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Let’s begin : )

Alethea x

In response to a couple of reader messages: no, you’re not going mad and no, the IT gremlins haven’t snaffled last week’s A&A newsletter. This week’s is it : ) Mes excuses for the tardiness, my latest head injury treatment rather interrupted normal play. As such, this edition may also be a little shorter than usual.

Historically, I am not a huge fan of Christmas. Not exactly bah, humbug, (there are some tolerable elements) but my preference is to either be in a warm climate, far away from the hubbub, abdicate entirely or go low-key. My favourite part of Christmas? Boxing day, tweede kerstdag, the moment it’s all over and everyone can finally calm down again.

Some of my closest friends are die-hard (see what I did there?) Christmas fans, so it’s not that I don’t respect anyone else’s joy. I’ve always just been a bit…pfff.

I loathe the frenzy: the ‘must see you before…’ (er, why? What’s wrong with a random day in February?), the ‘who will go where’ shenanigans, the wistful ‘why can’t everyone be together’, the extreme over-commercialisation, and the entirely bananas fact that people start banging on about this one day… in September. Woe betide the unfortunate soul who first asks me the dreaded Q: “So, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Beyond my own grinchy feelings, I am acutely aware that many people struggle with all the festive messaging. If you’re not in the place you want to be in your life then here comes the annual tsunami of schmalz, terrible romantic comedies and relentless idealised imagery to amplify any sadness, loneliness or loss, of loved ones, hopes or dreams. I expect most people have experienced this at some point, certainly I have in the past. This time of year has a knack for making people feel inadequate or raw, and don’t even get me started on the lyrics of ‘Do they know it’s Christmas’.

While I love organising big get-together’s, events and parties… Christmas? Not so much. To me, it’s a weighty date cloaked in stress, masquerading as perfect families and all being tickety-boo in the world. Strangely, I never had the same dread in the southern hemisphere. As a child, it was simply a small part of the Summer holidays, usually a braai, then the beach. Vitamin D deficiency? Aversion to cold? Probably all of these, haha! 

For years, escape from any hint of cold, snow and the northern hemisphere was my preferred coping mechanism and I stand by this: a bush Christmas is the best.

Recently, though, my almost bah humbug stance has mellowed… a little : )

In The Hague, many a Christmas was spent together with friends Adriano and John, and somewhere along the way we created our own mini traditions. Since moving to Les P, anti-festive sentiment has softened further.

Lovely new traditions with friends here, likewise firmly in the Christmas-loving camp, have also made it clear that perhaps I don’t hate Christmas per se; rather I simply prefer the low-key, relaxed version 😃

This year, I even unboxed some old garden fairy lights and adorned the Pierre de Ronsard roses. Frankly, I don’t know what’s become of me!

Voila, la Romy de Noel!

While I may not love Christmas, I do love a good card (as mentioned before in detail, here) and I am utterly delighted with the cards Lara created for me this year. Beautiful, unique illustrations of the puppy, each one slightly different, but each capturing her essence perfectly. Merci!

Would you take a photo of me in the loo?

Not a Q I’m asked often, haha! However, to provide context: this was asked by Rupert from Le Mas et Le Mazet and Gite Guru on his first visit back to Les P since the renovation - and he was rather taken by ‘the folly’ (more detail, here) a.k.a the ‘bonkers’ guest loo : )

With invaluable knowledge and advice on both the vacation rentals and ateliers, Rupert provided much reassurance and a good dose of positivity! Merci!

La Petite Maison is available for longer term rentals between now and March, by direct arrangement. If you, or someone you know, is house-hunting, renovating, needs some peace to write or just fancies a few week’s quiet - do get in touch via this email 😄 )

Apparently, it’s one of the most loved homes available for rental on Airbnb 😃

In the December theme, a story from a few years ago…with permission from the friends involved 🙂

The Hague, December 2020. A dire December in so many ways, but there was no forced jollity this Christmas Eve. We were determined to find merriment in the smallest of things, and the laughter was genuine, belly-aching, cathartic. Just the tonic.

Talk had turned to gadgets which, in this group, meant we were only ever a few conversational steps away from vacuum cleaners. My super tidy, impeccably organised friend Adriano has a magpie-like penchant for bright, shiny, and preferably robotic, vacuum cleaners. Mildly obsessed? That ship sailed at least two vacuums ago. At this juncture, his current working collection stood at six, with a vacuum graveyard in the garden shed where the decommissioned were stored. Just in case of vacuum apocalypse and the current team expiring en masse. Bien sur.

Another of Adriano’s mild (!) obsessions is Christmas. By late October he’s itching to get decorations up, followed by weeks of debate about when is too early and when is acceptable. As a result, his Christmas decor is always second to none, stylish with just the right amount of kitsch, and invariably in place for two months of the year.

Sitting at the beautiful Christmas themed dining room table during a pause between extensive courses, and an eclectic mix of Brasilian, Dutch, French and British dishes, Adriano decided to showcase his latest addition.

“This one’s AI. He’s really clever. Look.”

He then instructed Alexa to “turn robot vacuum on.” Alexa did as she was told before returning to streaming the Christmas album. John and I exchanged raised eyebrows, this one’s a ‘he’ was the unspoken comment.

A faint whirring noise could be heard over the music as we patiently waited for this new AI genius to emerge from its station for inspection. More whirring.

“Maybe it’s stuck” John offered.

“Alexa, turn robot vacuum off!” Adriano tried again, determined that this would be the model to convert us all to vacuum fandom.

The whirring stopped then resumed on Alexa’s instruction.

“Ok, here we go,” he said, happy the glitch was gone and keen to persuade us of the benefits of this particular model. By my modest count, this was his fourth version of the circular robot variety. No doubt programmed for when he was out, to gobble up the last speck of dust un-captured by either the hand-held Dyson, deep-cleaning vacuum, normal vacuum or awkward spaces vacuum, oh, or kitchen vacuum.

It scooted out from under the sofa in a blur of flashing lights, bumped into a table leg, did a little twirl then retreated to its lair. So far, so genius.

“Looks great… not too noisy either.” I wasn’t sure what else you admire about a vacuum so threw in a “very cool design” for good measure.

Just as John and I were gearing up for a spot of light-hearted vacuum obsession teasing, there was a loud crunch. Grumbling whirring was followed swiftly by the ominous tinkling of ornaments. The tree shuddered and teetered precariously. ‘Someone’ was eating something they shouldn’t. Adriano’s little AI friend had seemingly gone rogue.

“Oh no, the tree! Argh, quick, the lights!”

Adriano rushed over to try and rescue the toppling tree and avert decoration disaster. However, he was seconds too late as the tree, accompanied in its slow-motion descent by the crashing of giant metal star lights and silver-framed photographs from the mantelpiece, landed with a thud.

“Oh my God. Stop it! Alexa turn robot vacuum off!” he yelled in disbelief.

The whirring stopped. The sight of Adriano, aghast, yanking wires from the jaws of his voraciously disloyal robot amidst the ornament chaos was too much. John and I dissolved into howls of laughter.

“What did he do, eat the wires?” John managed between splutters.

“He doesn’t like the tree” I snorted.

By now, all three of us had uncontrollable giggles.

Once the disarray was restored and the robot banished, we were still shaking with giggles. “That was proper cat in a Christmas tree stuff,” John noted.

“Stop it, usually he’s fine” Adriano insisted, dignity somewhat dented.

Departing for home later, I couldn’t help myself: “You know you have a problem, don’t you?”

Addendums:

More Snapshots of the Domaine Les Plonges ‘journey’ every edition.

Possibly you found your way here via Instagram? @domainelesplonges? If so, an extra Bienvenue! You’ll already know I love a good visual. So here I’ll share others and a little more context behind the images…

Whether it’s discovering unique work by artists and designers from near and far or rummaging through vide greniers, brocantes, and hidden treasure troves, I’m always on the lookout! I’ll be sharing my favourite artists, designers and sourcing spots here 😄

This is my absolute favourite mug. It became my morning tea mug in August 2013 and has been a fixture of my routine ever since. I bought it from a stall at an open-air ceramics fair in Klagenfurt, Austria - frightfully specific, I know! While I’m often shockingly inept at retaining useful information, I seem to have a photographic memory for where and when I acquire things.

For the first year and a half after getting the keys to Les Plonges, I was still living in the Netherlands, frequently shuttling 1,000 km between the two countries, trying to figure out if a half-and-half life was feasible. Among the many logistical dilemmas, albeit the least significant one, was my morning mug. Clearly, it was an essential piece of kit for both locations, but would it survive the overstuffed car journeys? Probably not. The logical solution? Source a second, identical mug for France and avoid any ceramic calamities.

And so began my (perhaps, a little) fanatical pursuit…

First, I scoured the internet. I tried image-matching searches, translated descriptive mug phrases into German (a language I have absolutely no grasp of, despite some Dutch capability), and combed through endless lists of Austrian ceramic fairs. It turns out there are a LOT. All to no avail.

In a last-ditch act of mug desperation, I emailed the Austrian Tourist Board. Because, well, why not?! Attaching photos, I explained my unusual request, and asked, on the off chance, if they had a list of participants from the Klagenfurt ceramics fair of August 2013. As if they had nothing better to do. 🤷‍♀

Much to my surprise, a few days later, an email popped into my inbox from Hildegard at the Austrian Tourist Board:"What a beautiful mug! I completely understand why you’re keen to find more. I’m attending a ceramics fair this weekend. I’ll ask around."

What?! It was amazing to receive a response, let alone one so enthusiastic. Sure enough, Hildegard was as good as her word. By Monday morning, another email arrived: "I found her! The ceramicist who made your mug is called Birgit—I met her at the fair this weekend. Here are her contact details. She said you can order via email..."

Delighted, I got in contact with Birgit, who sent over a PDF catalogue. Additional mugs (and a butter dish, naturally) were duly ordered. As Summer drew to a close, I realised the order hadn’t been confirmed, so I sent a quick follow-up email - only to find that Birgit had already shipped the order, enclosing the invoice for payment once I received it. What an absolute star!

I still have my beloved, original, morning mug - and woe betide anyone else who tries to use it - but now, thanks to a lovely stranger named (Detective) Hildegard, I also have a few more of Birgit’s beautiful, tactile, dotty creations. Anyone else go to slightly extreme lengths to replace or source a favourite item?

·       Check out Birgit Palt’s creations on her Instagram or via her website. 

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