres bon petit de jouneur means ‘very good breakfast’ – our French is coming along quite well with a bit of help from our hostess and Margot (a long way to go though I think). Throughout the week we are surprised about the Italian influence in France, though perhaps shouldn't be due to the closeness in proximity. Every little town has at least one pizzeria and most restaurants serve pizza - but surprisingly there is no garlic bread - maybe because the French are really the best at baking fresh bread. As we walked back to Le Caisere (our home for the week) we saw another lovely sunset along the road – vivid red colours and not a cloud in the sky.