Not every day from this eventful trip remains lodged in the memory full-formed, for indeed no memories work that way. The whole trip is formed of a set of mental snapshots that represent something-or-other, that float, separating and then coalescing again as the mind seeks shape and order, a narrative arc on which to hang … More Le Corbières – or, What the mountains taught me, Part 4 of 4 ‘Closing Vignettes’

I’ve said that we took Wednesday and Saturday afternoons off, and Sundays. Of course, we took the evenings off too. Though, being missionaries, I’m not sure Mick and Marianne ever really took time off. Please don’t make me trot out metaphors about working vineyards by day and by night . . . One of the … More Le Corbières – or, What the mountains taught me, Part 3 of 4 ‘A drink with the Professor’

When you pick grapes by hand, you have to watch out for the secateurs, and you’ll probably end up with a plaster or two on your left thumb anyway. They’re kept sharp, and they get covered in sugary sap from the vines and the grapes, so a cut to your skin can be a fiddle … More Le Corbières – or, What the mountains taught me, Part 2 of 4 ‘On picking grapes by hand’

[The stories and situations written here record my memories of real events at a particular place and time. All of the names have been altered (or likely misremembered anyway) and no recorded conversations are intended to reflect verbatim what was really said.] Sitting here with the rain pitter-pattering against the window, drumming on slate roofs … More Le Corbières – or, What the mountains taught me, Part 1 of 4 ‘The customary French greeting’