As a child, I really liked November. For me, the 10th was my best day, as it was my father’s birthday. The 5th was fun too, with the bonfire and fireworks, and with all my boy cousins. I was the only girl!

Three of my grandchildren, one of their partners, and one of my best friends, all have their birthdays this month!

Of course, it includes Remembrance Sunday too. Whilst we wear poppies, the French wear cornflowers, to remember the battlefields. Both of these flowers are masculine in French, un coquelicot for a poppy, and un bluet for a cornflower.
However the French names for flowers, blossom, and a rose, are all feminine.

To finish, here is one of my poems, entitled ‘God’s Creation

‘Too beautiful to be the work of man.
Fine silky petals -
Red, shading to pink.
Black spiky stamens -
The colour of ink.
Curling flat leaves -
A green so intense.
A subtle sweet perfume--
That’s almost incense……..a POPPY!

Enjoy November, Esmé.

The French for ‘hobbies’ is ‘passe-temps favoris’. I expect that most of us have favourite pass-times. Perhaps yours is gardening, reading, cookery, needlework, or sport? My son Rowan enjoys his daily walk along the river path in York with their large dog. The dog walkers get to know each other and their dogs. Rowan also likes doing crosswords whilst watching cricket on television.

My daughter Jaye has a new commendable project. She is learning sign-language, so that deaf listeners can understand what she is singing!

My husband Ron played the accordion, the clarinet, and his key-board. I bought him a glass-engraving kit, but that was too much worry. I was afraid that the flying shards of glass go into his eyes when he removed his goggles!

The computer chess that I bought him next was a much better idea. 

Ron was very ken on watching car-racing, so we went to the races at Monte-Carlo and Le Mans.

Of course, many people’s main hobby is ‘collecting things’. Friends of ours in France live in a ‘Maison de Maître ‘- that’s a mansion-house! They need the space to house all their many collections! The entrance-hall and lounge are not something we could have lived with. They a re full of stuffed animals! And I do not like taxidermy.

The two upper floors are interesting, each room housing a different collection. One room is full of Army and Navy costumes through the ages. Another is packed with wirelesses and gramophones of all shapes and sizes. There is not space enough here to tell you about all the other rooms.
So what do I collect?

I am a great fan of the artist, Claude Monet. Even my cushions feature his water-lily design. 

I also collect pieces of glass and mirrors of Julian McDonald, which I buy regularly from television’s QVC programme..

My flat sparkles -- I wish that I did! (Editor’s note: But you do, and always have: done!)

Enjoy October!
Esmé

I am very fond of teddy-bears, and I pass a building in Frenchay which always reminds me of one of mine! I expect that many of you know The Manor House in Beckspool Road. As a child, I was often there, as the owner, a Miss Fry of the 'chocolate' family, was one of my Aunt's best friends, as they were both Commissioners in the Girl Guide movement in Bristol.

Miss Fry gave me A.A. Milne's book 'Winnie the Pooh' and wrote inside it "To Esmé, because she loves Teddy". Until I started at infant school, I always had my favourite Teddy under my arm. I remember being amazed that one person lived in such a huge house.. Manor Cottage next door is a well-thought-of Care Home, and it is believed that most of the servants lived there. The buildings are from the 15th century and are listed.

I wondered where the name 'Teddy' came from. A.A. Milne first called his bear 'Edward' or 'Teddy' for short. He changed that name to 'Winnie' after a bear in London Zoo called 'Winnipeg', and so his book became 'Winnie the Pooh'.

Theodore Roosevelt loved bears so much that, on a shooting trip, he refused to shoot one! Did you know that Giles Brandreth and his wife have opened a Teddy Bears Museum? I wonder how many of you reading this still have your teddy-bear? The last present that Ron, my husband, bought me in France, comes wherever I am in my flat.. That was from the year 2000. The bear is very big, white, and is called 'Cuddles'.

Enjoy September!

Esmé

If you wonder why I chose Southmead for my holiday, I didn't choose it: it chose me! (Written while in Southmead Hospital) I came here more than a week ago after making a 999 phone call!

I am writing about it, as my experiences may help somebody reading this. Over the years, I have been an out-patient in both the Eye and Dental Hospitals, and an in-patient in eight Bristol hospitals!

Here I arrived in 'A and E', and since then, I have been in four different wards! My favourite hospital was the Maternity Hospital, as I left with a beautiful baby. May I put your mind at rest about having a MRI scan, as many people are scared about being in a tunnel. Do not worry: you have a buzzer to press for help if you need it. Try not to do that. I always ask how long it will take. Last Saturday they said 15 minutes. I count. I know that I can reach 400 in 15 minutes. That way, when you reach 200, you know that you are half-way through the scan.

There is one reason why I prefer stays in French hospitals: you have wine with your meals! I realise that our NHS would not want that extra expenditure, but I wish that I could buy a glass with my meal now!

The last time I was in a French hospital bed, my GP came in with his guitar, sat on my bed, and played it for me. It was really good relaxation treatment!

I am very grateful for the kind and efficient help that I am receiving here in Southmead Hospital, of course.

Stay well.

Esmé

Editor's Note: I am pleased to report that Esmé was discharged from hospital when they felt able to conclude that there was no serious ongoing problem, and she is now settled back home.

And thanks again to her for writing the article, even though she was in hospital!

If you wonder why my title is in French, there is a reason. It is not because I adore France, although I do. It is because the word 'picnic' originated from the French version. In 1692 it was the term used to describe 'ap erson who brought their own wine to a restaurant'.

Why write about picnics anyway? It is because Sunday 18th July is 'Climate Sunday' and the day when everyone was to have been welcomed to join the Frenchay Picnic. (Sadly, that date has now been postponed to 29th August due to the extension of Covid restrictions) After 21 years of living in France, I know that English people, on the whole, are more keen on picnics than the French. The motorways in France often have picnic areas with tables and benches, but they are usually half-empty, whilst the cafeteria inside has a queue waiting to go in!

In the South, you rarely see people eating meals on the beaches. But why would you when they are lined with fabulous and fairly-inexpensive cafés and restaurants?

My only picnic memories result from living in Westbury-on-Trym! We lived near the Downs, as our house was in Downs Cote Drive. Very often on fi- ne days, I would drive home from teaching all day, fetch a picnic already pre- pared from our kitchen, then fetch our two children, and head for a picnic on the Downs!

It is more practical to wrap individual portions in foil, and then put each person's share into a little basket if you have one. Only the cake I didn't pre-slice. Often I took a tube of chocolate spread for it. I hoped that more went on the cake than on the children!

So, have fun, and enjoy what ever your choice of meal.
​
Esmé

In 1932 I was born in The Avenue, St. George, and I am glad about that! I am very proud of Bristol. We were living in Clifton before moving to France. Clifton too is famous and was mentioned in the Domesday Book, but spelt Cliftone. As our flat faced the Clif \.02ton Downs, there was always something interesting to watch. Our bedrooms faced the Old Vic Theatre School. The Theatre Royal is the longest running theatre in our country. We enjoyed the atmosphere there!

Both my daughter and I were Red Maids. Our school is the oldest girls' school in the country. It started in Denmark Street as an orphanage for 12 girls. They were taught domestic skills to enable them to gain employment as servants. There was also a Blue Maids orphanage but it closed in 1927.

When we lived in Clifton, we had season tickets for the Zoo, so we were able to walk through the pretty grounds to shop in Clifton Village, use the Library, and enjoy the restaurants. One of the latter was owned by Keith Floyd, the famous chef, and it was Keith who bought our flat! The Zoo is now moving to The Wild Place Project, near junction 17 of the the M5.

I am also proud of Clifton College. I thought that Public Schools were built for the wealthy, but not at all. They were established for parents who could not afford to have their children privately educated at home! The school theatre is called 'The Redgrave', after Sir Michael Redgrave who was a student there, as were John Cleese, Trevor Howard, Josiah Wedgwood,..and our son! 

How about Bristol Blue glass - so beautiful! And one of my granddaughters is getting married in Clifton in August!

Stay well, Esmé

This is my 219th article written for this magazine, and it is the first about mushrooms. Why this subject? A friend has just phoned me from a wood, where she is searching for wild mushrooms.  In April and May they grow prolifically in many regions. On her way home, she will call into her local pharmacy to get them checked for safe eating. Our son on holiday with friends in the Dordogne region once ate a ‘yellow stainer’ and was very ill. Luckily we only heard about it when he had recovered!

​He is very knowledgeable about language..  I had thought that ‘champ’ meant ‘field’, but Rowan said that in early French it meant ‘open Countryside’. The ‘mush’ in early English meant ‘moss’. I learn something new every day! 'Mort’ in French is ‘death’, but the wild mushrooms called ‘Trompettes de la Mort’ are harmless.
​
You may have realised that I am a great fan of the artist Claude Monet. His favourite mushroom was a cèpe. A Frenchman once showed me how to cook them, then we all ate them outside in the sunshine. Never wash them, just wipe them clean. You serve them with the sauce in which you cooked them. Melt plenty of butter, then add shallots, garlic, and parsley. My French friends then add a meat stock, but we preferred a vegetarian one. Finally, just before serving, add double cream. Living here, you could add grilled button mushrooms to this sauce, or, as I sometimes do, stuff large mushrooms and cook in foil in the oven, before serving with this delicious sauce. So, enjoy your champignons!     

Esmé

Alternatively, see this month's recipe for Cream of Mushroom Soup, by The Tidy Cook

I hope that you love lavender as much as I do! That’s after white flowers: they are my top      favourites. Driving around our area in the South of France in summertime was such a joy! Field upon field of superb colour and perfume.

I like my name Esmé, but have always thought that if I had been christened Violet, I would have worn clothes in shades of mauve and purple, at least after I had left Redmaids!      
 
Lavender in France is known as ‘L’or bleu de Provence’, the blue gold. It is so intrinsically French. The author Jean Giono famously said “ Lavender is the soul of Provence”. There are too many stories about it for this article. I love to think that Mary Magdalene washed the feet of  Jesus with it. It was regularly used to perfume tombs, and Charles VI  insisted on having cushions stuffed with it wherever he went.

Lavender is harvested mostly from June to August, starting along the South, and then to the Alpes of Haute Provence.  The essential oils are used to make beauty products and perfume.      It is also thought to have healing qualities, and distillers move from market to market with their stills. 

Grasse is the town at the centre of the perfume production. It’s not a pretty town, but it smells delightful! Nowadays many top chefs use lavender in their creations, and it’s very popular in ice-creams.

I wish you all a perfumed April, and a healthy one.
Esmé

I wonder if, like me, you find the life-style of your grandchildren - if you are lucky enough to have any - astoundingly different from that of your predecessors! It never fails to amaze me. My grandmother was very proud of the fact that she went to school. Her father was a rich mill-owner, and so he could afford to pay for this! She fell in love with a poor farmer who often came to grind his corn at the mill. Marriage was refused, so, dressed in her best velvets, she climbed out of a window, and they married in the ‘leaning’ Church in the Centre of Bristol.

My mother left school at the age of twelve! There was no salary for her, just pocket-money. She worked alongside my grandmother in their Inn, which was called ‘The Darrell Arms’ and was at Framilode on the banks of the River Severn. The family had the rights to fish salmon from the river, and my mother cooked salmon teas, with paid help, and served them in their tea-gardens alongside the Inn. They also had the rights to ferry people backwards and forwards across the Severn, so the mealtimes were always busy.

At the age of 18, my mother was engaged to be married to a young farmer called Mortimer. Sadly, my grandfather died and the family moved back to Bristol. My mother joined Kingswood Tennis Club and loved it. However her mother gave her the choice: either leave the Club, or give up her fiancé. She chose the Tennis Club!

My life was pretty strict, but not as bad as that. And what freedom my daughter had! At 17, she was away from home at Exeter University. My grandchildren too are widely travelled and totally independent. My little great-granddaughter, at 5 months old, travelled to the South of France.

Life has endless possibilities, even in these difficult times. I hope that you enjoy yours!
Esmé

I think many of us have first times that we remember. Some are pleasurable, some we would rather forget!

At the age of threeI was smacked for unpicking my mother’s knitting! At five, smacked again on my first day at infant school for crossing my legs when sitting down. You weren’t supposed to do that! At fourteen, I went to my first party where boys were invited too! What a thril. Us girls couldn’t wait, we were so excited! It was that day that I met Ron (sixteen) my future husband.

March 10th was my lucky day. The first day I wore my engagement ring to school, I was teaching at Greenbank. I took every opportunity to write on the blackboard so that I could rest my left hand and admire my ring!

On my first day of teaching at Fonthill School in Southmead, I quarrelled with the headmaster.  When my class came in from the playground, I noticed one little boy was missing. He was seven and it was his first day at that school too. Where was he? He was in the headmaster’s office being caned. His “crime”? He had taken a piece of chalk outside and had drawn on the ground. I was very cross and really reprimanded the Head.

Talking of schools, my first day at Red Maids was far from enjoyable. I broke a test tube in the laboratory, then we wnt outside to play hockey. I had to throw the ball in. At that moment the teacher bent over and the ball hit her nose causing it to bleed! What a first day!

I will finish on a happier memory. The first holiday after our honeymoon was planned for France, somewhere we had never been. We had booked a place on a plane flying from Lydd in Kent. On the way there our fan belt broke, so we missed the plane! Luckily we were in the A.C. Petite that I told you about last month. There was just room to fit it into a plane with two large Rolls Royces!

Our first breakfast in France was in Le Touquet. We loved it, and it is still one of my favourite places in the world!

Enjoy November.
Esmé