Unparalleled bravery.

This picture (which was originally posted in December of 2010) shows El Cro winter training for the 2011 Bull Fighting season.

The bull in question probably only weighed as much as a London Bus at the time; now he weighs at least as much as two.

His temper hasn't improved with age, and I wouldn't now be quite as foolhardy.

If I was to find him outside our kitchen door these days, I'd run for the bloody hills; not that we have any hills!

Cracking the Whip.

Closing down the pool for winter is always an unpleasant job on many different fronts, but this year I had the added task of re-pointing between the edging stones and the flagstones. For some reason the mortar had weakened over the past 10 years, and it all needed to be chiselled out and replaced.

Even Lady Magnon wanted to have a go (above), and got stuck in like a pro (saving my back for a while).

And this is what it looked like after being brushed down with a wire brush, and left to dry in the sun. 

I'd call that pukka 'Invisible Mending'.

Next job is thorough cleaning, heavy dosing with chlorine, and covering over with black tarpaulin. Then it'll be 'goodbye' for the next 8 months. It's sad when the time comes, but when the water temperature drops to about 20 C we have to accept that the swimming season is finally over. 

The eye of the beholder...

Never let it be said that Cro is racist, sexist, or tranny-ist. I'm a liberal thinking supporter of all life-styles, fashions, and philosophies. I'm an easy-going 'live-n-let-live' fella.

This man (above) has chosen to dress-up as a woman. He now has the frock, the over-sized threepenny bits, the lippy, and the high heels. What he doesn't have is any femininity whatsoever. One might have thought that that was a priority!

If he is seriously trying to say to the world "look at me, I'm all woman", there will no doubt be trillions of women out there shouting "OH NO YOU'RE NOT".

Many transgender people look fine, you'd never know; but I'm sorry, when I saw this guy's picture I just thought how absolutely ridiculous he/she looked. We all make our own choices in life, and this was his. I'm sorry if I sound callous, but I like a woman to look like a woman, even if she was born a man, and not some silly cartoon version...... Perhaps I am tranny-ist after all.

Go on... now you're going to tell me how gorgeous he/she looks!

The Sunday Roast.

Autumn does have its good points; one of which is roasting just about anything that is still hanging-on at Haddock's.

Yesterday's dinner was a case in point. I roasted half a chicken; we're only two, and the other half went to the freezer. The Chicken itself was rubbed with a mixture of spices, and alongside it were some chunks of Butternut, a couple of Aubergines, a few long Peppers, a few Chestnuts, and plenty of garlic. The whole lot was drizzled with Olive Oil, and sprinkled with salt and some Herbes de Provence.

Preparation time; 10 mins. Cooking time (wine sipping time); 60 mins. Expertise required; none. Pleasure; inestimable. 

It looked so nice just before I popped it in the oven that I took its picture 'uncooked'. It looked even nicer when it came out, but I was too hungry to bother with more photography.

Why do people think that preparing a 'Roast Dinner' is so bloody special; the oven does all the work.

Rêve de Luxe.

When I really have nothing to write about; I become reflective.

Some of my older pictures I enjoy looking at; others not. Mostly anything that doesn't pass muster in the studio never sees the light of day anyway, so paintings of mine that I don't like are usually scrapped before they are seen.

Rêve de Luxe (above) is one that I am never bored with. It's not particularly well painted, the subject matter is not that interesting, but there's something about it that I like.

Occasionally a collector will say 'Do you remember this one?', and I look at it with horror; immediately seeing faults that should have been corrected. I've even been shown old pictures that I had no recollection of at all (very weird).

                                           

This picture entitled 'Small War' is another that I like looking at.... but I'm probably the only one.

Catherine Tate - the offensive translator

This is a delightfully non-PC clip to get your weekend off to a bad start. Enjoy!

Vin.

I don't keep a lot of wine in the house; there doesn't seem much point. My tiny wine rack is stuffed into a corner of the studio; it holds just 50 bottles.

Back in England I used to buy wines from all over the world; South America, Italy, France, and Australia amongst others. But here I notice that every single bottle in this rack, and elsewhere in the house, is FRENCH.

A minuscule token amount of foreign wines are sold in the supermarkets, but one has the feeling that arms must have been twisted. You'd be hard pressed to find any Frenchman who'd have anything good to say about any wine that wasn't from his own country, or indeed his own area. As strange as it might sound, one of the wines I actually miss not being able to buy, is Greek Retsina. Most people think of it as no more than diluted Turpentine; but I rather like it. It holds memories.

In amongst my 50 bottles are several 'undrinkables'; awful wines that have been brought to the house by dinner guests (who are, of course, now off the dinner party list). I leave them a couple of years, then return them to whence they came. Do we all do that? Some of those bottles must have been offered several times over; a bit like those unwanted Christmas presents!