Yesterday

A storm brew up in the evening

after a chilly morning 

with an afternoon temperature recorded at 31C.

 A tempest so they said

in Bonneuil Matours, 

where two pianists played

Debussy: "La Mer" the third movement being  

The Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea

but still no rain where I live.

All about, the sky was different.

Whichever way one turned

the wind was blowing

fresh and warm.

A newly tumbled dessicated tree stood sadly in a field 

as the storm with thunder and lightning rumbled on its journey 

whilst a moon in its first quarter shone brightly.

Stone
invited me to sit down,

made for just my size,
invited eyes to look before me,
at a bridge above a river
to watch English empty barque of water,
whereupon
five people boarded,
rowed
laden, towards a weir,
walked across a dam
laughing, loudly speaking
as English often do.
On an island,

first Sunday August,
if early enough
to bag one's place,
spectacular fireworks can be seen
in an hour of an evening
from the very best espace.

Interesting!

I'd elected to go to the market. Parked my car. Looked back. Looked again. 

Laughed. Camera emerged from bag!

Priests? Choristers? Perhaps the latter!

Returning from Brittany

where skies were often overcast I returned to my own region where at 7pm it was still 25C according to Pharmacy green crosses not far from here. But the following day, the temperature plummetted. I cannot crow about warmth as we head towards the final weeks of September.

With loads to tell, though probably to reduce any indulgence, I must only savour the memory of art galleries celebrating Gauguin and those American and Parisian artists who were influenced by his style.  I understand that Gaugin told them that if it looks green, then paint it green.  If only my attempts at art could be so defined!  The history / geography of how artists, fishermen and peoples of Cornouaille and Cornwall were interconnected, was difficult to absorb.   Previously, I had thought these the same region.
It was wonderful to see ocean, though not the furthest West, even though the warm rain won. Lovely to be near numerous river scenes with harbours and fortified villages within ramparts whilst I glimpsed a fraction of the wealth of vistas.  It was just a few days to see new places but I loved to see the sea, rocks covered in cockles in stunning light. All this confuses thinking about where I should be and why! or where I would like to be and why!
Les Jardins du Botrain was remarkable for the different gardens within a garden and the sculptures therein.  My favourite was a Japanese garden. My cousin will be able to visit in different seasons.

It's a little Japanese fisherman.

Fortunately. you cannot see behind the hedge and to the left.

Rare 18th century Ruchers - to hold bee hives.

Textured stones create a focal point for metalwork and meditation

Giant rhubarb is what I call it!

Venus fly traps

The Spiral Triskele

 We visited

 where sailing vessels tinkled on the river,

 and Goose wished to be fed baguette.

Quimper, Port-Aven, Concarneau, parts of the Nantes-Brest Canal were enjoyed and on the return journey I stopped at St Maire du Mer for a picnic on the sand, then Pornic for an Italian ice cream! 

France is so huge with Brittany to the West. The coastline doubles and loops back on itself creating havens for people, flora et fauna, salt marshes, defence fortifications as well as a myriad of things too long too list! And I still have not yet seen the pink granite.

Two years ago

A tale from September 10, 2010

As she scraped up the cork effect vinyl flooring which had rested there for 25 years, she knew she was causing RSI in her piano playing wrists. Alternating hands scraped to lever linoleum to reduce strain.  She knew that soon she would have to stop and change activity. Her mind pondered on a muddle of matters. The brain-voice chattered, on and on and on, about all sorts of things.  She began to wonder if other brains do this.

Thoughts are like people boarding a train at a station.  The train draws up to the platform and stops. People get off.  People get on. Thoughts arrive into and depart out of the brain.  In the mind they chatter on unless interrupted. The train continues its journey, just as the mid does. She tries to train the thoughts to go another journey and not to board the train and to board her mind!

She began to hear her inner voice talking incessantly about everything, except the about-to-happen priorities.  She was certain that emotion and mind got in the way of the NOW, the PRESENT, the CURRENT.  However, these thinkings or thoughts WERE her own needs and therefore Priorities to her,  even though not related to the task in hand or what was going on in other parts of her house.  Sometimes those happenings in another room blurted into her brain and caused her to respond with action.  Someone was asking for attention, for assistance, or whatever!  The voice would intrude into her mind and not actually say “Jump”, but SHE would have to say to herself "JUMP" because the other voice, the not-her-own-voice was demanding HER.  She needed to wake from her reverie, from her reflections, from her thoughts, those which pulled towards attempting to heal her inner soul.
Those which conundrums existing in her head were perhaps not part of the real reality. She tried to resolve the difficulties.
But how could she? In reality. Tread on eggshells. Jump hurdles. Meet the needs.

If there were to be music maybe any internal chatter would stop.

The room in which she was working and the whole house exude quietness and peacefulness, except for the clink of the scraping tools and an electrical sander in another room. Yes, it was as if this house needs her to be calm..... CALM...........

She is tired, very tired WITH renovating and OF renovating.
How did she arrive here?

On a different day or a different moment she will be excited.
She will be glad to have her house finished and habitable or even one step nearer towards that day! She will be happy to fight against what apparently seems to be the impossible and achieve Paradise even within this Hell that abounds.

Hence a muddle… a confusion - not knowing what she wants or how to solve dilemmas.

It’s hard work.  Relentless.  Restless in France.

She looks at the two seas of flooring lifted and flooring glued to the ground and desperately finds reasons to raise herself, up from her knees on concrete, to every now and then do something different.
To sweep, or gather the floored shapes and bin them, to look at the clock, to take a tea break, tp remember something to make a note of, in order to create sense out of chaos.

Eventually after several days, nay weeks, trying to develop a technique to rid the house of  flooring material strongly glued to  house floor, now crumbled like flour in places, only paper and glue are left.

He intends to grind it off with the ‘ponceuse’... the electrical grinder!
It is heavy and a beast to back injuries. She feels for him.
Garbed with ear defenders, mouth masks, woolly hats and work gear, he and she.
Noise, dust and an acrid smell of metal on concrete, paper and glue exude to fill the room as the grinder deafeningly screams at the floor and a huge waft of a cloud of dust fills the air, even though the doors are wide open.

Hee hee,  maybe, in another 25 years, someone will be cursing her for the floor that she will glue down!   (Post script: Excepting that the oak floor was secret-screwed and never glued.)

Whoopee!  Removed!  Celebrate? Oh no!  Continue to Clear is the next process.  Then to level the concrete floor with 'ragreage' or levelling compound. 
She should be joyous but depression leaves her flat.
She tries try to rise above the darkness, the depth and tiredness, taking vitamins B and B6, Co-enzyme Q10, Rhodiola (Arctic Root) and also she knows the anti-depressants are raging, adding ti the depressional vaguaries.
Struggling above a surface of support, she lifts herself to an upright position off the floor, to tell herself to get on with it!   IT being the next task.
She should feel glad that she will be able to do something different on the next of these renovation days.
Were those days any better than the days of anxiety when she could justabout search for a house to buy? All the days when she knew something was desperately wrong  not knowing how to solve the bizarre oppositional dilemma without losing her dream.

Restless in France wanted to be free from muddled anxiety and free to live. But her work in life was to become what she is doing. There is and was no escape.  She has responsibilities.  She is the caretaker of a French maison.

Back to thoughts to make her cry, to make her laugh, to make her ponder as she struggles to let them pass.  For thoughts make the anxiety and if she could let t go she would have nothing to worry about!!!!!!!

This tale is the end of those few hours on that day two years ago! 

The French are Funny

When I set off on the road bike I noticed that the front wheel direction did not align with the handlebars. Something was not quite right and I didn't have the tool to fix it.  Cycling the hybrid bike which I have not ridden for over a year,  I  flew easily through the village and began the long steep run up the hill nearby the exhibition building of the Magdalennien frieze.  One man from the group approaching,  says "PUSH PUSH" in French of course,  as I come to a halt, uncertain of whether my gears were the same as my other bike. The last rider, my daughter had left it in the lowest gear anyway!  Horrified to hear the whole group of about 15 people saying "POUSSE, POUSSE" I mounted quickly to press the pedals and get going.  Then it was so funny, as one person started to actually push me faster and faster and they and I were all laughing in such FUN!
Now, I don't think the English senior citizens would do that!!!!!!

An understanding of self-sabotage

Procrastination, a form of self-sabotage which I have been a master or a mistress of for some time has blighted my inaction and lazy day syndrome as I busy myself with less prioritised tasks.  I have been increasingly unhappy and ashamed that this situation exists in my life when I think it has got worse over the last several years.   I have read that people struggle with procrastination because they are not living life in the now and not living it in the way it’s meant to be lived. 

My source of information suggest that one has to go with the flow of  life. Hm?  Well, yes, actually I have been trying to live life more like that especially in the last two years.  When it does not flow, I know that I really do struggle not just with procrastination but with an imbalance of thoughts and emotions.  It is suggested that people should believe they can have what they want.  Well, I would always agree with that. However,  I have being learning about this more and more in the last two years and I do believe 'The Law of Attraction' exists.  It is true that I have been seeking an easier daily life (doesn't always happen) and I have been seeking an easier relationship with my friends (again, it aint easy)  I am lucky that I've nearly always experienced good health,  although I know I could work more on personal fitness.  My stamina levels are not strong.

Struggle occurs when you want one thing and one's true beliefs go against the flow of life. So the subconscious has to be tapped into using:
1. affirmations (things one says)
Choose something one would wish for and reaffirm it in the present tense as an I am or an I have.
2. visualizations (things one imagines) 
Imagine being successful with something one dreams of. I am able to......

So maybe I'd better start... JUST START!! Just DO IT!! and move away from this computer!

Mouse Trap Game

I am reminded that recently I passed on my daughter's treasured game of MOUSETRAP to my granddaughter but she was expecting the modern  battery operated version! So we talked about HISTORY starting with "When mummy was a little girl and when Grand ma was a little girl there weren't many toys with batteries and at that time MOUSETRAP was made like this! ..."
She was unimpressed!  We never played the game as intended... for the game was slow to build if you threw a dice and took a piece each time... we just used to build the construction, then race the mice!
We were only one vital piece missing, the spring, but my daughter found one in a pen!

Mouse no. 2

It had a little friend 

who also met its end! 

Should I laugh
when in the bath
I caught a thought
that
I can't be squeamish
When a little peevish.
I can't be amorous
when there's more than one mouseamus
mus musculus in my old stone houseamus.
Poor little mite, because
it didn't have a speedy loss
of life like its friend
but bait number 3 is set for another end.
It's really not a laugh!

Belated Happy Birthday

on 5th September 2012 as my blog reaches it's first birthday. 
I have actually written this on 19th September 2012!

I have kept this blog fairly private even though it's in the public domain. This has been for reasons of cautiousness, protecting a friendship, and my insecurities. Here though I have found within a space a place where creativity can unfold and heal the past whilst I confront the present and the future. It is where, within a certain anonymity, I can feel brave enough to record a diary of events.  I can challenge and correct a mild dyslexia using word processing combined with visual book style presentation.
I know that I find the public sharing of my life a difficult one.
With my previous blog I had an alias which I continue to this day.  I like it very much.
I rarely had my profile on that blog.
I am not  fan of Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, etc where I have to share my real name and statistics!
But here I can be RestlessinFrance!!!!!!!

Homage to a Mouse

I am sorry little mouse

that I killed you in my house

In truth I had no choice

For you had no human voice

To tell me you were sorry and were alone like me

Far from all your friends and mousey amity.

Possibly you knew

that your shelter in the wall

was doomed to meet your fall.

I truly am most sorry pretty little mouse

That I had this deed to do in my lovely old stone house

To hear the trap snap shut

Whilst your precious life was cut

‘Twas the end of mousey company

With your small sweet face staring up at me.

I saw your body throbbing

It made me shed a tear

For YOU never had much fear.

You were a brave and sturdy mouse

Friendly it is true.

Now I hope that in my house

There isn’t another mus musculus mouse like you.
Je suis desolée. 

It was Day 5 of Mousey living in my house and today I bought new smaller traps with bright shiny metal parts and a packet of mouse paste in paper sachets. I hadn't seen these before.  
A sad evening! 

Sturdy Mouse

Next day     Eeeeeeeeeeek!!!!!   

Mus musculus hasn't popped its clogs!!!!!!
The battle continues to be fought!
I declare it is the same mouse and it will have to go clip clippety clop and hop it! 

I'd heard sounds with no sighting, then screamed slightly as it/he/she surprised me earlier than anticipated this evening, as it scampered across the floor.  It scurried to the ledge behind the wall under the sink cupboard which has no door₁. I've removed all the gubbins so I can see where it goes!  Whilst I ws out all day it touched the bait, making several piles of seeds across the floor.  Maybe not to his taste. He would prefer Cheddar!

I have a bucket, a slippery-sloped, wooden runway reaching from the floor to the opening of the bucket, plus a gardener's kneeling pad as a not-so-steep runway, (better to get its claws into), where the humane trap is perched with peanuts inside, ready to topple into the bucket, when the little mouse with clogs on weighs in! The theory is that it will not be able to leap out of the orange B&Q bucket, which I recommend are the best unlidded buckets in the world! 
Footnote ₁     
There now exists a very good reason to instal a modern kitchen sooner rather than later. Cupboards and drawers that cannot be accessed by mice and spiders are a necessity! 

Of Mice and Men

Steinbeck wrote a brilliant story but perhaps Robert Burns should be respected for his contribution to my post title.

Yesterday I was tired of mouse.

In the morning the good news was that I found my granddaughters's lost toy cat wedged between the wall and the iron bedstead where she had wanted to share with gran'maman on the last two nights of her stay.  How sweet!!! We did 'top and tail' like I used to do with my sister when we stayed at my nanny's house when I was little! She liked to have her feet stroked!

Now, I need a real cat.

A few days ago as I sat in the kitchen I saw the "sweet little mouse" (give me a sugar mouse) run across the courtyard into the grand salon.  Whoosh, it was in!  I managed to shoo it out immediately...but creatures of habit it ventured in again, when it would not oblige to be caught or go out of the door. It then played hide and seek with me as it ran around the grand salon!  I thought I'd blockaded it into that room by closing all the doors, when a few days later I saw it scamper across my kitchen floor one metre away from me, as I sat, quiet as a mouse, looking at the internet! I was convinced it was the same one!
This morning I heard a new noise in my kitchen as i silently sat. I tracked it down to a kind of nibbling by the side of the fridge. As I stood there listening, my foot involuntarily kicked the side of the cabinets, after the noise had stopped.  Later, being concerned and feeling silly because I should have taken action a few days ago, even though I thought that this room, a laundry-cum-larder had absolutely no holes at ground level or indeed anywhere.  Nevertheless I started to investigate.  I opened the buanderie door and there were the nibblings ... it had eaten the plastic sheeting below the kitchen floor tiles.  A small finger sized hole was there, so I mixed up some cement and scraped it into the hole.  This part of the wall was revealed when we had to remove the wooden panels from the disgustingly, awful room to make it serviceable. There is a step down from the kitchen to the laundry/larder.  Although my friend had roughly and temporarily sealed this skirting board type area it had never been completely finished on account of the door butting up to it AND because I was waiting to see what improvements I would make to the kitchen floor. If you have ever renovated then out of view is out of mind!!!!   
After two hours I am tired of mouse!  VERY tired because  one thing leads to another.
The mouse has travelled through the tunnel of a grey plastic pipe carrying the copper water pipe to the washing machine and boier, where, on the other side of the wall, which is about 60cm thick,  it has nibbled at the plaster and/or polystyrene in the wall to make an entry into the larder!  It is a tiny finger sized hole in the corner of the room behind the copper pipes.  So, I have stuffed the hole with aluminium foil, as the hole is awkwardly positioned and why it has no plaster in it!  Mice evidently don't like aluminium!  On the kitchen side I stuffed the grey plastic pipe with more aluminium foil.
Not only that, I removed the base boards of the hideous kitchen units, vacuumed and mopped whatever rubble, spider webs and grunge has been under there since before I moved in.  I checked that there was no food there!  The plastic legs look better and more IKEA style (haha) and now little mouse can't run back in for safety... 'cos that's where I saw he went!!!
Then  I checked my flour.  Fortunately, it is untouched, BUT the little *&$$%*  has nibbled my pat biscuits!!! 

That's it .... open warfare prevails

The mouse trap is set! No more Mrs Nice Lady with only the humane rescue trap I bought this morning to capture it and set it free 10 miles away.  Oh no!  Now it's the French guillotine and French mouse bait!  I realise mice are classed as vermin, carrying disease. 
Normally, I have rescued many a shrew or mouse in my hands from the claws of Big Feet and Little Feet, queens in the feline world!  It is kind to rescue a living creature, but now I'm aware that it/he/her could be anywhere along the polystyrene backed plasterboard forming my interior walls, chewing away.....I hope it gets constipation and starves to death!!!!!!!
About 19h 30 / 20h I watched Houdini mouse go in and out of the humane mouse trap collecting peanuts in butter and a piece of ham. I hope it chokes! And still I think it's cute!

The following day becomes Warfare day!    
1. I emptied drawers and washed the cutlery that was in one drawer as mouse has been eating the plastic straws!

2. I put mouse bait on pieces of aluminium foil in the kitchen, laundry room, grand salon and courtyard as I am not sure if I have one or many!  
3. Plus there is an inhumane wooden Lucifer mouse trap set with a piece of cheese!
As I edit this posting, it, that is, THE MOUSE, has stolen the cheese from the trap despite the fact that it was LOADED. 
AND SO....
4. I have removed the trap from the floor and left the poison bait, which it has been nibbling as scattered seeds have been disturbed from the aluminium tray.

I am watching it this very moment and have taken snaps!  Pity it didn't snap into the trap so I could release it 10 miles away!  Hopefully it will die! I am letting it have a good feast as I finish this posting.  Meanwhile I am unable to prepare my own evening meal. Better for Mouse to have a feast and for me to go hungry!

Earlier this evening.
Whilst on the telephone, I heard tinkerings in the bedroom wall so after the call, I took off one sandal, used the upper surface, (last time I used the sole creating dusty foot prints over the paintwork), and thwacked the wall, so much so that plaster has fallen off the wall.  Whatever was there is eating or moving the polystyrene backed plasterboard.  My advice would be not to use that!!!!! but it was here when I bought the house and the stone walls were drylined in 1985.
If it is a foine they do not like noise so it had better scamper elsewhere before it hibernates. 
I heard it last Autumn and in the Spring!
If it is a mouse it had better scoot quickly to the mouse bait or traps.

MICE DEBATE: Is it better to kill, rescue or transport a mouse to another habitat? 

A Tale of Two Duvets

Today is the day when duvets will be cleaned at the launderette as a treat because although they are not dirty as such they have not been cleaned for more years than I would like to confess.  This has been for a number of reasons,  too lengthy to mention.  However, with a second comfortable bed with its own duvet in another room and with warm weather forecast for the next few days, it’s time for transporting two bulky luxury king size feather duvets.

I had already discovered that at the launderette in the larger town, 30km journey, the cleaning of one duvet would cost me 32e, Nearer , 7km journey, it would cost about 26e. Without procrastination, I head to the launderette at a nearby market town, 8km, because in the past I received courteous and helpful service. Being petrol conscious, the drive could incorporate a visit to the market to purchase vegetables, fruit and fish because I am TRYING to keep to a diet.

On arrival, I enquire cheerfully about the price and am told 40 euros per duvet.  Oh dear! With an um and ah I decide to go ahead, even though, perhaps, I could buy a new one, appreciatively lesser quality, for a little more than 80 euros!  He is going to wash the duvet rather than chemically clean it and is telling me that the feathers will bulk together. I understand!  I ask him why he is not going to chemically clean it ... but I do not fully understand, yet he says it would still be wet. Then having filled in his form and taken my name I ask when they will be ready.  I have not yet paid!  He announced September 15^th, which is in 20 days!!!!!!!  I exclaim that this is far too long as I am expecting visitors and the weather might change but NO… the monsieur is not for turning!  I decide this is an unacceptable period for an unacceptable amount and tell him nicely that it is not possible and go to gather up my duvets.  As I do this, he surprises me. He BANGS his hands down on the counter and screws up his form, throwing it across the room behind him!  I quietly say “Ooh la la monsieur, Ooh la la”. As I exit the door I call breezily “Bon journée.”  
What amazed me is that:

Le monsieur was working at his crossword page when I arrived and clearly was not pressed at Le Pressing!  

What is it about a very teeny, tiny proportion of French people who appear to not wish to accommodate a service for their business!!!!!!!!

This happened with a local restaurant recently. We arrived at 20h30 and were refused service because although they were only three people, they had been working since 8am, were tired, plus the proprietress said they had run out of food as it is almost the end of the season and close at 21h!   It is still hottest August!!!!  However, at least they sold a take away pizza as this seems to be about all my 4 year old grand daughter who rarely sleeps wanted to eat!!!!!!!! 

At that restaurant I expressed surprise, saying that I thought custom is important for the survival of a business!  We would have spent at least 60 euros but it was their loss and ours too!
I made an omelette! 
LESSON OF THE DAY
In our region of France decide to eat earlier in the evening and book a table!  I know that but it was difficult to impress my family with this idea. Now they know!

A Festival of Books, Paper and Paraphernalia

Martin Lukins Accordionist

Martin Lukins plays The wedding of the Painted Doll.

 For almost 5 years this was my accordion teacher. I knew he was famous but did not know he had produced records.  I had regular lessons and used to try and practise scales  as well as pieces for often up to 4 hours a day if I could.  It was my escape route from the family and television. I sat in the front living room at the age of 10 hardly able to get my nose over the 100 bass instrument that I played today in the French village where I live.
I stopped having lessons when I was 12.  It was a shame because I was working on fast Italian pieces, musette style French tunes, classical arrangements such as William Tell and also playing in accordion band which was fun but I was not that keen. Later I joined a theatrical group and performed on stage. Later still I used to play at the outdoor fairs in a mock French costume with sparkles on my face.
I wish I could play as fast as him but I am content with what I do..it is my own style!!!!

Unexpected Saturday

Visitors came for morning tea in my rear garden.  I made coconut and almond buns. We sat talking for 2 hours before deciding it was time for lunch. We moved our seating position to La Place where to our surprise my English friends and their English friends were eating at different tables. We loitered for the next free table. The cycling race that had evidently been around the town earlier re-appeared in the town and then again.  Rather like the cyclists in the Tour de France they sped by! Back in my courtyard the thermometer was reading 50C+ in the full sunshine but within 15 minutes or so after 16h it had dropped to 45C. I moved it into the shade and at 16h30 it is reading 35C.   Chaud huh!

Aucun feu d'artifice dans un plus beau village

3rd August 2012

I started to post: 

Fireworks above a Chateau - a Pyromelodique Spectacular 2012

and wrote:

I hope it WILL be spectacular, as currently, at 16h, the rain is drizzling from the sky.  Hopefully, it will stop so that 6000 plus individuals will arrive to pay for the cost of the explosives, musical dialogue and organisation that is required. There is always the Fête Foraine but normally I skip the smell and noise because it is for families and friends and I've done my share of fairground attendance in my lifetime.

I have a new vantage point this year. I was invited to watch the chateau from a private house but they have not yet returned from their holiday.  Nevertheless, the mother has invited me and I am to go early. I shall take an onion tart and maybe a couscous and tomato salad!  They are easy to make.

BUT LATER on 10 August 2012 I posted: 

I have been told in both French and English that the decision was taken late afternoon to cancel the fireworks in this plus beaux village where over 6,000 visitors descend on the town.  So, instead of collecting revenue in the rain from those who arrived they decided there would be insufficient income to cover the costs. Therefore, the committee decided to pay for the set up and dismantling fees but not the fireworks.  Hm...despite the information that the Meteo forecasted rain for the evening ..... the sun shone. French meteo is not always reliable.  It was a splendid sky as I looked across to the chateau from a premium vantage point. Friends in high places you know!  My French host who speaks excellent English was in huge complaint as she has never in 60 years known a cancellation and wasn't it a pity when so many families like hers had the evening buffet ready for guests.  I was in complete agreement.  Without all her guests, we ploughed through my onion tart (she'd burnt pizza in an oven which she was not used to) and my couscous exemplaire, her wonderful cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes. She had cakes for the youngsters. Strawberries soaked in Sangria was wonderful!
And so... it was not an electrifying evening but very interesting for me. The people who arrived in the village for the evening must have been quite discontent. The next morning several signs that advertised the event were still on display but only one announced ANNULÉ.  It is a shame because this village needs to welcome visitors now that it is the 11th most popular of the 153..... There is a new village on the list. 
It is a small village, so the commune revenue must be small ... in my opinion they need to fund raise in earnest!

2010

Through the end of the rainbow

My dream cometh true... whilst cycling this evening, up ahead,  the huge watering monsters were showering maize only in one place as they do!!!!! The wind was blowing most of the water across my route so there was no opportunity to avoid the welcoming shower in a heatwave.  However, the end of the rainbow, which had been created in the rays of the sun, fell upon me as I cycled through, holding tight to my front panier lid so that the map did not get wet.  How I laughed but forgot to stop to dig for a pot of gold!

It does annoy me when many of these monster water piping systems are leaking water out of the feeding pipes directly into ditches.

Wish I had a photo!

A Bilberry Cake

.Life is not exact nor is the weight of these ingredients!

Preheat the oven to about 200C but all ovens are different.

My inherited ancient oven has no temperature .. just numbers!!!!!

So keep an eye on the cake, adjust temperature and timing as necessary.

I used a springform cake tin greased with butter or oil.

 

Cream together 150 g butter with 150 g sugar. Beat in 2 or 3 eggs with a large dollop of crême fraîche or milk. Add 1 or 2 teaspoons of vanilla or lemon essence.

In another bowl mix 150g ground almonds with 150g rice flour, spelt or wheat flour.

Add about 2 tsp baking powder and 200 grams bilberries.

Fold the wet mixture into the dry mixture and add extra milk if required to make a loosely thick batter that holds together....  The bilberries can be folded in after the flour but for me that would be two lots of folding in!   Pour the gloop into the tin and bake for 30-45 minutes until the cake is done. 

Once cooled, the cake could be covered with lemon icing but my palate is rather tired of such frivolous sticky messes and so a spoonful of crême fraîche or ice cream may suffice or nothing at all does suffice.  I tried two dollops as biscuits and mighty good they were.

Leisure

... for me is difficult to achieve. Really I am not sure what it means.  It is hard to sit and do nothing these days, although certainly this kind of heat helps.  BUT I DO... I sit and browse the internet until I am BORED... and this doesn't help me as the screen becomes an addiction. Working at a friend's house for four days has caused a certain exhaustion,  but I will rebound.  There are loads of jobs to be achieved, including sitting still if I can to do accounts, paperwork, planning, domestic duties, etcetera.
Exhaustion brings the first line of this poem into my head as I wonder about the meaning of life, which I know IS: BE HAPPY, HAVE FUN, KEEP MOVING, BE KIND TO OTHERS.
However, I envy those who appear to LIVE and JUST BE whilst seemingly having fun, doing not a lot. Oh, in England when in the company of a lot of people... there was time to natter, time to play with children, time to eat, time to have fun, time to have Leisure. 

Leisure by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care, 

We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

The internet allows access to information, although I take some with a pinch of salt because not all of it is always factual. However, on Wikipedia we can read about this Welsh born poet.  The life of  W.H. Davies was quite remarkable for the man's determination to succeed in whatever he did, despite his atrocious injury. He had a colourful life which makes mine seem so dull.

Which brings a reminder of a traditional ditty that I used to play on the accordion when I was about 10 years old! Evidently it pre-dates the reign of James II, originating from a French chanson. I wonder which one? There are many versions but this one is from Yorkshire. 

  Begone Dull Care    
Begone, dull care! I prithee begone from me;  Begone, dull care! Thou and I can never agree.

Long while thou hast been tarrying here, And fain thou wouldst me kill;

But i' faith, dull care, Thou never shalt have thy will.

 

Too much care Will make a young man grey; Too much care Will turn an old man to clay.

My wife shall dance, and I shall sing, So merrily pass the day;

For I hold it is the wisest thing, To drive dull care away.

 

Hence, dull care, I'll none of thy company; Hence, dull care, Thou art no pair for me.

We'll hunt the wild boar through the wold, So merrily pass the day;

And then at night, o'er a cheerful bowl, We'll drive dull care away.