Marie-Danielle and I met in a big old farmhouse in the middle of rural France, almost by accident. That was in November 1993, almost 25 years ago. We knew we were going to get on because we had been invited to a Thanksgiving dinner by some American friends and, when things started going wrong, we couldn’t help sharing a secret smile. You know, that schadenfreude moment wen you experience pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction as you learn of or witness someone else’s problems. (Okay, I guess we’re not very nice people!)
So, after I did a spell of work in Kuwait, we got together and discovered that we were both stubborn as hell, butted heads frequently, but that there was an undoubted connection. (25 years later, we are still both stubborn as hell and butt heads frequently – nothing’s changed. But that connection is still there, strong as ever.)
So it was that we began to intertwine our lives and work towards a common goal. And then, after 15 years of togetherness, we made the decision to marry. But we did it backwards! We had a honeymoon in Ireland first and got married the day after we came back. I only bought M-D an engagement ring 8 years later! That’s just the way we roll.
And what’s all this got to do with a foodie blog? you may ask. The answer is nothing, it’s just that today is the 10th anniversary of that wedding, and Marie-Danielle even has a certificate to prove it! Since M-D is French, we had to have the ‘permission’ of the French consulate (situated in Edinburgh) to get married. It didn’t arrive in time (very French) but we went ahead anyway. Can’t let some idle civil servant slow down international relations.
Since we had both been married before, we decided on a quiet wedding. We had two witnesses (two very good long-time friends) the photographer, and the lady in charge of the ceremony at the registry office in Douglas, on the Isle of Man.
Now, though I often want to wring her neck (and she, mine), we’re actually as happy as two senior members of the human race can be. We both love the Isle of Man and we both love France. We share our time between the two and will continue to do so for as long as is practicable. (Thnks for indulging me. The next blog post will be back to food-related stuff!)
One of the first things we did was to head down to Orleans where our French Grandchildren live. Clémence is 19 and Eléonore is 14. The plan was for Eléonore to spend a week with us so she and Lily could enjoy their holidays together. To see the two of them (Eléonore and Lily) together is like looking at a pair of sisters, and (thanks to Eléonore’s strong English) they got on just fine. By the way, yesterday, my iPad disappeared for a few moments. Now I know why… it seems to have taken that photo of the pair of them all by itself!
Eléonore’s father, Vincent, is a hunter – their freezer is full of wild boar. So on the weekend we stopped with them in order to collect Eléonore, they served wild boar for Sunday lunch. Now I have a good appetite, and a second helping of ‘sanglier’ was well in order. But I wasn’t the only one! Lily helped herself again, and again, and again, an again! FIVE helpings of sanglier later, she declared herself ready for dessert. And she’s only a little slip of a thing! Vincent has the tusks of the first boar he ever shot, mounted on a small wooden plaque. He explained to Lily who (due maybe to a slight misunderstanding in the transalation) decide that they came from the boar she had just eaten. She was impressed.
