When I had the restaurant in Ireland I was always trying madly, at this time of the year, to avoid the cliché of serving Carrots and Parsnips as the only home produced vegetables (once memorably offered by a waitress as Parrots and Carsenicks)

One year I decided to give Kohlrabi a go. This (for the uniniated) is a sort of cultivated cabbage root delicious only when all other vegetables have failed.

One customer, disenchanted with the vegetable, enquired from a waiter what it was called.
When told its name he remarked sourly ;
“I think I’d prefer a warm Christian Brother ”

In this weeks Munster Express

In Valras Plage last week I stopped to photograph this merry go round, just because I liked the colours.

Only today when I was looking at it again did I notice that the woman who ran the roundabout thought I was photographing her and was smiling charmingly from her booth.

We went for our usual stroll around the village a few evenings ago and were comforted to see signs of fruits in the hedgerows.
While undeniably late this year, due to the colder spring, they are on their way.

Peaches

Figs

Cherries

and Quince.

I was just checking my last blog entry, a mere few minutes ago, when I felt a tickle on my ankle.

I leaned down to scratch and then screamed like a girl when my searching fingers discovered that I had a snail crawling up my leg.

This was clearly part of a premeditated attack.
I have a bed of herbs in containers on the terrace and make frequent forrays out there to search and destroy snails.
This morning despite the obvious evidence of a snail attack on the Basil I couldn’t find one to kill so I retired inside for what has turned into a blogging marathon.

It must have been while I was searching for him that this creature attached himself to my person and then began his slow ascent from my shoe up my leg.

Despite my shock and horror I felt I could not reward such tenacious temerity with instant death.
Instead I scooped him up with a card I had on my sesk, Photographed him so I would know him the next time I saw him, and flicked him into the garden.

I reckon I had a very lucky escape.

Vide Greniers are by their nature extremely hit and miss occasions.
The last several I went have yielded very little.
There is of course a great sense of self worth to leave one empty handed.
Proof that one can withstand the pressure to buy just because it is cheap.

The one we went to in Gruisson yesterday was however an exception.
Not only did I leave triumphant with the twelve and a half cent champagnes but managed to get a couple of more things as well.

I have a collection of these lipped glasses but this is the smallest I have seen yet (the large one is here just for contrast)
It has age and is blown glass. A snip for €5.

This simple piece of treen is an essential for any gentleman’s pocket.

As with a flick of the wrist it becomes a cork screw.Cost me 50 cent.

I am probably alone in my admiration of this, which I call an outdoor candelabra.
It comes with a handy cork which fits any bottle and complete with the two beige candles. It cost €1

And here is another shot of one of the twelve and a half cent champagnes.
This time filled with Kir Royale as I celebrated its purchase last night.
(Apologies to Petra)

The French Air Force have in their fleet some little fighter jets.
One of the exercises these perform every so often (why do I suspect by their younger pilots) seems to involve one bursting from the ether with a bang over our village and then disappearing again.

As you know I give a live broadcast here to WLR radio in Waterford every Tuesday.
My normal host is Billy Mc Carthy bu a couple of weeks ago, when he was on holiday, Maria Mc Cann stepped in to do the honours.

During the course of my piece, while I was giving out a recipe, one of the jets made their appearance with an audible roar.

“Mother of God ” said Maria, “What was that”

I apologised and explained.

I have since discovered that several Waterford housewives, who were taking down my recipes at that moment, thought there had been an explosion somewhere and leapt to their feet in alarm.

Such are the hazards of live radio.

We were in a Vide Grenier in Gruissan, on the coast south of Narbonne, today when I spotted these eight champagne glasses in a stall.
Moulded and not blown they still had a very elegant shape and the feel of age about them, my guess would be they were hotel champagne glasses from the 1930’s.
“How much?” I enquired of Madame.
She was obviously keen to see the back of them.
“You can have the eight for one Euro ” she said.

Even though I have eight large cases full of glasses still unpacked in the cellar how could I not?
I bought them.

They are coming along nicely (seem to enjoy the rain as well as the sun)