My goodness me what a difference a sweet little wood burning cooker makes to the feel of our home. It does not manage to keep a fire going all night despite Mike and I staying up until one in the morning, pretending to watch a film but actually wanting to stoke the fire up last thing to give the fire box a real chance to stay aglow all night, but it is not going to achieve, which then introduces the new routine of getting the fire up and running before breakfast. I am enjoying the experience of driving this unique yet age old phenomenon of having to work for your warmth and well being. Opening the flu and regulating the fire box gives you a notion of how things may have been during the good old days of steam power. If I need the kettle to warm I open up the box air intake if I need the fire to start up to use the oven I open up the flu and the regulator and when I have finished cooking I just shut everything down and it becomes a heat source until I need to cook again. Mike is of course cutting wood to size and groping in all his wood collecting areas to find enough to burn but we have plenty for this year and the summer will have to be taken up cutting out the head grow ready for the next “keep your home warm” episode.
We did a great deal in Carrfour supermarket yesterday and bought a huge pack of beef for bourguignon. Meat is not sold by cut but what dish you are suppose to create with it and we always have a chuckle, you don’t buy king Edward potatoes, you buy potatoes to make chips. Today I had a casserole bubbling on the top all day and the promised beef bourguignon in the oven so we will eat well this week.
As I am writing this blog sitting next to my cooker and enjoying the warmth I became aware that HOSS was sitting like a good boy staring me out, those big telling eyes talking to my subconscious and I am up with my coat on before I can say "do you need a wee" and we go up onto the field in the pitch black. HOSS runs off and I do my stretching exercises, I may sing a bit, I check the hens, count the ducks and just take a few moments to fill my lungs with fresh and tonight cold night air. I also had to listen to the haunting baying of cows in the distance and this has been going on since this morning. The first time it happened I could hear this constant herd moo ing and it went on all day and all night I even woke up to hear it and the next day I told Mike that I needed to go to the Maire to ask what it was all about and to make sure the cows were not being mistreated ‘cause that what us Brits do here in France much to the French consternation. It was a good job I did not go ahead with my head strong idea of complaining about country ways as we discovered the next day that this two day moo ing event is the sound of the Mummy cows calling out to their calves that have been taken away to market, and I know how that feels.