One can dream

You may or may not remember that we said we would visit some places again when the weather got better. True to our word we went back to Cons La Grandville for our weekend jaunt the other day.  I could just post up the photos for you to enjoy, but that is just lazy blogging, and I am already condemning myself for not keeping you all up to date more.

Cons La Grandville is a marvel. Built in the local yellow, sandstone it nestles round the 18^th Century abbey and extends out into the green wooded hills.   Being on a slope, the abbey is supported on immense walls  on one side that reach high above you  as you park, soaking up the sunshine.


The abbey is generally closed, it seems, although it opens on festival days to look round the grounds and its barn is available for hire for weddings and conferences. So, in order to allow Dearly Beloved an opportunity to drool over the high arched oak beams of the tithe barn, somebody, please, organise an event there and invite us! 

We wandered around the village, again noting with sadness that there are few local businesses there anymore. But it is obviously well off, with the old labourers’ cottages, restored, re-pointed and painted to make bijou residences for modern families.  We noticed some long gardens backing onto the river running round the promontory of the abbey, and we thought it would be a charming place to live.

Then as we rounded the corner, we found a feature that has become one of our favourites in the area: terraces of Lorraine farmhouses, some still working farms, facing each other across a wide cobbled road. The massive barn doors and deep windows are so attractive and welcoming that I had to restrain Dearly Beloved from hammering on the doors and taking up residence then and there.  It is lovely to see these homes still inhabited by families who work on the farms elsewhere in the countryside. Tractors, ploughs and mowers are stored in the barns under the houses, and kitchen pans hang from the rafters in the dark cool kitchens. On the corner, through the gates of a large mansion, we caught a glimpse of gardens populated with Italianate statues and topiary. It seemed a bit rude to take photos, especially as the owner was doing a little gardening...Further along, with buddleia clinging to its sides, we found the reason for the earlier wealth of the village: a blast furnace built in the latter part of the 19th century. A feature if many villages near here, it provided a futher employment in areas that had only previously been agricutural.

We decided that if it were nearer work, we could just move into a huge house that had evidently been part of the priory complex, with its fishponds created from a culvert from the river further up and walled grounds ready for me to recreate into a kitchen garden. This house was being renovated by the Friends of the Abbey, but nobody seemed to be there except for three nosey donkeys, busily engaged in keeping the grass down.  Even the Mairie was charmante:

Well, one can dream.  

More recently we to took the streets of Luxembourg for the Stroossemarkt. If I had needed to buy leopard print leggings and thin lacy tops, I probably would have been in my element, but certainly the stalls set out near the Gare did not offer the discerning shopper much in the way of satisfaction. The market continued in the main part of the town, and often proved to be stalls set out by the shops they stood in front of.  The shops were offering some discounts but, sadly, I wasn’t in the mood to buy. It was a bit tatty, to be honest and not what I expected. We took lunch in the Place Knuedler which was full of temporary restaurants, which form part of the festivities of the Octave, an annual pilgrimage in honour of Our Lady of Luxembourg. Since 1628, Catholics from the Grand Duchy and neighbouring regions come to venerate the 'Comforter of the Afflicted'. We did not take part other than to dine stylishloy on Frites Mayonnaise, perched onteh steps of the Town Hall. We think we add an element of class to most events,in this way.

A bientot.