Poem: Threads

silver spidery threads

lit by golden sunshine

connect an inner church wall to chairs
which have not moved,

where people sit,

where people stand, 
but do not kneel.

spidery webs,

silverised,

gilded,

in a French religious ceremony.

God’s light rebounds, 
when rainbow patches form, 
from filtered light through windows,

to bounce from saint to silk and stone,

to radiate a living smile in praise of life.

Spiders know how to catch God's glory.

a funeral,

a living end,

makes us sombre,

reminds us,
dust to dust.

Dignity 
in death,
Lost

is a Must.

I stand straight and tall near that cold stone wall,

to give respect to a human life I did not know,

watch, 
to contemplate death, 
recall,

life amidst people standing now,

who await a turn ahead,

who are invited to bless the dead,
they do...

knowing it could be you.

silvery threads spun,

were not disturbed for quite a while.

like us, 
not disturbed for also quite a while, 
but threads and webs of life remain,
alone.

Then.
When we least suspect it, 
Life is done,

GONE.  

The content of this posting MUST not be reproduced without written permission.    :)

November 2014
At the first funeral I stood and sat on the left of the aisle, up against the cold stone wall. As I contemplated many things, I noticed a mass of fine webs at hand level, that linked those stones with a chair which did not move because it was attached to the row of chairs it was part of.  I did not know him. He did not know me. But I had seen him on his land and I know people who knew him. A Tragic End. Respect.
At the second funeral, the following day, I sat and stood on the right of the aisle to see the coffin and altar.  Here as I sat having paid my blessings, in front of me at foot level were more of the same fine threads, fine in visibility. fine in texture. At a particular poignant moment, sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows and the web glistened with bright colour on its silk.  I smiled.  Life lives.
She and I had not met but in a Summer I might have waved if she had her window open... she was housebound for over five years.  I have a regret to my shame.  Each time I planned to visit, some thing delayed the event.  She and her daughter, who is also a neighbour, lived 'en famille' in my house. Respect.

When I wrote this I had no idea that I would post it on Advent Day One.  I light a candle.

Saturday Things I Love: Shutters

Poem: French Shutters / Volets

Shades with hues of light, an ambient climate.
A favourite island, nay, an Île,
a sea of brilliant blues sous un ciel.

Give her heart 'a ray' of sunshine.
Give her bliss as she stands to stare,
or cycles in her saddle with wind in her hair.

Ride the flat landscape, smell the sweet air,
Walk along beaches, eat ice cream there,
Hear her fun laughter, with never a care!

Where was she on Saturday, a week ago? 

Friday Things I Love: Beachscapes

This modern surface is dangerous when wet and when the tide rides in.
It's where I unexpectedly sat, sobbing, cradling a battered elbow. Lucky me! They thought I'd broken my arm!

This the original surface is also not for the curious to walk upon though safer than the above!

Each stone was chosen by hand. The horseshoe shaped wall was built to catch fish in an écluse...once there were 140 around this island and now there are 12 which the Environmental Agency is trying to preserve.

Thursday Things I Love: Beached Timber

Strange to see flotsam and jetsam on this particular beach - different from Summer.

Is it Fotsam or Jetsam?
Flotsam = debris not deliberately thrown overboard, for example, from a shipwreck or as the result of an accident.  Think: French 'floter' = to float. 
Jetsam   = debris deliberately thrown overboard, for example, from a ship to lighten the load. Think: Anglo-Norman 'getteson' = jettison or Old French 'getaison'  leading to Modern French 'jeter' = to throw away
Evidently, under maritime law flotsam may be claimed by the original owner, whereas jetsam may be claimed as property of the person who discovers it.

Wednesday Things I Love: Seascapes, Sunscapes

Tuesday Things I Love: Door Furniture

I like bat artwork.... I once owned and regret the sale of Bat Cottage

I would like to know the story of this, which looks oriental, not French.
Who lives behind the door who can afford to show such opulence and grandeur?
I wonder if the door came with the large motif because they seem to have the same patina.
PS... On reflection and with a little research, this is possibly Chinese / Feng shui ...
Symbolism:
bat = prosperity
knot = infinity, happiness, long life, wealth
lilies = calm mood
coins or discs = wealth
chain = maybe another eternity symbol
4 = four elements (fire, earth, water, air) or directions (N.S.E.W.)
7 balls = energy and also seven chakras of the body

It is REALLY nice!

Monday Things I Love: Door Furniture

A Place I Love: Pity about the door furniture

Book Review: Running Wild

This is the first novel I have read of Michael Morpurgo, a prolific author.  Highly recommended.  I do have a copy of Farm Boy but never read it as it demanded attention at a time when I had none.  I also watched the dvd of War Horse.
My daughter lent me "Running Wild". Last night having ended the novel and read the several postscripts, I found myself watching You Tube footage of two tsunamis 2004 and 2011 about people who survived but had lost members of their families.  Unimaginable is an understatement!
I have ridden an elephant in Sri Lanka but never would I ever wish to have witnessed the real experiences of a 13 year old boy who was saved by riding a beach elephant, or an elephant who had come down to the beach.  At speed with energy and force it could escape the mysterious and destructive surge of the sea. This was the basis of the story. The Times says it is a thrilling and moving novel. That is exact. It thrills and it moves.  My tears flowed at page 321.
Witnessing not-my-own-bereavement this week, and knowing that my friend is in South East Asia, I became fearful, as well as tearful.  Yet, feel that I could be out in the great world travelling and facing my own fears. A fear of funding, deciding where to go, booking it are all shelved as other tasks to be done in order that I can do it seem to continue to extend the time when I have not gone!  I wonder if I will ever go, not so much to S.E.A. but even further within Europe.  Perhaps people go to Asia because it is by and large cheaper to travel on a budget. Apart from India I don't seem to have any urge to go to S. E. Asia.
The novel is a journey incorporating the survival of people, elephants, orang-utangs and tigers in the wild. It is a journey of how the loss of love, warmth, security and bereavement brings a journey of other growth for not only the boy but also for others.  It is a journey of hope.  It raises awareness of the forces of evil, greed, cruelty and some peoples' disinterest in global conditions. The novel is educational to young people of geographical matters.  Excellent!

Beau Jolie Jour

These are some posters I acquired at a fine lunch at Chez Fred in Chatellerault.  C'était trés franchouillard!
I bought six bottles of  Pierre Chevaut Beaujolais (3.50e each) at Auchan...well, how can one resist?  In the evening, at The English Tea Shop, there was imbibement with an interesting social mix of French and English.  I was amused to think that it appeared that the only establishment/commerce in this village celebrating the nouveau vin rouge,  (not at all vinaigré), was English-owned, ever enterprising, never wishing to miss business opportunity), with French counterparts who were glad to
be in international chaleur.   Only in France! ... and a what a wonderful evening it was!
At first I sat alone. Then François arrived with a friend, so we chatted.  English people arrived so we chatted, hence my glass was refilled twice or thrice, when I had thought one would do!
Evidently, Swansea has a local feast day for Beaujolais Nouveau and I read that the wine is on the up in London etc...  Nice to be at the cutting edge! sipping edge! 
I have always enjoyed a nice Beaujolais, a gamay wine. Fleurie is a favourite!

Aujoux is, I believe, a family name of cellars!

and maybe this is worth studying   ...
http://www.lepoint.fr/vin/le-nouveau-beaujolais-est-arrive-19-11-2014-1882525_581.php

Book Review: The Sea Change

by Elizabeth Jane Howard was tricky to get into as each chapter was divided into the four characters speaking from their own perspective...I very much enjoyed it and romped through the last several chapters. This was an orange Penguin edition number1752.  Towards the end I wondered how much of it was a reflection of the experiences of the author!  The novel explores emotions of those who lose parents when they were small, so feelings of abandonment, rejection and bereavement.

Daily life review: Two consecutive days to attend two funerals... senior residents of the village... one had died immediately on contact with the ground a tragic fall from a height... he shouldn't have been where he was at his age!) another who had been housebound for many years finally succumbed. VERY SAD. She once owned my house.  It was interesting to see into a vault and not as macabre as I suspected... all very automatic with the French as we processed to the daughter and family to offer our sentiments.  I don't wish to be laid in the earth! Scatter me amidst the ocean!  Meanwhile I must "Seize the day for the end will come."

On a happier note it was a delight to see a child aged six who believes he will never have wrinkles  tuck into a Superheroes themed birthday cake.  I didn't see the one he took to school!  I couldn't unravel the licorice spirals, which were bought to make a spider web design, nor did I wish to make red icing with additives. A paper image sufficed for cake decoration!  He was chuffed!  I bought Smarties, surprised at how few red ones there were and how few blue ones.... the most common colours were green, yellow and orange.  Fatal to have Smarties or M&Ms available in my house!  Pure sugar. I prefer 70-80% dark chocolate with my morning coffee! The price of a Superheroes magazine containing small toy in a cellophane packet was another surprise, but a lot less than a packet of superheroes type Lego or other toy!  It all seems so outrageous - more than I try to spend on my weekly wine pleasure!   His face was a picture and impressed that I had made it just for him... though we all ate a slice!

Not quite a County Show

 

An agricultural event at the Exhibition Park, Poitiers was a display of perhaps Best of Breeds from other shows, yet here the cattle were being judged for Championship of Limousin beef. This gentle giant, Felicien was well tethered, possibly sedated and the Champion male! 

It was free entry - wonderful to keep children happy for part of a wet afternoon. We arrived for a 15e lunch which included wine carafes on the table, refilled as they were emptied. 14 persons to each long table.  I should think at least 300 covers if not more with polite and speedy service to the table. Plastic plates but real glasses and cutlery.  The starter was a salad with probably turkey livers, Main course was a superb faux-filet with a teaspoonful of canned haricots beans and several freshly cooked Charlotte potatoes.  A slice of goats cheese and a yummy sugary factory produced chocolate caramel dessert made us in good cheer to view the animals in their stalls or cages.

 The Poitou de Baudet donkey, an ass, was lovely, as also were the mules.

There were sheep, goats, chickens, geese, rabbits, pigeons, ride on mowers and tractors on display.

This That and Other

Keeping busy. Trying hard not to let unwanted thoughts take hold of the mind is easier when the sun is shining as it has done for a few days. Today, trickling fine mist is rather annoying, as I had hoped to accomplish more weeding.  Yesterday, in glorious sunshine, I saw good progress whilst clearing nettle, ivy and all sorts from near the wire fence which divides my garden from part of an ancient orchard that is not mine but at one time I tried to buy.  Unusually, I listened to my ipod but being not techno-minded I realise there has to be a way of carrying it, but not in one's pocket where every movement on the sensitive button changes the volume or the track!  There has to be a better system of listening than using the earplugs which I haven't used before! They fall out of my ears separately or together whilst I am moving! 
Monday was mowing day.  I brought the petrol mower down from the other land to use the petrol before winter, and because the other lawn was mown more recently than the house lawn.  I forgot to secure the accelerator bar with string and so after an hour of holding tight AND pulling the starter cord, my wrist was caput! Sprained more badly than before, so that even getting dressed has been awkward and slow, but also writing and cleaning teeth have demanded the use of the left hand and playing the piano ..hmmm... left hand only aussi!   This injury was also as a result of helping a man carry a secondhand two seater sofa that I didn't wish to see anymore in my garage... it was heavy and in relatively good condition considering its age.  It arrived there when I thought it was on the trailer for an Emmaus delivery when my 'friend' sold his house earlier this year.  Several times I advertised it to no avail!  This man took the secondary glazed units and will remake them with new glass.  Ooohhh I never thought of that, yet  pride myself on recycling ideas.
HOWEVER, I was exceedingly happy to have done 'giveaway'. The English depot-vente man from an hour south seemed happy too!

I finished watching throughout a few days, the whole of Series one: THE FALL which I found on the internet.  Pity, I must wait to access Series two!   

Tuesday left me feeling rather full of woe in acute pain but onwards!  There was no one else to move logs to the side of the woodburner.  With left hand moving logs to box or bucket, the devised carrying method was to hug the receptacle! Later, there was an opportunity to sort craft materials, do Admin, ordered root roses, etc.

I found embroidery made by my son when he was eight and three... and canvas embroidery in various states of unfinished and finished but not mounted, so there is work to do rather than writing and typing.  I am being slow, inefficient and without sufficient oomph behind me! I think it's easier with company!
Wednesday was extremely exciting.  I treated the day as a WORK DAY! Dressed in black with heeled shoes, a Wallis jacket with bronzed lining circa 1990s and a red art scarf bought in Chatellerault at enormous price, rarely worn on account of the colour,  though I SHOULD wear it more often, was my way of gaining confidence.   I stood before a microphone.  Suddenly, all those days of feeling confident, nay, HAVING to feel confident even when a crisis had happened, and without a real plan of what I was going to say to the 120 kids, plus staff and parents before me in the assembly hall or at PTA events or school concerts, came rushing through the ether in memory! I saw them all before me.  WOW.... I did that... THAT was me! I was the Acting Headteacher for one term and later for five terms too much!
We did three takes. I wore headphones. I stood just so in front of the mike.  I was told not to move because any rustle of clothing or movement of feet could be heard.  I questioned the opening words "Dear Friends"  because it starts on a hard consonant.  I wondered if there were other words. He liked "Hello everyone" and as long as I didn't aspirate the H too much it worked well!  We were giggling. Him in French and me in English! He was delighted with take three but even happier on take 4 and we nearly stopped there... but I wanted to experiment with inflection, space between words as well as tone of voice. He wanted the voice to be bright and uplifting! After another three takes he thought he had what he wanted in take 4 and take 7.  He was decided. Me too. We agreed. He turned off the machine but I asked again to listen and yes Take 4 was it!   Ten little words recorded in about ten minutes. The recording is for the New Year Message of La Fausse Compagnie who wanted an English voice, not a French one!

I realise that my voice has been and is an asset.... now where can I gain employment for it?

Food, Glorious Food

Purée of I can't remember

There was a 'citrouille' (pumpkin) soup... the French call it 'marmite',  but I forgot to take a photo!
There was another purée of something garnished with garlic sprouts... I forgot to take a photo
I can't quite remember the order that they came in!
Hey, look at this little fella!

Entrée: American Crayfish with crayfish and ravioli of foie gras

I ate it all!

Cherry Kirsch on ice to clean the palate

Main course: Goulash of Stag - the meat and sauce was delicious, served with fig, swede, carrot, potato, tomato, a toast of oeufs de lompe, and a sprig of watercress.

There was a selection of cheeses from which I chose very local goats cheeses.  My new mission is to deliberately prefer 'cru' cheese rather than pasteurised.  I try not to eat any bread.  I had to ask for a spoon for the stag sauce!

The Buzet coated the inside of the glass!

Warm, fresh pineapple, caramel salted ice creamlangue de chat.

Fronsac 1999 and Buzet 1995

Le Capucin - Tournon St Martin

Soup and gruel follow during the next weeks!

Walking on a Wild Side of France 2

I've been experimenting with short story writing style and have rewritten the 'Tale of Yesterday' in the previous but one posting, in the third person, to see what difference it creates. Apart from blog post writing I haven't published any stories and poems, which are mostly based on personal experiences, like many a writer!  Now, if anyone, has thoughts,  I ask for an honest crit, warts and all!   It'sabout 1030 words in length.  Read aloud as a voice tells a story differently than if one reads silently.

I found the exercise useful as it allowed the play of more descriptive passages.  I seem to have spent many hours writing but I enjoy it.   As the wrist is now caput after mowing a lawn, and lifting a basket of very wet grass from the mower as it caught awkwardly and lifting one end of a heavy sofa I've found the simplest of tasks that the right hand is required to do impossible!  However, I can support it on the table as I type! It is strapped!  Annoyingly, it won't let me play the piano!

Walking on a Wild Side of France 2

A Tale of Yesterday

They were blessed with weather that was not wet, windy, hot, cold, blue-skied or cloudy, though a few mackerel clouds had started to form as sunset approached. They were energised as they came to the end of a journey!  It had been an exhilarating fast walk, lasting about two hours, trudging through Autumn leaves with muddy puddles to skirt around, along a route, part of which she had experienced about 6 years ago with a French walking group, and part of which was new to her.   
She loves the circular walks from her house along roads and grassy footpaths, down into the valley, along by the river, weirs and old water mills, high on a cliff ridge, or out on the agricultural plain surrounding woodland and ponds.  Here she can abide with nature, she can wonder at tumbledown stone ruins or stone buildings still in use.  She can wander along ancient walls man-made with stone where moss and fern are prolific. She can smell ancient stones and marvel at the decay of leaves, fungi and trees.  In a different season her heart jumps with joy as birds on the wing sing songs to her whilst they flutter in the coming of Spring.  However, just a few days ago, requiring adventure and stimulus, she considered exploring regions further from her house, which would mean driving the car to starting points where other circular walks could be tested!
Finding a suitable GR track with a signpost, she parked her car on the verge.  Down the narrowing track they set their matching pace scuffing the beautiful autumn-coloured oak leaves, aware of the river on their left, yet a field or so away.  They were walking downhill on rocks and slippery moss, keen to reach a safe vantage, concerned to be out of the way of what they at first heard, then witnessed.  She was worried that the car would uncontrollably slide into them.  An old man had given up trying to rev his squealing old French car up a leafy, slippery-wet slope and had parked in an unlikely place on a track parallel to the rushing river.  Now, he was getting out of his vehicle.  It was comforting to be with a friend where emerging out of a leafy tunnel of trees, they hadn't seen a soul.  It is unusual to meet anyone on a walk in the wilderness of France but she had observed that unwanted thoughts creep into her mind when walking in woodland!
In the same sentence, acknowledging "Bonjour", he said it was beautiful weather and asked if they were afraid, to which she replied "NON". But as he started to walk uphill she asked "Pourquoi?"  Ah, he voiced, hadn't they read or seen information concerning the fact that there might be aggressive persons about!   How spooky and such a strange thing for anyone to say!  Confidently, she affirmed that they were ok and dismissed the subject to enquire if it was his intention to drive uphill, but she couldn't understand what he muttered in his Gallic language.  It wasn't important.  He seemed harmless!
"Bon Journée, Au revoir."
They set off in the opposite direction to continue their exploratory walk, still with the river rushing on the left, and came alongside an escalade; a rock climbing exercise site!  This part she remembered from the only time she had ever walked this way, when she had welcomed the shade of the glade in an extremely hot summer!
Out into open fields, yet following the river, with a field distance between them and it.  Here they walked along a very straight track, waymarked white bar over a red bar.  There was a person approaching, walking alongside his horse!
"Had they seen a boxer dog?"
"NON".
Later, when they came to a junction they looked back and saw him riding the horse in the distance. They wondered how he would find his dog in such a remote area! They wandered around the bend confident that the track was not the way.
"What's that?"
Fortunately, whilst standing on the sidetrack locating their position on the map they were away from danger. They'd heard a rushing of hooves. The horse without a rider galloped round the corner and into a wooded area.  Crazy horse!  Had he thrown his rider?  With no sign of a human being they continued on their travels, for what could they do?  Whereupon, after several minutes, a man could be heard running behind them and was out of breath. He told them that the horse had bolted, afraid of beefy red Limousin cattle, which were processing up a different hill on the other side of the field. On he ran. They followed in the wake of the unseated rider, in the path of the galloping horse, to turn right onto a muddy, puddled, leaf-strewn chemin, through different woodland with a sign to say it was a refuge for pheasants.  Could they read?  Here, her observant friend took note that the horse had come this way as there were recent horse-shoe shapes slewed on the grassy track, and later, fresh horse poo!  They wondered if the rider ever found his horse and dog!!  What a day for HIM... and THEM!
Tracking the map, her friend was intelligent enough to realise that where she thought they were was incorrect!  She was glad that someone was not relying on her because lazily, she hadn't extricated her reading glasses from her bag!  This made quite a difference to reading a map!  River, woodland, power wires, randonnée signs indicated their map location.  If that is the lilac route, then this must be the pale yellow route and so it was that they emerged by the car having walked in an elliptical route.
Home to delicious scones baked earlier that day, served with home-made mirabelle jelly, crème fraîche instead of butter and refreshingly hot 'Earl's Passion' tea in white porcelain cups.  How civilised, as they discussed many things, even remembering the life and death of her friend’s mother and the life and death of her uncle. 

Today: Remembrance Sunday. 

Pics for Previous Posting

Pics to illustrate A Tale of Yesterday: Walking on a Wild Side of France

Grottoes where organised rock-climbing takes place. Bring out your crampons!

Not rock cakes but buttery English scones made with spelt and wheat flours flavoured with lemon zest.

Walking on a wild side of France 1

A Tale of Yesterday
We were blessed with weather that was not wet, windy, hot, cold, blue-skied or cloudy, though a few mackerel clouds started to form as sunset approached. We were energised as we came to the end of our journey!  It was a marvellous fast walk for about two hours through Autumn leaves and muddy puddles to skirt around, along a route, part of which I experienced about 6 years ago with a French walking group, and part of which was new to me.
I love circular walks from my house down into the valley, along by the river, up beside the cliffs, out on the plain, but a few days ago I considered exploring the region further, which would mean driving the car to a starting point where a circular walk could be created!
Today, on the way, we met a man who had parked his car in an unlikely place on a track parallel to the rushing river.  He'd given up trying to drive his old French car up a leafy, slippery-wet slope and had parked to get out of his vehicle.  I had been worriedly concerned that he was about to lose control of his car and slide into us. We were walking downhill on rocks and slippery moss, therefore keen to reach a safe vantage, concerned to be out of his way!  It was comforting to be with a friend as we were just emerging out of a leafy tunnel of trees where we hadn't seen a soul for some time. It is unusual to meet anyone on a walk in the wilderness of France but I have noticed that when in woodland unwanted thoughts creep into the mind!
In the same sentence, acknowledging "Bonjour", he said it was beautiful weather and asked if were we afraid, to which I replied "NON" and as he started to walk uphill I asked "Pourquoi?" Ah he voiced, hadn't I read or seen information telling me that there might be aggressive persons about!  Spooky! Confidently, I affirmed that we were ok and changed the subject to enquire if it was his intention to drive uphill, but I couldn't understand what he said in his Gallic language!
"Bon Journée, Au revoir."
We set off in opposite directions and came alongside an escalade; a rock climbing exercise site! This part I remember from the previous time I had walked this way!
Out into open fields, following the river bank on a long straight track waymarked white bar over a red bar was a person approaching walking alongside his horse!
"Had we seen a boxer dog?"
"NON".
Later, when we came to a junction we looked back and saw him riding the horse in the distance. We wondered how he would find his dog in such a remote area! We wandered around the bend confident that the track was not ours.
"What's that?"
Fortunately we were away from danger as whilst standing on a side track, locating our position on the map, we heard a rushing of hooves. The horse without a rider galloped around the corner and into the wooded area.  That was a close shave.  Mad horse!  Had he thrown his rider?  With no sign of a human being we continued to the wooded area, whereupon after several minutes a man is heard running behind us and out of breath.  He tells us that the horse bolted, afraid of the beefy red Limousin which were also processing up the hill on the other side of the field. We followed in the wake of the unseated rider, in the path of the galloping horse to turn right onto a muddy, puddled, leaf-strewn chemin through woodland, with a signed refuge for pheasants.  Here, my observant friend took note that the horse had come this way as there were recent horseshoe shapes slewed on the grassy track, and later, fresh horse poo! We wondered if the rider ever found his horse and dog!!  What a day for HIM... and US!
Tracking the map, she was intelligent enough to realise that where I thought we were, was not correct!  Lazily, I hadn't extricated reading glasses from my bag!  This made quite a difference to  directions!  River, woodland, power wires, randonnée signs indicated our map location.  If that is the lilac route then this must be the pale yellow route and so it was that we emerged by the car having walked in an elliptical route.
Home to delicious scones baked earlier that day, served with home-made mirabelle jelly, crème fraîche instead of butter and refreshingly hot 'Earl's Passion' tea in white porcelain cups.  How civilised as we discussed many things, even remembering the life and death of her mother and the life and death of my uncle.  Today is Remembrance Sunday.

Fire Salamander

I had to research the name of the animal whose leg was squashed on the road yesterday morning.  Black with yellow spots...  I have seen live ones in France but not for a while.  This was either the remains of roadkill or animal kill or dropped by a bird of prey and flattened by vehicles!  I didn't take a pic of the remains!
http://kids.sandiegozoo.org/animals/amphibians/fire-salamand
http://www.iucnredlist.org/details/59467/0
11h
POSTSCRIPT:
Lest We Not Forget - as we move through and past 100 years of relative peace in humankind when human nature strives to love and care, 'midst oft times struggle against others, in order for survival.  So many people suffered such terrible torture. It is an understatement.
In humility, I bow my head for them, for all those who died. 
Listening to the Remembrance Service there are so many tunes I remember from childhood and concerts at Kneller Hall, Royal Military School of Music and also from playing church music for over 23 years.
When I am laid in earth reminds me of so many moments in my past life....
but also of my grandfather who fought in the WWI and lived to the age of 76 on part of a lung, his remaining lung and the other collapsed with shrapnel.  His oxygen bottles were always by his chair.
Also I sang this whilst at college when with the drama students we performed Purcell's opera "Dido and Aeneas".

Up, down and rescued

I hate feeling 'down' but I had slept an extra three hours, after being 'up' and out at a beautiful concert the night before.  Today, I lay lazily in bed because it was so cold!  I'd lit the fire at 8h30 when CAT decided she wished to go out. Invitingly, warm bedlinen cossetted me, tea and toast!  After coffee, email and news updates, the mind was overwhelmed with thoughts trudging in the mire of my mind. I was needing to communicate, yet be alone.  Tasks and stuff seem to crave my mind for attention.  The stuff needs to be sorted, and sorted it is being, but it does seem to be a slow process at this stage.  Then I wonder is it all worth it! When maybe I wish to be out and about elsewhere but these responsibilities keep me tied to the security, saftey and haven of my poperty. Then, when I think that other stuff left here isn't mine, and that the person to whom it belongs has almost total freedom within that person's limited financial capacity then my mind becomes scrambled.

I am wondering what is next and how to achieve it! Planning is tricky!  I suppose I have been somewhat spoilt by having had somewhere here very part time in the last four years to help me.  Now gone!

A few days ago, all seemed positive whilst happiness and achievement surged whilst I amended and printed hard copies of writings stored on the laptop...
My story had started... but of course more paper only adds to that which is higgledy piggledy in boxes.  A jumbled mind creates a jumbled life or vice versa... yet, I am determined to get it done and also realise that perhaps I have a slight obsession with trying to keep rooms clear and as organised as I can be!  This is after years of muddle!

Ola! Knocking on my door was my dear friend. She is wonderful. I had just started to get a grip, having put on my jacket to go out (garden or road?) when I told myself to clear the washing / wiping up, so that the clean and tidy kitchen would be motivating on my return.  She came to invite me to accompany friends to a much-loved restaurant as she had to go to London.  How kind!  Then seeing me 'down' she invited me for 'moules and beer' for lunch! How very kind! How I hugged her!  Spirits were raised immediately. She said I had to get out! But getting out means I don't do the things I need to do and piles of stuff mount up and so it all becomes a vicious circle (in my head!)
As HER friend says " Don't worry about stuff, life is short, be with friends, have fun!"
I walked home before 4pm.
Apart from the small glass of red at the Theatre yesterday and the beer today I have managed one whole week without drinking alcohol at home!  I think I can have some with my meal at the restaurant!  But then when I met my friend's friend she had done alcohol free for 31 days of October.... 

Only in France are there such surprises

At classical music concerts in small but beautiful venues in France I am aware of being absorbed by sound, especially if I can watch the hands of the pianist or player.  It is a form of meditation - concentrating, listening to melodies, support melodies, harmonies, rhythms, phrases, rarely counting or trying to analyse musical form, which I have forgotten entirely. The black sequined culottes  twinkled! One pianist played with facial gymnastics. Was she talking, breathing, or in ecstasy, subsumed in the music, whilst fingers, hands, arms, body and even her foot not touching the sostenuto pedal were dancing in delight as sounds composed sounded on stage! I watched her most of the time as I was on her side of the theatre. She was lovely! They were in raptures. They had no idea of the history of the theatre, spoke English but not French, so I helped out ... a bit!  I'd heard and watched Marina Friedman and Gaby Talroze play four-hand duets before at Bonneuil-Matours.  Russian, yet had emigrated to Israel when teenagers. 

Theatre Blossac Ticket price17e. Programme 2e. Seat number: C6.
The programme included:
Brahms: Variation on a theme of Haydn
Ravel:     Mother Goose Suite
Schubert-Liszt: Soiree de Vienne
Rachmaninov: Suite no.2
They replayed part of Rachmaninov, part of Brahms, then some Bach, (I didn't hear the title) as a wonderful and generous encore.

Afterwards the audience was invited on stage to look at the magnificent double piano by Pleyel - a rare instrument. I have never seen one before!  Only about 30 were made and only about 12 remain. This one resides in the house of its owner in Chatellerault as part of his instrument collection. He was there, explaining a technical aspect of the piano to the pianists who had no idea that it did that! It weighs 700kg and flooring had to be protected as well as re-inforced and made perfectly horizontal as a stage falls to an audience!

Only in France are there such surprises! Lights upstairs, so when I saw those who were sitting next to me ascending, I followed. A long yellow clothed table was presented with plastic glasses filled with red wine, white wine and non-alcoholic drinks, a tray of white sandwich bread adorned with charcuterie and another laden with salmon, oeufs de lompe et tuna. The fresh salmon ones were so delicious that I enjoyed three! Discerning others did too!

 Only in France are there such surprises! A further pièce de resistance was a local biscuit, called a Broyé du Poitou which means ground or crushed. It is delicious and I have had them before. In fact I buy them in the winter to sustain my coffee break but only eat half each day as they are about 10cm in diameter! The steward lady told me that it is a local tradition to break the biscuit with a fist. The pianists and the mayor of their town had such fun! Look how large this one is!

Perhaps symbolic of the breaking of the bread for the Lord's Supper!

 This video will explain in French about the company Goulibeur

It was lovely to be out and about with people and at an Autumn musical concert, to take a promenade around the town beforehand and drive home late at night. Once arriving at the fields of France,vehicles were few at thirty minutes before midnight!
What joy when a window of opportunity opens! Only in France are there such surprises!

This custom is lost, but the ground remains synonymous with conviviality and celebration. Indeed, after the feast (marriage and communion), it was convenient to share in his pocket to snack later and also relate to those who could not come to the meeting, children, ancestors committed; each was entitled to his share of dry cake.