Unnecessary things on my desk.

I don't collect rubbish; it simply accumulates.

I have just noticed these few things that, over the past few weeks, have managed to become part of my everyday life. They look at me, and I look back at them. I leave them where they are for fear of upsetting some natural evolution of random objects. 

They include a roll of that thin plastic stuff that plumbers use, a large metal washer (that arrived yesterday, thanks to Lady M), three elastic bands, a black plastic paper clip, a small metal washer, a wire tie that secured the battery recharger wire for my new camera, a ball of cheap string, a long thin screw, an ancient piece of green glazed pot from the garden, and a plant tag.

The only one of these that I actually use is the string; with which I tie my Tomato plants.

Also on the desk are my beret (not worn in Summer), two Bluetooth speakers, three cameras, a box of coloured felt-tip pens, my thesaurus, calculator, address book, and lots of used pages torn from my notebook.

I also have a large mug which contains all sorts of essentials, including four penknives, a pair of scissors, an online banking security number pad, a 2B pencil, a torch, and a miniature antique 'level'.

I almost forgot. There is also an unpleasant blue plastic fly swat. Essential in Summer.

Stonehenge.

Landscape Architect, Sarah Ewbank, has recently shown pictures (below) of how she imagines Stonehenge might once have looked. She pictures a wooden roof structure resting on the stone pillars, which might then have been covered in thatch.

All sorts of theories about Stonehenge have been put forward over the centuries, but her idea that it was simply a large meeting house is one of the more sensible. Its uses could have been various; a parliament, court, temple, crematorium, show ground, wedding centre, or general meeting house. Who knows! 

Ms Ewbank claims that academics refuse to discuss her theory, and that doesn't surprise me.  Complex 'astronomical calculator' theories are far more the realm of Oxbridge professors. Those who had worked hard for their MA's or PhD's would never admit that it had simply been an early version of London's Greenwich O2 arena. 

Occasionally life IS simple, and as hard as one might try to look for complex answers to simple questions, it's always best to investigate all aspects, from the very basic to the most compounded. One should always ask 'What would those people, all those years ago, really have wanted, or needed?'.

I have a funny feeling that Ms Ewbank is right. Some of the more 'scientific' or 'mumbo-jumbo' theories really are far-fetched.

Stonehenge is estimated to have been built around 5,000 years ago. This possibly similar structure, (below), in my nearby village, was built in 1270. Stone supports, wooden roof structure, tiles instead of thatch, and used for all purposes. It does sound very similar.

There are, of course, plenty of unanswered questions about Stonehenge, but I'm sure Ms Ewbank has many of them right.

 

Genius or Gibberish?

I have only read snippets of Gertrude Stein. Her work is not easy to read, and it is claimed that her exceptionally long major opus 'The Making of Americans' has only been read cover-to-cover by about half a dozen people.

Stein's popularity, like the length of women's skirts, rises and falls in phases. At present she's probably not over popular.

The one piece of work that always fascinated me was her libretto to Virgil Thomson's 1928 opera 'Four Saints in Three Acts'. A pure Dada, possibly Bauhaus influenced, stream of consciousness work, that accompanied Thomson's music, rather than enhanced it.

I can't remember when or where I first encountered this particular 'poem'; maybe at Art College, or more likely through the ICA (of which I was a member in the late 60's, when Concrete Poetry was at its most popular).

Anyway, here below is the most well known aria (poem), which appealed to me all those years ago. What I see in it now is another question!

Pigeons on the grass alas

Pigeons on the grass alas. Short longer grass short longer longer shorter yellow grass. Pigeons large pigeons on the shorter longer yellow grass alas pigeons on the grass.

If they were not pigeons what were they

If they were not pigeons on the grass alas what were they. He had heard of a third and he asked about it it was a magpie in the sky

If a magpie in the sky on the sky cannot cry if the pigeon on the grass alas can alas and to pass the pigeon on the grass alas and the magpie in the sky on the sky and to try alas on the grass alas the pigeon on the grass the pigeon on the grass and alas

They might be very well they might be very well very well they might be

Let Lucy Lily Lily Lucy Lucy let Lucy Lucy Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily let Lily Lucy Lucy let Lily. Let Lucy Lily

(me) I hope I've managed to type all that correctly. Enjoy (if you can).

Best Days of your Life.

Of course one's school days bring back great memories, but I would suggest that for most people the title above relates more to their University/College days.

I'd spent four years living in London before I decided to go to College. I'd met loads of interesting people, and a few nasty ones, in London, but it was at College where I met those who were to become my lifelong friends; and one even became my 'spouse'.

One of my best friends was T (below sparring with Cro in college days), who, back in 2001, moved to this area, then later to a nearby barn conversion in our tiny hamlet, after a life designing futuristic buildings in Dubai.

Poor T eventually became quite ill, and returned to England. Here he is (below) at his new home in Surrey, still wearing his favourite flat cap, working on collages in his model-car bedecked studio.

We met on our Foundation Course, and, along with another friend P, formed a trio of really good mates. We were all three very similar in many ways, we came from the same type of backgrounds, had received the same type of schooling, and had left our entry to Art College until we'd gained some knowledge of life post-school. Most of the student's were straight out of kindergarten, and seemed to us as if they were still wearing Pampers. 

We (of course) planned to rule the world in our own particular disciplines.

After that year, we all went off in different directions to do our degree courses, and rather lost contact. We sent Christmas greetings, very occasionally met up, but by being spread out around the world, it wasn't easy to remain close. It was therefore very exciting when T showed interest in coming to live here; eventually about 300 metres away! Sadly his illness soon overcame him.

P became the senior partner in his own London Graphic Design Co, T designed some of Dubia's most iconic buildings, and Cro painted pictures and grew vegetables in S W France.

Sunflowers.

Once again we have a field of Sunflowers in front of the house. What could be more Summery than big waving heads of sunshine, far into the distance.

The heads are swelling, and the plants are looking past their best, it probably won't be long before they are ready to be harvested.

Years ago we used to think of Van Gogh or Provence as being intrinsically linked with Sunflowers, but now, with Global Warming, they seem to be grown everywhere. 

At local markets we see women leaving with arms-full of Sunflowers to decorate their homes. They are a very welcoming flower in the house.

There was an era (post Peter Mayle) when Sunflowers were on mugs, tablecloths, teapots, towels, and T Shirts; in fact on almost anything. Those days have now gone, but the Sunflower remains an important symbol of Summer. 

At holiday second-homes, where ladies' straw hats and long diaphanous dresses are de rigueur, there will always be huge vases filled with freshly cut Sunflowers; they are as important as the chilled glass of Rosé. 

How was your Saturday evening?

Regardless of the time of day, the heat, or the inconvenience, Billy always wants to play 'Fetch the Ball'.

He can start early in the morning, and still wants to play well into the evening. Saturdays are no different for Billy than any other day of the week.

It's still hot, about 31 C. We sit in the shade of our au vent with a pre-dinner glass of wine and maybe a stuffed olive or two. We discuss the day's events, both here and elsewhere. 

Meanwhile over in London, people are protesting. They insist that they should be allowed to catch Covid-19 (and/or any of its variants); and are doing their best to do so.

Piers Corbyn was there, David Icke was there, and even dear Katie Hopkins was there, a more typical trio of anti-vaxxers would be hard to find.

If they were in France and they caught the virus, as non double-vaxxers they would be refused hospital admission!

And look (below), the grapes hanging on the front of the au vent are just beginning to ripen! They will soon all go to the compost, after some juice has been made.

Favourite Restaurant.

My nearby town has four restaurants. One is quite 'high-end', and serves local specialities. One is rather 'nouvelle cuisine', and is not really my cup of tea. Another tries very hard, but relies on 'water bath' cooking; I once ordered a Lamb knuckle dish there and was told it would take 20 minutes, a real give-away that some bag would be re-heated in a water bath. I want my food to be cooked in the restaurant kitchen, not coming from some boil-in-the-bag food-producing factory in Paris!

But the one we go to regularly serves just really well cooked, good quality, dishes; and the staff are all nice.

That was our table, bottom right below.

The restaurant's location is pretty spectacular too. It is situated under the covered arched walkway of the original 1270 bastide town, which surrounds the main square. 

Looking out from the restaurant, on the other side of the square, is the ancient Halle, which is used as market place, a weekly marché des producteurs, dance floor, and any other outdoor event that requires a roof. Keen-eyed car spotters might also notice the 'Compact Royce'.

We went this last week and had a spectacular meal. We are creatures of habit, and always eat and drink the same things. Entrecote steaks, chips, and salad, with a bottle of local Pécharmant.

Our steaks were simply stunning. Large, very tender, and delicious. Possible the best steak I've ever eaten. It makes me hungry even writing about it. If you are ever passing this way, I recommend it; it's called the 'Café de Commerce'; just say Cro sent you!