Holiday in French France

The original decision behind the selection of the dates the while Gosport based chapter of the Gledson clan would visit the La Croisille homestead had everything to do with La Porcailhade, of the fete du cochon. This pig festival held annually at Trie-sur-Baise in the Haute Pyrenees has in the past attracted a great deal attention from various areas of the media, Eurotrash featured the event so you get the idea.

Two days into our holiday the date of the fete du cochon arrived and I was surprised at my lack of enthusiasm for the event. I discussed this with Emma and the older boy drawing some surprising insights. For every planned visit or event previously attended I had a personal contact or genuine interest this, although potentially a very interesting story, held very little appeal other than the bizarre. The five hundred mile round trip to visit an event where I would know no-one, have no idea where to apply myself seemed to make little sense. On top of this the event had been done to death years before, I listened and changed my plans. Thanks to Mrs. Folley, that's Dawn to those who know her, I was now aware of the cul noir, or the black arsed pig, a breed which originated in the area close to where my parents bought their house. My plan has now changed and in the closing months of the year aim to plan yet another trip to follow this up.

That aside I used my freed up time to visit the farmer's market in Segur-le-chateau, beautifully picturesque village in the Correze. Mostly aimed at British, German and Dutch tourists the market, held on every Monday night throughout July and August every year, draws large crowds and has a fantastic sense of community and fun.

There are a number of stalls run by local farmers, selling their produce which can then be taken to the communal grilling area where the purchased raw materials are cooked to your taste.

I, of course chose sausages, not the more traditional ones bought from a British couple based in Lubersac, but duck murguez chipolatas purchased from a duck specialist who was selling out very quickly. The only down side was that all of the loud, tattooed shag-wits propping up the bar were all Brits. I don't think that I have enough for a French chapter yet but by the end of September I hope that I can rectify this.