At least I may write about something that cannot be photographed. As the weather grew hotter the Tramontana blew harder - a strong, dry cold wind from the northwest in lower Languedoc. It slams doors, roars and twangs, and once - oh, the shame - it blew a long-stemmed wine glass off the table. The Tramontana disturbs the psyche. A Victor Hugo character says Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne me rendra fou. (The wind coming over the mountain will drive me mad.)
But nothing deflected the soccer-mad members of our party from TV coverage of The World Cup. England arrived in Brazil full of justified pessimism. Played two, lost two; they're out of the competition which has weeks to go. I sat on the balcony in the dark with VR and OS (normally a fan but discontented for some reason) to be joined after twenty minutes by soccer maniac Zach. "Uruguay are just too good," he said. I'd have offered him rosé but he's only eight and had to make do with limonade avec un peu de grenadine.
It's all nonsense about subsisting on salads when it's hot. OS made a massive, elaborate bolognese sauce (to go with macaroni) and it was hugely appreciated. Cleaning the Le Creuset afterwards might have taken a lifetime if VR hadn’t discovered the miracle pot cleaner, Astonish. A truly well-equipped villa.
Robbie! I'm going to start paying attention to the names of winds ... Tramontana and Mistral.
ReplyDeleteI agree with the salad thing. It's been hot here, but last night we walked down the street for a massive Italian sub with the works from our local dude who's been in the sub business since 1952.
So the Zachster is leaning towards Uruguay! What does he think of Costa Rica's chances?
Futbol (soccer) fever has reached an annoying pitch here this year. Suddenly everybody is a rabid USA fan. They despise the German team, but they'll take Klinsmann. When I was asked last week, "when do we play the next match," there was an awkward silence before I had to ask, "when you say WE??" oops