This is the view from my bedroom window in Pierrefeu. It'd be lovely to sleep with the windows open like this when it's very hot, but I can't. Why? Because from about 5am onwards, huge big lorries start rumbling through the village on the road below. Quite often they are bin lorries from Toulon and round about, heading to the dump on the Collobrieres road. And they are massive, smelly and dirty...
When I first bought my house in 2002, I asked why the village put up with this. Michelle, in the Bar Central, called it 'la honte de Pierrefeu' (Pierrefeu's shame) and hinted that the Mairie actually benefitted financially in some way for letting the village be a main artery for juggernauts. Others just shrugged, and watched as yet another huge trunker had to squeeze past a school bus or a tractor-trailer pulling a load of vines.
But there may be good news for Pierrefeu. Last week, an open meeting was held to lay out plans for a detour which will lessen traffic through the village - lorries and cars.
Var Matin's report outlined the options and some of the comments from locals - especially those who live in the area where it's likely to be built, down in the valley. However, when you see the numbers of vehicles we're talking about - 20,000 lorries a year and 6000 plus cars a day - it's hard to see where there can be valid objections.
It won't be cheap at 14 million euros. But I'm willing to start a small fund now, if it helps...
When I first bought my house in 2002, I asked why the village put up with this. Michelle, in the Bar Central, called it 'la honte de Pierrefeu' (Pierrefeu's shame) and hinted that the Mairie actually benefitted financially in some way for letting the village be a main artery for juggernauts. Others just shrugged, and watched as yet another huge trunker had to squeeze past a school bus or a tractor-trailer pulling a load of vines.
But there may be good news for Pierrefeu. Last week, an open meeting was held to lay out plans for a detour which will lessen traffic through the village - lorries and cars.
Var Matin's report outlined the options and some of the comments from locals - especially those who live in the area where it's likely to be built, down in the valley. However, when you see the numbers of vehicles we're talking about - 20,000 lorries a year and 6000 plus cars a day - it's hard to see where there can be valid objections.
It won't be cheap at 14 million euros. But I'm willing to start a small fund now, if it helps...
Local TV has hit Pierrefeu. And I don't mean to be rude but I think the presenter, her cameraman and director could do with a few basic lessons...
Watch out for these classics in the Fete du Terroir film:
- Madame Poncho is in virtually every shot...
- The kitchen scenes with the cooks and their chums smoking over the bubbling pots and pans
- The lazy re-use of some shots by simply putting them in again - in rewind. There's actually a child running backwards in one scene.
- Monsieur le Maire everywhere and a guest-presenting slot by M Benentendi, who's the councillor responsible for these events
- The fascinating vegetable-carving gentleman
- Repeated appearances of sundry barnyard animals
Joking aside, it's lovely to see Pierrefeu on film and I even spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. It does make me think I've missed a relocation opportunity, though, when I realise that the Var TV mob are pocketing 500 euros a pop for these wee videos. And they've covered Le Luc, Carnoules and many other places across the valley.
Oh, and if you want to see what a Christmas town hall meeting looks like when it's given Presidential Debate status, check this out. Lovely scenes of a festive Pierrefeu by night.
Watch out for these classics in the Fete du Terroir film:
- Madame Poncho is in virtually every shot...
- The kitchen scenes with the cooks and their chums smoking over the bubbling pots and pans
- The lazy re-use of some shots by simply putting them in again - in rewind. There's actually a child running backwards in one scene.
- Monsieur le Maire everywhere and a guest-presenting slot by M Benentendi, who's the councillor responsible for these events
- The fascinating vegetable-carving gentleman
- Repeated appearances of sundry barnyard animals
Joking aside, it's lovely to see Pierrefeu on film and I even spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. It does make me think I've missed a relocation opportunity, though, when I realise that the Var TV mob are pocketing 500 euros a pop for these wee videos. And they've covered Le Luc, Carnoules and many other places across the valley.
Oh, and if you want to see what a Christmas town hall meeting looks like when it's given Presidential Debate status, check this out. Lovely scenes of a festive Pierrefeu by night.
Some time later...
Originally uploaded by Blue Blanket
Lunch on the beach, watching children paddling, a snooze in the sun afterwards with a podcast of the Now Show.
And home tomorrow.
Curses.
Pierrefeu thunderclap
Originally uploaded by Blue Blanket
(Sorry - not yet worked out how to post two videos in one entry. Otherwise, you'd have got the before and after in one.)
I've blogged before about the village's only hotel and their attempts at English translation.Now L'Univers has created its own website and their English text is following previous form...
I think they've taken it a bit far in translating place names (Londe Moors = La Londe des Maures. Hyeres Palm-Trees = Hyeres les Palmiers) but have followed suit for some of the local vineyards. A shiny two euro piece for the first person to work out what on earth they mean by 'Would Square'.
Time for Mass
Originally uploaded by Blue Blanket
These bells sound every day, summoning the diminishing faithful to Mass and sometimes for funerals. And on hot, sleepless nights I often count the chimes of church clock as the hours pass. Earlier on today, a friend of mine showed me an appartment for sale right opposite the church, with a terrace looking right onto it. That might be a little too close...
After a week of facial pain and no improvement, I decided to go and see Dr Lienard here in Pierrefeu. The dentist had said that he'd thought maybe my sinuses were inflamed so, as you can't get anything over the counter here, I trundled along to the Doc's to wait in line with the halt and the lame.
You don't make appointments in France so it's basically first-come, first served. So I joined a small room-full of folk, all reading three year-old magazines, whispering conversations about last night's torrential rain and greeting each newcomer with a 'Bonjour, madame/monsieur'. A woman came in with two toddlers and, remarkably, managed to keep them both amused and in line simply by whispering at them.
Soon it was my turn. Now, I've seen Dr Lienard before when my ears got a bit bunged up after some ill-advised snorkling at St Clair. I remember her as a lady of a certain age, in a jaunty red suit with a packet of ciggies on her desk but assumed that, with the new laws about smoking in France, this would be a thing of the past.
Nothing of the sort. I start my tale of woe, desperately trying to remember the french for jaw, x-ray and pain, and the phone rings. In fact it rings several times. Not only does she take the calls (fair dos - there were probably folk much worse off than me) but during the second one, she reaches for her pack of Lucky Strikes, gets her Bic out and lights up - all one-handed. Inhaling deeply, she informs Monsieur So-and-So that she'll call him after her consultation. He carries on talking and she cuts him off, rolling her eyes at me. I nod sympathetically, leaning back to avoid the cloud of smoke.
Actually, she was very nice. She did far more than the English Doc in London had done - including checking me for spots, oddly - and commenting on the British propensity for sticking cotton buds in their ears. How we laughed.
Twenty two euros later and I had a lengthy, scrawled prescription and a note to get me a sinus x-ray in Cuers. (Well, if it keeps raining, what else will I have to do?)
Oh, and a faint whiff of cigarette smoke, clinging to my clothes.
You don't make appointments in France so it's basically first-come, first served. So I joined a small room-full of folk, all reading three year-old magazines, whispering conversations about last night's torrential rain and greeting each newcomer with a 'Bonjour, madame/monsieur'. A woman came in with two toddlers and, remarkably, managed to keep them both amused and in line simply by whispering at them.
Soon it was my turn. Now, I've seen Dr Lienard before when my ears got a bit bunged up after some ill-advised snorkling at St Clair. I remember her as a lady of a certain age, in a jaunty red suit with a packet of ciggies on her desk but assumed that, with the new laws about smoking in France, this would be a thing of the past.
Nothing of the sort. I start my tale of woe, desperately trying to remember the french for jaw, x-ray and pain, and the phone rings. In fact it rings several times. Not only does she take the calls (fair dos - there were probably folk much worse off than me) but during the second one, she reaches for her pack of Lucky Strikes, gets her Bic out and lights up - all one-handed. Inhaling deeply, she informs Monsieur So-and-So that she'll call him after her consultation. He carries on talking and she cuts him off, rolling her eyes at me. I nod sympathetically, leaning back to avoid the cloud of smoke.
Actually, she was very nice. She did far more than the English Doc in London had done - including checking me for spots, oddly - and commenting on the British propensity for sticking cotton buds in their ears. How we laughed.
Twenty two euros later and I had a lengthy, scrawled prescription and a note to get me a sinus x-ray in Cuers. (Well, if it keeps raining, what else will I have to do?)
Oh, and a faint whiff of cigarette smoke, clinging to my clothes.
