THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH - I'll sail this ship alone.

This is an anthem to the one we should never have let go; enjoy however!

Permis de Chasse.

I've just been looking through a large metal deed box, and I came across this; my old gun licence. It's dated 26. 10. 73.

I can hardly believe that the French authorities once let me wander afoot with a shotgun over my arm. If that scruffy apeth (above) had come into MY office asking for a shotgun licence, I'd have told him to get lost.

Most of France is very heavily wooded; the South West particularly so. Wild Boar and Roe Deer abound, but for the dedicated 'chasseur' there isn't much else. In the winter there are flocks of passing Palombe (wood pigeon), but that's about it. My hunting days here, surprisingly, produced almost next to nothing for the pot.

About 40 years ago, when I still did a bit of shooting in the UK, an afternoon would bag pheasants, pigeons, and rabbits, by the truck load. But here, in an area that still looks so ideal for wildlife, there is little to be had, outside of an organised, dog-led, weekend sweep.

Many years ago I loaned my shotgun to a Dutch chef, he then died and the gun disappeared; I haven't shot since. Frankly I'm not fussed; nowadays I'd rather look at it that shoot it!

The amazing thing is that (through all those intervening years) I haven't changed one bit!

Oh for the pleasures of LIFE DRAWING; See below.

My Mother and Blaise Pascal (actually, his wager)

Mybabyjohn, over at 'thefeatherednest', recently posted a piece about things she'd found in an old family prayer book, and it reminded me at once of my late mother.

Almost every book my mother owned was filled with 4 leaf clovers. Her cook books (above), driving licence, and diaries; all were stuffed full with hundreds of them.

Personally I never find them (they seem to avoid me), but on walks with my mother, she would suddenly stop, bend down, and pick one or several. She used to say that she never looked for them; they simply stared up at her, and said 'pick me'!

Once, whilst discussing the possibility of an 'afterlife', we both agreed that the concept was vaguely amusing yet highly unlikely. However she did end the conversation by saying that if (after her demise) by some bizarre chance she discovered that such a thing DID exist, she would let me know by appearing to me in the form of a 4 leaf clover.

I have to confirm that, until this moment, no such appearance has materialised!

The Skype Prize.

Skype performs miracles. It changes perfectly ordinary humans into abstract, frozen, pixilated, zombies.

The whole concept of Skype is brilliant, but I've just spent half an hour talking to images such as the above (No 1 son, Kimbo, and Harvey J, in London). It is the kit I'm using? Or does everyone experience this?

p.s. If I blew-up this picture to 60ft by 40ft; It could well be a contender for The Turner Prize (a London art comp').

The Sunday Larf. Kids eh!

Kids eh. They seem to get more precocious by the day. This is one of our local Police-women on a girls-night-out!

Fairies.

We have fairies living at the bottom of our garden. I know, because I've seen them many times (especially after a few bottles of rouge).

They live in old tree stumps,

in disused fallen woodpecker nests,

but mostly amongst their crops of magic mushrooms; which, if over-consumed, makes them see giant pink humans at the top of THEIR gardens. A likely tale!