Chrissie Green farming in Normandy with husband Tim
Chrissie Green farming in Normandy with husband Tim
BIG AL is hammering in the bathroom; Jiggies and I are sitting in the garden in glorious sunshine, drinking coffee, for the first time this year. The daffodils are blowing in a gentle breeze, the cows are out grazing on the sunny banks and Nic (13) is keeping an eye on the lambing shed while he builds a compost heap for me in the garden.
The Cheshire Greens are seeing the place in a different light. They usually come in the winter when the house is decorated for Christmas with fairy lights everywhere and log fires burning; now the kitchen, they say, looks positively bare. Outside, in contrast the fields are green, the blossom is out and there are signs of new life in the garden. They are here for Easter on a working holiday taking out our old beige bathroom suite and putting in a sparkling new white one, in between drinks with neighbours and lunch at friends. Were having a nice Easter.
I chose not to put cling film over the toilet late last night as an April Fools trick on Tim thinking that, as he was due to do the milking it might not put him in the best of moods for the rest of the day! As it is, he has gone off in fine fettle to deliver the Parish magazine around the commune. That involves a little nip here (Porto with the Laportes) and a little nip there (whisky with Gerald the train driver – now retired at 50) and, if hes lucky, some black coffee elsewhere before coming home for lunch.
It makes such a difference this year having a full house over Easter. Last year with the foot-and-mouth epidemic no one wanted to risk coming over to stay. Already we have had various visitors. Underground gardeners – moles – are topical at the moment being much in evidence all around. Tim had an offer of help from a farmers weekly reader following one of his articles on the subject, so we had a moleman come out from the north-east of England for a week to tackle the problem. He dropped into our franglais way of life very easily and at the end of the week he came with us to train driver Geralds retirement do. Friends and colleagues were invited to join Gerald on his last run on the 10.15 train from Angentan to Granville and back with a "tripe lunch" by the sea. We couldnt manage the train run but the three of us went to the evening buffet and dance where our Mr Taupe (Mr Mole) whose taste for French beer and dancing endeared him to the local railwaymen, had an interesting night.
As a result of his success on the farm, Jiggies couldnt repeat her past star turn of magicking mole hills on the lawn overnight and boiling the blood of the two Green brothers on this April Fools Day; perhaps we should have tried the French trick of sticking a paper fish on their backs instead for the "Poisson dAvril".