Medical nostalgia.

                              

Old fashioned illnesses had much more interesting names than they do nowadays.

I've always liked the sound of 'Dropsy'; and 'The Vapours' has a distinctly romantic allure.

Who would not have been proud to have 'Quinsy', or 'Eel thing', or 'The screws', or even 'Stranger's fever'.

The only one you might not have admitted to was 'Bad blood', which I believe was a 'polite' way of saying Syphilis.

Another random pix selection

The inedible Pear. When on the tree they're too hard; when they drop they turn to mush. The only thing one can guarantee about this tree is that it's always LOADED.

One of our own Pear trees (Finn's tree). Plenty of flowers, now we have to cross our fingers and wait.

Bad Backsville (Haddock's). My digging has begun. My back is aching. I have to continue regardless.

The little flowering plant I found in the middle of my neighbour's field. Doing very well, thank you.

60 Days. How's he doing so far?

                                                  

When Trump was elected, I was willing to give him a chance, and did so.

But how's he getting on, now that he's actually sitting in the oval office.

Has he built his famous wall, or even started it?

Has he stopped all those nasty Muslims from entering the USA?

Has he scrapped Obamacare?

Has he brought back all those exported jobs that he was so keen on repatriating?

In fact, has he made America great again?

From where I'm sitting the answer seems to be NO.

Nice!

One of the pleasures of living in the countryside, and having a dog to walk with every day, is coming across things that I've not noticed before.

These flowers (above) are a case in point.

The fields are covered in Cowslips at the moment (no Primroses), and to find these red variants amongst them is a real treat.

I believe they are simply a red Primula veris, and very nice too.

I may dig one small root, to transplant chez Cro. They may not be the world's most exciting flowers, but they do a good job.

Random pictures from a sunny Sunday afternoon.

It was a beautiful day here yesterday. All the lawns are mowed, Haddock's is mowed, and the orchard is mowed. What a very good boy am I.

All change at Haddock's.

Always on the look-out for easier and more productive vegetable gardening, I have now established a simpler, more rotation-friendly, plot.

I've split Haddock's into four equal size sections with a narrow path between them. Of course this means I've lost a small amount of growing area, but I intend to make each section more productive (and in certain cases, less wasteful). The 40 cm wide paths were first covered with a landscaping material, then topped with crushed stone.

Digging over my garden in Spring has always been a pain; literally, because I have a bad back (and my rotovator is buggered). But, now having four much smaller areas to work, the task seems far less daunting. Each section can probably be dug over in about 30 mins (back willing).

Manure and compost will be spread liberally, and I shall try to double-dig where possible. I'm hoping that my 2017 veg' campaign will be seriously productive.

All I now need is a statue of St Fiacre on the intersection of the paths, and abundance will be guaranteed.

Haddock's gets smaller and smaller, but the yields are more and more generous. There's a moral in there somewhere!

Digging looms; as soon as the weather gets better.......

The Taste of Home.

There are always certain foods that, if you live abroad, are almost unattainable. I could travel a long distance to buy them, but frankly it's easier to make my own.

One such treat is Brinjal Pickle; the perfect accompaniment to a good curry.

Luckily I saved the label from my last jar of Patak's, so it was simply a matter of reading the ingredients, and having a go.

I've made it before; the last time I added too much garlic, and rather spoilt it. This time I've followed the ingredients to the letter, and the resulting pickle seems pretty good.

I'll leave it to 'mature' for a few weeks before broaching; then I'll test it with a very simple Rice and Dhal.

I made two 270g jars; the Aubergine cost 55 centimes. Cheap is an understatement.

Speling.

Ever since Dennis Norden's TV programme 'It'll be alright on the night', one often sees the spelling of 'all right' as Mr Norden's easier and more junior version of 'alright'. 

I now fear for the the spelling of the word 'thoughtful'. 

Anyone who has seen this appalling TV advert' for (I even hate to write it) 'thortful', will probably (like me) be filled with horror at this latest mis-use of the English language.

What IS the point of mis-spelling certain words? They make me want to bloody scream. And as for the idiot with the stupid blue wig..... words fail me!

Luckily I can't actually tell you what they're advertising; I always leave the room whilst furiously tugging at what hair I have left (other than yesterday to take the above photo).

I shall NOT be 'searching' for thortful.

Then he relocated.

I took the above photo about 10 mins before I went off to bed.

About an hour later there was a short period of thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. Bok HATES storms, and came to join me on my bed. Freddie also turned up; but he always does.

So, I ended up with a dog on one side of me, and a cat on the other.

Not the most comfortable way of trying to sleep. 

All good chums.

                                


                                


                                

Yesterday, politicians of all colours were praising Martin McGuinness as a peacemaker; today they are looking at terrorism very differently.

It's an Equinox-ish Boy.

The wait is over.... As of today we have 6 grandsons. Kellogg presented us with No 6 at 10.40 am this morning (in Australia). 

I bought his tree just a couple of weeks back. I thought I was cutting it a bit fine, but he kept us waiting!

The hole was previously dug, the tree had been placed by it's side, and as soon as word came through it was positioned. I have to add that it was quite cold out there this morning, and only just properly light.

As with my five other grandchildren, the tree had to be planted on his actual birth day to mark his arrival. 

I wonder if I'll get to plant any more? Each of my three children now has two children (all boys) of their own.

Boo Boo Minor's tree (for that is his provisional name) is a Royal Gala apple. We only have two other apple trees, so more are needed!

Congratulations to Kellogg and Wills, and welcome to Boo Boo Minor; an equinox-ish brother for Boo Boo Major.

To each his own.

Certain things in nature take my breath away. This plant (above) is one.

I know nothing of flowers or wild plants, so I can't tell you what it is. However, they grow every year, popping up in the most unlikely places. Later in the year they throw up a tall 6 ft tall stem on which there are a rag-bag of insignificant yellow flowers.

It's now, and until they flower, when they are at their best. They just sit there in their symmetrical splendour, making us smile as we pass by.

Many would no doubt call it a weed, but to me it's as beautiful as any other garden plant.

I left the Dandelions in the picture so you can see its size; they get bigger!

A clasp from the past.

                                     

When I was a wee schoolboy, almost every boy I knew held-up his trousers with a belt such as the one above.

I never thought anything about them at the time, but looking back I now see them as rather exotic.

That simple Snake clasp is perfect; I wonder if it wasn't based on some Roman design? It looks as if it should be.

I can see them making a come-back. Surely today's Hipsters will soon recognise their appeal.

Wisdom of the (French) ages.

Yesterday I had a nice long chat with my neighbour Jean-Claude; he from his tractor, me struggling to contain Bok's excitement.

Amongst other topics, we discussed the fact that the Magpies are nesting very high in the trees this year; in fact they can't get much higher (see pic).

Superstition has it that this heralds a very dry and hot Summer.

How Magpies are supposed to know this, I'm not sure. Even our most up to date meteorologists, with all their fancy satellites, etc, often can't predict the same afternoon's weather.

Maybe they should catch a bag-load of Magpies and study their moods, comportment, and reactions. If they really can predict a very dry and hot Summer they'd be worth studying. 

Mind you, I've never known a Summer here that wasn't dry and hot; but that's probably best not mentioned when superstition is afoot.

Merguez.

Merguez are one of my favourite sausages. Spicy and deep red in colour, they are made from a mix of Beef and Lamb, and are flavoured with Cumin and Pepper.

Originally from the Maghreb, they travelled north with the fleeing Pied-Noir population, after the Franco/Algerian troubles of 1954-62, and have since become a staple in this region of France; especially on Summer BBQ's.

I remember many years ago that I wanted to take a few kilos back to the UK for the freezer. Instead of buying them down here I decided to stop-off at a Supermarket in Calais, and buy them fresher up there. When I came to the meat department there was no sign of any, so I asked an employee where I would find them. He had never heard of Merguez. They had not yet reached that far north. Nowadays I imagine that they can be bought throughout France, and even elsewhere.

If you haven't already done so, I recommend that you try some. Last night I had a few with some Puy Lentils, and the essential squirt of fiery Harissa. Lovely.

New dog on the block.

The latest canine arrival at our tiny hamlet is this Alsatian 'puppy', called Marley.

Bok is already showing him the meaning of 'respect for your elders', and he's learning fast.

Like so many local dogs, he is free to roam around as he pleases; this doesn't worry us, but might some.

He's a nice friendly dog, and obviously likes to run with Bok. He's still at that bouncy spring-lamb stage, but will soon calm.

Another pleasant addition to our local dog population. Welcome Marley.

WARNING!

                               

Yesterday, whilst walking with Bok in the woods, I came across two long lines of Processionary Caterpillars. One lot was about three metres long, the other about two.

May I remind everyone (who lives in areas where such creatures exist) that these Caterpillars are extremely dangerous for unwary dogs. Our own late Monty once tried to eat one, and not only became very ill, but eventually lost about a third of his tongue from the poison.

It is worth also remembering that they are dangerous for humans as well. I hate to say it, but they are best squashed when found.

You can't mistake them at this time of year, they walk in long lines across paths, etc.

Be warned!

Nuts in May

Personally I think Candice-Marie was right; 72 chews does seem an awful lot.

Tree-scapes.

A few trees that caught my eye whilst out walking with Bok yesterday.

No words necessary. 

A Small Heirloom.

                                                          

My Uncle Reginald (Father's older brother, above) was sent off to The Colonies to grow, and send back, Tea.

He went to Ceylon (Sri Lanka) where I imagine he did fulfil his remit, although I never heard much about Tea.

What I did hear, however, was of him sending back wooden crates filled with Furs to my father in London, with instructions about who to sell them to, etc.

He also sent back small packages of precious stones, one of which he gave to my father (Uncle R was later repatriated with a nasty dose of Paratyphoid).

The stone he offered was quite a large Ceylon Sapphire which Father had set in gold as a ring. It had finger-like clasps around the stone itself, and was/is a very pleasant piece of jewellery.

In the early 1960's my sister asked her mother if she could borrow it for an upcoming holiday to the Italian Riviera. Somewhere between Paris and the South of France, my sister's suitcase went missing, and we all panicked; simply on account of the ring. The guards were alerted, and a thorough search ensued. Eventually her suitcase was found, untouched, in a guards-van right at the very end of the train. The ring was safe.

Having come to me, sometime after the mid 80's one of the gold 'fingers' broke, and it was taken to a jewellers' for repair and re-polishing. The jeweller also offered a free valuation, which rather surprised us.

The ring is now in Australia, having been given to my daughter Tenpin. I wonder what will happen to it in the future? I hope that a wife of either George or Finn's will wear it, and that it will continue down the line. It's not the most valuable thing in the world, but, rather like our 1735 grandfather clock, it's a pukka heirloom; and we don't have many.

Danger Period.

It's almost mid-March, and we still have another two whole months to go before we can be certain of no more frosts.

An overnight frost now, and it'd be 'curtains' for our Plums (above),

our Peaches (above),

and our Apricots (above).

With our Apples and Pears also about to flower, it's at this point in the year when I really begin to worry.

My fingers are crossed.