Sunday - the day of rest.

The magnificent 13th. C Chateau de Margon 

The plan was to stroll into the village, visit the chateau gardens and take in the annual Patchwork and 3D Club exhibition and sale of work, being held on the village hall. Things didn't go quite according to plan. However, as is often the way of these things, it all turned out rather well.

Gardens open day

Today, as on every first weekend in June it is the National Remarkable Gardens weekend - a couple of days when gardens of note, across France, open their gates for the public to wander around, trample on the lawns, take illicit cuttings of interesting plants they might like to have in their own gardens and scrump the occasional piece of fruit while passing a nearby tree. Cherries are the favourites for this time of year as they are ripe, generally easily accessible and sufficiently numerous for the odd handful not to be missed by anyone but old Mr Grump - the gardener to whom this sort of event is anathema.

You can imagine our chagrin when we read the sign on the main entrance gate telling us that the opening hours had been restricted to the afternoon from 3pm – 7 pm. Just the time when we would not be available due to me having to sing in a concert.

 

'Les Banastes'

Down but not out

We wandered off somewhat dejectedly but, as we walked under the ‘banastes’ (see later), there was a friendly little “Cou cou” from above. ‘Cou cou’ for those sufficiently interested in advanced linguistics, is the French equivalent of the English ‘coooeee’ - a word sung by gentlewomen of a certain generation and standing to attract the attention of an (inattentive) passer-by, usually of one’s acquaintance, of course. Inevitably, we looked around for our ‘little dove’ to find, standing above us was Madame Delphine Marie-Paule Henrietta Lemoine de Margon - the Countess no less. It was a bit like a scene from Romeo and Juliet; she standing on the arching garden steps, I below gazing up at her, hanging on her every cou Except that, rather than a lace gown and a rose, she was resplendent in her ankle length bottle-green butler’s apron and wellie boots and clutching a baby trug containing freshly harvested courgettes (zucchini for our north American readers).

A courgette in the making

Not one of my personal favourites

“Would you like some courgettes, Robin?” she offered. Now, I am not the world’s greatest amateur of courgettes, marrows or any form of squash, frankly, but I will eat them – especially if offered by the Countess of Margon. “Stay there!” she continued, “I’ll open the small gate.” at which point the small gate opened on to the lane and we were ushered into the gardens. After exchanging the usual pleasantries and thanking her for the generous gift, (“I want the basket back”) I explained that we had hoped to visit the gardens with Kirsty and Sam. “That’s fine!” she said, “Just go ahead, you know the way and if Mr. Robin (coincidentally the name of her gardener) asks, tell him I said it was OK. I’ll leave you to it as I have to go and get ready to go to lunch.” At that point Baron Michel Maurice Marie-Joseph René Lemoine de Margon, the Count of Margon - appeared at the top of the (rather magnificent) garden stairs and bid us all “Good day” with a smile and a wave.  

Such nice people. We had a lovely private visit around the gardens with me the guide and it was a delight.

I just hope they didn’t miss that small handful of cherries.

 

For an in-depth account of the history of Margon and the chateau and to discover the meaning of 'Les Banastes' click here
http://www.lacardabela.com/images01/margon_history_120v3.pdf
or visit our website.