Third Time Lucky

This was the third time my brother had tried to visit, each time thwarted by new Covid regulations. So a week before his flight, like Harry Potter in the under stairs cupboard, he went into self-imposed isolation. 

To many he is a Senior Adult Psychotherapist specialising in Mentalisation Based Therapy (MBT) at the Bethlem Royal Hospital, to me Simon is my twin brother who I have argued, fought, but mainly laughed with for the last 55 years. So it was wonderful to see him in person instead of cutting out, Norman Collier style, on the family zoom.

Everything was set for a fantastic weekend: the sun was going to shine, the Deux-Sèvres countryside was at its finest, the fridge stocked and it was our birthday on the Sunday.

Simon is a bit of an amateur wine aficionado, so we thought Chinon would tick all the boxes: château, cobbled lanes and old-man river (the Vienne) rollin' along... all surrounded by vineyards. 

A packed itinerary had been formulated for the day but we had forgotten my brother does not hurry. If there is a historical information sign, he will read it, if there is a church in the vicinity he will go into it. It was glorious meandering through the beautiful medieval town but as lunchtime approached Anna, my wife, and I were like a couple of sheep dogs herding him back to the car. 

Ten minutes drive downstream is the picturesque village of Candes-Saint-Martin which overlooks the confluence of the mighty Vienne and even mightier Loire. Like something from a Merchant Ivory film we sat on the grassy bank and enjoyed our picnic lunch, before climbing up the hill to get an even better view of the rivers becoming one... as well as the nuclear power station humming in the distance. 

When driving back to Chinon we stopped off at the Cave Monplaisir. An amazing underground quarry of tuffeau stone boring its way into the hillside. Now used to house hundreds of barrels of the red stuff from the area. Simon and Anna then morphed into Oz Clarke and Jilly Goolden and started tasting a selection of bottles. He was swirling his glass like a professional and started using words like 'muscular' and 'structured', whereas she was just chucking them back. Several bottles were purchased. 

That evening Simon announced that he had looked everywhere, but could not find the cap he was wearing when he set out that morning. A CSI forensic analysis of the day's many photographs began; scrutinising the evidence to ascertain when the aforementioned cap disappeared. I thought it probably fell off his head when he was knocking back all the vino. 

Sunday, the big day ('Happy Birthday to us'), was going to be a more relaxed affair...eating, drinking...then eating some more. A visit to the Pont Jarno garden centre to marvel at the château and spend some birthday money. 

Old rivalries surfaced when a harmless game of ping pong became competitive. He won the first game, but then I was way ahead in the second, that was when he started doing that running-commentary-thing he did when we were 13. “Ooh! and a poor shot from the young asthmatic...is this the comeback the crowd have been waiting for...another poor shot!.. this is incredible, he couldn't hit a barn door with a banjo...” He won the second game too. “Well done” I said, through gritted teeth, slamming my bat down. 

Anna was going to make a birthday cake, but we'd eaten all but one of our eggs for breakfast. We kept looking to see if any of the chickens were disappearing into the coop to lay - our cake was in their hands. I did a bit of chicken whispering and hey presto! the egg had hardly left the hen's backside before it was contributing to our birthday festivities. 

My brother is a very positive soul, and it was lovely to hear him enthuse about everything. Even a trip to Super U brought a lump to his throat. It is when you see a guest enjoying a visit in our wonderful part of France, it reminds us of how lucky we are to live here.

Addendum: If you live or are travelling through the Greater Chinon area and happen to find a smelly cap from Primark, would you be kind enough to forward it to Simon Shaw, The cupboard under the stairs, SE20

Photo caption: the cake that nearly wasn't and the cap that isn't.