Sunday Lunch.

I didn't have a lot of time this morning, so my mushrooming was performed almost on the run. Anyway, I found a couple of nice Cepes, and a small handful of Girolles.

Lady M is away. She's gone off on a 15 Km hike with some chums, with a slap-up lunch afterwards. So I've been left home alone.

We always eat veggie for lunch, so, as I'm preparing just for myself today, I've been up to Haddock's and grabbed whatever was available. I've picked the first of the artichokes (I love them when they're small like these), a handfull of salad leaves, and a few radishes. I shall have these with a small Cepe omelette. My desert will be the few remaining cherries from my friend José's tree.

The large oval meat dish (it has one of those indentations at one end for collecting juices) was bought this morning at a local boot sale. I'll probably get an ear-wigging when Lady M returns. I just can't stop myself buying white antique plates. Or white soup tureens!

The Sunday Story: 'My Ophelia'.

Back in about 1967, an ex-school-friend of mine (I shall mention him again next Sunday) took over the rental of a fabulous London 'Mansion Flat', overlooking Regent's Park; its occupant was moving abroad.

The previous tenant (a well known British sculptor) was off on a five year 'teaching fellowship' to California, and there were certain things he simply couldn't take with him. One was a huge, 6 inch deep, hand-cast, glass 'coffee table', which probably weighed as much as a double-decker bus; another was a beautifully executed, full size, copy of 'Ophelia' by Sir John Everett Millais (above). My friend negotiated very advantageous prices for these two items (plus a few other bits and pieces), and bought them. I was unbelievably jealous about the painting; and still am to this day! It was as if he owned the original.

I've always had a liking for the story of Ophelia, as, like most school-boys, I was obliged to study Shakespeare's Hamlet as part of my English exam course. During one particular English lesson we were all invited to write a poem to the memory of Ophelia; below is my boyhood offering, which I entitled 'My Ophelia'.

Why, you might ask, have I kept such an insignificant little 16 word poem for all these years? Well, my English teacher at the time, an unpleasant and overbearing man not known for compliments, actually told me he rather liked it. That was enough for the young Cro, and I tucked it, in the appropriate spot, between the pages of my own copy of Hamlet. Compliments in my life have been in very short supply; very British!


When you were drowned,


my hopeless tears


joined


that willowed brook,


and helped


become


your shroud.

Haddock's again.

It's the beginning of June, and I think I've done my last bit of rotovating at Haddock's before autumn. Almost everything is now in, and I've just left a bit of space for a few winter cabbages, etc, that I might pick up along the way.

The first artichokes are poking their heads above the foliage. Some of the tomatoes are beginning to set. Two rows of French beans are up. My winter leeks have all been planted. And the aubergine and pepper plants are looking really healthy.

I saw some good looking red cabbage plants at market last week, so six of those have gone in too. We have salads and radishes, and I shall dig some new potatoes tomorrow. The only thing looking a bit miserable are my ridge cucumbers, so maybe no gherkins this year (unless I buy them). Happy gardening!

That wretched 'Busy Bee'.

Dammit, let's have some silliness.

The Chestnut trees are almost in flower here; time for local bee-keepers to bring in their hives. I recently posted this song on a friend's web-site article that she'd written about their relocation. I think it deserves further viewing.

Arthur Askey sings (part of) The Busy Bee Song..... Don't worry, it only lasts a few seconds!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rpBAZEVHmI

Dom Silvester Houédard. 1924-92.

I have so many artistic heros, that I hardly know where to start.

The picture above shows some of the UK's most influential 'concrete poets' of the 1960's. They are (from the left) Dom Silvester Houédard, Pete Brown, Bob Cobbing, and Ernst Jandl. They are seen here (in '66) performing a Kurt Schwitters 'sound poem' entitled 'Fury of Sneezing'. Just in case anyone is unaware, the word 'Dom' is short for 'Dominican Monk'.

Of the four, Houédard was unquestionably the most inventive. From the confines of his 'monastic cell' he experimented with typeface (see top picture), creating some of the most iconic works and installations of that exciting 60's barrier-demolishing period.

I only met him once. We were both members of the old ICA (Institute of Contemporary Arts), when it was still a small and reasonably exclusive artists club, based in London's Dover Street . I was exhibiting a long suspended tubular poem (very much influenced by Houédard; maybe too much so), alongside several of his, and other members, works (including Ian Hamilton Finlay). He said one or two kind words to me; probably trying to avoid using the word 'plagiarism'. I, of course, was just amazed that he spoke to me at all!

In those heady days the most important thing was inventiveness. Quality was briefly abandoned; it was the age of 'The New' and 'The Different'.

Ian Hamilton Finlay, the Scottish poet/ sculptor/ artist, was at that time producing his carved stone outdoor poems for his 'Little Sparta' garden near Edinburgh; no doubt partly influenced by Houédard. Finlay later went on, in his turn, to influence the works of Richard Long, and therefore Andrew Goldsworthy, et al. This is how it happens.

Houédard is a man of the past; his name now hardly ever mentioned. But he was a giant, and giants don't often walk this way.

Gloria In Excelsis Cepeo

A bout of rather miserable weather has brought up not only the single Parasol mushroom that I found a few days back, but also a few Cepes and Girolles.

Guess what we'll be having for lunch today!

p.s. The green plate above is by Edwin Beer Fishley. If you are interested in such things, go to http://www.studiopottery.com/, click on 'potters', then under 'F' click on 'E B Fishley'. When he comes up, on the left hand side click on 'E B Fishley plate'. And Viola! there's my plate! Try it!

Soup anyone?

Here in S W France, lunch is always refered to as 'la soupe'. No surprise, therefore, that these beautiful old soup tureens turn up on a regular basis at boot sales and antique fairs.

This is my most recent buy. It's smaller than my other one (perfect for the Magnon's meagre gruel), plain white, and only very slightly chipped.

The top probably doesn't belong to the bottom, but who cares. They look OK together.

I paid €10 for it, and I've seen much the same things, in similar condition, for three times that; so I'm happy. We've already used it several times, but with summer approaching no doubt it'll soon be going into hibernation.

Who said you can't find bargains any more!