Vale Reg

I did not know Reg well. I confess I cannot even remember his surname. He was a friend of our longtime English friend Graham, who almost always spends a week with us when we are in France. But his wife stays behind in Malaysia. Last year he asked if he could bring his very old English friend Reg, who had recently lost his wife, as he felt it might be good for him. Our other English friends were all for this - "the more the merrier" as they said. And so Reg came.

A few months after the holiday we were saddened to hear that he had contracted pancreatic cancer - an almost certain death sentence it seems to me. Graham kept us informed and today we heard the sad news that he had died. I could not let this go without a very small tribute.

Reg was not what he might first have seemed - a loud and friendly northerner - nay Lancashire man. Yes he was that but he was so much more than that. The man enjoyed life. And he enjoyed good food and wine. He also enjoyed France enormously, and its culture, though I do not think that he spoke French. To be honest I cannot remember. He was interested in everything and everyone. I think he enjoyed his week with us exploring this little corner of France.

One day, he and Graham decided to do their own thing and they went off to the seaside and a small village called Gruissan. I remember being slightly peeved that they had gone there because I had planned in my head that we might all go there one day. I was also peeved because they brought back some beautiful fresh sardines for our dinner. I think I was peeved, probably because I had planned something else. It was incredibly foolish, s elfish and narcissistic of me and I hope I didn't show my temporary mild annoyance. For I soon forgot being peeved when I was presented with these barbecued sardines.

They were stunning. I think they were fresh off the boat. I also learnt that you could cook them with their innards still in them, though i declined this pleasure. Interestingly Graham sent a couple of photos with the news of Reg's death - the one at the top of the page eating oysters - and another of another barbecued fish. Maybe Reg was a fisherman in his spare time. I did not ask.

With the fish they brought a bottle of Loire valley sauvignon blanc - Pouilly Fumé no less. It was perfect. A man of excellent taste. Not what you would expect necessarily from a Lancashire lad.

Our weeks away in France and Italy are so pleasurable and this week was particularly so. The house was divine, the nearby town of Narbonne is beautiful - one of my favourite French towns in fact, and there was lots to do and see. But also because of the house's peaceful and spacious setting, there was plenty of time to relax and talk - really talk. And strangely enough, mostly the men. Sue painted and I did my blog. So I hope that it was a good time for Graham and Reg to reconnect.

In the last stages of last century the previous generation was dying around us - mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles - I have one aunt left - ironically, in France. Today our generation is beginning to disappear. I think we should look at these two photographs above and vow to spend more time like this. In the sun, by water or mountain, or poppy field, or forest - or simply in the garden, maybe even in town watching the world go by - seeing how beautiful the young are. Just kicking back, enjoying the good things of life. Food, wine, good company.

Reg epitomised all of that. I'm sure he was as cheerful as it was possible to be until the very end. I was so pleased to have met him. He cheered me up.