French Home Ownership

Fourth Anniversary of the Signing of the Acte de Vente 
If you scroll down on the above link you can read the story.
Four years later...
I can't quite believe I shed so many tears...
I can't quite believe I had such a lot to learn...
I can't quite believe the journey that I've made...
I can't quite believe that I am still here...
I can't quite believe how strong I am...

The friend,
the one who says he has stood by me despite the traumas of his own making
and those that I made,
and those that we made together,
and whom I too have stood by despite knowing the price I pay...
he, who was the supportive little bird saying 'Bravo" is about to start on his own adventure.

When he signs his Acte de Vente, as a seller, and not as a buyer,
the little bird, the free bird, the one inside me
will say "Bravo" to him for very different reasons.
I shall hope and pray that his wings stay strong on his journey
and that he learns all that he has to learn,
as I have had to learn my lessons then so will he have to learn his
for what goes around, comes around!
I am grateful to him for his contribution to my story in my home.
I couldn't have done it without him!
But...
I would have found a different way!
I shall not be manipulated and controlled by an adult parent of an adult child any longer ... it will not work!
How ironic is life.
I must laugh in order to keep sane with what is happening at the moment!
Who would have thought life would be like this!
I am my own fool, yet, there is room for wisdom to emerge!

Spongy Gingerbread Cake

My recipe was from my favourite Penguin paperback circa 1973, author Margaret Bates.  All the pages are loose from the binding!

Cake Galore

Tinkle tinkle as a spoon raps a cake stand to bring the newly-gathered around the table crowd to silence.

It is the inaugural meeting of the Loire Valley Clandestine Cake Club. 

The theme is "Favourite Cakes" so we are each invited to introduce our cake to say whatever we wish.

I had made a spongy gingerbread cake.  Often I don't follow the recipe faithfully, as my gingerbread cake is often a mixture of several recipes including Parkin, but this time I measured exactly! My recipe was from my favourite Penguin paperback circa 1973, author Margaret Bates.  All the pages are loose from the binding!

Unfortunately, I could only sample four because I felt full, but at the end of the two hours we took as many slices as we could fit into the containers that we had brought for such purpose. I chose those that I had not sampled and those that I enjoyed.  Next day for morning coffee they were just the ticket!

Before we went home there was pink bubbly to bless the afternoon and to salute Jean for such wonderful organisation.

it was interesting to see a variety of cakes. Many people had chosen walnuts as a main ingredient or as a decorated topping. 

There was a delicious light chocolate sponge and a  Carrot and Cointreau cake with a cheese and walnut topping... a strawberry sponge where the whipped cream had come from England. Yummy! 

There was a savoury cake too ... in France 'cake' is savoury, un gateau is sweet, unless they are referring to English cakes.

In conversation with a friend we discussed the singular and plural of the noun 'cake'.  If there is 'cake' en masse then it is plural without an 's'.... but of course 'cake' is also singular depending on the context and meaning of the sentence. This is to do with countable and non countable nouns.

So let us have more cake on another occasion and eat it!

Numbed not numbered although days are!

My brain is feeling numbed but it is probably exhaustion after five weeks of constantly being on the move, with variable sleep patterns. The sudden Activity and Responsibility after Days of  Leisure...well they weren't without work ... is beginning to edge at Negativity but I am holding it at arm"s length.
I am reminded that when I had to move from England to France I spent six months looking at my stuff, weeping and wondering HOW to dispose of it usefully.....I was also in a state of shock and and bereavement on many counts, plus waiting for a major op, insecure, vulnerable and got at about things that were not of my making!  Eventually, friends came and took music worth probably £100 apx or more to a Dorset Public School who never wrote and thanked me for  it. My friend was furious at their lack of manners.  Friends came and took stuff to the skip including every pay slip I had ever earned including my first job at Woolworth!  Sadly I regret that!!!! Social History!!!!  My daughter took valuable antique clothing etc to sell on eBay with a friend and the friend duped her!

Later, when I moved from there in France to here in France, it was easy peasy to decide what was mine to take, what was mine to leave and what was his to leave. My stuff and now some of his is ready for a team of helpers to declutter! It is true I don't have the energy levels to do it alone!

HE, 'my friend" is having the kind of wobble that I had from January to July 2005. Panic!  which would perhaps explain why he wasn't  so ahead of the sorting as I thought he would be.  Panic of a different kind when one rids oneself of  lock, stock and barrel wanting to disinherit most possessions! People do, do it! Well, we rid ourselves of each other and I know I'm still coming to terms with that but so grateful in many ways for being on my own.

I feel numbed by the viewing of a Car Boot Sale when twice I wandered around and could not see anything I wished to buy... but there were plenty of things that would have held my interest eighteen years ago, when I first became a Francophile! I don't want to collect anything else ... I want to dispose!
My own tat and that inherited on the basis that HE won't me get rid of it sensibly is beginning to impact...

Hot Cross Buns

We walked for ten kilometres which took our group about two hours; there were those who took the lesser distance and others who for legitimate reasons did not walk. We all arrived for the bun feast.  I haven't walked that far for some time so it was a very good Springtime reminder of the benefits of walking, but the possible resistance to wine and refreshments is full of temptation. The problem with social walking is the shared drinks and eats when one is concerned about starting the diet. Probably in UK everyone meets at the pub at the end of the route. Maybe THAT is why I enjoy walking solo, apart from the fact that I can go at my own pace and think thoughts.  HOWEVER, I enjoy the camaraderie in a group because one meets such interesting people.  I try to avoid talking about me but it is inevitable that someone will ask and then the story is begun, but I am getting smarter at shortening the tale!  Unfortunately, mine hosts were busy, busy, but that's always the way for hosts.
It was a brilliant and successful first organised group walk for friends of friends and I do so hope there will be another.  Perhaps, it needs the leadership qualities of G'nT.   I get the impression that several people have offered to organise the next walk.  I also would be happy to do so, having experience off many walks around my village which are a bit more off the beaten track and not the same as the way-marked routes on tourist maps.  Most of the group were from the Touraine region whereas this is Vienne.  Many had travelled a distance. What beautiful weather blessed us all.  Thank you to the hosts and to all who made it very jolly!

home

HOMEhomeHOME is where the heart remains!

7,777

viewings .....is coming up today ... as this morning at 09.40 French time, it is at 7,770 as I write.   Fun!

A new day

A new time.
A new journey.
A door closes.
A window opens.
My blog heading.
It is what I learned when I lost my career path.
It is what I learned when I lost so many things.
It is what I learned when I bought my house.
it is what I learned when I lost the love from my partner.
It is what I have learned as I gain positive elements and insights and what makes people who we are.
I think people are intrinsically good...everyone has blocked patterns of  behaviour.
I am learning to be as free as a bird.
I can fly.
I may be melodramatic at times.
I may have emotional outpourings.
I am exploring.
I am learning.
I can't stand still.
I am Restless in France, restless generally to discover and make the most of life, whatever it is, wherever it takes me.
I am happy to meet whoever I can and engage in them and their lives.
I like traveling and having conversations with people I meet...this morning a little girl with flowers in her crocs.
I am sitting in a very nice organic coffee bar listening to conversations, watching people.  It's a wonderful gentle buzz ... my kind of place.
Again, I say that I thanks to all who say such very nice kind words, because when I was trapped in the four walls of a classroom and school, bizaare as it may seem I never knew about people, about LIFE and LIVING.
I am beginning to enjoy life now but I don't want to be stuck in the four walls of my French home for any length of time... itchy feet syndrome!
A rendezvous with a friend has been cancelled due to other complications which is why I indulge in y own company for coffee.
My journey chooses a new path through the forest.   I feel grounded.

No postcards

Roman votives were so small and interesting that I kept returning to that particular cabinet. BUT in my opinion the exhibition room lighting was inadequate ... whoops ... oh dear, i was informed that THE British Museum dictate the exhibition at each museum with disregard to the lighting! They also had not realised that my shadow falls on tiny objects in the glass case,  masking detail in the metalwork. Also, I needed a magnifying glass to see the intricate markings amidst the artefacts of animals, rings and brooches. It was an exhibition of the Roman Empire displaying more than 160 pieces from the British Museum. There were no postcards of these magnificent miniatures that interested me! A sales opportunity missed!

We visited 'the Egyptians' where Little Miss Muffet wished to show me the mummified woman ... below were scarab artefacts which reminded of scarab jewellery I own... I have always loved the eye of Horus in its variant designs.. I love turquoise and those who have auras of that hue.
Proceeding on: the famous  teapot collection seems to be reduced.
The taxidermy, not a favourite, is a bit stuffy, but I AM always fascinated by beetles (although I prefer them to be moving) ... and fossils always stand the test of time!  Lowry was on display... and textiles ... Roman knitwear was fascinating.  Wow ... it is not exactly concessionary to go to museums in UK!  Educational ... yes! Enjoyable... certainly! It was a privilege to do what I very often do not do!

Disorder of Sundays

People thought to be close can become so distant!
The demise of social order and a day of rest!
Bring back Social Sundays and the closure of commercial and capitalist premises!
A sense of loss today and the need to be where I belong!
FRANCE!

Film Review: Under The Skin

Weird is a word that described moments in my mind, disorientated but with eyes wide open.
I've seen enough art house cinema not to feel that movies can be radicalised but this WAS a bit extreme.  All the way I kept wondering what would come next yet couldn't imagine, although I had clocked the word ALIEN in my head.  I inwardly praised myself once I had become rather spooked to see the evidence of what WAS Under The Skin... the film seemed to suggest that none of us are what we appear to be...
The light at the end of the tunnel...when the circle of light transforms into an eye that enables light in our lives, helps us to see whilst we hear the sound of the train.
She had beautiful eyes and these were referred to in the film.
The van is being driven but we hear the train on the tracks.
The seductress and temptress.
She could seduce but not be seduced for if her skin was 'pricked' by a rose thorn or any other sharp or pointed thing her skin would split.  She would implode.
The stalker and the killer.
The biker and the walker.
The rapist.
Every woman's nightmare.
A male protector turns to seduce.
A female enjoys the attention.
Why is it always thus?
Transmogrification 
is a word in my mind as final scenes are enacted.
Black skin, white skin.
Red top, red lips,
Blood and Roses.
Fire.
Flames to Ashes... red to black.
Burnt.
Destruction.
Grey.
Up in smoke.
The skin of the dead will pop if allowed to fester.
Beneath the oil slick this is what happens.
I thought those images where she leads the victim to death, demise, a day of reckoning, were brilliantly clever and inventive: how men sank into oblivion was mesemerising....  
Wonderful photography.
Scenic landscapes.
Silence.
Evil.
As in the eye of a camera there is a juxtaposition of views that are given to US whilst we look at the movie against what is seen from the eyes of the actors and actress and of course the camera man and the director, not to mention the author of the book. 
Evidently, don't expect to match the novel and the film!
Intriguing, full of suspense...weird but wonderful.
I exited.
I looked at the 2014 world.
I became disorientated, uncertain of my next direction and my direction in life and kept thinking as I walked... Weird... Isn't life weird!

THE WHITE COMPANY cotton bedlinen after ironing!

Brand new unused-on-any-bed, 200 thread count Egyptian cotton bed-linen, after 8 washes with a Bosch machine that is hardly used plus Persil powder, water softener and fabric softener and Bosch steam ironed whilst wet... on at least four occasions!
I would not even put this on my own bed let alone that of guests!
I took them to a professional laundry service following others' advice, before I consider THE return to THE WHITE COMPANY... but this stupid laundry company have made black blotches on them and folded them differently ... even the original creases can still be seen...
It is at a cost of £14 in addition to the £133 that they cost me.
I WILL RETURN THEM in the original delivery box with all the original packaging,  once I get them back ( hopefully washed again! ) on MONDAY!!!!
I am an unhappy bunny!

Ten Years

It is ten years since losing my career path, the resulting depression on depression of fibromyalgia, a major debilitating op with the loss and recovery of a working bladder,  selling my beautiful 400 year old inn which was the accolade of my life,  moving lock, stock and barrel to France to not my own house, then suffering what I was told was abuse, becoming single again four years ago and buying my very own French maison which had no bathroom. Now it has, with much gratitude to a friend. I am learning to stop the tears, start LIVING and in fact I think I could say that the tears have stopped and laughter has returned!

The story became stuck in a rut on occasions whilst all the while there has been progress.
LIVING never stands still but mountains have to be moved to make it enjoyable and fun.
When I have fun, my younger, inner child laughs and skips with joy.

I recently wrote in my JOURNAL that:-

I feel alive and who I am... comfortable in my skin.
It has taken me longer than ten years to achieve a self- reliant happiness...
and oh how happy I mostly am.

Thank you to everyone who has crossed my path and travelled alongside me on my journey...
Thank you to HIM who made me go from his house , and put me in the position I am in today.. .
maybe it was all meant to be!  I
The door closed and others opened!
Thank you to everyone for their patience, tolerance and understanding, their love and empathy and willingness to see the good in me.  I am in awe and in appreciation of how you have all stood by me!

I love you all.

Metallic steel blue anemone

Steal the blue of purple anemones - one of my favourite flowers

So tired...

would sing Eric Clapton,  but this is a different tiredness. Fatigue has been stacking up. I should have been asleep earlier but  succumbed to a novel privilege of television!!!

Had a fantastic walk in sandland whilst the vestiges of the Sahara filled the sky.

A ghostly presence disturbed my sleep this morning.  It appeared to be a woman with a navy blue pinched waist-long skirt, a gentle soul....others are convinced it was my imagination.  When I asked was it time to wake up ,  she said " yes it was".  I am waking up!

Self Exploration

The following thoughts whilst not original have been evolving for some time in my head.   

I help my Self when I help others.  Conversely, I hurt my Self when I hurt someone else. When we care for others we care for our Inner Self.  Some people have a greater propensity for helping others. Others appear self-absorbed, selfish, self-centred.  

 As I explore "Who I am", in what I perceive to be a small niche in a complicated world, I realise that I don't want to be involved in friendships or relationships that feel as if a game or part of a game is being played. At the same time, I have been trying NOT to play games with my inner Self; trying not to play with words, sentiments or emotions.  More frequently I am of the opinion that it's hard to rely upon myself as well as that some people cannot always be relied upon as everyone appears to be in a state of flux - a state of busy-ness. I hadn't really appreciated the fluidity of change in the Human Condition.     It annoys me if people blow hot and cold, play with emotions, yet, I believe that genuine friendship will stand the test of time and the most difficult of times.

I wish for honest, open, sincere, genuine, non-manipulative, non-controlling relationships and friendships, where there is mutual respect, trust, understanding of the individual, intrinsic kindness, care, tolerance, patience.  I seek people who do not have fantastical expectations, who work within REALITY/NORMALITY and who accept imperfections and limitations. MaintainingTRUE friendships despite distance or close proximity is difficult even if people are true to their word, thought or deed. 

I have a college friend from 46 years ago!  Despite years between meet-ups it always feels natural, normal, honest and committed.  She's a hoot, yet terribly sensible whereas I am reckless at times.  She's been through a different Hell, yet we both have survived our ordeals.

Ah... The Parable of the Sower.  I like the analogy that being part of a relationship / friendship is like being one of the plants in the soil.  In poor soil we become stunted. If the soil is good we mature. Therefore good relationships communicate honestly without fear.  Bad relationships aren'tt good for anyone. People seek positive friendships rather than negative ones which are not for our growth. I'm trying to weed out unhelpful undergrowth!!!

I can't help but be naive and vulnerable. It is who I am or have been.  The world has so much for me to learn about.  However, I DO try hard not to expect from anyone, to live in REALITY even though I am RESTLESS IN FRANCE.

Four years have passed and I realise that this is where my dearest friend and I went wrong;  a form of enmity arrived. We differed on basics, yet were close to each other, co-dependent, hanging on from abject fears, perhaps.   How very strange!  We expected too much from each other which led to disappointment, rejection, abandonment and becoming stuck in a rut. We were drowning and couldn't survive.  Life became stagnant, unfruitful, frightening as we began to age in another country without the natural intervention of family and friends.  It wasn't encouraging growth and it was heading for destruction.  Four years ago, I bought a house and there was hope for a new plan but the damage had been done. Now I value my freedom and the peace I find within me.  I thank him for releasing me from what became a prison for my soul and maybe his!   I know now I was in a different prison before I met him! At last, recently, he confessed that he finds it impossible to control his anger.  WOW, a turning point.  So, is he saying it wasn't only me!!!!!!! I tried to say anger is a waste of energy.

I understand anger because I know anger and also I find it hard to control emotional outpourings, words and tears. That is also a waste of energy! Although, I've known this for almost ten years, I accept it because it is my way of understanding and learning about me and people who didn't understand my capacity to just well up with tears. There have been times when I never knew why I cried but most of that is sorted.  The crying hasn't competely stopped because I also cry in joy and acute happiness BUT generally I am lighter of spirit, more fun to be with, relinquishing the story and gaining other tales.  "More natural and positive and it suits me", says my cousin. 

Open-ness, facing Truth about "Who I am", my strengths and weaknesses will help me to better communicate with others and to better communicate with my inner SELF.

Honesty has to exist with all the people I meet. I'm not afraid to tell what I perceive to be my truth. If another person doesn't like it and wants to be jealous, angry or whatever, then it isn't my problem.  I'm not intimidated by the angry moment.  I faced my angry father after he died and lived alongside anger from the person who I thought was the love-of-my-life. The pain of unrequited love is often too much to bear but I am dealing with it!  I've had to come to terms with my own passive, interior anger which would eventually erupt like Volcanic Etna  in frustration.  To my utter shame.  The ending of my career was when the management team  who should have been caring, taking responsibility to guide me, not to denigrate me, did not help me to see that I was ill when I became angry!

A person is not an island. We need friends indeed and in deed; people to support and help us understand worldly issues, the living and the dead from a different perspective.  

It broke my heart that I couldn't live in HIS house without HIS friendship.  The man I liked disappeared.  I was lost. We had to part, because we had to give each other the freedom to grow in a better soil, somewhere that would suit our needs, give us nourishment to suit our differing personalities, interests, beliefs. It annoys me that he won't talk to show that he acknowledges the facts...It can't be cured. there is no going back!  Maybe the 'books' are right and one just has to 'move on'. Recently,  I see a glimpse of the person I loved and who he once was ( and probably is), yet I know it will not die, even though I hope in the future I will truly love others.  True friendship never dies.

This last week as I respond to helping him sell his house, I become more aware of the deep non-romantic LOVE that I had and maybe have for my former partner.  For many years when people asked me HOW do I love that man who has hurt me so deeply inside, I always described it as a form of Compassion. I've witnessed his suffering and never knew what to do about it or how to help him.  At the same time, I struggled with my own suffering. He couldn't support me any more than I him!  It wasn't easy to live with that person for the rest of my life...nor him with me. 

'Wheels are moving' is an expression I have acquired to describe changes. I FEEL CONFIDENT that despite the past, it does not prevent me from LOVING HIM.... even though he and I have changed.... I struggled with this concept for a long time.  It seemed wrong but now I see that it isn't!  Our deeper friendship has stood the test of Time. I know that I can let him go on his adventures and be happy for him.  I may be very naive but I feel it is the TRUTH.  There is honesty from me to him, who has supported me in a weird way these last ten years!

I've written this because my blog has oftentime veered from house renovation to a story of struggle, a story of how I came to be here in France, of what I do, how I think/feel, attempting to make sense of what surrounds us.  It is about THE NOW as well as THE PAST and I know that THIS IS THIS and the future is beyond my complete control. All that withstanding, I learn about society and aspects which affect emotional and psychological states about which I have panicked and wept copiously. 

I've been travelling whilst I consider the words of this posting.

The sun rises on the horizon and until it sets I will attempt to be more compassionate for my friends and family.  In the last few weeks I've received positive comments.  I don't write all this to receive that... 
I write to bare my soul.... to show I am weak, frail, insignificant in this vast world but yet I am strong, a survivor with the gift of LIFE and LIVING.
I don't yet want it to stop... let me be on that carousel and make the world go round in JOY!

La Cueille

 

Beautiful and not so beautiful door furniture à La Cueille.

I like the patina on the door.

La Cueille is a steep slope where rainwater was collected!

LaTranchée des Anglais

Looking up and down La Tranchée des Anglais. I stopped to take these photos.

The English gained control over the Angles sur L''Anglin chateau in the Middle Ages when Guichard Angles abandoned it and King John Maupertuis (this might be incorrect) was defeated. The English, at night, widened a natural fissure, surprised the guards to overthrow the enemy!  In 1372 Du Guesclin used this passageway. 

Never mind history. Be your own soldier and run up and down the steep steps! It's good exercise!

Book Review: A Week in December

I wouldn't normally have chosen this subject matter to read but I had been having a Sebastian Faulks moment... when my bunion incapacitated me. I had borrowed this book from a friend.

I persevered and came to enjoy the different scenes in different chapters with different characters... it activated the mind and memory and I was not only pleased to reach the end but pleased that I'd had the challenge.

If you'd like a much more detailed book review then go to The Guardian!

Book Review: Charlotte Gray

The novel Charlotte Gray was written in 1999 by Sebastian Faulks with a film directed by Gillian Armstrong starring Cate Blanchet released in 2001.

I loved this book.   It was profound and emotionally educational unravelling some of the tangled thoughts about my own parental relationship.

page 474:
I was upset when she commented about how her father was emotionally and mentally damaged by his experiences in WWI.
I began to realise that my own parents may have been proud of me but they never ever praised me in all of my life. My mother once did say I was clever so maybe that counts!

I was in tears towards the end of the book: 

"She strained at the memory of her childhood, at the sense of some rapture lost. Yet it all remained like some frozen sea: great blocks of ice, submerged but static, and beyond the melting capacity of her conscious will."......... "her mother would turn form intimacy"

page 479 and after:
the author writes about a man's need and fears of being a father, a person, a man as a boy and how men can be a prisoner of sensual desire.... so I started to wonder about how people set themselves free from the chains that they have self-imposed.  When I was in my 30s or 40s I doodled many chains and wrote about myself being a prisoner but then I did not know what of!  I still have that INNER CHILD THERAPY JOURNAL.
page 482:
I had a kind of revelation.  I began to sob suddenly and uncontrollably as I realized that possibly I had never ever really thought about MY LIFE from my parents' viewpoint ...  It is what I have been expecting my grown up children to do! I want them to appreciate and understand that I think about their lives from my viewpoint and I think that perhaps one of them hasn't yet understood that and won't until he becomes a parent. 
page 483:
I interpret the author's writings:
The noise of shouting and violence... the sight and sound of torment, grief and horror cause the destruction of the softness of love.

``````````````````

In this novel, Charlotte Gray, a young Scot,  became involved with the French resistance at Vichy, in 1942, during the Second World War.  She'd traveled to London to work as a medical receptionist for a Harley Street doctor but on the train she shared a compartment with two men, one who works for the secret service and he invites her to contact him when the job gets boring. Despite the war, social life was in full swing and she soon meets an accomplished airman, Peter Gregory. The temporary nature of life at wartime brings romance where she loses her virginity and her heart. Peter is sent on a mission over France and becomes missing in action.  She joins a Special Operations Executive (SOE) training course where about one third of the women sent to France never returned. The secret service exploit her talent to speak French fluently and she is happy to return to France where she spent much of her childhood.  She passes interrogation to be a spy,  has her hair and dentistry adapted to look more like a French woman and is parachuted into France to complete a specified mission.  She goes AWOL and sets out to find Gregory.
Wikipedia says:
"The character of Charlotte Gray was based on a New Zealand woman called Nancy Wake who worked with the French Resistance near a village called Verneix in the Auvergne region. Instead of escaping she became a courier for the resistance but had to eventually flee to Spain and then England where she was trained by the SOE. She was parachuted back into France on 29 April 1944 and went on to lead a 7,000 strong resistance group in the Auvergne region. Her husband, Henri Fioca, was tortured and killed by the Gestapo for failing to reveal her whereabouts."