Back to Normandy
We went back to Normandy with the children and grand-children for the half-term holiday. Last year we had a house in Montebourg, on the eastern side of the Cotentin peninsula, a town much knocked about by fighting in 1944. This year we were at Carteret on the west coast of the peninsula.
Brittany Ferries were heavily booked at half-term weekend, so Susie and I were forced to go a day early We spent Thursday night at the Queen Mary Inn in Poole, a pretty basic room in a pretty basic pub. Its saving grace, for one of us at least, was that it was showing Manchester United v. Chelsea on a very big screen in the bar. We had to leave the pub before breakfast began, so we were able to treat ourselves to breakfast on the boat as it eased out past Brownsea Island. This is the birthplace of the Boy Scout movement. [I was a boy scout in the far-off 1950s.] Many years ago I remember Willy Rushton doing a wickedly funny sketch on TW3 as Baden-Powell outlining his plans for the scouting movement to a bunch of open-mouthed fellow army officers.
On Saturday morning Susie and I discovered the small but delightful Jardin de la Roche-Fauconnière, also known as the Jardin Favier, in Cherbourg. This is a park of some 7 hectares, not far from the city centre, created in the 1870s by the Favier family. It contains some 4,000 trees and plants, many from Latin America, in the garden of what was in origin the family home. In one of the hothouses we found an encephalartos [tree], a South African bread palm. According to the plaque these rare trees have existed since the time of the dinosaurs, a nugget to pass on to the grandchildren.
Carteret
Carteret, strictly Barneville-Carteret as the two towns lying astride the Gerfleur estuary are a single commune, is a small holiday resort with vast beaches, one of which is backed by an iconic row of beach huts. The tide goes out a long way. Our rented house had 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms, and was a few minutes walk from the shops. The large, mature garden contained sufficient sun-beds for the adults and a big trampoline which was a major attraction for the children. Oskar perfected his backward flip through constant practice.
Carteret is mainly detached holiday homes with a small row of shops, two or three restaurants, and a disused railway station now converted into a food market. The bakery will close at the end of this month if they don’t find two bakers. The Chapelle St-Louis is a 14th century foundation which served as the parish church until the early 20th century. More recently the Eglise Protestante Unie have held services there. It would be a good venue for ICS summer chaplaincies.
The day after we arrived, Pentecost Sunday, was Amelia’s 12th birthday. In the absence of chocolate cake we made do with an enormous strawberry tart.
The sun shone and the wind blew all the week. We didn’t stray far. One day the family went to the market at Portbail, the resort where my school-friend Clive holidayed for many years. Supposedly he and Ev spent a month each year running on the dunes and eating plateaux de fruits-de-mer. But I can’t imagine that Ev ever did much running. I walked over the footbridge and through the fields to Lindbergh-Plage, named for the pioneer aviator who either landed on or took off from the beach. It looks as if some would-be entrepreneur tried to develop the place between the wars. And failed. There is no cafe, no shop, no bar.
We ate out one day at one of my favourite places, l’Auberge de l’Ouve. It is a stone inn screened by mature trees overlooking the slow flowing river Ouve. A hen-harrier [according to Jem] glides across the marsh. The place was closed for several years, but has now re-opened under a local French owner with a Thai wife. There is a limited choice: Susie and I both had effiloché de porc, pulled pork wrapped in breadcrumbs with creamed lentils and a rich jus; Anna had fish; Jem and Craig both had steaks. We drank local cider. The tarte tatin was finished. Dommage ! But the thing with red berries and the deconstructed lemon meringue pie were both good.
Did we miss Joanna ? Yes, of course we did. Every day. And especially in the mornings. And again at Barfleur where was had lunch in a crèperie on the last Saturday before catching the boat. That afternoon the wind died down at last; and the week ended with a smooth crossing with an impressive fiery sunset.
The wider world
Silvio Berlusconi has died. Which leaves the world a better place. [That would be true of many other politicians too. Whom I won’t name.] And Boris is quitting the House of Commons; hopefully for good. Having [we assume] been found guilty of deliberately, or at least recklessly, misleading the House over parties in Downing Street during lockdown. Like Trump, Boris is a serial adulterer and a serial liar. He seems to believe that the rules that are made for other people don’t apply to him. And that something is true simply because he has said it. The so-called resignation honours list is a further stain on the reputation of public life in this country, with the despicable Rees-Mogg snd all Boris’s Partygate henchmen being rewarded. An honour for Boris’s hairdresser is beyond parody ! It’s not clear who blocked a knighthood for Boris’s Dad and a peerage for the infatuated Mad Nad, but we should be grateful to them.
Of more consequence in the long run may be the breaching of the dam in Ukraine. Which promises to harm agriculture and food production in that country for many years to come. As the months roll by, it becomes increasingly difficult to pray with real expectation for peace and justice in Ukraine in the forseeable future.
PS
I got my hair cut yesterday along the road, and had a long conversation with Cyrus, the Iranian, who owns the barber’s. The conversation turned to sex education in schools and the SNP’s ‘flagship’ policy of encouraging gender self-identification. [Gender issues is probably the area where I find myself most open-mouthedly at sea in terms of the current debates.] Cyrus, a Muslim, probably non-practising, told me that he sends his two children aged 12 and 8 to a Roman Catholic school in order to escape the teaching about sex and relationships in state schools, Often enough franchised out to groups like Stonewall.
Just reporting !
June 2023
Through a glass darkly 