Decline and Fall.

You can probably see by the state of this book that it's been read many many times; mostly by me. The book is dated 1937, so it was pre-owned even before it came my way. I first read it when I was still at school, probably around 1963.

Decline and Fall, by Evelyn Waugh, is amongst my top 10 favourite books. I cannot tell you how many times I've read it. It describes a world I know extremely well, both as pupil and teacher; although my experiences are nothing like the ones in the book.

For me it's a 'laughing out loud' book. It is very funny from beginning to end.

The main character, Paul Pennyfeather, was unfairly sent-down from Oxford, where he had been 'reading for the church', and takes the only job available to such disgraced gentlefolk; teaching in a boys private school in N Wales; probably near Trelawnyd (it does mention being close to Llandudno). His adventures begin!

I think this may be the final time I read my crumbling edition. It's really is about to fall to bits. I must remember to buy a new edition.

Waugh is a good story-teller, and his humour is second to none. If you're looking for a fun read, then this might well fit the bill. Enjoy.

 

Notre Jardin.

I'm not a great 'flower' gardener, but I do like to see plenty of colour around. Perennials are my answer.

The Oleanders this year have been wonderful. Such an easy plant, they very rarely disappoint. We have planted more this year.

I'm not sure what these are in the big green pots (I'm sure someone will tell me). Lady M bought them on Day 2 of our visit, and they have been flowering ever since; they are stunning. Just the type of plant I like; dark green and deep red.

And this is the second flowering of our old faithful Wisteria. The colour isn't very inspiring; I much prefer a darker blue, or even white. The photo doesn't do it justice.

 

Otherwise the Hibiscuses are all in flower, and our climbing roses are just about hanging on.

It's hot here; 37 C in the shade for the past few days. Early morning watering is essential.

We swim and sit in the shade. Not much else we can do.

Our tallest poolside Palm tree took a battering this last winter, and it's looking very bedraggled. It looks awful, and the wretched seeds continue to fall into the pool. We've decided that it has to come down. A nice young man on a big Triumph motorbike will come this morning to do the essential. We shall now have to think about what will replace it; maybe nothing!

And here he now is!

This year's crops

In the North of France, as far as the eye can see it's Wheat, Wheat, and more Wheat.

In the Southern Languedoc it's Vines, Vines, Vines.

But here in the South West it's Hay, Hay, Hay. Everywhere you look it's Hay; which of course means that all they're growing is Grass!

I'm afraid my photos are not too good, but if you are able to enlarge them you will see nothing but big round bales of hay going off into the distant horizon.

I have seen the occasional small field of Sunflowers (sharecropping), and some Maize. But otherwise that's it; hay, hay, and more hay. What one earth will they do with it all? If they all had big herds of cows I could understand it; but they don't.

It won't be long before a second crop (the aftermath) needs cutting. They'll soon be able to see our hay-mountains from space!

As I write, I can hear my neighbour's tractor working away behind the top right corner of the top photo. And there's a lot of other his fields elsewhere that have yet to be cut. 

If you're looking for hay, just say that Cro sent you. There's plenty for everyone!

p.s. I have just returned from a shopping trip, and what did I see; yes, nothing but more hay everywhere. I saw two horses in one field, and three in another, but nothing growing that one could actually eat.

What on earth is going on?
 

Dressage.

I'm not showing the now-famous video of the horse being whipped, as I find it tasteless and upsetting.

Animal welfare has always been an important part of my life, and I totally abhor any mistreatment of animals.

Ms Charlotte Dujardin (above) is a three-time Olympic gold medalist in Dressage; what she doesn't know about training of Dressage horses ain't worth knowing. Dressage is totally unnatural to a horse. A horse wants to graze, run, and socialise with other horses; it does NOT want to trot with its knees in the air, walk sideways and backwards, or perform tricks in a ring in front of thousands of people.

Since the recent publishing of the short 'whipping video', Ms Dujardin has stepped back from the Olympic Games in some shame; although I do think there's considerable hypocrisy involved from the horse-community. 

As with any 'performing animal' it has to be taught what the trainer wants it to do; nothing that is learned for the ring comes naturally. And we all know how performing animals are trained; with a certain amount of cajoling and pain.

Even that cute performing dog on a TV talent show has more than likely been 'encouraged' to do what it does. 

We have almost entirely got rid of performing animals in circuses, and I think it's about time we now looked at other areas. I'm sure that horses love to run fast, and point-to-pointing must be fun for them. However, steeple chasing is not. There are always accidents at 'The Grand National', and often horses are put down in situ. Those jumps are simply far too dangerous.

Animals are still being exploited everywhere, and it's about time it stopped. Maybe our new PM (Starmer) could hold back International Aid from any country that allows serious cruelty to animals. Dancing Bears, Lions in cages, chained Elephants, they should all be outlawed.

And why not start at home with the ending of all Dressage events. All they say is "Look what I've made my horse do".

Snake Oil.

 

Anyone who has read Solzhenitsyn's 'Cancer Ward' will probably remember the desperate search for a miracle cure amongst the Cancer sufferers in that dire crumbling Soviet hospital.

They become focused on 'The Root from Issyk-Kul', and were prepared to do almost anything to obtain some.

I remember, when I read the book in my youth, thinking of the futility of such quackery. People so desperate that they will believe that almost any crack-pot tincture might heal them. Surely, if such a potion existed, it would have been known to the medical world.

But such dreams are not limited to Stalin's cruel Soviet Russia. I myself have recently been looking around for a miracle cure for 'pain'; and chanced upon a cream that promised everything I dreamed of. Of course 99% of me didn't believe a word of it, but my irrational belief in miracles still led me to fork-out over £50 for something that intrinsically I suspected had no hope of working.

But I also have piles of other more mainstream cures that don't work either. Paracetamol, Aspirin, Ibuprofen, Nurofen Extra Extra Extra strength, I could go on. Snake Oil sales-patter still exists, but now it's via the Mega Pharmaceutical groups. Those little white pills that we all take from time to time, may contain nothing but chalk. Who knows!

I still have a while to wait before I see my actual doctor, and I'm just hoping that he will eventually come-up trumps with a serious 'problem-solver'.

In between time, my Snake Oil has arrived via Mr Amazon, and it certainly does seem to be having some beneficial effect. I have my sister to thank for her recommendation.

Summer Bedroom

I have now moved my sleeping arrangements from the house to 'The Tower' as I do most summers. It's a very friendly little building, with a large sliding glazed double door looking out over tranquil countryside.  

We built it in 2010, with most of the work being done by ourselves. I had a builder put up the original blockwork, then the rest was done by Lady M and myself; including all the exterior rendering and interior plastering. I've still not yet painted the interior.

I had never built a whole roof before. From visiting the sawmill to ordering the hand-made tiles, all was new to me. We needed ceiling timbers (see photo), and we needed the wood for the roof structure itself. Those ceiling timbers are all solid Oak (the main beam had to be lifted into place with a tractor), and the roof structure was Chestnut which we hauled up manually. All design work was done on the back of an envelope, and I only made one mistake which was soon rectified.

My proudest bit of the whole construction is that decorative bit at the top of the wall and the bottom of the roof. It is called a 'Genoise' here, and brings the roof out beyond the wall. Again I simply worked out how to do it by 'thinking' about it.

We have now run a temporary electrical wire into the tower to feed a bedside lamp, otherwise it is still without any mod-cons.

It is one of delights of the Summer, moving into the tower. It's what we built it for, and it serves its purpose beautifully. I lie in bed looking up at those Oak timbers and marvel at how I managed to do it all. 

The roof tiles are all hand-made 'peg tiles'; no nails, they simply rest on the laths.

Being in there at night doesn't make me sleep any better, and of course I don't have my internet radio to listen to (too far from the Router). But it's a lovely place to be, and we shall remain there until Kimbo and Susie come next month. They book it in advance!

'Consequences'

 

I've known the name Penelope Lively for many years, but her work has never come my way; nor have I sought it out.

Lady M had just finished one of her books and suggested that I might enjoy it; although she had her reservations.

It may sound old-fashioned, but I like a good story, with preference for a good chronological one with a beginning, middle, and end. All this came together in Ms Lively's novel 'Consequences'. 

It's a family saga that runs from the start of WW2 through to today (it was written in 2007). It is the story of a family that suffers highs and lows, with all that that entails, from mother to daughters to sons, and from house to house. I won't spoil the story, but a circle is joined.

Ms Lively writes beautifully in a clear and un-fussy prose that is deceptively simple. Her attention to detail never leaves us feeling uninformed. 

Lady M said it brought her to tears on occasions, and she worried that it may not be my bag, but I found the story fascinating, and an absolute pleasure to read.

For me, my main pleasure comes from reading beautifully written prose, and Ms Lively certain fills that criteria. I recommend.

The 'Silly Season' continues.

It's good to see that the incoming Labour Government are really getting down to brass tacks in their first few weeks in office. Plenty of new policies have been revealed in the recent 'King's Speech', amongst which was one very important one concerning our precious country's criminal classes.

The new Minister for 'Being Nice to Criminals', Ms Shabana Mahmood (above), has decided that, as Britain's prisons are somewhat over-crowded, rather than build new ones she will release lots of nasty criminals early from the old ones.

In fact 5,500 are to be released, including 1,700 who are serving sentences of more than 5 years. How she came across these figures is anyone's guess!

Ms Mahmood said "This could lead to an increase in crimes committed, which would come with a socio-economic cost".

Well, thanks for that Shabana, I'm sure that England feels so much safer now, knowing that you're in charge!

Heaven effing help us!!!!!!

 

STRICTLY

 

Strictly Come Dancing is a BBC 'reality TV show' that began back in 2004, with professional dancers being teamed with amateurs in a dancing knock-out competition. I believe that the format has been sold to several other countries, where I'm sure they enjoy it as much as they do in the UK.

I've watched the show on several occasions, and one of my favourite participants was the ex-politician Anne Widdecombe (above on floor). She did her best, poor gal, and was thrown about by her pro-partner, Anton du Beke, like a bag of potatoes. All who saw that episode will never forget it.

The programme has recently come under fire from some of the amateurs, claiming that they were bullied, or even assaulted by their pro's. The papers have been running stories for the past few weeks. I noticed recently that even the lovely Anne Widdecombe herself has now joined the controversy, and has told many of the amateurs (especially the celeb-amateurs) to stop all their 'whingeing and whining'.

The truth is this. The professional dancers, who are responsible for teaching their amateur partners a routine, do not wish to be seen as amateurish themselves, and therefore are quite strict in their training. I believe they have just one week to learn the routine. They want their partners to look good, otherwise their own reputations might suffer. This isn't an excuse to punch or kick, but their partners who are being very well paid, need to pay attention and perform as well as possible.

Life on the ballroom floor isn't like the Lower IVth form playground. There is no room for "Sir, Sir, that boy just pulled my hair", you have to pick yourself up, get back into position, and do your very best. That 90 second example of how well you have learned, is soon over. No time for moaning about how hard the training's been. When my Rugby coach got a tad 'physical' during training, I never went off the field blubbing and complaining; so nor should they!

I have no idea if the show will survive all the controversy, which seems to be growing by the minute, but I hope it does. It's simply a bit of Saturday night light entertainment, and, frankly, I don't think that anyone who watches it gives a hoot if some minor celeb has been shouted at. We're there only for that final 90 seconds of 'dancing'; not to listen to a bunch of Moaning Minnies.

Happy (are you serious?) Birthday Cro.

 

I'm 78 years old today, and I feel about 90. We had planned a visit to our only remaining good nearby restaurant tonight, but I don't have the heart for it. 

I shall prepare a simple Magret de Canard instead, with a few chips and some salad. I know it'll be lovely, and I'll save about 100 Euros. Now I really do know I'm getting old!

OUCH!

 

We all experience aches and pains at some time or other; some are almost inconsequential, whilst others can be all-invading and debilitating.

For some time I've been suffering from Sciatica, onset of hip osteoarthritis, and a dodgy right knee. All of which were not really life-changing.

However, just recently my right hip has really started 'playing-up', and is extremely painful. Walking short distances has become a nightmare, and going up and down stairs takes me for ever.

Not only is the pain itself very unpleasant, but I'm not someone who likes to sit down and do nothing. I like to be active all day long, and I have a lot to do.

I have now made an appointment to see my old doctor; it is for August 5th (England is not alone in long waiting times). I need some serious pain killers, I've tried Ibuprofen and Diclofenac but neither seem to do much good. I now have to wait two bloody weeks before I can be prescribed something stronger; if indeed he'll give me something stronger!

UK Riots, etc.

It's Summer's 'Silly Season', and that means hot nights and rioting. Goodness knows what started this one in Leeds, but it soon got out of hand, and the usual suspects quickly joined in with the smashing, burning, and probably looting that usually accompanies such events.

Below shows the newly elected 'Gaza Party' councillor Mothin Ali attempting to stop the riot, and pouring water on the burning cars.

Leeds is a city in Northern England's county of Yorkshire. It has a very concentrated ethnic minority population, and I can only imagine that there is some conflict between the Leeds Hamas supporters and the newly elected Labour government, who understandably are trying to remain impartial over Middle Eastern affairs (hence Mr Ali's recent election).

Rioting does no-one any good, and will often 'stereotype' the reputation of certain groups. The mess will need to be tidied, cars and busses replaced, and countless windows reglazed. Local 'rates' will probably need to rise to pay for it all.

I have just read that the Police were called out at 5 pm, then having seen the scale of the riots, didn't return until 1 am. They probably feared for their lives.

But not all is bad during this year's Silly Season. I see that the founding members of the 'Just Stop Oil' group have been given some quite hefty prison sentences. Their attempt to stop the flow of traffic on the M25 (London's ring-road) was serious enough for a judge to award 5 years for the group's woke founder and leader Roger Hallam, and 4 years each for his wokey acolytes. A tad harsh maybe.

However. Plenty of time for reflection.

Truancy

 

I was recently listening to a fascinating, yet quite frightening, report into the level of truancy in the UK.

During the initial Covid crisis, schools were closed in order to restrict the spread of infection, and it seems that since those days school attendance has become a matter of choice rather than obligation. Huge numbers of children in the State System now prefer to 'bunk-off' school, and hang around street corners instead.

Regardless of what one thinks about private education, the one thing one can guarantee is that truancy hardly exists. There are of course exceptions, but they are extremely rare.

It has been suggested by one Educational Advisory Group that teachers stop being cynical towards regular truants when (or if) they do turn-up at school. No more "How kind of you to honour us with your presence", instead to welcome them back with open arms.

Many children now become 'carers' at an early age, and have huge amounts of work to do at home before even thinking of school. A disabled parent to care for, siblings to dress, feed, and keep clean, washing, shopping, cooking, all can suddenly be dumped on the shoulders of a school-age child. Truancy in such cases is understandable, and the families should be helped.

But mostly the truants simply can't be bothered, they prefer to hang around with their mates and get up to all sorts of mischief. With little education, I fear what will become of them! Maybe some new form of National Service would help them back into the fold.

I believe that the new Minister for Edjukayshun, Ms Bridget Phillipson, will be looking into the matter.

Good luck!

US Politics; a view from abroad.

 

I must admit that I know nothing at all of internal US politics, but like most people in the world I do pay attention to the USA's external image. i.e. The Biden/Trump Show.

I don't think I've ever experienced a nation's election-build-up being quite as bizarre and unpleasant as this current one in the USA.

We've had the sitting POTUS being told he should be in a hospice, we've had his felon opponent being shot at, and now we have Trump's new running-mate, J D Vance, being spoken of as 'one of the least liked' (I'm being kind here) man in US politics.

Here in Europe, we've all become extremely bored with recent British and French elections, but now we have to endure several months of these two elderly men fighting over The White House.

I don't wish to over simplify, but we are very lucky in Europe to have a good selection of capable, youngish, middle-aged, politicians from whom to choose; but given the choice of Biden or Trump, I think I might move to Hawaii.

Will Covid-stricken Biden eventually give way to a younger candidate? Will Trump survive another assassination attempt? Will there be some new 'Stormy' waiting in the wings?

We have several months of tedious campaigning ahead of us, which the UK press will happily bore us with, and frankly the sooner it's all over the better. As I said above, I don't know much about US politics, but I do know that Russia, China, and even N Korea, are all laughing their socks off, whilst we in The West watch as our hair turns grey!

Meanwhile, Biden's supporters say he's the best thing since sliced bread; and, guess what; Trump's supporters say the same of him! Good luck y'all, it seems to be 50/50.

JOLLITY FARM- The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band

I'm feeling a bit PISSED OFF at the moment, so here is some good ole English Morris Dancing, to the musical accompaniment of the Bonzo Dog boys. A perfect combination.

I first saw the Bonzo Dogs in about 1966, at the Black Cat pub' in Catford. They were spectacular; one of the best gigs I've ever been to. Life was good, and Viv Stanshall and Neil Innes at their best. 

Yet another Art College band; they seem to hold the monopoly.

Another local speciality.

This is another local French speciality that's worth looking-out for.

Jambonneau is the knuckle end of a ham (no bones), and is preserved differently to the actual ham itself.

It this case it is in a thick jelly, not unlike that which one finds inside a Pork Pie.

It is quite fatty, but the flavour is wonderful. It doesn't look particularly appetising (in a traditional way) with plenty of pig skin still attached to the meat. But all is edible, and it's another great addition to a picnic; as long as you can keep it cold. Otherwise the jelly would melt.

A good country Baguette, and some Mustard or Gherkins, and you have a meal fit for Louis XIV.

This is the only particular producer I can really recommend. They are called Conserves Mercadier, and come from the nearby town of Eymet. I see on the label that, other than the Pork, it also contains some garlic, salt, and celery.

Enjoy.

 p.s. In the top photo you might just see a hiding plateful of Cepes and Girolles. We are still eating our wonderful daily lunchtime omelets.

Books.

 

The half dozen shelves in the spare bedroom, that we amusingly call our 'Library', contain some surprisingly good books. Where many of them came from I have no idea, but most are ones that Lady M and myself have accumulated over the decades.

My intention this Summer had been to read some Dickens, but I have been seduced by D H Lawrence, Anton Chekov, Noel Coward, and a few other notables. I've even been re-reading one or two of my own offerings.

I'm currently reading a very large paperback book of Noel Coward's 'Short Stories', but the type face is VERY small (above), and it is extremely tiring to read. In fact I'm thinking of abandoning Mr Coward; I'm finding his writing style too heavy going. He seems to have written just for the sake of writing, and forgets the reader. 

Anyway, I've mostly been reading other 'Short Stories', as one can put them down and take up again without losing any plot. The sort of books one might take on holiday.

Before coming to France, Lady M bought an old favourite; Graham Greene's 'Travels with my Aunt'. It's a book we both read many years ago, and with our current connection with Brighton, and the church, and the Dog show, we thought it would be fun to read again. I'm loving it.

Padron

I had been looking for some small green peppers to fry for lunch, and by chance I found the exact one's I was after. Padron Peppers from Spain, as served in Tapas bars everywhere. I was very surprised to find them in my usual supermarket; neatly wrapped in cellophane. I had never seen them on sale previously.

These lovely little green peppers are gently fried and tossed in olive oil until they 'blister' all over, then they are left to cool, and are sprinkled with Sea Salt. About 5 mins work.

And here they are (below) as part of a simple Summer salad. They are delicious, and will be on my shopping list for the rest of the Summer.

If you've never tasted them, I recommend that you do. They aren't hot, they are soft sweet and delicious, with a slightly grassy flavour, and always leave you wanting more.

CRASH $2 300 000 Lotus Crashes

It's the Goodwood 'Festival of Speed' season yet again, when out come the world's most beautiful, expensive, and ridiculously fast cars. They are admired, photographed, and raced, and their petrol-head owners strut around like Peacocks, with Lord March always amongst them.

Everything doesn't always go to plan on the Hill Climb, and even a nice little Lotus can come a cropper after just a few yards (see below). I hope he can get the spare parts he'll need!

I'm not into fast fancy cars myself, but I know a couple of guys who are. My childhood friend, the Tennis photographer Michael Cole, has always been a car nut, and I think still owns several collectors cars (E Types, etc). 

But another old school friend's father was probably the most fanatical. Not only did he have a fleet of very fancy fast cars but they all had fancy number plates too; he had RU 1, NO 2, and IAM 3, etc. He also had his own full-time mechanic, and held some important position at Snetterton Race Circuit. I remember when he sold one of his more precious cars, the new owner crashed it, and he paid to have it restored. True dedication!

I have owned a Triumph TR, and a crazy 3.5 litre Rover SDI, but otherwise I've always been satisfied with more run-of-the-mill sedate motors; and will remain so. I don't have the money for anything fancier anyway!

I wonder how the owner of the Lotus (above) felt after his crash, or what his wife said to him when he got home!!!

Lost then found.

One of the things that seemed to be missing after our burglary earlier this year was this Stone Age hand tool.

OK, it's annoying to lose TV's, Hi Fi kit, and other bits of electrical stuff, but this was something very special for us.

However, yesterday Lady M was rooting around in some cupboard drawers; and there it was, wrapped in some blue paper. She must have put it away on some whim; it's almost as if she'd predicted a burglary.

Such finds are not rare hereabouts, but they're not common either. I can remember exactly when and where I found it. It had been raining hard overnight, then the following morning I was passing by a freshly ploughed field (on my way mushrooming) when I saw something 'glinting' on the surface. I thought perhaps it was something metallic, but it was the above. I couldn't believe my luck.

I've since found other Stone Age artifacts, but nowhere near as perfect as this one. I imagine the original owner must have been furious to have lost it.

We both heaved a HUGE sigh of relief at finding it again.
 

Shock Horror!

I must admit to being quite shocked, and certainly disappointed; Lady Magnon has been very busy recently jam-making, but she has removed all the pips from her 'Plum Pip Jam'.

Usually the pips are there, and we filter them out as we go. But this year she must have been reading (I imagine) her 'How to be the perfect WI Jam maker' book, and we are to have a very different product.

She's making another batch today, but I didn't dare ask if it will be her traditional recipe (pips in), or her more refined version (pips out). Only time will tell. 

We now have about 12 jars; whatever's left of which will return to Brighton to accompany our Winter toast.

I have, of course tasted it. It's very good, as usual.

 

Dogs-n-Cats

 

I can't imagine not having a dog in the house, even though I have sworn that Billy will be my last!

These two below were just wonderful. First we had Monty (the Lab'). He came from a rescue center run by the wonderful Miss Tadpole. Then our neighbour's dog, Bok, became friends with him, and they were inseparable; his owner eventually asked us if we'd like to have him, as he practically lived with us anyway. We said 'yes'.

They had a wonderful life together; every day was an adventure. Sadly they both died quite young, then along came Billy.

In between time there was Fred, our cat. I liked Freddy, he was aloof, haughty, and dismissive. He lived an independent life (as do most cats), just turning up for food when he felt like it. I miss having a cat around the place. I always liked to see Fred wandering around the garden, up in the Quince tree, or sleeping under some favourite flowers. A cat is a moving ornament that decorates one's environment, and demands very little in return.

He here is, bored stiff by what I'm doing. Having his early morning siesta.

I don't suppose we'll have any more animals. They do restrict one's freedom as we've always made sure their welfare always comes before ours; as a result our travels are somewhat limited.

A cat could probably live here by itself for a couple of weeks. These days there are wonderful inventions such as magnetic cat-flaps, daily dosage feeders, and containers that provide a good supply of water, and I'm sure that solo cats can be perfectly happy. If the automatic feeder failed to work, they could always dine on MICE. However, we would never do that, as cats like company and they would probably feel as if they'd been abandoned.

I must go; Billy is wanting a walk.

Well, fancy that!

On closer inspection of the photo I posted yesterday, I noticed in the background (top right) a small Terracotta sculpture bust of a young girl by Richard Garbe, that I'd bought back in about 1968-ish.

Garbe had been Head of Sculpture at the Royal College of Art, and about 10 years after his death his wife was clearing out his studio via an auction house in Horsham, Sussex.

I just happened, by chance, to be walking by the saleroom as the sale was taking place, and saw the sale details outside. I popped-in, and bought just one piece. I would happily have bought EVERYTHING, but I didn't have the money. All his works, tools, and equipment, were being sold-off for 'a few quid'. It was heartbreaking.

It was a nice piece of work, and I kept it for many years. Eventually when trying to reduce my collection, I sold it. I can't remember to whom, or even where. I think it was sold for about £150; I had bought it for either £9 or £10. 

When I saw the above picture it immediately reminded me of Garbe, so I looked him up on Google, and amazingly, there it was, the very first thing I saw; my old small terracotta bust. You can imagine my surprise!

As you can probably see, it fetched £984 through Roseburys at the end of last year, and is now decorating the home of some other 'connoisseur'; and I hope they enjoy it as much as I did.

Amazing the things you find on google.

As I've said many times on this page, most of my own work has been stolen at one time or other; mostly when I was a student. These days when I look at any 'Homes' related magazine, the first thing I look at are the walls; all that work must be somewhere!!!

 

Do people still hold 'parties'?

I just came across this very old photo. It dates from a time when people held pukka fancy-dress parties, this couple (above) are dressed as a gangster and his moll; complete with home-made cardboard Tommy Gun and Cigar.

In my London days, partying was BIG. A strange phenomenon of the time were the 'Surfing Parties', where Beach Boys music was de rigueur, and gaudy island shirts were everywhere. People would actually turn-up with surf boards.

I've thrown just two memorable parties here in France. The first I think must have been for my 30th birthday. Lady M wore a spectacular all white outfit including a turban, and I complimented her in an all white suit. Over the following few days, after the party was over, I kept finding bottles of wine hidden away all around the courtyard and in the huge barn. I think people must have been expecting a shortage; they were wrong.

The second was for my 50th, when we roasted a whole Lamb; I think there were over 50 guests. What a night that was!

I've given-up holding parties. I no longer have the desire or the confidence. Gone are the days when I would consume copious amounts of wine, and my appetite has considerably diminished. As for dancing until dawn; that has gone too. 

These days it's an intimate dinner for four (at the most). 

 

Holiday? What holiday!

I suppose most people would think we're on holiday; but we're not.

For us it's simply being at an alternative home. We do much the same, we eat much the same, and I do my shopping on the same days in the same old way, in the same car, at the same style of supermarket.

Here we have more outdoor space, but otherwise it's much the same. Of course we have a pool, which is nice, but it also brings a lot of extra work.

I purposefully landscaped the pool to become part of the house and garden. I can't stand pools that are built apart, away from the house, with a nasty wire fence around them. As you can see above, there is foliage everywhere; much of which falls into the pool. It's a daily task cleaning-out the skimmers, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a pleasant area to sit and read, even if one isn't swimming.

The weather, since we've returned, has been very 'on and off'. We've swum a bit, but not every day. We've had a lot of rain, and the sitting room wood-burner has seen plenty of action. The plus side has been a daily crop of mushrooms; both Girolles and a few Cepes.

However, mostly we've been coping with the results of our burglary. Cleaning, discovering what's missing, and generally tidying-away all that was strewn around the house. Burglars are not known for being tidy, or educated, individuals; and ours certainly was true to type. Lady Magnon lost some jewelry, some valuable watches, and a lot of smaller antique silver items. The TV's and Hi-Fi kit we don't really care about. I suppose one might say that it was our fault for leaving things here, but that's how we've always lived; by trusting people, as we would have them trust us.

Nothing much has changed here since last year. We have a new (and rather uninteresting) new neighbour behind us up at the barn. Our nearest restaurant seems to have new people, but is no better than last year. And my very good friend J seems to be coping well with his various ailments. 

No-one has died, got married, or been sent to prison. All is well with the world, and with any luck it'll remain that way for a while.

Had enough of politics? So have I.

Disappointed!

 

Firstly I'm disappointed with the Tory Party for getting themselves into such an unmitigated mess; all of their own making. Their losses were merited.

Secondly I'm disappointed with the public for believing Labour's promises; it's not unlike those famous Turkeys voting for Christmas! And what a Christmas it's going to be.

However, the UK still remains the world's 6th biggest economy, has a very low inflation level of 2.3%, and is currently the fastest growing economy in the G7. So, don't believe all that Labour has been telling you; Britain was doing quite well.

However, illegal immigration has been constantly increasing, and Rishi has continued to try to "Stop the Boats", whilst at the same time sending our Border Control boats to bring them in. The French just take our assistance money, and twiddle their thumbs. If Le Pen has any say, we can expect immigration figures to rise massively, and Labour will welcome them.

It's been far too easy for the Socialists to constantly vote against every serious proposal, but now they need to put their money where their mouths are, and show us how it should have been done. I suspect we might now see many of those Tory policies (that they previously rejected) being given a new pink tinge.

I for one will be extremely interested to see what happens. If they manage to achieve even a small part of their promises, without going broke (again), I shall be mightily impressed. But don't hold your breath. 

It's true that Starmer has attempted to shift the Labour Party to the right (as did Blair before him). He has expelled some of the more extreme left-wingers, and has 'attempted' to control Labour's traditional antisemitism, but let's now wait and see how this manifests itself in the real world. Corbyn is back in tow, and that says a lot.

However, I must admit that Starmer isn't all bad, and he definitely has my approval on two counts. Firstly he's a fellow confirmed atheist; and secondly he has two Jewish children, which means he cannot allow himself to be a Hamas supporter, unlike most of his other Labour Party members (and his buddy Corbyn, of course).

So, over to you, Keir; and good luck!

Election day.

Always keep ahold of Nurse, for fear of finding something worse.

A sorry sight.

It was with huge regret on our part that our newly renovated tobacco drying barn has been sold.

I had spilt blood sweat and tears working on the interior, and, without wishing to sound pompous, I did a bloody good job of it. It became a lovely eco family home, that almost anyone would have been happy to live in. It just happened that my youngest son, who owned it, had just built a fabulous home in Thailand, where he's now living (he's now building a second), and he didn't need another one in France.

It also had lots of land, a well-stocked orchard, plenty of room for a pool, veg patch, etc, and a magnificent huge ancient Oak tree. There was also plenty of extra space for a Granny Flat.

Anyway, it was sold, and the new owner doesn't seem to be interested in country life. The grass everywhere is a metre high, and not a single plant has been touched or pruned since he moved-in. 

Having tended the garden myself for several years, it is now a total mess. It won't be easy to return it to how it looked above. I can imagine the whole place becoming totally overgrown in no time (actually, it already is). He didn't even pick his wonderful Cherries; what a shame.

I really don't know, but I imagine the new owner is a townie, and has no understanding about living out in the countryside. I even wonder if he'll stay there for very long; it doesn't seem to suit him. I believe he is a single music teacher; but I have no confirmation. What he is doing, in such a big house, way out in the Styx by himself, I have no idea. Usually people who move to the country are desperate to embrace the whole lifestyle; but not this man. 

Above is how it is today. I haven't yet met the new owner, nor, it seems, have any of my other neighbours, so I'm not about to cast judgement. We've only been back a few weeks and so far he hasn't made much of an impression, other than throwing stones, and shouting at Billy. I've had to cut back the excessive growth from his side of our part-mutual entrance driveway, so I can get the car in without scratching its sides, but I shall do no more. It's HIS garden now, and he can look after it himself. 

I've said it before, but I think townies should stay in towns, and leave us country bumkins alone. 

Russian/Ukranian deaths.

 

Statistics in times of war are never reliable. When looking online for the number of Russian Soldier deaths in Ukraine, I came across all sorts of estimates; some quite low, others unbelievably high.

Probably the most reliable current figure is 508,780. This comes from an 'official' source. The figure is almost approaching Napoleon's 600,000 disastrous number of deaths in Russia in 1812. 

The number of Ukrainian Soldier deaths is given as 31,000. This sounds unreliably low!

Damage to buildings, businesses, industry, and agriculture is inestimable. Who, I wonder will rebuild?

It's a strange war. Very one-sided. I fail to understand why Moscow or St Petersburg haven't been bombed; not unlike the Falklands War where the British kindly allowed Buenos Aries to remain untouched. I wouldn't promise the Argies that that would be the case if they attacked again.

Putin and the Russian people must have very thick skins. They are losing vast amounts of men and kit. It must be costing a fortune, and Ukraine itself is being reduced to rubble, where or what is the advantage?

It's about time that the Russian people experienced what the Ukrainians are having to endure; maybe then they will understand what their 'heroic leader' is doing.

What is the purpose; other than Communist expansionism? 

Slightly pissed-off

This electrical box has been annoying me for the past 4 or 5 years.

It was attached to the back our house to provide a temporary electrical connection to a house about 200 metres away. It was to be there for a MAXIMUM of 6 months. It's been a very long six months!

The red pipe comes from our house, into the above box, then out across a public footpath; ending-up at the man's house. It is above ground and has already caused one municipal grass-mower to nearly lose his life (having mowed over the live wires). Nothing was done. The wires were mended, and left as they were previously. A quick shrug of the shoulders, and that was that.

When we returned a couple of weeks ago, the box was exactly as you see it above. The door was open, plants were growing inside, and it all looked a bit of a mess. I looked inside and saw that the spinning meter-reading disc was not moving; and hasn't moved since. I have to presume that, without having said anything, the man has since got himself a permanent connection somewhere else, and has simply abandoned the bloody box and wires behind our house.

I had a word with the Mayor; he wasn't interested. No-one seems bothered that it's still there with live wires in it. I've even been told NOT to touch it.

How long do you think I'll have to wait before anyone comes to remove it? We've just had about 100 horses and riders passing by yesterday; I was hoping they'd do the job for me, sadly they didn't!!!

My telephone/internet cable had been left lying on the ground for the past few years. They put in a new post, but forgot to attach the wires to it. I've now done it for them. That's one problem solved; now for the bloody electrical box!

I ain't holding my breath.