crémaillère

We never had a 'crémaillère'. Just couldn't fit one in between cleaning the paint off the kittens' tails (with white spirit, ouch, until we discovered local olive oil to be the best paint remover) smothering ourselves with the third gallon of hand-cream after removing the third tonne of 'gravats' in our renault megane, moving in, receiving the parents in law and me going off on tour for three months. However, had we had one we would, naturellement, have invited the very attractive organic butcher and his son (who make the best sausages in the world) in what was then our local village - Caromb. Infact he had already invited himself. This is how it came about and this one's for you, Kim.

"Nous avons acheté une maison a Bedoin"
"Ah vous pouvez nous inviter à votre crémaillère!"
"C'est quoi, une crémaillère?"
"Ah, ca! Vous invitez tout le village. Tout le monde boit beacoup de pastis et les hommes couchent avec tous les femmes des autres"
"Vous pouvez venir a notre crémaillère si vous apportez vos saucisses"
"Madame, Je ne pars jamais sans ma saucisse!"

Here's the cheese seller in snowy Bedoin market who is irresistible and therefore not very good for the diet ("On essaie de faire un régime mais je ne peux pas vous passer sans acheter du fromage - une p'tite tranche de comté fruité, alors!";"Mais vous avez bien choisi le fromage le moins gras, Madame") but whom I wouldn't have minded at the party.