Let the excitement begin...

This Friday is a performance of some kind by a touring theatre troup called Le Printemps sans Chapiteau. A chapiteau is a big tent and apparently they used to use a big tent but now they don't, therefore, they are sans chapiteau. They'll tour all summer and finish up at the Avignon festival in July. Well, yesterday the big truck with all the gear arrived, and for dinner we had 15 people at the table. Helene cooked a feast: caesar salad, white fish (hake) baked on a bed of leeks, and of course we had strawberries for dessert. This morning our work was helping unload the truck. Reed sat off to the side playing peek a boo inside two big plastic tree pots while the rest of us hauled staging, bleachers, lights, electrical cords, speakers, etc. etc. out of the truck and then assembled the bleachers. We stopped at 10 a.m. for coffee, or water with almond syrup, no food, no potato chips, no donuts, no croissants, (the French don't really snack, that's why they don't get fat) before getting back to it until about 12:30. That took us up to lunch, for which Helene had once again cooked a treat, for 22 of us. Salad of regular buttery lettuce with vinaigrette, frittata with potatoes, anchovy spread to go with the bread, squash in a spicy sauce, cheese platter, and for dessert, strawberry apple tart. Mmmm.

I just have to take each moment as it comes, because I have no idea what's going to happen next - will the performers arrive? Who is this guy with the long hair and pale skin who looks like a musician who just arrived? Will we be 30 at dinner? Will I be working in the garden, the kitchen, or helping the roadies? I never know until it's time, since my French isn't good enough to catch the logistics discussions. I don't worry about it though. Eric is very helpful with his English, and my consolation is that Stuart, a fellow Welshman who lives here at the hameau ("fellow" because I have Welsh blood too) understands even less.

I've been feeding Reed early and getting him to bed by 8 or 9 since we haven't been eating until then or even later. Last night he was homesick and sad about our decision to let Fiona stay with her current caretaker (who will give her a home where she can nap on the furniture), so I made him pancakes which he ate with strawberries and strawberry jam. But tonight I think we're all going out to some small performances in some villages and then having a picnic. That's all I know. After lunch Yuki and I helped Helene make a salad with beets, zucchini, carrot, parsley, fennel, and quinoa, and she is also making some kind of savory bread pudding that also has beets in it. She's working on a Russian theme - thus, the beets. Oh, because the theatre thing on Friday has something to do with Chekhov! I'm sure I'll understand more as the week progresses.