Poets, painters and puddings. These three things make the world as it ought to be.

Across the Atlantic

It is a very long time since I have written and unsurprisingly my flow has been stopped, blocked,dried up, the appeal to continue to write my yachting stories has left me and I am not sure were to go form here.

Since leaving you stranded  in the story in Gibralter, I have been to work in St Emilion back to England and home again. My father has died and we have had his funeral. A very splendid send off it was too.

The weather here is wet and miserable and I am looking forward to some sunny days.

So how do I get back into the story. Here I am surrounded by bleak grey skies and relentless rain fall, my studio or what comprises of my studio has flooded and the mice have decided to use it as their home base, my paintings are covered in mice poo, and all the furniture is wet and dank. What a pretty picture I paint.

I am inside, in the warmth, I am lucky, the fire is burning and the dogs and snoring, curried pumkin soup is on the boil ready for lunch. I have time on my hands. I have finished the dreaded accounts for the accountant, they are bound to be all wrong they are every year. And apart from general house hold duties like ironing, cleaning hoovering etc, I have a gap in my day. As I constantly bemoan the fact that I have no time to be creative. Here it is, here is the time, an afternoon all for me. The trouble is it is hard to switch it on and off, it has been off for so long, I wonder where and how I can find it.

Going back in time is not that easy either, Gibralter, Fish and chips, beer and pubs wet weather and a joy to leave. I cannot remember much about the journey from Gibralter to the Canaries, not much about the Canaries apart from stocking up for the next two weeks before arrriving in Antigua. I liked being at sea, I liked leaving my life behind me, I liked leaving a place and knowing that I was far from anywhere. Ooh la la some memories have just come back in.

The Stop off in Casablanca and the fresh water mistake.

 

What and adventure

I really didn't didn' think of it as an adventure, so much as a voyage into the unknown. Something so completely differant to my life on earth so far. Working as a chef/manager in restaurants in England. Working where you get your supplies daily and now I was working out how to shop for at least a month for the crossing from Palm to Antigua. Luckily there was plenty of help around and I was shown a few tricks. Like how to store the fresh fruit and vegetables in the owner's bathroom, everything wrapped in paper, taking things that would last a long time, red and white cabbage, water melon, apples, chinese cabbage for salad later on, carrots, seeds for sprouting. Loads of tins and dry foods.

It felt quite exciting, everyday as we got closer to the leaving date, we would sail from Palma to Gilbrata then on to the Canaries from there straight across to Antigua. Last minute varnishing, putting the boat back in the water, testing the motor and the electircs, putting the sails back on, testing all the sails for rips and holes, doing all the shopping the boat was a constant whirl of activity and we still managed to go out and have fun.

Finally we left Portals Nous to make our way to Gibralta, it is when we were  in the straights of Gibralta that I had my near on collision with a tanker, which I thought to be a house on the hill. The captain came rushing up from the cart table took the helm out of my hands and steared the boat out of trouble. I found Gibralta to be the strangest of places, a little bit of England surrounded by Spain. English pubs, fish and chips, pints of guiness, and the rock of Gibralter full of those very cheeky monkeys. It was fun for a few days and then we moved on.

In the swing of things

                It is ages since I wrote and it is hard to get back into a story when it has been left so long. I have been working hard and having fun. Jack has been here on holiday and we have had family outings. Canoeing on the River Argens, some white water and steep rapids, such fun, I came tumbling out of the boat. On the pedalo in the gorges de Verdon, although it was very crowded and extremely hot. We went together with Jack , David and myself camping in the mountains. Jumping into the gorges de Loup, bathing in freezing mountain water and generally having a splendid time. Yesterday was the last day for the family to be together, everyone is going home and the place will be sadly quiet again.

Katie my neice is a wonderful artist and has drwn some fabulous pictures whilst she has been here, two of which she has given to us. Thank you very much Katie, we love you!

I shall write some boat story tomorrow.

Tara

Portals Nous

We Put my boat on the bike and we were of. The French coast had been cold and autumnal, Mallorca was still warm with a dry breeze, my new job was about to begin for real. The boat was taken out of the water to have an over haul and the hull fixed properly from the accident. In the short time I had been with them the crew had already become family, not difficult when you are living in confined spaces. I had a small cabin to myself which was lucky, it was hard enough acclimatising to a minature cabin and bed without having to share it with someone else.

The captain had rented a crew appartment just up the road from the port whilst the boat was out of the water, and I could cycle to work. I loved my early morning bike ride, arriving iin the port listening to the wind whistle her way through the masts and the rigging, through the flying sut into the boat yard. where the boat stood propped up by huge wooden blocks. there was a long thin bendy ladder on which to climb up to the boat. With every step up I shook a little more. What was my job to be I wondered, no where to cook, the inside of the boat was unusable, all the floor boards were taken up, I could not cook, we could not use running water. I was perplexed.

Things were explained ot me by the first mate. First I would be sanding all the floor boards ready for varnishing, then I would be cleaning all the bilges ready for painting and then I would be scrubbing the anchor chain with a metal brush and repainting that, by which time the boat would be ready to be put back into the water and I could go shopping for the crossing. I guess you can imagine what fun I had. I was too fearful to take the boards down the ladder or indeed up again, but we set  up a sanding area and that is all I did for the first few weeks and so on and so forth, sanding scrubbing cleaning painting. I felt a bit like one of the lads. We used to go to a workers cafe at lunch time and the plat du jour was generally inedable, and you could find such delicacies as pigs trotters on your plate swimming in watery grease.

The nights we went out were certainly looked forward to, a whole new way of going out! Everyone seemed to know one another, everyone seemed to go out at the same time and we all seemed to end up in the same seedy bar to to start our night of with. I cannot remember the name of it, but I do know the drinks were massive and I found myself getting drunk very easily, one drink could do the trick. Everyone talked boats, it was a foeign language to me, hulls and engines and sails and and and, a whole new and strange world.

What was obvious to me was that the family feeling wasn't just confined to one boat, everyone you knew or made friends with bacome part of an extended family, each bar of restuarant we wnet to we would join up with a least 10 - 15 of the same people every time. Some of these people are still dear friends of mine. It was a special time in those day. Yachting was more carefree and adventurous. Today there are a lot of laws and constraints.

I loved it when the boat was put back in the water and it was time for me to do my job for real, to make my galley my own, somewhere that I would be for the next four years of my life.

oops

It has been pouring down with rain here all night, thunder and lightning, cracked kitchen ceiling, water pouring through over the top of the cooker, frightened dogs and now it is a wet fresh morning. I have been thinking about facebook and stories and last night we were talking about facebook and the dangers of writing the wrong thing and it being misconstrued, and how anyone can look you up on facebook and make up there own idea about you.

Why am I saying all this, well my story on the boat was full of ups and downs as life is but some of the downs involved other people and I am not sure that I want to publish it all on the internet, although I would like to write about it. so as you can tell I am in a dilema.

Also at 4 am this morning I realised I was rushing through the Straits of Gibralter before going to Palma. We actually travelled down the coast of France past Toulon and Marseille, the Camargues and onto Barcelona where we stopped and took shelter for the night. We didn't go out or even get off the boat just waited until crack of dawn when things were a bit calmer to go across to the Balearic Island of Mallorca. We did not berth in Palma but in a small called Portals Nous. We spent a month in Palma before going across, and here is where I decide whether or not I continue to tell this story on the web or just to write it for myself.

continued

 
Ship yards, on the hard, port starboard, this knot and that knot, none of which I could ever tie or ever throw. So here we were in St Tropez in the ship yard on the hard, with a crew bereft of their ship staying in a B and B, luckily for me I still had my room at John and Annie Odell's house in Gassin and I still had my bike there, so I visited the crew daily and helped with the french and translated quite a bit for the Captain.

It was a late September to remember, suddenly here were hundreds of handsome sailors a few women and a lot of fun in the bars and in the night clubs, it seemed to me anything went, we even went dancing in wellies the weather was so bad. I loved this whole new world of bonhommie, everyone seemed to know each other, every one seemd to be friends and the atmosphere full of fun and competition. The week that the boat was in the ship yard was a great week for me, I had the best of both worlds, a home to go to a whole new bunch of friends and a bike to ride away from it all on when it got too much.

The fun time came to an end, the boat was patched with fibre glass and ready to go, the racing had come to an end, St Tropez emptied of boats as most of them would be going to Palma to prepare for the crossing. Soon was to be my first voyage on the boat with the crew. The rugs came up the cushions were stowed anything that was nice or breakable was put away, the portholes and the hatches tightly shut, we were getting ready for bad weather.

I can remember this trip as being very unpleasant, spending a lot of time in wet weather gear, rain pouring down my back and into my wellies, standing at the helm with a lot of wind, rain and generally nasty weather, too nasty for the sails to be out, only a bit of storm sail to steady the boat a bit.

My worsts nightmare happened in the Straits of Gibralter, my watch was 8-12 midnight with the captain. I was on the helm and Arther was inside at the cart table , the rest of the crew were happily dozing in the crews mess. It was a dark dark night and lights were everywere, I was not yet used the port and starboard lights on the passing ships. quite frankly I didn't know which was which especially when it was coming towards me, and I couldn't work out which side of a boat I was meant to pass on port to port or otherwise. I also couldn't work out the differance between a huge tanker on a collision course with us and possible house on land.

What happened.....

We Went

 
I know that I have put this picture on before but I love it and at the moment I cannot face sorting through the pile of boat pictures that I have in a dark chest that I cannot face opening. I left you on my last page in a beautiful garden in Cap Ferrat all sounding so iddylic and now I am taking you back to the boat.

I don't really feel like dwelling on the journey too much not for now anyway. It was my first voyage on a boat. We were going from Menton to Palma, quite exciting really, stopping in Monaco, ville franche and Cannes and then St Tropez. My favourite Market is in Cannes it is a covered market, not a beautiful building like Menton, practical but the market is fabulous if you go there it is called Marche Fourville, it is a short walk from the old port where we used to berth. I loved that first thing in the morning feeling in Cannes as much as anywhere, the roads newly washed the flowers watered the smell of the night before dampened into the day ahead soon to be burnt off by the sun.

Being with a bunch of boys meant that the girls who were in the minority generally ended up doing what the boys wanted, which usually involved a trip to a strip club on our night off. For me it was not a pleasant experience and thought the whole thing to be quite dull, so we would go to a pub, go to a restaurant, go to a night club to dance and then end up in some sleazy strip club at four in the morning, I would as often as not walk back to the boat on my own.

Pulling me out of the memory of dirty pavements and dark alley ways was always the fresh morning, which is probably why I liked the smell of the newly washed pavements and roads.

Cannes is where I go to buy my fish for the Bouillabaise I make, the market still has fish stands where the local fishermen sell their catch which is a rare thing nowadays. so you can buy the small rock fish necessary for making the bouillabase.

Anyway we went from Cannes to St Tropez and we joined the sail boat racing in the annual races there at the end of  September. The weather was cooler and the racing serious, we were joined by a lot of other sailors and I was the chief sandwich maker. Although I stayed working on the boat for so many years I never really become a sailor I found it all too scary, expecially when there was a lot of wind and the sails filled to capacity and we were ploughing ahead at 12 knots and sometimes faster, then in a race you have to manouvre the boat and the sails and not smach into another boat, which is what we did in St Tropez, it was an accident, both boats were too close, but we got hole in our hull and sea water started gushing in.

All the boys rushed into action to rig up a makeshift plank that would block the water from coming in. We limped slowely into the ship yard, where the boat had to come out of the water on the hard to be fixed.

Our next journey was to Palma, rough seas all the way, grey rainy days and plenty of seasickness. Smashing into the waves and having the sea swooshing over the top of the boat was a frightening experience for a new sailor. I preferred to stay inside in the dry. But becoming part of the crew on this ship also meant that I had to learn to sail and to navigate, and be part of the whole.

 

Cap Ferrat a summers Evening

 
...........shall we have some white and green , fresh cod and home made pesto, and what about dessert the peaches are luscious at the moment. What could be more perfect than peach and almond tart with a spoonfull of creme fraiche.

So imagine guests coming for a summery evenings dinner, a beautiful house on Cap Ferrat, over looking the bay of Villefranche, palm trees, bourgainvillia, the lavender and roses, cactus a whole cacophony of plants. Crickets strumming in the back ground bees buzzing, butterflies landing on the lavender.

It is the epitome of a provencale evening. So perhaps a local wine from the Var will go well, A Chateau Rosseline, a rose to start with the tapenades and the pissaladiere.

We will eat roasted peppers and capers to start and wipe our plates clean with homemade walnut bread of olive faccachia, maybe both would be nice.

We will then be presented with our feast, a tomato sauce made with saffron and garlic and a touch of chili. Seared Aubergine and freshly steamed cod resting on the red suace, drizzled with pesto and longning to be eaten. Well then let's eat!

A pause now before the cheese course, a walk through the garden a hint of sea breeze brushing the rose petals and pausing at the lavender. the sun is going down the skiy is filled magenta and peach, leading our thoughts to our dessert and so I will leave you there in the summer evening with your thoughts and your wine and we will move back to the story and back to the boat next time.

Nice

 
Now I am going to dance about a bit with the book, I will get back to the boat later, it is just that Nice was never a port of call for us. The old port of Nice is so pretty with its deep red Italianesque buildings all around it and well worth the visist if you are ever in the area, as is the market and the famous Nice flower market, I shall give myself a moment one of these days to go and take photo's of it for the blog. After I had left the boat I worked every summer for some fabulous clients that have since become great friends in a rented villa in Cap Ferrat. I was living in Vence at this time and would drive the long and winding drive down to work, often stopping at the Market in old Nice to do my shopping.

Nice, nicoise, nicoise olives, tapenade made with green olives, made with black olives, made with anchoivies made without,made with olive oil, spread thickly on freshly baked french baguette with a spoonful of fresh chevre ( goats cheese) made the same morning from the goats grazing on the grass on the mountains above me.

Olive oil from Mougins or Opiio. How about a pissaladiere, so french so southern so easy to make, and oh oh what about roasted red pepper and huge juicy capers and a touch of white balsamic, did I hear someone mention aubergine, cooked just like a steak, seared in a hot pan with the best quality olive oil, and served with a sprinkle of cumin a touch of tamari and fresh corriander. We could dance around the tomatoes and pick the juiciest fattest ones you have ever seen and put them in our provencale basket, We could make the finest plump tomatoe suace you have ever tasted. How are we going to put it all together what are we going to di, what other ingredients should I buy to go with this red and black feast. Well I shall let you know tomorrow.

A party over

 
 
Photo taken by Kate

For my own happiness I have decided that the trip I write about now is a trip of calm waters to avoid a delayed feeling of sea sickness, I just  happen to get very sea sick, goodness knows how I managed all those years at sea.

So this is a pleasant trip just enough wind to go sailing without the motor, steady enough to keep us slicing through the water, like a knife through butter. No heaving up and down or rolling from side to side, I don't know which of htose is worse. Just nice enough that we can have the fore hatch open and a breeze comes through the galley to soothe my feavoured brow. On a beautiful day sailing along the south coast of France, with the Alpes Maritimes as the back drop, I feel blessed with my lot. We stop for the guests to swim, the stewardesses lay the table and prepare drinks> I am happy with my buffet, all I have to do now is garnish the dishes, and the garnish is usually gone with the wind! Clean up the galley and serve the hungry crew.

My sailing days are a long time ago, but are vivid in my mind as an extraordinary experience for a London based chef and caterere. Grey streets and rainy days, dark restaurant kitchens with florescent lights, what a change then for this, azure blue seas and skies, mountains rising out of hte coast line, palm trees and white houses with purple, orange and pink bourganvillia stretching itself over them with such pleasure and happiness. Pretty beaches and near naked people, grand buildings exuding wealth and a certain contentment. whilst the guests ate their lunch I would sit on the bow of the boat and gaze at my surroundings literally pinching myself to see if it were true. Time now to sail back to port, say goodbye to the guests, clear up wash down the boat and get ready to go dancing. I am far too old to do it now nor would I want to , at least not all night as I used to in those days, dawn was often up to greet us as we made our way back to the boat.

I did not know then that I would settle and live in the South of France and it would become my home and my place of work.

Monaco, Cap D'Ail, Beausoleil, Villefranch, Nice.

Nice, ................a demain