Mill, Mayor, Shandies

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Mill, Mayor, Shandies

Joan is packing today and we’ve told both of them to ignore us so they can get last-minute things done. But Joan has one visit planned for us this afternoon.

She’s been working since early morning, though, and when it’s time for us to leave, she’s too tired to accompany us. Joan takes cancer medication - she’s a breast cancer survivor, and her lymph nodes have been removed. She was sick two weeks ago, and I’m hoping she won’t get sick on this trip to the UK.

We leave Joan napping, and Bill drives us to Peray, a village a few kilometers away.

There we meet Dominique, who has just been elected mayor of the village. She asks us if we would like to attend the upcoming commemoration of the liberation of this part of France by Patton’s’ army of combined American and Free French troops. Ceremonies will honor the Americans who liberated the towns of Morolles and Meziers.

Would we? Would we!! We can’t get yes out of our mouths fast enough. Hand us a page out of history and put us in the picture!

Dominique’s English is very good. She was an exchange student in the U.S. in 1964. She was there when John Kennedy was assassinated. She and Bernie talked about that. She’s also a journalist for a newspaper. She spent time in Afghanistan working in a hospital there teaching medical technicians how to use imaging equipment. She says the people are warm and gentle; she fell in love with them.

Her home is an old mill. A mill has been here for 500 years. Outside a large willow tree stands beside the mill race. Inside, in her dining room and rising to the second story is a huge mill wheel. It’s just a century or so old, but when her mother bought the house in the 1950’s she wanted it to remain as part of the house.

A footbridge crosses the millrace and a path leads to the barn, where four ponies and a horse stop munching and come to greet us. They are gentle creatures, and the horse nuzzles me. I have come to love horses and this is as close as I’ve been to one. I think of Jakie patting Major’s nose.

We return to Dominique’s patio and she brings out refreshments. This time it’s beer, lemonade (as in 7-Up), and ah, yes - more cookies. As I take some lemonade, she suggests a drink whose name in French I cannot remember. Bill explains that it’s a shandy, lemonade and beer.

To the uninitiated, this may sound unappetizing. However, I was introduced to this drink a couple of years ago by a very proper English lady, and I loved it.

It was hot, the lemonade was too sweet, so I have one, with just a little beer. My allergies have lessened since I began taking medicine, so I think I can risk it.

It’s yummy, I’m thirsty. Soon it’s gone. I have another. I could learn to like this.