HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CARMEL

Timmy and Helen threw Grannie a great garden party for her birthday. Lots of Buckleys and Meates were in attendance. The weather even cooperated for most of the afternoon.

ORANGE HALL, CO. FERMANAGH

WIKIPEDIA: ORANGE ORDER

DUNKEELY, COUNTY FERMANAGH

Three stones standing in a field, a boggy field, across the street from a Catholic church and graveyard. We followed a sign, as often happens, not really knowing what to expect. We were on the road from Beleek, going across Lough Erne to Kesh, in County Fermanagh to rejoin the main road to Enniskillan. We had taken a detour to see the famous two-faced figure in Caldragh Cemetery on Boa Island. About a mile from the crossroads we passed an Orange Hall with its defiant British flag. A plaque above the door said it was the Tubrid Orange Hall built in 1924. I wondered if Tubrid was an Anglicization of “Tobar Bríd” or Saint Bridget’s Holy Well. Barely a hundred metres further up the road we found the church and the field with the standing stones. These two places, the Catholic church and the Orange hall, were like the standing stones: forever linked but standing apart, their meaning only possible when read as a unit, if any meaning can ever be read from the history of conflict that we have suffered during the civil war of the last 35 years.

MYSTERIOUS JANUS FIGUREBOA ISLAND, CO. FERMANAGH

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LAST DAY IN GLEANNCHOLMCILLE

I took a quick picture of the house where I was staying - Liam's mother's house. The house is used by Oideas Gael for lodging. I had my own room and enjoyed meeting the other people who were staying there: Marcus, Emily, Paddy1, Paddy2, Gerald. The house had a good feeling about it - perhaps it was infused with the memories of good times lived there by Liam and his family, especially his mom.

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ROY, AT THE CEILI MOR

CEOLCHOIRM

Tonight should have been the evening for the
Sean-Nós concert. It usually takes place on the Thursday of Scoil Shamhraidh and is orchestrated by Gearoidín. But this year Liam summarily cancelled the sean-nós and in its place had a sean-nós choir give a performance instead. The choir was pretty good, three part harmonies with men’s and women’s voices. Gearoidín was scathing about the idea of a sean-nós choir. I think she was also very upset by Liam’s lack of respect for all the work she has done to keep the sean-nós tradition alive. And rightly so. Every year she assembles a dwindling number of truly great practitioners of the art to pass on the tradition. This year it didn’t happen and perhaps it will never happen again.
That being said, the choir (Cór Thaobh a’ Leithid) were very good. The sean-nós class also performed two of our songs. Gearoidín sang two songs and there was also a performance of Donegal dancers. A Scottish man, Griogair Labhruid, sang a sean-nós version of an Irish song, “Áirde Chuain”.

BESSIE

The AA mechanic finally arrived from Bundoran at about 11:00 (we had called the previous night!). He said he could do nothing for us but guide us down to a mechanic in Kilcar. He said the brake lining was rubbing against the wheel rim and that it would not be wise to drive the car back to Dublin without it being fixed. Apparently, this is the most common problem with older Renaults.
The mechanic in Kilcar said he would need the car for about a week to fix it. When he saw the look of astonishment on our faces he suggested another mechanic in Kilcar, JohnJoe, who he said would put it right for us.
We got directions and set out in search of JohnJoe. We found his house at the end of a little bothairin on a hill with a commanding view of Slieve League. He said he could fix the car but a part would have to be got from Donegal Town. He called the supplier to have the part delivered to a filling station in Killybegs. Pat agreed to drive us to Killybegs and bring us back.
We got to Killybegs at about 12:30. It was pouring down rain. We had a wait of about an hour for the delivery van from Donegal so we went to the hotel for a little lunch. We all ordered the same thing from the carvary - fish chowder. When in Killybegs . . . After lunch, things looked a lot brighter. We went back to the filling station to pick up the part and before long we were back with JohnJoe enquiring about the cost of the repair. He scratched his head and looked at the price on the outside of the parts’ box then said “50 euro”. We were expecting him to say something in the range of 200 to 300 euro so we were more than pleased with ourselves. He said it would be ready tomorrow morning. Pat drove us back to GleannCholmCille with more than enough time to spare for our afternoon class. Thank you Pat!

SEISIÚN CEOL

We had some car trouble tonight. A fierce storm came in off the Atlantic with gusts of wind and buckets of rain. Somehow that all upset Bessie (the car) and she didn’t want to work right. We did get her going again and she works fine as long as you are driving forward. Reversing is the problem.
We eventually made it to Sylvia and Edie’s house for dinner. Gearoidín was already there. Three men from the house, Brian, Seán and Rick were also having dinner with us. Brian and Seán are in my Irish class. We had a great dinner.
After dinner there was conversation. Rick talked about his parents from Mayo and the difficult life they had when they went to England. Brian and Seán made great efforts to speak in Irish and Gearoidín, in that wonderful quiet way of hers, encouraged them.
Myself and Treasa began singing the “Maighdean Mhara”. Gearoidín continued with two verses we didn’t have. Then she told the story behind the song, the story of how the man fell in love with the mermaid and stole her cloak to prevent her from going back to the sea. He hid it under the thatch until the day that her children found it. At that moment her longing for the old world of the sea overwhelmed her. She said goodbye to little Máire and Pádraig and went back into the ocean leaving them behind her, crying on the beach.

BIDDY’S

Development has arrived in the Gleann. Biddy’s, the iconic pub, is being transformed. A new wing is being built to accommodate the hoards of expected tourists. In celebration of this growth the owners threw a foam party last week, the likes of which has never been seen before in GleannCholmCille. I did not attend – in fact I haven’t even been inside of Biddy’s this year. Most of the action has been taking place in Roarty’s, a more comfortable place to listen to music or to hold a conversation.
Apparently there are new owners of Biddy’s. They want to spruce the place up, make it more attractive to younger people. As with so much else in Ireland, though, there is very little planning. The addition looks like an attached shed rather than an integral part of the building. I don’t like the way the classic profile of the building has been changed. I think it would have been better to build the addition at the back where it would not have distracted from the traditional façade. The new Ireland, where function lords over form, is suspiciously like the old.

CATHAL O SEARCAIGH

Cathal is in the shadow of the president as she greets him after his annual lecture and poetry reading.


BBC ARTICLE ABOUT CATHAL O SEARCAIGH

AN TRÁ BÁN

THE SILVER STRAND

I came home after the first day of the sean-nós class just ready to relax and be by myself. Treasa wanted to practise the songs. I started to make dinner for us both but it was extremely difficult to focus on my polenta with Treasa singing in my ear. I tried to be very explicit: I wanted to focus on what I was doing which was making dinner but I think Treasa was upset by my directness. After dinner she left and I felt I could have some time to myself.
I decided not to go down to the evening performance but to go instead to the Silver Strand. I actually started off by driving west to see what was beyond the hotel but I saw signs for the Silver Strand and didn’t remember ever being there before.
The parking lot was a high bluff. There was a steep path down to the beach. From the top I could see how bright and clean the beach was. In the light of the setting sun the sand reflected an orange color.
I was the only person there. I walked to the end of the beach, about a half a mile, then sat on the rocks looking out at the deep blue of the ocean. On either side of the bay arms jutted out to embrace it.
As darkness descended I made my way back to the car, grateful for one of the most beautiful and quietest moments of my life.

LEABA CHOLMCILLE

The advanced classes went out for a walk along the Turas with Jimmy, the local historian and expert on St. ColmCille and the pilgrammage route around the valley. The pilgrammage can be done at any time but it is traditionally done by local people on July 9, the anniversary of ColmCille’s death. There are twenty four stops on the pilgrammage route and special prayers are said at each. It is usually done barefoot.
Jimmy, who is in his eighties, was very hard to understand. Ray MacManus did a kind of translation into intelligible Irish but it was still hard to follow.
We made our way up the mountainside to the holy well associated with St. ColmCille. Along the way we stopped at ColmCille’s Bed. Jmmy explained how to a stone is passed around the torso and a blessing said. When we got to the well he showed us how a stone is thrown onto the pile by each pilgram. He told us that he threw his first stone in 1945.
It was such a beautiful day. From high up on the mountainside you could look east down the valley as far as the Eaglais Gallda (what the locals refer to the Protestant church as) and beyond that to Glenish. To the west the deep blue of the Atlantic was caressing the feet of Malin Mór. Centuries hung in the air between them.

ANOTHER COURT TOMB

I woke up early on Sunday with the intention of driving out to Tobar Naomh Ciaran to see the court tomb that is in the fields beyond. It was such a beautiful beginning to the day I didn’t want to waste the opportunity of seeing this monument. Last year I got as far as the cairn with Beryl and Madeleine but was persuaded from going further. This year Oi was determined to see it.
I picked up Treasa at the Teach Mór. She was as eager as I to see the tomb. As we went past Roarty’s we saw Edie and Sylvia walking up the road. We stopped and asked them if they wanted to accompany us. We had a great time in the car, singing and catching up on everybody’s story.
The monument looks a lot closer from the road than it actually is. It took us quite a while to make our way through the bog, over fences, across a stream, and down the steep hillside to the tomb. But it was worth it. It’s hard to describe in words the feeling of being in the presence of something that has been sitting there for millennia, suffice it to say we were awestruck.
On the way back up the hill to the road we found wild peppermint growing and two different species of orchids.

CREEVYKEEL

On the road back to Donegal from Sligo we saw a sign for Creevykeel Court Tomb. Of course we had to stop! Right at the entrance to the site there was a “rag tree”. This is a tree where people hang a piece of cloth or a strip of clothing that has touched the part of their body that needs curing. This tree was covered in strips of paper towel and paper napkins instead of cloth. I wonder if one person had done all the hangings.
The court tomb itself was very impressive. According to the information sign it “was built in the 3rd millennium BCE and consists of a burial chamber opening off the open central courtyard.” There are possibly two more smaller passage graves at the narrow end of the wedge shaped structure. From the mound you can look out at the bay in one direction and the mountains in the other. A really beautiful place to build the Taj Mahal.
MORE INFO ABOUT CREEVYKEEL

STONE PAGES: CREEVYKEEL

SLIGO TOWN

We got to Sligo Town at about 3:30 in the afternoon. It was such a beautiful day – sunny with big white clouds in the sky. Sligo is a busy place, and of course we were there on a Saturday, the busiest day of the week. We found parking along the river. We had to run the gauntlet of an aul’ one who might have been waiting for the space that we took. Treasa wanted to see the shops so we split up. I went looking for a cybercafe and she wandered around the town centre.
Later in the afternoon we got together again. I had already met Emily and Aaron on the street. They were in Sligo to pick up a rental car at the airport. Treasa and meself went to the Yeats Memorial Building (where there is a little restaurant) to have coffee and a sandwich.
By the time we were finished the shops were starting to close up. We hurried to Tesco to buy a chicken for the Sunday dinner. Tesco has self-checkout but that’s a misnomer since we had so many problems with the machine that the supervisor ended up checking us out. Whoever came up the concept gets my vote for most useless modern invention.
We left Sligo at 6:30 so that we could be back in the Gleann for the big opening meeting of Scoil Shamhraidh.

YEATS' GRAVE, DRUMCLIFF CHURCHYARD

“Under bare Benbulbin’s head” we stopped to visit Yeats’ grave. The cemetery is just outside Sligo Town on the road from Donegal. There were a lot of people about, the car park was full. There is now a tea room and art gallery on the grounds that weren’t there the last time I came through in 1982!
The church itself has been restored but it is now so new and shiny looking that it has lost all its old character. I suppose buildings must be conserved and restored but couldn’t they be renewed in a way that is sensitive to the centuries of struggle and strife that the building has been witness to?
There is a fine high cross from the 11th century in the churchyard. On one side panels depict the Fall of Man (Thank you Eve!), the Presentation in the Temple, and the Crucifixion; on the other side, Cain is slaying Abel and Christ is resurrected.

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DONEGAL TOWN

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We got an early start to the day. We decided to go down to Donegal Town to do a bit of shopping, and if we felt like it maybe drive as far as Sligo Town. It didn’t take us long to get to Donegal. It was a fine bright morning with little traffic on the road until we got beyond Killybegs.

As soon as we had the car parked we took a little walk about town. Treasa had postcards she wanted to mail out so we went looking for the post office. After that we dropped into the Blueberry Café for a spot of breakfast. There were at least two other people speaking Irish in the café. Brian, the owner came out to speak with us. He always remembers me and Rich and always asks about Vladimir. He is such a wonderful host, it’s not surprising his café is thriving. There is no longer tagine on the menu but at least he is trying other new things like coq au vin and tandoori salmon wrap. I wonder how the dour Donegallers are taking to that.

Treasa wanted to see the famine graveyard so we took a walk out in that direction after breakfast. Along the road the skies darkened and a heavy downpour caught us out in the open. We took shelter beneath a rowan tree until the rain let up.

FAKE VILLAGE (FOLK VILLAGE)

There is an incredible building boom going on in GleannCholmCille. Houses are springing up everywhere. There is a new small hotel with self-catering apartments by the fire station, and close to where I’m staying five new holiday homes have been built.
This expansion has been taking place all over Ireland but until recently the Gleann has been relatively untouched. Now development has arrived with a vengence. It seems every telephone pole has a planning application notice displayed. There are even more street lights too so it never gets quite as dark as it used to.

DEORA DÉ

It’s getting a little rough – sessions every night until 2 and classes every morning at 10. Last night there was a tremendous session in Roarty’s which wasn’t very crowded. When singers sang people actually stayed quiet! Margaret and Derek led the session with guitars and fiddle and others joined in. A woman played the harp and sang a haunting version of “Fields of Gold”, not exactly traditional material but beautiful all the same. And of course Salvatore was in fine fettle. How did we ever keep the tradition alive before Italians and Poles came along?

SUNSET

We have been singing since we arrived here. Last night we walked down to the beach to see the sunset. It had rained hard for most of the day, on and off between bouts of sunshine. But at sunset the sky turned pink and red and orange as the sun slowly sank into the Atlantic. It was magnificent.
On the road back from the beach we heard a flock of birds singing. Suddenly a black cloud rose up from the grass, swirling around in a dark mass before settling down again in the bushes. As they were moving we heard the sound of hundreds of tiny wings beating in unison. It was a vivid portrayal of the lines from the song “Eirigh Suas a Stoirin” that say “When the flock settles down together at night there are always two birds that rise up together in the morning”. Me and Rich.

THE BOOK OF AMOS

We went to the 12 o’clock service at the church. A visiting minister from Derry (he called it Londonderry) was officiating, and again they had the electronic music to enhance the singing of the small congregation. The first reading was from the Book of Amos. God tells Amos that he will be like a plumbline to the people of Israel. There was something about “the dressers of sycamores” which I didn’t understand. Later, Robin told me that sycamores meant figs but then why didn’t it just say “dresser of figs”. And what does “dresser” mean? At the end of the story God tells Amos that he will put the wife of the King into prostitution, and make his children fall by the sword and scatter the people of Israel. I’m still not sure how that all came about.
The second reading was from the Gospel of Saint Luke, the story of the Good Samaritan. The reverend used this story as the basis for his sermon. He spoke about Darfur and how “religious people” have forgotten their responsibility – like the priest and the Levite in the story of the Good Samaritan.
After the service I asked the woman who open the church and gets it ready for the service if the sacred music recital would take place again this year. She told me that the church organist has cancer so many similar things have been cancelled out of respect for her. I think this explains the boombox hymn accompaniments.

BASTILLE DAY AT LOUGH ERNE

I drove up to Donegal with Treasa. The great thing about going with someone like Treasa (besides the company – gearraoin beirt bothar) is that she is more than willing to stop along the way to investigate. So we stopped in Kells to see the high crosses again. This time I got to see and photograph the Market Cross with its depictions of Noah’s Ark and the crucifixion. We drove through Cavan without stopping since there is a new by-pass. As we moved into Fermanagh the weather turned glorious with bright sun, blue skies, and big fluffy clouds. Along the lake, Lower Lough Erne, we found a little spot to stop and park so that we could see the lake. It was magnificent, a truly remarkable sight. After that we had a brief stop in Belturbet for lunch. Across the street from the café (a misnomer, since there was only instant coffee available) was a sculpture of two figures, a young man and a young woman. The figures represented two sixteen year olds who had died on the same day. There was no other information about what it meant.
We arrived in the Glen at about 7:30 in the evening.

ADAM AND EVE, KELLS HIGH CROSS

We went for a drive out into the countryside today. Helen had the day of and Timmy is on Summer break from school. It was pouring down rain when we left but in the spirit of eternal optimism we set out for Tara and Kells in hopes that it might be better. It never did get better.

TARA PROTEST

Today was a World Day of Protest against the destruction of the Hill of Tara by the new M3 motorway.

BACK IN NANTES, EN ROUTE TO IRELAND

Today, I’m taking the Ryanair flight from Nantes to Dublin. I’m by myself. Rich took me to the train station at Saumur this morning to get the early train to Nantes. I had a layover of several hours so I decided to walk around the centre of Nantes for a while. I had coffee in the Place de Pilori and was even able to check email via a free wifi hotspot (free for 15 minutes after viewing a 3 minute ad promo, www.fon.com).
On the airport shuttle bus there was an Irish woman traveling with her 12 month old baby boy. I asked her if she needed help getting her things off the bus. But instead of me unloading her things she asked me if I would hold her baby while she did it. I was surprised that she let me hold her baby while she looked out for the more valuable Dunnes Stores wardrobe. Who says Irish people don’t know their way about the world?

OUR LITTLE HOUSE

This is our little house. Inside, on the ground floor is the kitchen/dining room/living room and the access to the back patio.
Right outside our door on the other side of the street is the main entrance to the chateau. To the left of the entrance you can see the house of the Mushroom Lady – the woman who grows mushrooms in the caves and sells them every Sunday at the weekly market in the Place du Mail. We sampled her wares this week.

GAY BAR?

We spent most of the day in Saumur. We found a construction company that does local work in the region. We had to wait until they were open. Most offices and many small stores close for lunch between 12 and 2 – a very civilized way of conducting business. When we came back we asked them about installing “historically correct” double-paned windows at the house. We had already decided that this is going to be the extent of the work that we are going to do this year. They said they couldn’t come out to measure and estimate for about two weeks. Then it would take another two weeks to fabricate the windows, but not during the annual holidays in August. So we are looking at September before any real work takes place. Everything moves a little slower in France.

When we finished our business we went for a glass of wine to a little café that we had been to before. The café – El Cafelito – is in the Saint Nicholas district. We have been to this café before but couldn’t determine if it was a gay bar or not. In France, and in Europe in general, everybody stares, so it can be difficult to determine if they are staring because we look so different or because they don’t expect non-French gay people to visit their café, or because they think we are lost straight people. Anyway, everybody stared at us the first time we went to this café so we knew we had found something like a gay bar. This time the signs were more explicit. An obvious transvestite/transgender was sitting at the bar having drinks with a man in leather pants (The leather pants is the giveaway, not the transgender). We ordered a glass of red wine but we didn’t have the temerity to enquire further about the bar.

BOSSA NOVA

Our local café in Montsoreau, the Lion d’Or, has a series of Friday night specials during Summer. The first one was a tapas dinner with an evening of Bossa Nova music and dancing. We made our reservation, not really knowing what to expect. We thought it might be an opportunity to meet some people in the village.
We got all dressed up and walked down to the
centre-ville at about 8:30. There was already a big crowd sitting at tables set up outside the café but our little table was reserved so we sat down and ordered a bottle of rosé. The band was a woman, a chanteuse, and two men – one played the guitar and the other, maracas. Et voilà, Bossa Nova! Actually, the music was pretty good. While they were playing a buffet dinner was served – couscous, frittata, chorizo, mozzerella and tomato, cheeses, olives, good country bread.
After dinner, there was more music and dancing. We did get to meet one man, Henri, a Basque who was in town for an engineers’ convention. He was with a large group of ten adults and three children. Between them they drank 4 bottles of champagne and 12 bottles of red wine. The kids only drank soda.

NOS VOISINS

We met our neighbors, Les Racinet, tonight as they were putting things in the car to head back to Paris. Anna-Mette and Christian come down to their house for the weekend about twice a month. They take the train from Paris to Tours where they keep their car in a rented garage. They seem like a very nice couple. They speak English very well and regaled us with stories of their travels in Mexico and the
United States in their youth.

LES PUCES DE MONTSOREAU

The second Sunday of each month is the big event in Montsoreau – Les Puces de Montsoreau, or the Montsoreau Flea Market.
We got there early but there was a big crowd already milling about the stalls which were strung along the bank of the Loire. Furniture, pottery, paintings of dubious provenance, household knick-knacks, bric-a-brac, linens, treasures and junk of every description, all laid out for wary shoppers.
We saw a set of chairs that we liked, 6 chairs for 60 euro. There was another couple eyeing them too, waiting for us to decide. We swooped in, checked the price and made an offer. We bought our first antique treasures for the house!
By lunchtime everybody was a little more relaxed. The vendors got together to eat picnic lunches right in the market. This fellow pulled out a mechanical organ, loaded it with a punch-card music roll and began to sing along with the music. Other people in the market gathered round and sang along. It seemed that everybody recognized the songs and sang with the organ grinder. Quelle scène toute jolie!

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THE ROAD TO SAUMUR

DAYTRIP TO ANGERS

We drove to the train station in Saumur, the main hub for trains to Paris, Tours, Nantes, and Orleans. We bought tickets for the local train to Angers (the TER, as opposed to the TGV). Angers is only 30 miles from Saumur but we didn’t want the hassle of arriving in a new city trying to find the centre-ville and parking. For 26 euro we avoided all of that. It was a 30 minute ride right to the centre of Angers.
We had two sights in our sights: the chateau and the Cathedral of Saint Maurice. We walked from the train station through the old town. In the Place
Saint-Croix we stopped to have lunch. We bought our lunch at a café then took it out to the tables set up in the square. We had a great view of the Maison d’Adam, one of the original timber-framed houses that Angers is known for.
The cathedral was our first surprise of the day. Above the entrance is a tympaneum showing Christ in majesty surrounded by the symbols of the four evangelists: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Inside were the most amazing stained glass rose windows, created in the 15th century, showing the coming apocalypse at the end of time.
There are other panels showing the life of St. Martin (a personal favourite), the ecstasy of Saint Catherine and the martyrdom of Saint Vincent on the barbecue grill.
From the cathedral we walked through narrow streets to the chateau. The sixteen towers of the chateau are an imposing sight but the gardens and the green of the dry moat soften the initial impact. Inside the chateau is a chapel built by the ducs of Anjou in the 13th century and a formal garden. We walked around the top of the walls for some wonderful views over the city and the Maine River.
At the end of the tour we walked through the gallery specially built to house the Apocalypse Tapestries. The surviving panels of these tapestries, woven in the 14th century, illustrate the visions of St. John as detailed in the Book of Revelation.
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NICO

TOURNESOLS, SANS SOLEIL

Sunflowers

BEWARE OF FALLING IN LOVE WITH DOG

On our evening walk around the village we met with the only other person who wasn’t already locked up tight in their house with the shutters drawn. Roger lives right on the border of Montsoreau and
Càndes-Saint Martin. For the past few nights we have seen him walking his dog. Tonight we decided to stop and introduce ourselves. He has lived in the village for the last two years. His dog, Bogart, is a 10 month old Welsh Terrier puppy who was very excited to meet us. Roger is the first person we have met since we have been here.

LES DAMES DE MONTSOREAU

Sunday afternoon, the perfect time to visit “our” chateau. We cross the street and walk around the dry moat (la douve), stopping occasionally to investigate the great fig trees.
At the entrance to the chateau the lady tells us that it costs 8.10 euro to enter. We ask about discounts. She tells us that entrance is free to residents of Montsoreau. We go back to the house to get our electricity bill to prove we are residents then she gives us an ID card that we can use anytime to enter the chateau for free. Today there is a special – a glass of regional wine at the end of the tour!
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HAUTE CULTURE

Sunday was a brilliant day. First we had the market in the village square, followed by coffee with Jacqueline and the Swiss cousins Andrew and Cathy. Then the visit to the chateau. In the evening, as it started to get misty with light rain, we went to the 11th Century Church of Saint Michael in Fontevraud to hear the Chamber Orchestra of Bratislava performing in the church.

HUNGARIAN DANCE

Carl Maria von Weber
4th movement “Allegro” from the quintet op. 34 for clarinet, 2 violins, viola and cello

Vittorio Monti
“Hungarian Dance” for violin and strings

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Aria “Queen of the Night”
From the opera “The Magic Flute”, in the version for clarinet and orchestra

Johann Strauss
“Pizzicato-Polka”

Giuseppe Verdi
Fantasy about themes from the opera “La Traviata” in the version for clarinet and orchestra

Carl Maria von Weber
3rd movement “Presto” from the quintet op. 34 for clarinet, 2 violens, viola and cello

Camille Saint-Saëns
Carnival des Animaux, “Le Cygne”, for cello and orchestra

Pablo de Saraste
“Gypsy Airs”, op.20 No. 1 for violin and strings

Antonio Vivaldi
Concerto “Winter”, from the Four Seasons in the version for viola and orchestra

Gioacchino Rossini
“Carnival in Venice”, theme and variations for clarinet and orchestra

LAPIN AUX LARDONS

Jacqueline talked up a big storm about how she makes rabbit so I decided to try my hand at it. She suggested using lardons to keep the rabbit from drying out. We went to the butchers and asked for 250 grammes of lardons. They sliced it, then cut it into small strips and chunks.
We bought the rabbit at the Sunday market in the village. We asked for half a rabbit. We got the back legs and a good hunk of the back along with the liver and kidneys.
I buttered a roasting pan, arranged peeled carrots and potatoes on a bed of coarsely chopped leeks and garlic with the rabbit on top. Then I dotted the rabbit with the lardons, seasoned with salt and pepper, threw in a handful of chopped parsley and two cups of stock, then covered everything with foil and baked it in the oven for an hour at 375°F.
Heavenly smells filled the kitchen. When the potatoes were tender I knew that everything was ready. I got a bottle of rosé from the cave, nicely chilled, called Rich to the table, and feasted on our first Sunday dinner in Montsoreau.