Annual birthday cake disaster

With what has become boring regularity, and I really don't know why I continue to bother, my attempt to make a 15th birthday cake for my youngest turned out a disaster. So bad, it was not good for anything but the bin.

It should have looked something like this:

From the Tesco recipe page

A layered cake with Ovaltine and chocolate sponge and Ovaltine-flavoured icing, and lots of Maltesers. Recipe here.

Well, I don't have the right sort of cake tins, so thought it wouldn't matter if I made a single layered cake and just plastered it all over with icing and Maltesers.

This is how it came out:

An inch thick at the edges, what happened to the raising agents, eh? Buggered off on a weekend break? 

The recipe said to stir the flour into the wet ingredients, so I did. What it needed, in fact, was to be beaten in with a whisk, because all the lumps of flour that I thought would dissipate on cooking, did not, and stayed their comfy clumpy selves, visible to all on the bumpy surface of the cake. Attractive...

White bits are clumps of flour. Guess who didn't sift...

This wouldn't have been so bad if the cake had tasted good. But it didn't. I got my son to taste a bit and he started off by saying it was nice... then... discovered an unpleasant after-taste. At that point I gave up and decided to throw money at the situation.

I went to Gonzalez chocolaterie in Jacou, run by Maître Artisan Patrice Gonzalez ("Rendre le monde plus tendre à chaque bouchée") and indulged my son with one of their super chocolate cakes, the Royal:
Mousse au chocolat noir, croustillant praliné, biscuit Joconde..

Candles are mine, only 12 in a packet, too stingy to buy 2

It was, of course, heavenly, and went down a storm with the four boys. My son  had 3 buddies to spend the afternoon mucking about, then I took them to KFC, and left them with a bucket. They found their own way to the cinema to watch 13 Hours, and I picked them up after midnight outside the cinema, brought them home whereupon they took over the living room with mattresses and bedding and were still there at 11.30am the next day (watching tele and playing XBox) when the mother of one arrived to pick him up. The others stayed to lunch (nems) and continued mucking about for the rest of the afternoon.

My son had a lovely birthday. Lots of trashy food, fresh air and fun. I kept out of the way except for providing vital services (taxi, food), and spent the afternoon trying motorbikes with my DB (Honda, new BMW GS, BMW X), dinner with friends, and having lunch in la Grande Motte on Sunday in the glorious sunshine.

The port, Grande Motte

I was shattered by Sunday night.

TGO - Cycling round the Etang de Ponant

I have been sent home from work today because of an orange bad weather alert. How different from the glorious sunny weekend a couple of days ago.

The whole country was bathed in a balmy anticyclone for the last weekend of the Toussaint holidays. Perfect weather for a Halloween tramp around the houses with over-excited kids.

We dug out our book on mountain bike trails around Montpellier 'Autour de Montpellier - VTT' that's been sitting in the house unused for five years. It sometimes takes time to catch up with action one's good intentions. I jotted down all the rides that were:

• on the flat
• doable in an hour and a half
• the list was:
• number 2 at Grau du Roi, 12 km, taking 1h30, flat
• number 3 at l'étang du Ponant, 13 km, taking 1h30, flat
• number 5 along the Vidourle river, 17km, taking 1h30, flat

The aim of enjoying a gentle ride was so that we wouldn't repeat the mistake of our last bout of VVT enthusiasm when we launched into a 27 km circuit around the Lac de Salagou, the memory of which was so traumatic we didn't touch the bikes again for months. We learned from that mistake.

La Vidourle river

So we chose the tour of Ponant lake between la Grande Motte and Grau du Roi. You leave the car on either side of the dramatically called Pont des Abîmes which crosses the Vidourle river. Unhitch the bikes and prepare for a couple of hours of delight.

Single track path, l'étang de Ponant

Although the start of the path is a wide 'chemin vert' along the river which is much used by people out to enjoy a nice walk with or without dogs or kids or both, after a few hundred metres, it turns right to start the tour of the lake. There, if you're not used to riding along single file tracks (like me), you can find yourself wobbling and falling off until you realise that you have to look straight ahead and not down at the track. Looking down is a to court disaster. My DB, following me, was highly entertained by my antics.

Boggy patch, l'étang de Ponant

We set out at just after 3pm in autumnal soft lighting and muted colours. The lake was a silky pale blue-grey, its surface barely broken by a gentle breeze. Growing around the edge are typical salt marsh plants such as sea pickle or glasswort. In the summer it's bright green, but in the autumn it turns a rusty red. It makes for a soft landing too...

Glasswort banks on l'étang de Ponant

The path was mostly dry, but there were several patches of boggy marsh. For most we could find an alternative way round, but we also had to ride through some muddy zones which left a sticky sludge on the bikes that had to be washed off with the powerful jet of a car wash.

Peaceful path, l'étang de Ponant

We didn't hurry. It was so peaceful - the water still except for the odd plop of a fish catching insects, the beautiful light that softened everything we saw, hardly anyone about, only a few fishermen sitting placidly waiting, and the perfect temperature for riding.

étang de Ponant

As the afternoon wore on, the mosquitoes came out, but by then we were nearly finished. The sun was starting to set and tinted everything with a rosy hue.

Aigrette on a branch, l'étang de Ponant

Fishing nets, étang de Ponant

There are many different types of birds that visit the étang. We didn't see any flamingoes but did see a number of herons and aigrettes posing stylishly on the tree branch 'sculptures' in the middle of the lake.

Heron? étang de Ponant

This is a fantastic ride to do in la demi-saison - spring and autumn - when it's not too hot, and not too damp. Especially on a wind-free day like the one we had.

No wind today, étang de Ponant

At the end, we felt energised and relaxed after a ride that was good for both mind and body. And we made a speedy getaway before a mozzie attack could ruin the effect!

Not such a quiet weekend finalement

Castellas de Montpeyroux

Last weekend I thought I'd be really lazy. The boys were kicking up a storm about not wanting to do either their mountain biking sessions or the competition on Sunday so I decided to let them off. Sunday would require a really early start to get to Laudun near Avignon, complete with picnic lunch and all biking stuff and I frankly couldn't be fagged.

In the end though, far from being lazy, it was jammed packed with activities.

We'll gloss over Saturday morning chores and go for the jugular visit to the 11th century Castellas de Montpeyroux. My youngest is very keen on visiting ruined castles. He loves the Medieval period and has much of the kit and weaponry (much of it bought from Weobly Castle, Gower). I'd seen it on a bike ride so when he asked if we could do something in the afternoon, I suggested going to the castle. It's not far from St Guilhem le Desert, perched above the tiny village of Le Barry.

Unfortunately, when we reached the ruins, they were all closed off for restoration so we could only walk around the perimeter and look at the stunning panoramic view over the Hérault valley. I thought it was terrific, he thought it was nul so we walked back down, through the village with its lovely stone houses and Nintendo 64 game noises emanating out through a window somewhere.

On Sunday, I took him to le Grand Bleu, pool complex in La Grande Motte because he has to pass a 25m swimming test and definitely needs a bit of training to smarten up his strokes. I got in several lengths too. My eldest is now way too cool to want to do things with his mum and little bro. He was mooching around with his mates back home somewhere.

In the afternoon I took my youngest and his pal to the fête Medieval at Les Matelles. I've been before and it's great fun, but this time I was there in time to see the jousting show complete with 3 knights, 2 damsels; fighting, jousting, combat, baddies, romance, brawling broads. We shouted for our favourite, booed the others, along with several hundred other people watching from the slope which overlooked the show-ground. 

We visited all the stands; my youngest bought another knight's tabard (white on red) and an axe with his birthday money. I bought wine, including a stunning white apero wine based on a medieval recipe full of spices from the Silk Route produced by the Chateau d'Exindre at Villeneuve les Maguelone. It's one that Henry III ordered for Christmas 1251 from that very same producer (several generations ago).

There's living history for you.

So, not such a quiet weekend, but certainly one that was more amusing than attending the usual vtt activities. Lots of fun and quite a bit of exercise thrown in too. I'm feeling quite energised!

Saturdays...! bis

Earlier I had been pondering how to spend the couple of hours I had spare while my eldest and his two pals watched Ratatouille at the cinema. It seems that The Simpsons had been lifted early but they were perfectly happy to see the alternative.

I decided to drive down to Carnon, to le Petit Travers which is a stretch of beach next to the road and leads eventually to la Grande Motte 6km further on. As it was a beautiful if somewhat humid day, there were quite a few people on the beach although not enough to make it difficult to park.

I found a space at the Carnon end, donned my MP3 player and crossed the dunes via a little sandy path to the beach. Then I turned left and started walking on the firm sand next to the sea. The Mediterranean has mostly pathetic little lapping waves so although there was a slight inward tide, it was nothing to get excited about and it was certainly easy to dodge.

Onwards east, I passed a pleasant variety of people - enough to entertain me on my trek. I passed parents with young children, a few people actually in the sea (brrr!) and some walking their dogs. There was a super muscley jogger who looked like he was a Serious Runner because he had a belt on that looked a bit like Batman's multi-faceted one. It had little boxes attached to it - for pills? his mobile phone? glucose tablets? While I was trying to work that out, I admired his tan (very brown), full head of hair and nice enough face. Then he raced past me and I turned to look at his back view briefly. (Nasty Girls was playing on my MP3 player at this moment...)

Carrying on, I came across a team who were dismantling a summer beachside club/disco for the winter. They seemed to have stacks of Pepsi to get through or maybe it was all left over from the summer too. There were various fishermen who hogged the firm sand which meant either I had to dodge round them, or keep close to the rods to avoid being decapitated by the fishing thread which stretched out into the sea. I didn't find out what they were trying to catch.

I passed a couple of young guys kicking a rugby ball to each other with bare feet. One of them kicked just as I was passing, so I said 'Ouch!' to him (because it must have hurt!) at which he smiled and looked tough... At one point I was overtaken by the Serious Runner who had been down to Carnon and run back again, so I was able to admire his back view, now free of tee-shirt, all glistening with effort until he was but a tiny blob.

At la Grande Motte, I turned round and started walking back again. I could have sworn I recognised one guy I passed but just in case it wasn't him, I resisted going up and accosting him giving him a potential fright of his life... I was also in full swing forced march so didn't really want to lose my rhythm for nothing.

It took me an hour and 20 minutes to march the twelve kilometres; a walk I enjoyed very much what with my music, the sea gently pounding next to me, and all the life going on around.

So, I made the effort... and it was, of course, worth it. It nearly always is.