A Year in Provence ... Part 2

So having rekindled my love affair with 'la bonne vie', what to do about it? Now I'm not naive, I know the dream often does not meet the reality. So let's start with what I did not like about my trip. 

Firstly, mosquitoes. I've always been some what of an attraction for these critters. Whilst my wife remained bite free, I was bitten to shreds and am still scratching myself raw. Secondly, the bloody cockerels waking me up at 05:30, and then virtually 'snoozing' to repeat their bird song every ten minutes. Now I think I was getting used to this as I seemed to notice it less and wake up later as the week went on. 

Finally, the sun. Yes the very thing that makes it so attractive. By 09:00 it was already on its way to 30. On such a short holiday you feel compelled to make hay, as they say, whilst the sun shines but it was far too hot some days and made for uncomfortable nights sleeping. Given more than a week I guess I would acclimatise more but at the same time would have to adopt a more European approach to the midday sun and escape it. 

From an economic point of view the pound is recovering, French property prices have been falling whilst French property taxes have been rising. In the past, UK ex-pats have often set up businesses to serve other ex-pats but with an increasing number of ex-pats returning to the UK this is hitting them. The other favourite is having holiday properties to let but there is already an abundance of these.

With all of the volatility in the EU at the moment the Euro has suffered and could further suffer if countries like Greece and Spain decline further. Ex-pat pensioners have already suffered with currency fluctuations. If the UK withdrew from the Euro zone then working and living in France would become even harder.

Divorce rates for couples who emigrate to France are high, chances of employment for non-French speaking persons are low. The French education system does not go out of its way to accommodate non-French speaking children often setting them back a year to compensate and not providing further help. Private schooling is better but only add to the cost of living.

So where does this leave my French dream? Well from a schooling point alone it puts it on hold until the kids finish school by which time I will be nearing retirement but I do not want to wait that long which brings us back to compromise. Being a home worker I can work from home, wherever that may be, as long as I have a decent internet connection. With kids being at school they have six weeks summer holiday each year. So I like the idea of letting a property for one month each year abroad. Maybe Provence one year, Tuscany another, Murcia the next, who knows.

But there remains an obstacle. Finance. My wife currently still needs to work and cannot get that much time off. So either she needs a job or business that allows her to work remotely or I need to earn enough for her not to work! Hmmmm......????

A Year in Provence ... Part I

... or at least a week in Poitou Charante but it's still time in France right? What a breathe of fresh air, quite literally, a family holiday in a rural gîte. 'Rustic' was initially the word of the week as it seemed to cover all manner of accommodation short comings but strangely as the week went on they seemed less relevant and our initial gripes were perhaps just residue of our normal life and expectations.

Like many, I long to escape the rat race and have often said that if I could live anywhere in Europe it would be about half way down France. From there you are but a days drive from Spain, Italy, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Czech Republic, and the UK to name a few which makes it a perfect hub. A hub from which you readily gain access to beaches, lakes, rivers, snow capped mountains, or whatever other landscape takes your fancy. Furthermore, you can pick your climate. Further north for more 'English' weather, further south for more Mediterranean weather.

Waking up, an alfresco coffee and pain au chocolat for breakfast in the early morning sun and no further motivation was required for a run in the glorious and spectacular fields of sunflowers and vines. Admittedly I got a few strange looks from the local farmers (the French don't do exercise as a rule) but this did not deter me.

Upon my return a quick shower then into the swimming pool with the family for more 'exercise' under the guise of play. In fact I have come back browner, slimmer, and fitter. A break for a lunch of a baguette, fromage and jambon whilst escaping the too hot midday sun then a spot of sunbathing before plunging back into the pool to cool off. Come the evening and it's time to fire up the barbeque and start the drinks flowing. After managing to get the kids to settle in bed, some more drinking and socialising with guests from the neighbouring gîtes, and even a bit of impromptu ukulele! 

Finally, rounding the evening off lying on a blanket gazing at the truly magnificent night sky. The rural location being free from light 'pollution' the view was like someone had suddenly upgraded my usual night sky to HD, my eyes now free to see the milky way, satellites, shooting stars and constellations. This soon became part of the pre-bedtime ritual.

I wanted a holiday 'unplugged' and pretty much achieved this bar the quick email check and using an mp3 player for some tunes while chatting or catching up with some reading. The kids scraped through without iPads, pc's, DS's, or tv and thankfully since returning haven't demanded them back into their lives yet either. In fact before the holiday I couldn't get them out of the house, tonight I struggled to get them back in.

Simple pleasures indeed and I guess that's all I really desire. The French have always somehow managed to retain the appreciation of simple pleasures like food, wine, song and socialising. I liked the idea of living in France before, and I like the idea even more now.

Knowing your place

Well, we have managed to ship the kids off to the grandparents for the night. Last time this happened was on a Thursday which happens to be the night my wife does Body Pump and Body Combat. So faced with choosing between a few fours or torturous exercise or a romantic night out of course I lost out.

Tonight is a Wednesday so I do not have that to contend with. I therefore suggested doing something special like a trip into Windsor or London or maybe a drive down to the coast for fish and chips on the beach whilst watching the sunset. However, the sun is shining and my wife wants to sit in the sun not a car or train. Her alternative suggestion was to eat in the beer garden of the local Beefeater.

Of course, I tried to counter this with the offer of some other quality local restaurants but each was met with "Can we eat outside?". The answer in most cases being no. So I'm guessing the priorities so far must be something along the lines of:

1. Kids
2. Body Combat/Body Pump
3. Sunshine
4. Quality romantic time with me.

The Discipline Route

Part of every mid life ... re-evaluation must include trying not to look middle aged. A such I've tried to ease myself back into running lately. I'd managed a few 5km jogs but they had not been easy. So tonight I came up with a plan and convinced myself that if I ran a longer distance then when I next run 5km it will seem easy. Or that was the plan at least ...

I set off at a purposefully slower pace and decided a different route would help break the monotony. I wasn't quite sure which route so just headed off in a different direction. All went well for the first kilometre but as I neared the 2km mark fate dealt me an unexpected hand. When running I tend to switch off and run on auto-pilot and just as I approached a junction there was a family of walkers so to avoid them I veered off to the left.

Being in auto-pilot my subconscious mind must have recognised one of my old running routes and without even thinking (quite literally) I ventured off down this route. I must have run another 500m before it dawned on me what I'd done. I'd taken the 'discipline route'. I nicknamed this for one reason only. There are no short cuts back, at all, whatsoever. The only short route back is to physically turnaround and run the same footpath back which definitely feels like defeat.

The key reason for the lack of short cuts is that it runs along side a canal surrounded by private land. The next point at which you can turn around is a bridge at the 5km mark. The other thing you should know about this route is that it is a 10km run. Once you do hit the 5km mark the shortest route back is well, 5km. There are no short cuts.

Now 2.5km in my legs are still quite fresh, the view by the canal in the evening is beautiful and so I convince myself that I can do it. But there is another issue. I had promised my wife I wouldn't be late as I had to bath the kids before bedtime. This meant I had to try and up my pace and at least make it back with an hour of my start time.

I had further failed to factor in the recent bad weather. 5km of this route was cross-country. The ground under foot was wet, muddy, slippery and continually trying twist my ankles. On top of the that the constant showers and sunshine had meant the grass, weeds, stinging nettles and brambles were growing into a jungle. 4km in and this was beginning look like a very bad idea.

I could either turn back and face the route of shame, back through the overgrowth and mud, or plough on the remaining 6km knowing that after approximately 1-2km the ground would become good as I would be back to running on asphalt roads and footpaths. Pressing on the overgrowth was such that I couldn't even see the path. The nettles had now stung my lower legs so much that I couldn't feel the stings any more.

I'm feeling fatigued and as I cross the bridge at the 5km mark my brain is reminding me I have same to do again. As I get back to the first road my body is starting to feel the pains of my efforts. My right knee is beginning to ache but more so my left hip. Now I'm not sure what that's all about. It's been apparent a few times lately but it's nothing I ever used to get through exercise. 

My aching hip makes me think of old people talking of their hip replacements but surely even at 41 I'm too young for that. I then remember a lady I once worked with who at 28 was told she would soon need a hip replacement. I often fantasised about just what a lady could've been up to to wear her hips out by such a young age!

Plodding on the nice lady on my mobile phone/GPS running app is pointing out that my pace is slowing considerably but as I look up I'm now facing a long slow hill and any thoughts of upping my pace are swiftly dispensed with. As I round the top I convince myself that it's all down hill from there. Of course it's not but that's what I'm telling myself.

As GPS lady tells me I've run 8km the aches are now definitely becoming pains. My hip is throbbing and my knee is struggling. I'm well and truly fatigued but know I can't be late back. GPS lady updates me once more and I suddenly realise my mental maths have been wrong and I'm actually not far off from my target time. Perhaps the pain and discomfort is just making it feel slower.

Inspired by this I try to raise my pace to get myself back on target. I convince myself that the moment GPS lady says 10km I'm going to stop the pain and limp/walk the rest of the way home. Panting up the next long slope I can't hear her next update but I'm guessing she said 9km. I keep pushing telling myself by the time I get to the park it will be 10km and I can walk the rest. I put on a final sprint to the park and just as I arrive I hear the GPS voice starting and the relief it brings.

"Your total distance is 9.33km."

What the f*ck!? She was meant to say 10km, the bitch! Mentally I've finished and lady muck is telling me I've got more to go. The pain now feels twice as bad as I try to keep my legs and mind going. It must be 10km by the time I get to the parade of shops. I tell myself. 


I knew at the outset this run would be as much mental as physical and that was before my evil subconscious took me down the discipline route. My hip and knee are throbbing but now there's something else. My nipple feel like they've been doing the lambada with a cheese grater. Joggers nipple. Tits!

I get to the shops and not trusting lady muck I get the phone out and look at the display still not 10km. Arse. I'm hobbling now and trying to hold my shirt off of my nipples which only serves to make it look like I'm trying to convince people I have breasts. My house MUST be 10km, I've run it before and it was definitely 10km. As I take the final corner the screen is still not my friend. I realise in my frustration I cut across the park instead of going around it.

I reach the path of my house. 9.8km. I've always prided myself on my mental strength and the ability to push myself but I'm done. 57 minutes and I'm not late but 200m is just a bridge too far. I ache, I'm in pain, I'm throbbing and I can't help feeling it's gonna feel a whole lot worse tomorrow!

A breath of fresh air

I've always believed that we should derive the greatest pleasures in life from the simplest of things. Thanks to capitalism, we do seem to have to pay for most things these days but they do still say the best things in life are free. Following my post about living in a box, I've noticed something very simple that gives me a lot of pleasure. Fresh air.

At present I have a stinking cold and the accompanying lethargy. However, due to the extremely high levels of rain this year not only have my lawns been thriving, I haven't had a chance to cut them for over a month. Although, I like the idea of gardening my motivation is usually embarrassment. Unfortunately for me, and my neighbours, I do seem to live in a neighbourhood were people take some pride in their house and I suspect a touch of underlying one-up-manship in a few cases. The fact that the appearance of my house is not high up on my agenda right now must annoy a few them, particularly during the recent Euro 2012 where we alone proudly hung out the St. George's cross introducing a level of chaviness to the street.

So despite being knackered and snotty yesterday I felt compelled to try and at least cut the front lawn which was looking more like a meadow or nature reserve. Though I got rained on briefly, I found the fresh air wonderful. 

As a kid I was very ourdoorsy. I camped, went fishing, enjoyed cycling and the likes. I was lucky that across the road from our house were woodlands and fields and often, especially at weekends and during holidays, I would have breakfast and set off to play in the great outdoors not returning until it was time for supper. I guess, in this respect, I spent much of this time looking at, smelling, feeling, listening to nature and I miss these simple pleasures.

From time to time when I have mustered up the energy for a run I enjoy running cross-country and it acts as a brief reminder of these happy times. Running by the river is what prompted me to get some fishing gear again, and also to dig out my old canoe. I've yet to find the time to use them but just having them as an option feels good.

This morning I had to take one of the cars for an MOT. Whilst I waited I took advantage of the complimentary coffee and sat out on their little patio. Despite being in the middle of an industrial estate, once again the breathe of fresh air was good, slightly tinged with industrial-ness, but still good. Maybe even just the feel of a breeze works.