The trip home

Our journey up from the South was boring but uneventful. With Kimbo's Sat-Nav it makes everything so much easier. We mostly travelled on France's wonderful motorways, so not much to look at. At one stage we did take a detour through some quite pretty villages, but I don't know quite why it was recommended. 

Driving long distances is always tedious. We stopped a couple of times to let Billy stretch his legs, and for us to have a sandwich and drink. It was a hot day.

Travelling from Dieppe to Newhaven is even worse. It's a 4 hour crossing, and other than eating, there's not a lot to do.

For our past few crossings we've decided to have a cabin (above). They are very basic with four beds, a bathroom, and, in our most recent case, a sea view. After a long car-journey, we were all very tired so a few hours sleeping was very welcome. Billy stayed 'below-decks' in the car.

I've said many times before, but suddenly driving on English roads again is quite a shock. The traffic is appalling, and the potholes even worse. Someone/somewhere needs to do something about it pronto, otherwise the roads will soon be un-useable.

 

Despite everything

This little pink and yellow Antirrhinum (Snapdragon) has battled against all odds, and is growing from the tiniest of cracks in the asphalt; and still it managed to look beautiful. When I went to photograph it, one of my 'more colourful' neighbours was giving it some water.

N.B. Since returning to England, and plugging my laptop into the UK system, I seem to be having problems with my 'comments'. I've tried everything, and Kimbo will come to have a look on Sunday. I'm sure he'll be able to find the solution. Until then.......

Dog Dumping Season.

In many parts of Europe, the end of August heralds the dog-dumping season. Many holidaymakers take their old or sick dogs with them, then leave them behind when they return home. It isn't unusual to see dogs wandering roadside looking lost. It's a horrible thing to do, but in many European countries dogs are seen very differently to how they are in the UK.

Whilst walking with Billy recently, Lady M found this little dog (below), which then followed her home. Luckily for this one, he had a collar and tag, and was simply 'lost'; having wandered too far from home. We phoned the owner, and he came to collect. The little dog had travelled about 6 Kms, and was tired and thirsty. He was very calm and friendly.

It has to be said, that when the dog's owner turned-up to collect him, neither dog nor owner seemed particularly relieved at seeing each other. 

My first experience of dumped-dogs was on the island of Majorca back in the mid-60's. Where ever we went walking, a gang of about 12 dogs would follow us, all looking as if they'd love us to take them home.

There were some lovely dogs amongst them, but we could do nothing; just feed them.

Over the years we've had lots of dogs turn-up at the house. Some were hunting dogs who'd simply got lost, but most had been dumped. We also had one cat.

 

Packing-up

My, my, how time flies.

It seems like only three months ago when we arrived back at our little bucolic Gallic hideaway. Now we are putting stuff away, packing our bags, tidying everything that needs to be tidied, and making sure that the garden is in a suitable state to face the Winter months.

We have closed-down the pool. This involved treating the water, covering everything with a strong tarpaulin, and making sure that all the mechanical stuff is mouse-proofed and frost-proofed. It's a depressing procedure, but one we've done many times before.

The cottage is very much a farm-house. The downstairs floor is always a bit messy with bits of grass cuttings, leaves, and dog hair, but we accept this as part of cottage life, and simply brush or mop when required. The big old fireplace is home to piles of messy logs, and cobwebs are just about everywhere. We are probably not as 'house-proud' as we ought to be; but there's little point. It's probably how the house has always been throughout its 300 year history. This now changes before we leave, and we make sure that everything is spotless before we lock the doors.

We always also make sure there are plenty of survival foods around when we leave; tins of paté, sardines, tuna, beans, and cassoulet, and plenty of wine/champagne. There are also plenty of logs for the fire.

We make sure that all the bedroom windows are securely closed, and we fix all the security devices. After our recent burglary we take no chances. I would like to have the place strung with 'trip-wires' attached to a shotgun trigger, but I'm told that's not allowed.

We're passing the baton to Kimbo (above) these days, he is more capable of looking after the place than we are; and he loves it here. Hopefully he, his siblings, and their children, will have many more years, or decades, of fun here.

This little old house is by far the friendliest I've ever owned; and it pains me to leave. 

It's still Ice Cream weather

 

There's something very nice about sitting outside in the sunshine, watching the world go by, and eating an Ice Cream.

So here she is, the infamous Lady Magnon, enjoying what will probably be her final 'Magnum' of 2026.

It's been a great Summer, with plenty of hot weather, plenty of swimming, and plenty of Ice Cream.

There has also been sadness, with the loss of our very good friend Margaret B. We attended her funeral this last weekend.

Our only real moan from 2026 has been the total lack of decent local restaurants. When we first came to live in this part of France there were wonderful restaurants EVERYWHERE, and they were amazingly cheap. We couldn't believe how well one could eat for next to nothing. There was still huge pride taken in one of France's most renowned gastronomic areas. Sadly this has now gone.

2026 will also be remembered for my meeting a large Wild Boar in the middle of the night. He came to within about a metre of me before running off. I've seen them before, but at a much greater distance; and in daylight.

However, all in all it's been yet another wonderful Summer. Soon we'll be back in Blighty where we're promised a cold and wet Winter; with just our memories to keep us warm.

A l'année prochaine (hopefully).

Eenie meenie miney mo

The animals graves had become a bit overgrown; in fact they had become totally swamped by a huge Fig Tree, so I removed the actual headstones and brought them back to the house. As such I can now see them every day rather than having to go to Haddock's.

Recently I was sitting looking at them (as I do), and remembering them, and it made me wonder which of the three I missed the most. Of course I miss all three of them, and loved each of them equally, but I knew that if I thought long enough, I could come to some sort of decision.

Monty was a yellow Lab' and thought of nothing but food, walks, and sleeping. He didn't seem to be particularly fond of us, he just relied on us to fill his bowl twice a day, and take him for long walks. He was a lovely dog, but very aloof.

Bok was half Black Lab' and half Border Collie. He was friendly and enthusiastic. He loved being with us.

Freddie was a Tabby; my favourite type of Cat. He was BOUGHT by Kimbo in Windsor. I never asked how much he paid for him. He was a beautiful boy, and would sit in the Quince tree for hours, looking at us. He walked across the roof at night, demanding to be let in through the Velux window. He would also often bring live Mice up to the bedroom.

So I was looking at their headstones and thinking, if I could only have had ONE of them, which one would it have been?

You may be surprised to hear that I eventually decided on Freddie. He was a lovely boy. He would come and sleep with me at night. I'd find him curled-up, fast asleep, under my chin. He was adorable.

Of course, as soon as I'd made my decision, I changed my mind and decided that Bok was the one. And then I also thought that Monty was probably the most fun to be with, so I'd choose him.

It was a ridiculous idea to try to choose one of the three. They were all equally lovely in their way. So I abandoned my silly game and thought no more about it.

 

Favourite painters.

 

As a painter myself, I have my favourites. One may be for his/her wonderful use of colour, another for deftness of hand, and a third for technique. Each 'favourite' has a quality that makes them stand out from the others.

I have chosen three painters who's work I would not only be pleased to hang on my walls, but each one of them has taught me something special. They are Matisse, Augustus John, and R B Kitaj.

Matisse (Red Studio, above) is not only admired by painters everywhere, but has also become a favourite amongst all social levels as an example of artistic simplicity; his work is 'acceptably modern', and is found on the walls of homes from the most basic to the most exotic. I have even seen reproductions of his work in children's nurseries/bedrooms.

Augustus John was a craftsman. He 'visualised' through his brushstrokes. He was an observer in paint. He had an artistic 'talent' that very few possess. A painter's painter.

And finally. R B Kitaj who was a pure 'paint magician'. Never satisfied with a single view, he combined images to tell a whole story on one page; a painterly collage of subject matter. His use of colour and line are almost unequalled. He painted to illustrate history; never to impress. He was without question a genius. 

As students of painting, and throughout our working lives, we make reference to those who have influenced us; without realising as much. This isn't plagiarism, it is a subconscious recollection of how others may have approached a similar subject, or situation. It is in homage to those who cleared the path ahead.