Typical!

This charming, smiling, gentleman is German resident Abdel Hamid.

Amongst his other worthy attributes, his great concern for the people of Gaza led him to raise money to help with their day to day needs.

Unfortunately, like his Hamas heroes, he spent all the money he raised on himself; about 500,000 Euros.

He bought himself luxury cars, Rolex watches, and designer bags, amongst other things. The money was rolling-in, and it was spend spend spend! I believe all his ill-gained assets have now been seized by the German Police.

Hamid, who was also claiming benefits in Germany, has now appeared in court in Dusseldorf, and will no doubt receive a severe slap on the wrist.

Meanwhile over in his beloved Gaza, we hear that different terrorist factions are fighting, and killing, each other over donated aid. Hamas are no longer having all the spoils to themselves; other gangs have joined the pillage, and they all want a cut of the huge profits to be made by selling the donated food, medical supplies, etc, to the Gazan public. It used to be just the Hamas officials who filled their Swiss bank accounts, and lived in luxury accommodation, but now they're all at it.

No wonder all those Hamas supporters at Glastonbury (Bob Villain, Kneecap, and the gullible ticket-buying attendees) are cheering them on. Robbing the poor to pay the rich is the continuing way of life in Gaza, and they all think it's sooper-dooper! 

Hey ho!

 

A Grand Day.

It's Monday morning. We were short of a few things after the weekend, and we have people coming for a swim later today (Tuesday). We needed to go shopping for a few bits and pieces.

The 20 K trip is a total delight. It's mostly through the woods via small winding roads, where you really don't want to meet a big logger's truck. In fact, I rarely meet another car until I join the main road after about 10 Ks.

En route I encounter a friend/neighbour, and stop to chat for a while. He lost part of a barn roof during the recent storm. He also told me that his Tomatoes are just beginning to ripen, so that's good news. My friend is one of the nicest people one could ever hope to know. We are very lucky. I've known him ever since we first moved here 53 years ago. We are truly blessed with his friendship. 

It's already stinking hot as I park Debi at my big Leclerc Supermarket. It's about 9.15 am. Inside it's cool and not over-crowded, and everything on my list is available. Lady M is dropping things into my trolly as I do my tour, and I'm surprised to find that my final bill is over 110 Euros. I crack a few jokes with the nice lady at the checkout, and she even practices her English on me with a cheery 'Goodbye'.

We need petrol and a bottle of Gas; so that's the next job. Another nice lady at the pay-kiosk complains about the heat; it's already 31 C. With Ice Creams and other frozen stuff in the car, we hot-foot it back to the house. Billy is pleased to see us. I put everything away, and strip to a minimum of clothing.

It's going to be hot, so we do whatever needs doing outdoors before we start to 'melt'. Then into the pool for a less than refreshing swim before lunch; the water is 28 C.

As you can imagine, lunch is a light affair. Crispy Lettuce, sliced Tomatoes, red Onions, Jambon de Bayonne, Jamboneau, Cantal cheese, Apricots, and lots of ice-cold water. Of course, this is all consumed under the shade of our covered terrace (Auvent). We take our time, admire the view, and make amusing comments about how stinking hot it is.

By this time of day, it's getting to its hottest, and we retire to favourite spots for a siesta. I go to the 'Tower', where I throw open the door and pull the thin curtain across to repel the Horseflies and other creatures that wish to eat me. I sleep for maybe an hour, then back to the kitchen to prepare some Tabouleh for a light supper.

The afternoon is spent between the pool and the cooling shade of our sitting room. I do a couple of crosswords, Lady M reads a novel, and Billy sleeps on the cool terracotta tiles.

At Wine-o-Clock we sit under the shade of our Quince tree with a bowl of Anchovy stuffed Olives to accompany our glass or two of Piquette. Then later we eat wonderful spicy fried Chorizo Sausages with the Tabouleh. Yum! (below)

It's still hot, so one more swim before more relaxation; then BED. 

All in all, it's been a grand day.

 

Jam Campaign 2025.

 

With the excessive heat we're experiencing, there isn't much we can do outdoors, so I started this year's Jam Making with a couple of pots of Plum Jam.

A huge branch had broken off one of our wild 'Bird Plum' trees in the recent storm, the weight of all the fruit was too much for it. So, I collected about a kilo in a bucket, and made some pip-less jam. I had enough to fill two pots, with about half a pot remaining to be consumed whilst we're here. Not much, but it's a start.

I shall, of course, be making more later; or Lady M will. We also intend to make Blackberry Jam, Greengage Jam, Fig Jam, and most importantly Apricot Jam. The tasks will be equally divided.

As I write, Lady M is making some Strawberry Jam. The urge is all invasive. (I've just tasted her Strawberry Jam for my breakfast this morning; superb. Her best ever)

Lady M often makes her infamous Plum Pip Jam with these wild plums. It gives the children, and me, the chance to play Eeny Meeny Miny Moe, or Rich man, Poor man, Beggar man, Thief. However, these days, like me, she prefers to take the pips out.

In case you're interested, I used 600 gms of cooked Plum 'pulp', 400 gms of Jam Sugar, and the juice of about half a Lemon.

Verdict: Superb flavour, but a little runny.

Chavissimo Central.

I suppose I have to admit that I am partly responsible for one of the most tacky and excessive weddings ever.

As a regular client of Amazon, I have unwittingly contributed to the sickening cost of Jeff Bezos's nuptials.

I have nothing against Bezos or his new fragrant wife, his success has been well earned; but to flaunt his wealth in this sickening fashion is in extremely poor taste. I think there were as many photographers there as there were Z List celebs.

How much better it would have been to have held the ceremony in London's Chelsea Town Hall (very chic) for less than £1,000, then donate all the left-over money to build and equip a new Hospital Wing somewhere, and fund its upkeep for a decade or two.

Had he done that, or something similar, he would have gained huge respect around the world instead of which he is now seen as just another exhibitionist billionaire with far too much money to waste. He and his guests have also managed to infuriate the good people of Venice.

However, I wish them well; but I do recommend that they stay out of the limelight for a while so that we can all try to forget that offensive estimated waste of $46 Millions.

This (below) is my own parent's wedding photo. Let's face it; when the big day is all over, all you have left is a photo on the mantlepiece. One is as good as another, regardless of cost.

Phew, what a scorcher!

I'm hoping that our tomorrow's forecast was just a typing error, otherwise I shall be moving into the freezer!

 

Little known cheese and sausage

We all know, and enjoy, Camembert and Brie, but there is another member of that family of French cheeses that is far less known, especially back in the UK. 

Like its siblings, Chaource has a white rind, and is very similar to Camembert in its interior. As you can see from the photo, it is more barrel shaped than Camembert. It has a creamy texture, and if left out in the open for a day or two will begin to melt into a deliciously flowing, silky, 'gloop'.

It was my son Kimbo who first introduced me to Chaource, and we now buy it in preference to either Camembert or Brie; although we do buy Somerset Brie occasionally which is excellent.

If you haven't tried it, and can find some, I recommend that you give it a go.

I recently mentioned 'Figatelli'. Well, it's not sold as Figatelli here (trades description act no doubt, as it's not made in Corsica) but as Saucisse seche de Foie. The maker is the respected house of Milhau, and if your taste runs to the 'adventurous', then this could be for you (if you happen to be in France this Summer).

Personally I can't get enough of it. It has a really haunting taste of dried Liver. I love it.

A-Ha - Take On Me. 1984

This is not only a very nice song from those Norwegian A-Ha boys (regardless of the incomprehensible lyrics), but Steve Barron's video was also one of the best of the era.

Sadly, I hear that the singer, Morten Harket, has Parkinson's. 

In his day, posters of Harket were on every teenage girl's bedroom wall, and his obvious good looks made him into a universal heartthrob.

Enjoy both the song and the video! I send him my best wishes.