We’ve been wondering for a while how to commemorate our leaving Laroque. Not long now: we’re working towards mid-March. We thought some kind of party, but with weather so uncertain, some friends away in February or early March, the house gradually being more and more unpicked, and with no obvious alternative such as a village hall or room-above-the-pub, it was all a bit of a puzzle.
Then the walking group here in Laroque stole our thunder. Subtle hints came our way, and we understood that we were at all costs to keep Friday evening free. We realised that food was involved – of course, c’est la France – but other than that, were left pretty much in the dark.
Finally, the invitation became more specific. We were to present ourselves at the restaurant up the hill, Table d’Angèle, at quarter to eight, and don’t be late. So we did. And there were 22 of our friends, our companions on Sunday and many other days of the week, ready to greet us as we came through the door.
Democracy was abandoned for the evening. Choose where to sit? Not a chance. We were instructed to do as we were told, and ushered to the centre seats, the places of honour. So different from our very first community meal in the same restaurant, when we were pretty new to Laroque. People then were wary, wondering how hard it would be to cope with talking to their new English neighbours. This time, we were all laughing as we sat down together. It was a fine meal, entirely cooked and served by the immensely hard-working two-person team of Obé (named after Obélix of Asterix fame) and his wife.
We took our time. There was plenty to eat, and lots to talk about, but finally, we took our last mouthfuls. The evening was not, it seemed, drawing to a close. Yvette stood up, a parcel in her hand. It was this book:
They’d chosen it because they knew it would remind us of our home here. But they thought that it linked too with our Yorkshire home, as the textile industries play such an important part in the history of both areas.
Then Henri stood up. In his retirement he’s become a keen amateur painter, and his latest piece was done with us in mind. Montségur, local landmark and place of pilgrimage. Here it is: he’s presented it to us, and it will always have a place on a wall in our home, wherever we live in the future.
Henri had another trick up his sleeve too. He produced a large jar of ‘confiture de vieux garçon’. Not much jam about this. It was jar of red fruits macerated for several months in sugar and alcohol to spoon into a glass to both eat and drink.
We put a jar of Seville orange marmalade for each guest at the meal (hence that ‘marmalade factory’) round the table, with instructions on how best to enjoy it. We continued drinking, talking, laughing. Somewhere in among, Malcolm made an emotional speech. Blanquette de Limoux finished off the meal, and eventually, slowly, the evening drew to its close.
Such a memorable evening. We’re touched beyond measure to have been so welcomed in Laroque, and that our friends chose to mark our departure with such careful planning and generosity. It’s unthinkable not to come back, and often. We’ve insisted too that they must all plan a visit to come and discover Yorkshire. Like the Ariège, it’s splendid walking country.
Thanks , Jaques and Yvette, for most of the photos. Mine seemed not to cut the mustard this time. Too busy having a good time I suppose
You certainly met some good people in Laroque. Bon voyage:)
LikeLike
Oh, we did. How we’ll miss them. Thanks
LikeLike
That’s so lovely. And what thoughtful gifts. Mind you, their loss is our gain here in Yorkshire.
LikeLike
Oh, how kind! It’s quite hard just now. Very mixed feelings, though I do want to come ‘home’.
LikeLike
Must have been a bittersweet occasion but some lovely memories.
LikeLike
Indeed. We’ve been so very lucky.
LikeLike
What a lovely, thoughtful au revoir! Obviously you have become valued members of your community.
LikeLike
Well, we certainly value them. We’ll miss them so much.
LikeLike
What a wonderful party… Very touching, I’m sure. Living in another country and becoming “a local” is an enriching experience that will stay with you forever!
LikeLike
It will. It has indeed been a wonderful and memorable time.
LikeLike
What a wonderful evening, but having read your blog for a while I suspect that you gave as much to them as they have to you. And what talented friends you have -the painting is beautiful. As for the confiture de vieux garcon, I’ll have to look that one up although I suspect it’s like a rumtopf? Enjoy your last few weeks.
LikeLike
Yep, I think it’s rumptopf too. It’ll be so hard to kiss these friends ‘goodbye’. But we’ll make it ‘au revoir’.
LikeLike
What a lovely event! It’s always hard to say good-bye to friends.
LikeLike
Indeed it is. And when they’ll be so far away…..
LikeLike
I am glad I went back and read this post…. moving isn’t easy. But we all move, homes, jobs, careers, and other such moves… it is good to know who your friends are, whom you can trust, and above all they are wishing you well. Take care and enjoy those sunsets and sunrises.
LikeLike
Thank you so much. We’re in the midst of the decluttering and thinking-about-packing now, and the iffy weather is a help here. Few temptations to get out there and avoid the work!
LikeLike
What a lovely party, and you are both obviously treasured members of the community. It will be hard to leave. But onward you must, more adventures wait round the corner. x
LikeLike
Indeed. Such mixed feelings. We love our friends here, but also those in the UK, where most of our family is too. I’m busy planning exciting times back home! x
LikeLike