Film Review: Mr Turner

I sat enthralled, attempting to suppress my vocalised "Wow" at the opening of this most amazing film.  How wondrous when mists of steam, or clouds in sky, or swirls of snow create an image of that Steamboat, which I think it was (?) on film.  A 21st century play of light about a Romantic era moving to that of Impressionism during the early 19th century. 
The introduction transfixed me; took me to the windmill at Walberswick where my grand-aunt and grandmother re-enacted their balancing acts, for they were not allowed by the turn of 19th to 20th century law to perform in the family circus... it was not the flat lands of Suffolk but the flat land of Holland.  Such an amazing image for the commencement of the film.
The colour, the costumes, the characters, the representation of emotion in art and in artists, the story of a life and lives, was extremely well-conceived by the mind of Mike Leigh.  BRILLIANT!
I heard the ancient English language, noted the French translation at the base of the moving pictures, chuckled here and there in absolute delight, gasped at the brutality of man with woman, marvelled at the sets of sea, coast, art studio and art gallery, contemplated how J.M.W. Turner revered his female cousin and used other women for his everyday human needs.
What brilliant actors and actresses and all those who worked to create such pleasure for the audience.
I loved the music... reminiscent of Benjamin Britten and Aldeburgh... wistfully, hauntingly moving us through the landscape of emotions, of romance, of lust, of leaving an impression of history and art, true art, art that is difficult to aspire to, the true art of genius.
Turner was interested in how sun, the sun that is God, created light, the physics of colour.  He played with pigment to express light in and on his canvases, his 'toiles' were like 'étoiles dans le ciel'. He experimented with making paints to daub his canvases, to paint nuances of darkness and light in sea, sky, steam, cloud and weather. He also wished to present Humanity and Architecture in his work but increasingly his work became more atmospheric.  He explored techniques to transfer what he saw onto what could be seen forever, but some of the patina and colour in his paintwork has faded over time.  He wanted the public to have free access to his work after his death but unfortunately that hasn't necessarily been the case: his works were dispersed.  He was in awe of invention, where camera captured image and portrait, where steam could push or haul vast engines to master the great outdoors, in a different way to that where Turner captured the spirit of invention anidst the natural world.
Other artists portrayed at the Royal Academy spoke to us using the language that art and artists sometimes use .... but I prefer to look and enquire how they achieved what they did and how the work of art speaks to the wonder of the viewer, how it appeals to those who look.
Evidently there is at least one error of history within the film...
Ah...and aha not even Mike Leigh is perfect!  How I love his cinematography.
I loved this portrayal of an artist so much that I feel I could sit through the film again and again!
It was exciting and a pleasure to attend...to sit in the newly refurnished 400 coups cinema de Chatellerault. Thank you Mr Turner and Mr Leigh.

With thanks to Wipipedia - Snow Storm: Steam-Boat off a Harbour's Mouth, 1842

Advent in England

Every hour and on the half hour automated Christmassy music brightens up the day on a sparkling techno-tree that changes its lighting.

 

Christmas lighting

On the drive from the airport I was enamoured by French Christmas lighting and disappointed that there is none as yet in my village. However, the tree has been placed in La Place and awaits the usual boxes and foil ribbon! Next they have been tying evergreen to the gutterings etc but none in my street as yet! A Christmas star has been on my gate since the first day of Advent and perhaps I shall tie greenery and brightness to the guttering downpipes. I may even make an effort to put some sparkle into the room in case the three children, young enough to revel in the magic, arrive, which I am sure they will. 

The aller-retour journey to England was interesting and I made conversation with several people, sometimes checking if it was ok to talk to them!

At Cambridge I watched as a mother and father had an emotional farewell to their daughter. He sat next to me on the National Express coach. I commented that Goodbyes are never easy but he replied he couldn’t speak English very well, as he was French.  He was delighted, and I thought it funny that in England I was speaking French!  Their tri-lingual daughter had finished her studies and was working through Christmas with an online hotel booking chain!  On the return journey I saw some people who had travelled on the same flight as me last week.  Whilst waiting to see which gates were open for the planes I spoke to an English woman who lives in Ireland but whose daughter and husband live in UK and she has had to return frequently for skin treatment as she has been severely burnt on her legs and arms with a toxic skincare product by Baylis and Harding!  She said she will fight it all the way as three weeks after applying the lotion she is still severely burned and has been told is not just an allergic reaction. The lotion has been analysed by a toxicologist and confirmed as dangerous! Goodness!

I also am glad I didn’t travel on Friday as evidently computer technology crashed and all flights across England were affected!

I've returned with new thoughts, old thoughts, even the possibility that I could if I wish sell up and return to England and although the thoughts have been in my brain for several weeks, I have not yet made a decision. I feel I'm at an impasse but there is much to do before I go anywhere!

I intend to try and do better with the negative thinking that crowds my thinking whilst I live alone, and I intend to set a more disciplined agenda with timed alarms to alert me not to waste my LIFE TIME!  I don’t wish to be overwhelmed again with tasks…so will have to re-learn SMART and KISS approaches to work, rest and play!!!!!! I really need to exercise more and it isn’t enough to just cut out carbohydrates… because then I want to eat sugary foods or too many almonds!     So a rethink on diet and exercise regime is necessary to be punctuated into the daily timetable. I have to do it!

I intend AGAIN to try and prevent myself from thinking and scribing emotional outpourings, though the poems when they come do please me!

A replacement passport has to be applied for before I can again leave France and perhaps I really MUST try to visit other places by train and feel as if I am getting out and about. Christmas is coming. These days I never enjoy this festive season but will make a better effort. 

Santa One, Santa Two

 I smiled when I reached my village at six thirty of an evening. A good omen! The second joy was that Big Feet the Cat came running along from the rear garden entrance to the roadside when she heard my car! Now she is nestled on the settee in front of a roaring woodburner. Arriving home after a week’s absence, the temperature in bedroom and kitchen was 10C, the grand salon 12C rising to 17C, the courtyard 6C, Chauvigny street 4C.  There was evidence of rain, whereas before the flight descended to Poitiers, there was beautiful sunshine. Left that in England! Five hot water bottles are in bed as I haven’t bought that electric blanket! My family always called them hotties!

It was a fairly good week unfortunately marred by daughter being under par when I arrived and then she and grand-daughter suffered a tummy bug for three days, luckily without vomiting. Many children were absent from school and some hospital wards were closed.  I never managed to see my mother, as the day I could have hired a vehicle, I didn’t.  Although disappointed not to have seen her I can’t feel guilty that I too was feeling low and tired. Certainly didn’t wish to take her any illness. Fortunately, I haven’t succumbed. I saw some friends and not others. I didn’t buy clothes or shoes as there was no time, yet, I did collect more weight than I took, having to remove 2kg from checked in baggage to cabin baggage! 

HOWEVER, the best gift of all was that I was allowed to take Francesca out without parental chaperones for the FIRST time in SIX YEARS!  Mother can begin to let go! Gran'mama can be!  Not-so-little-one-anymore was ill on Monday but the school didn’t send her home! She missed the school carol concert and so did I!  I never managed to treat her after school as planned but maybe this was better.  It was agreed that after three days indoors we would go to see Santa on a Saturday afternoon. Gran’mama and little one, growing ever taller, walked hand in hand into the city trying to avoid the crowds. ‘Quel horreur’, when she said she needed to go to the toilet. I explained that I didn’t know where they were, then suspected a ruse when she said that there were reindeer in the Mall, the old Mall that I avoid at all possible costs. One couldn’t take a risk, so we nipped into John Oliver restaurant, which I dislike, but I knew where the loos were!  Trying to avoid going to the department store first, I asked which Santa she would prefer to go to but then I had a wheeze of an idea! It would be unlikely for her to believe in HIM, after the age of seven. "I tell you what Francesca, would you like to see TWO Santas?”  We laughed conspiratorially together when I suggested we could make a comparison, explaining the meaning of the word!  I felt like a naughty girl, freed from parental control and about to have some fun!  Ooohhh, Santa One and Santa Two. Gran'mama hadn’t seen Santa for a very long time! Whhhooopppeee!  Francesca chose to go to The Stranger Hall Museum first. We paid £5 but had to wait for the next slot in half an hour.  Therefore, I paid £3.50 to visit the house, which I had never been into in all the time I had lived near that city!  This is fun… there is a sixpence finding trail… each has a letter, unravel the letters to find which day in the year is special for mixing Christmas Puddings. Knowing the answer made this easy, as I wasn’t sure what size sixpences we were looking for! Eventually after four rooms I found a paper one about 20cm diameter! We backtracked and found one more … eventually we found 4 out of 6 letters, filled in the last two, showed the Victorian lady in the kitchen whom we had already spoken to about Christmas puds and Victorian money in her table display.  (I had to correct her when she spoke about holly as a pudding decoration when she was holding a sprig of bay leaves!!!!!  Hm??? What kind of English education is this!!!!!????)  Francesca won her reward of a size of a sixpence Christmas pudding – a foil wrapped chocolate ball!

Santa was BRILL! Very Victorian - red not green! He spoke very eloquently. Francesca had a charming conversation with him and Alf the Elf, who disappointingly was in his normal clothes wearing an elfin headdress. She received a wrapped present, delighted to open a history book including pictures and the story of Guido Fawkes and the Great Fire of London, which she has been studying at school. 

Next was the large department store where she was confident to purchase her ticket at the cash desk and work out how much change from a £10 note… easy peasy for her - £6.  On both occasions she was asked t spell her name ( it doesn't have a 'h')  and was complemented on an Italian name!  This Santa did have a real beard but when the reindeer feeding timetable was updated by a man in mufti instead of looking as if he was a Santa’s little helper, I was aghast when my dear granddaughter announced, having watched Santa arrive from his lunch break, that he was not real!!!!!!!!! Younger ears were present as we were third in the queue!  Full marks to the assistant who managed to allay reality and told Santa through the window that she doubted his reality!  Santa being well trained, understood what to say.  She could choose from the piles of toys in the grotto providing she left him some food for his reindeer!  She chose a soft turtle with goo goo green eyes. All kiddies could have a red balloon!  Actually it was Gran'mama who could reach the string to pull it from the ceiling. These days the parents pile in to the grotto and one can ask to take a photo of child with Santa. I thought it was all good value and great fun for me!!!!!!!

Afterwards it was pizza and ice cream as promised but not to the dreaded Pizza hut and express requested. We compromised with “Giraffe!” The main purpose of the visit was to see family and rid myself of French cabin fever. The weather was kind and so were my friends and family! It was mostly joyful! 

Preciousness

I suffered from an unusual, undiagnosed (in those days) depression three months before my son was born. Not only was I living in an old, cold, almost uninhabitable house, which we had just bought to renovate (how ridiculously naive was that on our income, with no savings!!!!!!) in an isolated on the outskirts of a Suffolk village house without friends, company or vehicle during the day, when I had never ever been in that type of environment before, BUT, leaving my career position affected me, as did the subsequent loss of income, when we were reduced to receiving social welfare.
The father's business partnership had collapsed.

My son and I had to be educated on how to breastfeed; we knew the process of what to do, but it's not quite as easy as sticking a nipple in the new born mouth.  It took us several days to master the process... maybe almost a week. The books don't tell you how much it hurts when the breasts engorge and one has to release the milk another way!  One looks at the newborn child, the brain imagining all sorts of things.  I can understand how negative mental thoughts can take over the joy of Life, without constant support by the newly maternal bedside.

I am dreadfully sad for the family of the young woman with babe-in-arms who has recently, it seems, taken the precious gift of life from herself and her child.  It seems there was some known history of her mental health.

How can anyone get through hospital doors into the outside world without staff witnessing the action and asking questions?  Understaffed? Insufficient funding for staffing? Inappropriate layout of rooms, etc... I am trying to be kind! Never when I was in the cottage hospital where I gave birth the second time... nor in the huge hospital the first time could I even get to the toilet room alone without a midwife railing down on me!  One would have had to trail along staircases and exit through the main foyer where visitors, coffee bars were... One would not have been able to push a door release lock and step out!  Did no one see this woman and child between the hospital and the river?
It beggars belief!!!  My heart that has supplied blood and life to bear children bleeds.   I am sad, sickened, upset and feel more than disturbed for the father of the baby, for the grandparents, for those who have searched and found, for all those who have to deal with the investigation.  Tragic is an understatement. 

I accept that patients have a right to discharge themselves under the name of freedom... My grandfather who survived after WW1 with part of a lung, often discharged himself from hospital, once his breathing was under control, to the exasperation of my grandmother and others! But even then I think he had to sign a document to be able to walk through the exit doors!  He was a cantankerous old sod!

Having a baby isn't like being a patient... It challenges the mother, the father and the child in ways that here cannot be described. A first born can turn the world.  I never had any verbal or practical support from my parents, the other grandmother was too far away, and I learned from Dr Spock and the several emerging books on 'having a baby'. Midwives in the 1970s were fierce!  One did just want to get home...but never to the river.
That poor woman must have been suffering such dreadful inner torture, if the verdict proclaims that she did take Life for Death.

Moved to write.

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.