Two weeks with no phone, no internet, no television and no newspapers. Heaven.
My mum’s house is in the Charente Maritime, in an area which supplies over half of the oysters grown in France. Above is the nearby village of Mornac-sur-Seudre, which is classified as one of the most beautiful villages in France.
And below, the breathtakingly gorgeous 11th Century fortified church.
More photos and words tomorrow.
Tales from the Village will return on Sunday 29th August – see you soon!
I’d love to say that growing vegetables has had a wonderful influence on the children, and that they happily eat anything they’ve helped to produce at the allotment. But, er, it hasn’t. We have courgettes (aka zucchini) coming out of our ears, and the children think they’re evil. The neighbours are starting to hide when they see us approaching because I keep giving them away.
(Note to self for next year: seven courgette plants is overkill for a family of six. Oops.)
I wanted my children to grow up in the countryside and understand where their food came from; collecting eggs, seeing cows being milked, knowing that the cute piggies were destined to become bacon.
I do love me a bit of Martha, and I’ve been reading her magazine for years. I have to confess that part of the magic for me is the American adverts, the strange cooking terminology (what is a stick of butter?) and the references to strange gardening zones which make no sense to someone who lives in England.