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.