Thinking of a Safari?

Ah, the final untouched frontier, where wild animals roam unhampered or pestered by mankind.

This is Tanzania, that unspoiled land where Lions, Elephants, and Giraffes have yet to encounter a human being.

Hello; are those tourist buses I see? No wonder that poor Lioness is turning her back on the world; I quite expect she despairs (as I do). 

I presume she's also been tagged, numbered, and fitted with a tracking device. We couldn't have her getting lost, now could we!

Patience is rewarded.

I think it must be over two months since my girls presented me with an egg. To say that I'm now eggstatic is underestimating my joy.

Thank you; whichever one of you is responsible.

p.s. I've now had a second one!

The Wassail (Jan 5th).

Here be Lady Magnon, out a-wassailing last night. Ooh aaarh, ooh aaarh; my lovelies.

Twelfth Night is when we all go a-wassailing.

Old Apple tree we wassail thee,
and hoping thou wilt bear hats-full, caps-full,
three bushels bags-full.
And a little heap under the stairs.

We beat the Apple trees to waken them from their winter's sleep, then anoint their roots with cider. We also hang cider-soaked toast on their branches.

If that doesn't bring a good harvest later in the year, then I don't know what would!

Doh! A Saturday Special.

Don't you just hate plates that have 'Pasta' written all over them, or tall glass jars that say 'Spaghetti', or even dog bowls that say 'Dog'.

I asked for a pair of light-weight running jumping brothel-creepers; and look what they sold me. 

I know they're ghastly, so no need to tell me. But here, several pairs of these throw-away non-leather 'pétanque-player' shoes are essential; and the cheaper the better. But why-oh-why do they have to write 'Walking' on the inside!

Do they think we're thick-heads, numb-skulls, or half-wits? Maybe non English-speaking Frenchies think it sounds exotic; I don't!.

For buying them, maybe I am a thick-headed nit-wit; but I don't want to be reminded!

Walks and Ruins.

I take the dogs out at first light; at the moment that means about 8.15am (7.15am UK). As is usual at this time of year, there is a beautiful sunrise accompanied by crisp clean air.

The sun lights up the East facing walls of houses, giving the honey coloured stone that extra boost of pink.

There are still a few ruins about, showing signs of a much more populated past. Where this one sits, is amongst the 'settlement' (lieu dit) where I bought my first house in the village. At the moment the 'settlement' has a permanent population of 2 (plus one itinerant in a caravan); I am assured that between the wars there were over 60.

This small abandoned building is a bakehouse (fournil), the tiny apse to the right is the actual oven (four). It is the same, but younger, as the one in picture 2. Our first house also had it's own bread oven, meaning that there were at least 3 within a few hundred metres of each other. I understand that once a week each farm took it in turn to fire-up their oven; a process that often took all night.  Everyone would then bring along their dough, and the 'settlement's' week's worth of bread would then be all baked together. How very sensible! I'll try to photograph one sometime, to show how big they are.

And so back home, where I was pleased to see that the fire I'd lit was still going strong, and the sitting room was already warm. The mornings are cool; we need a fire.

Nothing Really Changes.

Monty and Bok playing, aged 3 months.

Monty and Bok still playing, aged 2 years.

Not much has changed in 21 months. They're still both trying to get the upper paw!

1. 1. 2013.

HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone. May 2013 be your best year ever! Cro xxx