Final Word

H –When I told people before I left for France that I was going to spend the summer on a camel farm, their reactions were many and varied, but the general gist was “you’re mad”. My response was to admit to this diagnosis of insanity, but I would always add “at least it’ll make a great story for my grandkids.” And now I can say with certainty, Granny Harriet is going to have some corkers to tell.

So, this is my final blog. I’m now at home in Birmingham, sat in the kitchen, huddling against the Aga while the rain is pouring outside. Welcome back to the UK...

The road trip home was... um... interesting. We left the Maison on Tuesday morning. Scotty was packed in a tetris style, bursting at the seams with giant courgettes and jars of jam.

A statistical breakdown of the journey would read something like this:

1001km driven

3 days on the road

2 cheap and cheerful chain hotels (with questionable shared shower/toilet arrangements)

1 MacDonalds and 1 Buffalo Grill (not proud of either)

3 hours finding hotel in Poitiers during rush hour traffic

27 turnings Harriet missed on the motorway

27 times Andy had to bite his tongue after turnings missed on the motorway (sorry Andy)

45mins in Intermarche while Andy ‘expertly’ chose wines (“this one has a nice label”)

A 3am wake up call

A 5am ferry

5 hours crossing The Channel (spent snoozing and getting cricked neck)

2 relieved Brits back on home soil.

Andy and I arrived home 10 days ago now, and the readjustment has been an interesting one. After initally being greeted by parents and being suitable hugged and fussed over I was sent away to wash myself, clothes, car, etc. In short, a decontamination process. About four days later mum walked upstairs, poked her head around my bedroom door, sniffed and said “something still doesn’t smell right.” So the aroma of farm was more deeply engrained that I’d imagined...

I’ve also had a chance to think about our time on the farm. In terms of life experiences, three months at La Maison des Chameaux has given us so much. We’ve had the chance to sample country living, gain an understanding of animals and their wellbeing, meet and live with a variety of amazing people and improve dramatically our French speaking skills. And all whilst getting a tan.

As Andy and I head back to Nottingham this week for our final year at University it’s time to knuckle down to some serious studying. But I know that when we are in the depths of an essay crisis or wallowing in the pile of revision notes, we can always share a cup of tea and remember the days we spent working on a camel farm in the South of France.

“Le chameau ne voit jamais sa bosse mais celle de son frère.”

Strange and wonderful things

A:

I decided what I would write in my blog today while I was standing in the river by the old mill, with four camels behind me observing as I laboured about - splashing all over the place - to wash 3 sacks of newly sheered sheep wool (or is it shorn?). Anyone who has ever washed wool by hand will know that to get the grease grime pee and poo out of it is quite a task and leaves your hands and arms particularly slimey. As I persisted on, losing bits of wool to the flow and slowly becoming more slimey and more wet I took note of the audience to my struggle. A few chickens, taking pauses inbetween slurps of water to note my progress; the 4 camels continuing to look unimpressed at my presence in their river; and visitors to the farm peering down from the bridge wondering what the woolly beast in the river is.

The strange scene made me think about all the things I have done at the farm that I could have never foreseen (even being at a camel sanctuary for a start), and new skills I never imagined I might have acquired.

I was called out of my washing duties in the river to go and spin some wool in front of the public during the wool demonstration. I would have never picked myself out as a spinner, let alone imagined myself showing French grannys how to do it. Yet spin I can.

The unpredicted duties and lessons are not limited to just wool related activites. I have also learnt for example that Male urine is a strong deterrent to foxes. As we have recently heard fox cries at night - and given the amount of ducks/geese/small animals on the farm - the men of the household have been required to quite literally mark our territory around the farm (particularly by the duck enclosure naturally) which keeps the foxes at bay.

I have learnt how to keep animals, how to keep a camel at bay, how long an egg needs to be in an incubator, how to mix concrete, the best methods to pick up pig poo, that every french village has at least 3 hairdressers, how to clicker train a pig, animal related french vocabulary, that acorns are poisoness for llamas, how to catch a piglet, how to get an alpaca to lie down, how to take a goat round an assault course and various other strange and wonderful things - some useful and some that I'll probably never need again.

We have 3 days left on the the farm...

Skills

On my first day at the Maison back in June, Sarah and I sat down for a chat about the kind of jobs we'd be doing over the summer. Most things I had expected; working with visitors to the farm, organising school groups, marketing in local towns, helping with animals and the like... but spinning wool was something I never thought I'd ever have to get to grips with...

And so, Andy and I have a new and rather bizarre string to add to our bows. Spinning. I appreciate that this is not the most fashionable of skills, so without wanting to bore you with too many details, we started off with hand spindles, then were promoted to the spinning wheel and can now card, spin and ply wool.

Now, every day at 4pm I do a wool demonstration on the farm, which goes down a treat. Visitors guess different samples of knitted wool and then get a chance to try carding and spinning, before making a souvenir bracelet.

So as our summer in France is drawing to a close, and we begin to look back at the experiences we've had and the skills we've acquired, I realise something shocking: I'm now well on the way to becoming a medieval housewife.

Kamikaze Einstein

A:

Last night we ventured out from the farm to Maubourget - a nearby village - to see a 'Course Landaise', which is basically a bit like bull fighting, but instead of actually fighting the bull, they do acrobatics over it instead. Fair enough.

It is a rather bizarre spectacle. While a brass band played classics such as 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' and 'Hot Stuff' from the Full Monty, we watched the acrobats dice with death, waiting until the last second as the bull charged them down to crack out a front flip/jump/twist over the bulls horns and head (naturally with the added twist that their legs were often tied together). At the end of each round they were given points by judges for their efforts and the audience would clap and whoop - particularly loudly if they had had an extremely close shave.

Early on an unlucky (or unskilled?) acrobat was gored as his performance went slightly wrong. As he tried to do a last minute step to the side to avoid the oncoming bull, he was caught by a rogue horn and thrown into their air. A few minutes later he limped off, hopefully just with dented pride. It makes you wonder whether they are actually brave or just plain stupid. Perhaps a mixture of the two.

In other news, Einstein the duckling almost had it after a kamikaze swimming attempt yesterday. Each day at feeding time we take out some baby animals for the kids to see and get up close to. Einstein suddenly decided he had had enough of sitting on one particular girl's hand, jumped off, and legged it onto the bridge. Yesterday, the river was fairly high and flowing very quickly. Einstein is an amateur swimmer to say the least. Not having a mummy duck to follow and learn the ropes from, he is more of a doggy paddler, shallow end, armbanded swimmer who doesn't even seem to like water too much. At that particular moment in time though, he had clearly decided that despite the 5ft drop from the side of the bridge into rapids (basically rapids for a duckling anyway) he would give it a go.

French mums and kids screamed and shouted as he battled against the current, and drifted downstream losing the battle. Heroicly I jumped off the bridge and dived after him, prepared to sacrifice myself to save little Einstein (some exaggeration...). I just managed to grab him before he went out of reach and dissapeared, and he promptly thanked me by pooing on my hand, much to everyones amusement. He is now back living with the chicks, and will be staying away from the river for a few days.

Visitors

Describing life at the Maison is no easy task. It is so much better if people can experience it first hand. The phrase 'seeing is believing' really takes on a whole new definition...

And so, as five ridiculously tall Brummies rocked up last weekend to get a taste of camel farm life I was very much looking forward to showing them how I'd been spending the summer. What followed was 48 hours of:

Courgette chopping, wool carding, tent erecting, disco dancing, wine tasting, dodgem crashing, crepe consuming, kitten stroking, lack of sleeping, tea drinking, jazz listening, duck eating, sun shining, rain pouring, cuisine sampling, trampoline bouncing, bracelet making, animal appreciating...

Madiran Wine Fete was one the highlights of the weekend. On Friday night we went en masse for the now standard and socially acceptable local disco. Although the Brummies were initially and understandably dubious, after a few beers and some classic tunes they were the life and soul of the party, line dancing with the best of them.

Fresh from his Summer Festival 2010 Tour (of where, we can only imagine... Ibiza? Glasto? Creamfields?) it was the turn of DJ Optima to amaze us with his mastery of iTunes and a smoke machine.

Thanks to Jack's ridiculously long stretch over crowds of avid fans (an assortment of about a dozen middle aged women), I am now also the proud owner of a DJ Optima one-size-fits-no-one T Shirt. It's emblazoned with the slogan "He's stronger than you" on it. Fantastic.

The next day we headed back to Madiran and arrived to what was a much more civilised affair as disco dancefloor had been transformed into a wine tasting garden. We paid 3 euros each, were given a glass and freedom to wander around and sample a wide selection of local wines. Tom and Katie fancying themselves as experts were swirling glasses, sniffing for bouquets and commenting on the barrel's oakiness. James, Nick, Jack and I were more focused on whether we were going to have nutella or sugar and lemon on our pancakes...

Considering us Brummies are an uncultured lot, in terms of experiencing new things, this weekend was incredible. I would never had guessed when we left school that that four years later we would be reunited on a camel farm in the south of France. It's a funny old thing, life.

Downsides

A:

All jobs have their downsides. At the camel farm, the downsides are:that we get woken every morning at 6am by Woody the cockerel, that my shoes are constantly caked in myriad of different types of poo, and of course that come the end of the day my hair is matted with camel drool and regurgitation, my arms scratched by rabbits, my fingers nibbled by goslings, my legs stung by stinging nettles... the list goes on. It is all most definitely worth it however, and we are rewarded at the end of the day with cold bottles of beer and mountains of delicious food.

My least favourite job on the farm is affectionately titled 'Avian Security Officer'. This involves distracting several chickens while the camel rides go on (so the camel doesn't throw a kid off while trying to kill the chicken). Bearing in mind the camel rides go on for about an hour usually, this task is most mundane and the chickens never do learn, it is a constant battle, and the filling up of the feeding bag (maize) has to be carefully planned so no chickens can get close enough to the camel while she is unloading/loading. Needless to say it is a stressful and complex task requiring much thought and planning. (even this I secretly enjoy but I had to have a 'least favourite'.)

This has been a short blog but we are off to Marciac jazz festival once more to eat, as we made over 1000 euro in one day yesterday so its celebration time.

P.S we now have 6 guinea fowl that were bought from the bird market, and another few chicks were born today. Oh and we also discovered 2 baby rabbits in the rabbit pen but we reckon they are a few weeks old (but were underground before).

Birthdays and Breakdowns

H - One day when stood in WH Smiths I decided that when I was grown up I would own a Filofax. I readily admit to suffering from a (severe?) form of stationery related OCD, and to me the Filofax is the ultimate symbol of organisation and adulthood...

On Sunday I turned 22. And what did I receive? A Filofax. Leather bound. With a matching Parker ink pen. Conclusion: I am now officially a grown up.

I had guessed that spending a birthday on a camel farm would be a one to remember, but I had no idea just how memorable it would be. The day started with Andy earning himself some serious brownie points by bringing me breakfast in bed. Hero. After a super busy day at the farm, it was about 7pm and we had just finished the last camel ride for the evening. Sarah asked me to help her get the saddle off the camel and as I went over she handed me a helmet... I was getting my first ever camel ride!

In terms of life experiences, a camel ride was pretty high on my To Do list, and it didn't disappoint. Ceefa the camel was most obliging, if a tad bumpy on the ascent/decent, but I won't hold that against her.

But little did I know that that was only the start of the evening's festivities. We had a delicious BBQ for dinner, and then I was advised to prepare myself for a series of challenges. The idea was that for each challenge I completed successfully I would get a present. What followed was surreal in the extreme...

My challenges were as follows:

1.) Climb the Mulberry tree - the tree that I once tried to climb and got stuck up for half an hour and couldn't get down. Result: scratches and bruises.

2.) Take a goat around the agility course - cue Buggertwo the goat going on strike and deciding that eating surrounding mint plants was a better use of her time.

3.) Do as many different animal impressions as you can in one minute - nailed this task. my animal impressions are second to none.

4.) Find and bring back 4 types of animal poo and arrange them in alphabetical order of species - I selected camel, goose, rabbit and sheep.

5.) Catch a piglet - nightmare. they're fast little buggers.

6.) Kiss Oakley (the labrador) on the mouth - absolutely foul.

7.) Eat 3 blinis specially prepared with love by Andy and Sarah - a mixture of pate, marmite, mustard, almond oil and garlic.... lots of garlic....

8.) With Andy as my trainer, pretend to be a Talulah and do the llama demonstration - no words.

9.) Find and pick the weirdest looking vegetable you can from the veggie patch and describe 10 ways you can use something that shape - I found an odd stunted courgette. I'll leave you to imagine the rest for yourselves...

And so, my 22nd Birthday drew to a close. Challenges met, presents earned. And to top it all off, Sam had made me a FANTASTIC cake which she iced herself with beautiful pink marshmallow icing. Divine. We finished the evening with a super competitive game of tracker in the woods and then sat around the fire. A massive thank you to all the team for making it such a great day.

Then I got another treat on Tuesday when.... THE ENTIRE EXHAUST PIPE FELL OFF MY CAR. Now, I always try to learn a new French word every day, but I really had hoped to learn the word for exhaust in other circumstances. Scotty the Peugeot 106 is currently with Monsieur Le Kwik Fit and I'm going to visit him with a bunch of grapes tomorrow to see how he is getting on. All 'Get Well Soon' cards most welcome...

H xxx

Un, deux, trois, lets eat some Foie Gras

A:

In the last few days quite a number of big events have taken place, so I will have to try not to forget anything (or let Harriet fill in on anything I miss out).

Firstly we lost Grant and Marjolijn, who have both returned home having finished their stays at the Maison. Quite a sad event for everyone, we even all made it out of our beds at 5am to see them off. People come and go here a lot, but both of them had been at the farm quite a while and are definitely missed (especially by Oakley for Grant, who seems to have entered dog-depression, and spends all day sleeping).

For their last night we went out to Marciac jazz festival. Apparently famous in the jazz world - being the biggest of its kind in Europe supposedly - it's basically international jewelery and mexican hammock stalls (+ the odd incense stand) all surrounding a centre stage with various either extreme-experimental bongoing or the odd cheesy-jazz cover act. The most cringe thing was definitely one particular blonde singer who had written a song especially for the French audience which included the line 'Un, deux trois, lets eat some Foie-Gras, lets dine in this place that is France'. She did have lovely legs though.

Moving on.... we had some newborns & new arrivals this week too. 2 lambs 'Framboise' and 'Courgette' are now hanging out in the sheep pen drying off and finding their legs. Bearing in mind that they are of a breed that are already classed as 'miniature sheep', they are VERY small and extremely cute. We will most definitely post some photos up in the near future.

Again on the animal front... tonight the girls received a call while myself and Harriet were leafleting at the jazz festival to say that a wild boar had made it's way into the campsite at nearby Plaisance. The Maison gets quite a few calls about taking in animals that are abandoned or discovered, but this was obviously quite a unique one. A few hours later, and we have a boar in one of the pig pens (again photos to follow). We haven't named him as he'll be released into the wild again fairly soon - it not being fair or legal to keep him.

Just for good measure we also now have a new quail and a zebra finch in an enclosure in the forest. The animal population just keeps growing. Oh and I actually forgot we have a new fluffy rabbit to add as well (called The Pope).

Meanwhile in terms of human house occupants, we have 2 added to our number. Greg, an Australian teacher has arrived to help out for a couple of weeks and Aileen, a Scottish vet student is here as well to do some behavior work and animal training.

Right, Harriet can fill you in on the rest I'm off to bed.

X

Open Mic Night

H - Stuck on the kitchen door at the Maison we have a large summer calendar to plan all the things we’re doing each day, remember important dates and the like. For the past few weeks Friday 30^th of July has been marked with ‘OPEN MIC NIGHT’...

We were all keen to go to the monthly Open Mic Night and rumours began to fly around about various members of the house performing. Marjolijn and Emma promised us a Spice Girls routine, Sarah whipped out some serious clarinet skills one evening and Oliver toyed with the idea of singing Let It Be...

So we rocked up to Jegun, about a half hour drive away, and were greeted by what Andy succinctly described as his true “expat hell”. Jegun itself is actually one of the nicest small French villages we have visited, (quite an accolade as we’ve seen hundreds). In the centre is a small “Chambre d’Hote”, which is basically a B&B, run by a friendly Irish man. This guy is as camp as Christmas and looks like a leprechaun. The fact that he serves Guiness and Boddingtons (in a can – cringe) at the bar has caused him to become a magnet to all manner of Brits, looking for a taste of home. As a result, the Open Mic Night that he runs there consists of a motley crew of UK musicians who ‘just missed out on the big time’.

That being said, we had a great night. Eric, an old dude from Grimsby in a tie-dye T shirt, basically a hero in my eyes, was MC for the evening. Hogging the microphone, cracking (awful) jokes and speaking in downright shocking French he was quite the character. The performances included Eric with his missus doing some jazzy numbers, a French lady screeching some 80s shockers and a couple being extremely creative with their use of a tin tea tray as a percussion instrument.

In the end, Andy was the only one of our gang who took to the stage. He performed two songs; ‘She Moves in Her Own Way’ by The Kooks, and ‘Crossed Fingers’ by Laura Marling and was brilliant. He did us all proud and won over the audience with his stage presence, musical talent and dazzling good looks. Well, two out of the three anyway.

H xxx

PS – We also found out that Terry Wogan has a house in the area. The hunt is on...

Days Off

A:

We haven't blogged in a while. Harriet went off to see some friends in central southern France while I was meant to be going home to meet my baby niece. Due to some easyjet problem or other this didn't happen - my flight was cancelled - and I ended up spending the night in a seedy hotel in Tarbes (which is very much a nothing town). The next morning and I had returned to the farm a few days earlier than planned, and still wearing the same clothes I'd left in (having not taken any luggage...).

It's hard to know what to write in a blog about days at the Maison. So much happens, it's difficult to know where to start or what to leave out. Since we last blogged we have Einstein the duckling who has become quite a big part of all our lives. Abandoned by mother duck, he is now constantly nursed and looked after by Emma and Marjoljn (including sleeping in their beds, travelling in their tops & eating off their plates). I myself don't particularly like him too much though as he pooed on my bed sheet (which only added to the mess Gracie the miniature sheep had left when she got locked in the house a few days ago).

Other than Einstein (and countless panics from Marjoljn and Emma as he has gone temporarily missing a few times), I've also had my day off last Tuesday. Sam and I decided to walk to Plaisance, the nearest larger village which has a few bars and a restaurant. In the baking sun we walked for 1h15 (which for me is a lot as I hate walking). Once there we saw all the tourist sites there were to offer (just the church) and then headed for lunch in 'Bar Haka'. I'd been there with Harriet on a previous day off and 12euro for 3 courses, wine + coffee had been a sweet deal. This time it was pretty merde. I basically had school dinner breadcrumb turkey and Sam's steak appeared to be deep fried. You win some you lose some. We decided against the walk back and hitch-hiked instead.

After work I've been going cycling a lot recently. The countryside surrounding the farm is beautiful. Endless country lanes through sunflower fields & through tiny villages (each of course with it's token church, graveyard & salle des fetes). Borrowing bikes has meant I'm on an 8 year olds bike while Marjoljn dices with death on one whose handlebars aren't properly attached to the bike itself. It all adds to the fun though. We normally aim to finish at a bar (which actually is always THE bar in Prechac, since there's no other in the vicinity), and then be home in time for dinner.

During other time off there's always the river beach. Just a few minutes walk up the lane from the farm's entrance is a pretty idyllic stony beach where two rivers meet. It's far set back from the road and feels like the middle of nowhere - I was quite shocked when some kayakers went past yesterday. The current downstream is quite strong so its quite a challenging swim (although really shallow so not dangerous, can just walk out).

Bed time. x

Wet, Wet, Wet

Today it rained. No, scratch that, today it monsooned. And not only did it monsoon, but we had over 100 visitors to the farm.

The fun began last night. It began raining in the evening. We braved dinner outside, mainly because we now have 14 people at the Maison and need the bigger table, new arrivals being Alexa (vet), Sam (vet), Emma Z (Helpex) and Tom (Helpex). However, after eating we retreated inside from the downpour and watched Space Jam. Classic. As we all went to bed the rain showed no signs of stopping...

In the middle of the night I woke up and this was my thought process:

“Hmm, sounds like it’s still raining... oh yeah, there’s some thunder... hmm, feels a bit wet actually, yeah, my pillow is definitely wet... but hold on, I’m in bed... ANDY WAKE UP IT'S RAINING ON MY FACE”

The capital letters is me shouting out loud. The roof just happened to be leaking in the one corner above my bed. Joy.

We woke up this morning to what can only be described as a wash out. The river had almost overflowed and everywhere was a mud bath. I am now totally able to sympathise with Noah and his whole arc assignment. No one likes dealing with wet animals. I have never seen Brewster the alpaca look so pissed off before today.

To make matters worse, we had 3 groups of kids booked in and due to arrive at 10am. We were pretty sure that they would all cancel given French people’s allergy to rain. However, only one did, so 80 reluctant children rocked up. Plus public visitors, totalling over 100.

We soldiered on in true British fashion, with wellies and waterproofs. We moved tables in to barns, brushed soggy camels, did treasure hunts in the peeing rain, and spun damp wool to make bracelets. All in all, it was madness, but we managed to survive the day. Just.

We are now sat round the bonfire, about to have a celebratory barbeque.

Oh, and it’s still raining...

PS - Andy and I are both away this weekend. Andy to the UK to see his baby niece and me to visit some friends who are also working in the South of France. We will blog anon...

Beret Tossing

H - A few days ago Andy and I went leafleting again, this time to Lourdes. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the place, Lourdes was a small market town in the foothills of the Pyrenees where 152 years ago the Virgin Mary appeared to a young girl called Bernadette...

Since then, crowds of pilgrims have followed the instructions Mary gave to Bernadette in Lourdes to "drink at the spring and wash in it". Although never formally acknowledged by the Church, many people claim to have been cured by the water there, and each year millions of Catholics visit the site, especially those who are sick.

People on the streets of Lourdes can be divided in three main categories: nuns, nurses or wheelchair bound. I found the atmosphere there quite unique and actually a tad unsettling. The street running from town downhill to the grotto is packed with tourist type shops with neon signs flogging religious paraphernalia and over priced fast food. There is a faint odour of hospitals mixed with hamburgers. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that visitors are having their devotion and illness exploited by money grabbers... I’m pretty sure St Bernadette did not have any of this in mind... Having said that, in terms of seeing people united in purpose and faith it was particularly impressive and moving.

Whilst visitors to Lourdes are praying for good health, the people of Prechac, the village next to the farm, are currently bowing down to a different god – Bacchus. The wine is flowing there this weekend as Prechac’s fete is taking place, along with the annual Beret Tossing Competition. As ‘sporting events’ (I use the term loosely) go, I don’t think it could have possibly been any more French. Men, women and children battled for honour, glory, and the prize of... a beret. Adults were left looking a little sheepish as a ten year old boy was triumphant, launching the hat 23 metres, quite a feat as felt hats are not the most aerodynamic objects.

We returned later in the evening for the disco and once again had an unforgettable night: Hawaiian hats, Michael Jackson, inflatable sumo suits and DJ Scorpia on the decks (CD player) about sums it up. We ended on a high with some hardcore Irish dancing then lay on the road and watched the stars, which are just stunning round here. Unfortunately, when we got back to the Maison we were greeted by Gracie the Sheep who had somehow got locked in the house and proceeded to poo everywhere. Including our bedroom. Joy.

H xxx

The Family

A:

So i thought I'd take the opportunity to show you some members of the Maison des Chameaux family, and also post up a photo of one of the camels as since we haven't mentioned them much, apparently Harriet's mum isn't sure they actually exist! Above is Tallulah the llama. During the day she works in her pen giving kisses, ringing bells and taking hats off in her demonstration in front of the kids. By night she roams around, one of the animals that lives 'en liberté' in the farm, partly because she chases any foxes that turn up (as we explain to all the visitors everyday!) Above she's chilling by the 'artistic corner' that is Marjoljns home during the day (doing various paintings and making signs & spinning wool etc).

Now just below... I think... Ceefa the camel. There are 4 of them but I still can't quite distinguish completely between them. I do know my favourite Claudia though, who seems the most friendly of the bunch (and I've never seen them spit or kick!)

Then at the bottom we have Buttercup the pig, who since that photo was taken has grown massively (mostly width ways!) from eating far too many plums. She sits under the plum tree most of the day waiting for them to fall.

Just above buttercup, the goat pen (home to the famous agility goats Buggertwo and Nougatine. You can also see in the background the family home where we live!

Below, Diablo the kitten. Brother to Marilyn (the white one in the other photos). Sadly we lost Velcro - the other brother - a couple of weeks ago. He never returned from the vets :(

There are of course many other, but we'll have to introduce you some other time...

Fireworks

H - so, today is the 15th of July, which means that by process of logical thought yesterday was the 14th of July. Now to us Brits this is just another day, but here in France, the 14th is big news: it's Bastille Day. A quick check on Wikipedia informs me that

"Bastille Day commemorates the 1790 Fête de la Fédération, held on the first anniversary of the storming of the Bastille on 14 July 1789; the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille fortress-prison was seen as a symbol of the uprising of the modern nation, and of the reconciliation of all the French inside the constitutional monarchy which preceded the First Republic, during the French Revolution."

In other words, a great excuse for fireworks and wine.

So, we all headed down to Plaisance last night to the rugby pitches to see the fireworks. Apart from the obilgatory crying toddler (just dont bring them to see fireworks ok?)the display was brilliant and we all oooh-ed and ahhhh-ed in the right places. This was followed by the type of epic disco that we have come to expect from the villages round here.

This morning (with slightly sore heads) we were greeted with the news that the first of the quails has hatched. If you thought the chicks were cute, these are a whole new level of small and adorable. Photos to follow...

H xxx

PS - hello Nikki and Kate: thanks for reading! (sorry, i know this is very 'amateur radio' of me doing a shout out, but they sent our first fan mail.)

PPS - also, everyone should know that Andy was amazing at laser quest. I mean fantastic. A whole new level of manly. And sweaty. He just wanted you to know.

Pig Poo

H - The world was holding its breath on Sunday night as Holland took on Spain in the football. Our resident Dutch girl Marjolijn was keen for everyone to get behind her country, so regardless of any reluctance we were all kitted out in orange T shirts, feathers, bows, glasses, etc. Gracie the sheep even had an orange shirt and the dogs got orange collars. Unfortunately it turns out the future was not bright for Holland, but they sure know how to earn a yellow card… or 14. We all consoled Marjolijn, hoping she wouldn’t get as angry/violent as her fellow countrymen.

A - Today is Tuesday and we’ve got a day off from work at the camel farm. However, I spent most of my morning picking up pig poo and putting it in a bucket. To be honest, this is not one of my favourite things ever and let’s just say I now thoroughly understand the origins of the phrase ‘shit storm’. It’s actually a fairly difficult job. Scraping the nugget up and away while leaving minimal residue on the grass requires focus and skill. This is farm life.

It all has to be done though, particularly as Jean-Pierre and Caroline are returning home tomorrow morning so our house-sit is coming to an end.

Today we should have a new resident at the maison (well actually a returning resident), Jimmy who is another handyman to join grant building things etc. We’ll get to meet him tomorrow though when we get back. It’s quite an exciting event really, and will take our number to 10.

H - As a reward for all our hard work this morning we decided to go out for lunch. So we drove to the culinary hotspot of Plaisance about three villages from here. (Not) being spoiled for choice we headed to the only brasserie, ordered the Menu du Jour and were pleasantly surprised with our grub. Not only were portions more than generous, food was delicious and wine and coffee were included. Good work France. Complete with a food baby apiece we headed back to the housesit to relax.

Right now we are sat watching ‘Come Dine With Me’ to help us digest lunch. Vera has just served dessert: a scoop of Wall’s ice cream topped with crushed Malteasers, squirty cream and a ‘fruit coulis’ (strawberry jam mixed with warm water). Hero.

Disco Time

So we haven't blogged in a few days, mostly because after our castelnau disco experience it's taken a few days to gather our thoughts and recover.

The last night was 'disco night' of the 3 day Castelnau Riviere Basse annual village party. What we didn't realise is that it's primarily intended as the Special Needs Home boogie night (not meaning to be unpc, just stating facts). So we rocked up in our best threads and were greeted by a huge and very empty hall apart from a few of the home residents slow dancing to Shania Twain.

Not to be party poopers, we bought some wine and got down and grooved the night away.

Rumours were by the way true, and Monsieur Bernard made his predicted appearance, even wearing a clean shirt. What a lad. We spent the last part of the evening having a party in Harriets car back at the farm. What students.

Since then we've been fairly busy with groups turning up at the farm (some unexpectedly), and the public too. We had some sad news, as Velcro was poorly and taken to the vets, but didn't make it through the night. He was our favourite kitten being a bit clumsy... (there's a photo of him further down this blog somewhere).

Apart from all this, we've had a few BBQs, chased some more piglets & gone to laser quest, which I'm sure is the most fun you can have for 20 minutes. Chasing people round a dark sweaty room with toy guns. Amazing.

And now... we're house sitting for Caroline and Jean-Pierre, some friends of the Bird family. Our various jobs include looking after their dogs, feeding the pigs & enjoying their amazing house. Two of the dogs are really really old though I'm a bit scared about something happening while we're here...

Andy

Welcome to our crib

I thought it was about time we gave you a little insight into our humble abode for the summer.

The kitchen – Where you’ll find an overflowing dishwasher, a handful of kittens, a spinning wheel, various laptops with facebook on the go, a freshly brewed tea pot (shaped like a camel of course), two dogs, a 24 litre box of wine (refilled weekly. ouch.), and a piglet. Seriously.

The Mulberry Tree – Outside in the back garden, there is a large dining table under the shade of a beautiful Mulberry tree. This table is the social hub of the Maison. It’s where we drink coffee in the morning when we’re hungover and bleary eyed, eat an insane amount of baguettes and cheese at lunch, and share numerous glasses of wine in the evening when all the visitors have gone home. There is not a dull moment at this table and the conversations had there are not only worth their weight in gold but most could also not be repeated in polite society.

The living room – Where Oliver, Elliot and Grant play online war games. It’s not recommended for others to enter the battlefield.

Tentland – A shelter in the garden which is currently home to 3 tents housing Grant, Marjolijn and Emma. Each night they sleep in fear that their tents will be attacked by Carla the pig. Every morning they wake up unharmed is a gift from god.

Our bedroom – Andy is still living out of his suitcase as he’s being a boy and refusing to unpack. Hence his side of the room is a constant mound of clothes in various states of cleanliness. My side on the other hand is spotless. Cough. He’s also started borrowing things... flip flops, deodorant, hairdryer... I’m worried as to how this list of the stuff he is borrowing will progress over the next few weeks... will keep you posted...

The bathroom – home to 76 bottles of shampoo and about the same number of spiders/insects. It has a window with a great view out over the farm... but beware when showering and then giving an eyeful to poor unsuspecting souls outside.

And that, ladies and gent, is the place we call (our French) home.

H xxx

PS - I'm leaving Andy to blog about the last night of the Castelnau fete as words fail me. There is literally no way I can put that experience into sentences.

Watch the Behaviour

It's Sunday morning and the inmates at the maison are feeling delicate.

After our first night of fete action, we decided that we would take it easy. Our sources informed us that the music would be traditional French, so we thought we'd go to the village, soak up a bit of culture then head home. Sarah was even heard to say "I'll just stay for one drink." Famous last words...

What ensued can be summed up with one word - debauchery.

The brass band set the standard for the evening by busting out tunes such as 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' and 'Mai Ai Hee'. The dancefloor was literally (not) packed. Of course this didn't hold us back and we swiftly took to dancing on the tables. French men aged 16 to 87 were all keen to show us foreigners their dance moves and remove their clothes... simultaneously. Delightful.

Wanting to end on a high, when 'The Witch Doctor' had played we figured it might be time to call it a night.

Back at the maison, I bravely defended everyone from a beast of a bug (centipede? caterpillar?? it was at least the size of my hand, had thousands of legs and giant fangs,)that was in the bath. Then bedtime.

Final night of fete is tonight, and it's expected to be bigger and better than anything that has gone before... Rumour has it that Monsieur Bernard is even going to have a shower for the occasion and change his T-shirt. This really is socialising at its peak.

H xxx

Dodgems

We haven't blogged in a couple of days and so much has happened I don't really know where to begin.

Thursday we had the day off so went on a bit of a day trip to a lake near a village called Lupiac. Apparently the thermometer was reading 44 celcius (though I dispute this, I'm fairly sure that was at least a slight exagerration) but either way it was boiling. We did all the normal beach lake things - swim, eat icecreams, drink beer. Perfection.

Then yesterday we headed to Pau to deliver leaflets (into the standard hairdressers, small shops etc), which is a really pretty city about an hours drive from the farm. The day was fairly uneventful but fun, although I didn't stop complaining about my mosquito bites. Although Harriet tells me she's already written about this.

Anyway, the evening arrived and with it came the village fete, which Harriet already introduced. It was absolutely bizarre. (but amazing). The standard bad band playing everything from traditional french accordion classics to lady gaga, dodgems (in which I accidentally rammed another car as someone was getting into it and sent them flying, and then zoomed off again - the first and last last hit and run of my life); and creepy old french men dancing with/on the Maison girls. We got quite a few looks from the old French people, as we busted out our contemporary moves on the dancefloor - in fact I definitely think we were the life and soul of the party - along with the few creepy guys and weird ladies dancing by themselves. I also became an Uncle just before the party began (good reason to celebrate) to Ella Violet Osmond... so all in all it was a pretty sweet evening!!

The following morning was less brilliant due to the inevitable hangover, and news that one of the kittens, Velcro (pictured below somewhere), is quite ill and it's a bit touch and go. (will keep updated)

Grant and I however cracked on and started our project to build a tea room despite said hangover. We stood in the river upstream and cut down a few trees to get 2.5metre posts (to build the structure of a kind of permanent teepee/marquee). Although I love fresh air and all that, the mosquitos descended, I was almost crushed by a tree (im an extremely amateur logger) and our plan to float the cut logs down stream to the farm ultimately failed and we ended up having to carry them through thick nettles and lastly my flipflops kept coming off and floating away. On the upside however, I probably earned some kind of man points or something for cutting some trees down (maybe?). It was good to get on with the project anyway, tomorrow we'll continue and get the posts set in concrete.

Tonight we have the 2nd night of the village fete. It will inevitably involve several dodgem sessions, more dancing & local wine. I am excited.

Right. Ciao time.

Bites

Today Andy and I have been leafletting in Pau. Great place, nice cafes, bars, shops, architecture, chateau, cathedral, another hundred hairdressers... Unfortunately, it was difficult to enjoy our time in the city mainly due to being COVERED IN MOSQUITO BITES.

We're not sure how this happened as we're both pretty fastidious about covering ourselves in repellent, but somehow the little buggers have got us. Felt particularly awkward as we got a few stares in Pau due to scratching a little too much in public...

So we're back at the Maison now covering ourselves in aloe vera spray and preparing ourselves emotionally and physically for the first night of Castelnau's annual fete. By far the highlight of the village's social calender, the dodgems are prepped, the bunting is up and the bar is stocked... excitement levels are running high...

In other news, Emma's Birthday was on Wednesday. Despite the fact that she was determined not to celebrate as she's so old (she's 20. please.) we all got suitably merry. The evening's entertainment involved playing ring of fire, Andy dressing as a cowboy and various members of the team ending up in the river. Standard really.

Andy has just sprayed me with aloe vera in the face. Grant told him off: "That was a bit naughty." Thanks Grant for sticking up for me.

Will write soon with fete gossip. I'm sure there'll be some...

H xxx

PS - oh, and the moral of today's blog - if you've got an itch, scratch it.

Spinach quiche

This evening I had the honour of attending the village school's end of year show. "Le spectacle pour le fin d'annee" pulls in crowds from literally yards away and is a chance for the kids to show off various talents.

This years show was themed "Around the World" and was a colourful event, quite literally as kids blacked up and drew on chinese eyes... who says there's no place for political correctness these days.

The performance began with the les petits running round in circles, clapping and waving hankies in the air. cute.

Then on to the serious stuff. The older kids had put together a routine involving classical dance and 'eeeep op' (hip hop). Oliver busted out the robot. It was immense.

To round off the evening there was a fantastic buffet - more pizza and chocolate brownies than you could shake a stick at. Got to love the French dedication to fine dining. Slight cringe moment when I tried a bit of spinach quiche, decided it tasted like vomit, stealthily put it back on the plate with a bite missing, was accosted by a mother who said 'oh have you tried my quiche?' then picked up my half chewed slice and proceeded to eat it. need to work on my buffet etiquette...


H xxx

PS - Today we were in the forest doing a treasure hunt with a group of twenty 3-5 yr old knee high French kids. Andy said "I feel like a giant for the first time in my life." bless.

Angry Pig

Velcro chilling in the sun.



There is an angry pig tonight roaming around outside. Carla was getting pretty thin from feeding her 9 piglets so we thought we'd do her a favour and take some of them off her hands and put them in a separate area. This involved cornering the piglets, and then grabbing them as they made their escape. This is harder than it sounds - particularly when you think you have an enormous angry mother on your heels literally chasing you across the farm after her squealing baby. Then once we placed the piglets in their new pen, we realised that they could all escape from it due to a small hole. Chaos. And really... a piglets squeal is RIDICULOUS.

I also took Molly to the vet this evening to get her the morning after pill equivalent. It's actually a course of 3 injections though and we have to take her back tomorrow for it to start.

Other projects on the go include mint tea making (well drying mint to chop up anyway), we're due to start building a tea room soon, and we're still to properly sort out the reception area for the summer.

Update on the Molly/Oakley sitch - they are at it every two minutes all over the place. They are acting extremely coupley the whole time as well which is bizarre. When Molly left for the vet earlier he wouldn't stop whining.

Bed time

CHICKS.

Elton John and Scotty the Peugeot 106.

Last week, Andy and I spent a few days going round local towns leafleting to promote La Maison des Chameaux and pull in some crowds for the summer season.

We quickly set up a roadtrip routine:

8.15 - wake up, cup of tea, weetabix.

8.30 - shower, dress, clean teeth.

8.45 - pile in to Scotty the Peugeot 106 with a zillion leaflets and posters. put Elton John "Tiny Dancer" on the iPod full blast. roll the windows down (yes ROLL down. no electric windows in this bad boy). hit the road...

The villages around the farm are stunning and is the countryside between them. Quaint just doesn't even begin to describe it and they are about as French as you could possibly get.

We also quickly discovered that every village has a a dog grooming parlour and at least 25 hairdressers. Although this does not seem to have any effect on the amount of horrific 80s throw back hairdos we saw on people and dogs alike.

(i'm upstairs right now and I just heard Andy outside say "Oh god, she's just pooing everywhere". I dread to think which animal he's on about now...)

We targeted these hairdressers as well as launderettes, supermarkets, beauty salons, greengrocers and flower shops. Our basic thinking was that we would put leaflets in places where women would find them and then drag their families to the farm over the summer holidays. The same line of thought saw us avoid mechanics and electrical shops. Men don't get to make decisions where family outings are concerned. Fact.

Perhaps most importantly, these long drives around the French countryside gave us the opportunity to work on our trucker tans. My right arm (driver side) and Andy's left arm (passenger side) are now nicely bronzed. Also - 70mph is the perfect speed to do 'air boobs'. If you've never done this, you've never lived.

H xxx

PS - CHICKWATCH: we now have 6 chicks hatched. 2 black, 4 yellow. CUTE.

Morning After

After an eventful night yesterday what with Molly and Oakley getting entangled (as Harriet explained) (and now I've learned that its my job tomorrow to take Molly to get the dog morning after pill equivilent), we've had some new arrivals this morning - the chickens are hatching!

A typical morning on the farm really - came down to a new baby chick, baby pigs being rounded up just next to the house & Sarah spinning wool on a old school spinning wheel. The rest of the chicks are still in their eggs in an incubator inside, but they should be out by the end of the day (pecked holes are appearing, photos later).

Its 9.30am and the farm opens to the public at midday. Till then our duties are to open to front gate, make sure everything is generally in place and safe for the kids... and then sit wait and drink coffee until the first guests arrive.

Right now as I'm typing Harriet is pretending to be a horse for Chrissy the vet student, who's practicing to clicker train her. (this involves harriet making jerky movements occasionally and Chrissy clicking when she's still). It's pretty weird to watch.

On a bit of a down note, have found out that Oakley (golden retriever) won't be staying here for much longer, he's moving on to another family as he killed a duck on the farm and therefore is a bit unsuitable for sticking around considering the amount of other animals everywhere. Shame, as I got pretty attached to him he's a really cool dog (apart from the duck killing).

More soon! Andy

p.s i had my second driving lesson from harriet yesterday, and we're both still alive. the country rounds roundabout are perfect, luckily there hasn't been someone coming in the opposite direction just yet...

The birds and the bees...

Picture the scene if you will... We're all out in the garden after a lovely BBQ, enjoying a glass of wine or two. Grant comes out to the door of the kitchen and utters the following:

"Um, guys, Oakley has got his cock stuck in Molly."

So, we all run into the kitchen, where Molly and Oakley the dogs are getting it on. Not only that... they are stuck together and both looking a tad uncomfortable.

Cue all adults fall about laughing (Andy takes photos) while Oliver (age 10) and Elliot (age 8) look confused...


Oliver: what's happening??

Adults: um, they're just tangled.

Oliver: but why? how are they attached??

Elliot: um, are they kissing with bums?

Paul: well...

Oliver: just tell me what's happening? why are they stuck??

Paul: ok, well, Oakley has his bits in Molly's bits. They're making babies.

Oliver: But when will they let go?

Paul: When Molly relaxes.

Oliver: (shouting to the dogs) Molley, let go of Oakley.

Paul: It's all natural, it's all fine.

Oliver: Did you do that to mum once?

Paul: Um, yeah.

Oliver: That's disgusting. I'm not having children. and that's official.

Paul: Well that's what's happening.

Oliver: ok, well i dont want to know any more.


And so we get to know about about the birds and the bees. Important life lessons for one and all...

Elliot has just informed us that the dogs are "deglued". Thank god for that.

Tomorrow Molly is off to get the canine morning after pill.

Confessions of a City Girl

I don’t like animals. There, I’ve said it. I know this makes me a bad person. I wish I liked them more, really I do.

There are however two exceptions. The first is cats and the second is my pet goldfish Horatio (who has ADHD and a penchant for neon.)

So coming to work on a farm full of animals for the summer might have turned out to be the worst decision I had ever made. My thinking was that it was about time I came face to face with my four legged nemeses and that this experience for me would be a make or break in terms of whether I could ever become an animal lover.

Since I’ve been here these have been my first animal experiences:

- A baby goat has shat on me.
- I’ve brushed a camel.
- I’ve watched a sheep play football and a piglet dance.
- I’ve tried and failed to round up a pig called Carla.
- I’ve fell in love with three kittens, Diablo, Marilyn and Velcro.
- I’ve seen a baby duck being dissected. Gross.
- I’ve been woken up daily by a cockerel at 6am.
- I’ve had dog slobber on me at regular intervals.

Also, today I took a dog for a walk. Now I know this is a pretty normal activity for many, part of a daily routine for dog owners everywhere. But for me, this is a big step. Of course I’ve been on walks with dogs, but always with other people. Today was my first solo dog walk. Just me, Oakley the Golden Retriever and the open road. We walked to the post box and back, looked round a medieval church and headed home. The evening sun was warm but not too hot, the countryside was beautiful, golden fields, blue sky, blah blah blah. Basically, I quite enjoyed it. Perhaps a turning point?

I’m not promising I’m going to be the next Dr Doolittle, but it’s a start I guess...

Harriet x

PS – to honour the anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death today we listened to Beat It once and Andy tried to moonwalk. We felt that was sufficient.

we work on a camel farm

So having arrived at the camel farm about a week ago, there have been some things to get used to. Watching out for stepping on kittens, rounding up escaped goats, plastering oneself in insect repellent and of course the colleagues.

Harriet shares the same responsibilities on the farm as I do, and is also a French student at Notts. It's been a relief that someone else here appreciates a bad pun as much as I do. She is also extremely calm when being pooed on by a goat which is an essential ingredient to an enjoyable summer at the Maison. Apart from puns and poo she has a great sense of humour and is good at remembering various camel facts that I tend to forget when put on the spot. (For example did you know that camel penis' can turn through 180 degrees to wee on their legs to keep them cool? or that they can drink 200 litres of water in one sole drinking session?) All in all its great having Harriet here to share the experience with. Also hoping for a lift back to England with her in September so sucking up obvs.

First proper update coming soon.

Andy

My First Blog

Due to creative differences earlier than anticipated, we've decided to take turns writing posts on the blog and Andy's chosen to be a gentleman and let ladies go first.

Having decided that writing a blog is a suitably pretentious thing to do on a year abroad, I am hoping that writing a shared blog will halve the amount of self absorption. However, I'm a little concerned that the the key to any double act's success is that both are equally known, loved, cared about...

I realise that those reading this will probably fall into one of two camps - Andy's Friends or Harriet's Friends (those in both should consider themselves an elite and incredibly lucky). So I thought it'd be a good idea for us to introduce each other for the benefit of our respective teams of acquaintances.

When I first met Andrew, two things hit me. His nobbly knees. (I know he won't mind me saying that, as not only is it true, but he's also quite proud of them.) That, and the fact that I was impressed he had managed to hitch hike to the farm from the nearest town, which is a good distance away. I'd arrived a few days before having driven down from the UK, so was looking forward to meeting Andy who I knew I would be spending a lot of time with over the summer. Of course I'd done the obligatory Facebook Stalk and it had shown me that he liked SLR photography and TuPac (is that how you spell it? I'm not cool enough to know...)What followed on his first evening at La Maison des Chameaux involved wine pong and him being molested by two large dogs. I laughed til I cried, and I knew from them on that we would get on just fine for the summer.

Two days later, I was told that I would be sharing a room with Andrew. (for legal reasons I would like to point out that we have separate beds.) What might have been a potentially awkward situation has turned out well... so far. No snoring, no sleep talking and no judging about my collection of overwhelmingly pink and flowerly luggage/towels/blankets/etc.

Since then we've been working together pretty much 24/7 on the farm, which we'll tell you all about soon, and it's all been going incredibly well. Guess we're still in that honey moon phase...

Now I have to wait and see how Andy chooses to introduce me...

(at this point i'd like to come up with some catchy sign off, like gossip girl with the whole XO XO thing, but I cant think of one. any ideas, let me know...)

Harriet x

a little introduction.

Welcome to our blog of our life and experiences at La Maison des Chameaux in the south west of France - an animal park specialising in camels. We've decided to team up and write a blog together.

The farm (at Castelnau-Rivierese-Basse not too far from Tarbes or Pau for anyone that knows the region) was set up in 2007 and is home to a pretty big range of animals from the house pig Buttercup to brooster the bell ringing alpaca and of course the camels themselves. It's open to the public as well as school groups etc who visit the farm and take part in a load of activities including helping to train an acrobatic goat, chilling with and feeding baby animals and seeing various demonstrations.

Our job on the farm is quite varied. We're here mainly because we speak French and can chat to the visitors and take them round the farm. We also get involved in the demonstrations from distracting a suspicious llama, getting mischievous goats away from wrecking demonstrations or just occupying the kids (human form) with games or just chit chat (and of course amazing camel facts we've picked up along the way). Then there are the various other tasks at hand round the farm, like drinking the local wine, winning water fights, keeping the kittens entertained or making the tea. We also do a hell of a lot of leafletting in local towns.

We're not by ourselves here, and live with our amazing adoptive family the Birds - Sarah & Paul, Oliver (10), Elliot (8). There is also currently the incredibly talented handyman Grant, and veterinary student to be Chrissy who help us with the wine as well.

Imagine a cross of Dr Doolittle, Big Brother & The Wild Thornberrys - and you're almost there.

This is our (camel themed) life.