Light Softly Filters Through the Branches

I am taking control of what I eat – resisting food marketing and eating for needs.

The pleasure of walking the dog and foraging the fields and hedges – September is a bonus month

I am told there are 17 varieties of figs around us in the South of France – most justfall and rot on the ground now, but twisting a few from the tree and savoring the stucky pleasure is not to be missed.

Fr-uit from the fields around Villa Roquette

Fruits of the Fields around Villa Roquette

Blackberries tase different from bush each bush, it takes as much energy to pick a handful as tother is in the food perhaps – a great way to control a diet.

Soon the grapes will be harvested, the trick is to find the one vine in a field which is for the benefit of the pickers and not planted for wine. I guess the machines don’t notice this.

Local Fruit from the Fields around Villa Roquette

Villa Roquette has a store of wild fruit from local hedgerows

Almonds are naughty nuts – bitter trees shelter the sweet ones.

Now we take the deadwood from the fields and woodlands for our winter fuel, chestnuts – what can I do with the plenteous quinces?

Montpellier in May

Montpellier is a quiet and vibrant modern mediaeval city – obviously from that description it is full of contrasts.

Inspired by a photography exhibition of the work of  W Eugene Smith at an exhibition there this week, I am hungry to get back to real photography again.

Looking for an apartment for our son who plans to be there at university, I am beginning to see things again – I always loved torn posters on walls, i did a series in Brick lane in London in the 1970s – it is not the same with color – but it is a start


Our Village is Well Bread

We have two boulangeries in our village and between them we get 16 different varieties of bread, patisserie, artisan chocolate, home made pastries, pasties and pizza and pretty girls serving, seven days a week.

They also sell wine, eggs and milk and are the center of all gossip and news.

We serve breakfast most mornings to our guests (many are self-catering so we can stay in bed a few days) and I enjoy a short walk (about 45 seconds) to the bakers shops as we live in the heart of the village. I make a separate trip for each guest as they come down so the bread is warm on the table straight from the bakers – they bake continuously in the mornings and evenings, bread over an hour old is considered “stale” in France.

On some chilly winters mornings, tucking a warm (wrapped) loaf under my arm is a very satisfying feeling on the way back.


Next to the bakers at the top of the village is the local cafe – smelling fresh coffee and warm bread wafting down the road is one of the most enticing things in the world, and has inspired me to “wax lyrical” on this blog today.

Sit quietly for a second and perhaps you will smell this scent too.