I just got an email
Hi Rosie,
I saw your blog in "A taste of Garlic" and wondered if you would be interested in contributing to our new online magazine TIENS ! Le Sud-Ouest de la France. Have a look at www.tiensmagazine.com
For more information, please contact me. Kind regards, Perry Taylor perry@tiensmagazine.com
Ooo er someone wants me to write something proper. Blimey!
But first of all I thought who the hell is 'A taste of garlic'. Quick search around and found this
http://www.atasteofgarlic.com/aquitaine/a-year-down-the-line/
Which seems to be a whole on line magazine thingy with me as a feature in July 2010.
Who knew.
What gives some patronising bloke the right to use my blog as copy for his stuff. Without telling me!! This really pisses me off.
Monday, 17 January 2011
Thursday, 13 January 2011
Next blog
I have just discovered 'next blog'. Just a couple of words at the top of mine when I compose a new one and hours are wasted.
As usual, I have no idea how it works, but every time you click there's an entirely new random blog. It can't be that random unless everyone out there in blogland is writing about gardens and farming and such.
I had avoided delving too deep because who knew what was out there that I really didn't want to know about but so far it's great.
As usual, I have no idea how it works, but every time you click there's an entirely new random blog. It can't be that random unless everyone out there in blogland is writing about gardens and farming and such.
I had avoided delving too deep because who knew what was out there that I really didn't want to know about but so far it's great.
Chemin Rurale
Chemins Rurale are the ancient roadways around rural France. Some have been made into proper roads, some, like the one along one edge of our property have been made into gravelled tracks and some are just remnants left among the trees.
We have a remnant one between us and our neighbours that is obvious in that there is an overgrown gap between their fence and the line of sizeable trees but it disappears into our woodland. According to the plan cadastre it marks the edge of our property through the wood but we have never known exactly where it is and haven't ever bothered. We have 5 acres of wood and a little bit more or less doesn't bother us or the neighbour apparently.
This week Bernard (the mayor's righthand man) has obviously been delegated by the Comite des Fetes to sort out a new route for the annual Easter Egg Hunt that doesn't use any of the proper roads and has come up with the idea of using this chemin.
He appeared at the door asking if he could cut his way through our wood to a path Him Outdoors uses with the tractor so that the local little dears wouldn't get run over on the road. Much smiling and hand shaking and admiring our house and some discussion and off he went with a 'you think about it and let me know'.
We decided that actually we didn't want the commune deciding that they had right of way through our wood having used it once (the path they want to use is within view of the house) and drew up a plan that either they could walk the other way along our drive, across the field and into the wood which would involve no work but a bit of walking on the road. Or they could sort out the chemin rurale properly which would involve much earthwork/tree felling but maintain our boundary and keep everyone well away from our house.
I was delegated to go tell Bernard. Got his wife, who is sweet, explained it all to her and she agreed that of course we didn't want everyone through our land and of course that would be alright and she would explain it to Bernard when he got back.
Bernard arrives home full of smiles and ignores completely what we have just agreed, no we have to go down the chemin rurale and across the wood and it will be fine.
Him Outdoors has a dicky fit about 'some french butcher in his wood'.
Next day Bernard's strimming in the pouring rain. We pop out to see what he is actually doing and agree that it would be much more sensible if the walkers went along the field not through the wood and we seem to have reached a compromise. I think. Possibly. Maybe.
It shows up another difficulty with not speaking the language properly. Anyone that smiles at you is a good person. Anyone that talks to you and smiles must be ok. Maybe, just maybe, they are actually full of themselves and railroad everyone into doing what they think. But you aint going to find out for a while.
We have a remnant one between us and our neighbours that is obvious in that there is an overgrown gap between their fence and the line of sizeable trees but it disappears into our woodland. According to the plan cadastre it marks the edge of our property through the wood but we have never known exactly where it is and haven't ever bothered. We have 5 acres of wood and a little bit more or less doesn't bother us or the neighbour apparently.
This week Bernard (the mayor's righthand man) has obviously been delegated by the Comite des Fetes to sort out a new route for the annual Easter Egg Hunt that doesn't use any of the proper roads and has come up with the idea of using this chemin.
He appeared at the door asking if he could cut his way through our wood to a path Him Outdoors uses with the tractor so that the local little dears wouldn't get run over on the road. Much smiling and hand shaking and admiring our house and some discussion and off he went with a 'you think about it and let me know'.
We decided that actually we didn't want the commune deciding that they had right of way through our wood having used it once (the path they want to use is within view of the house) and drew up a plan that either they could walk the other way along our drive, across the field and into the wood which would involve no work but a bit of walking on the road. Or they could sort out the chemin rurale properly which would involve much earthwork/tree felling but maintain our boundary and keep everyone well away from our house.
I was delegated to go tell Bernard. Got his wife, who is sweet, explained it all to her and she agreed that of course we didn't want everyone through our land and of course that would be alright and she would explain it to Bernard when he got back.
Bernard arrives home full of smiles and ignores completely what we have just agreed, no we have to go down the chemin rurale and across the wood and it will be fine.
Him Outdoors has a dicky fit about 'some french butcher in his wood'.
Next day Bernard's strimming in the pouring rain. We pop out to see what he is actually doing and agree that it would be much more sensible if the walkers went along the field not through the wood and we seem to have reached a compromise. I think. Possibly. Maybe.
It shows up another difficulty with not speaking the language properly. Anyone that smiles at you is a good person. Anyone that talks to you and smiles must be ok. Maybe, just maybe, they are actually full of themselves and railroad everyone into doing what they think. But you aint going to find out for a while.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Out of the habit
I have had various ideas for a blog. Couple of drafts pondered. But nothing that spurs me on to put pen to paper (as it were). And now I am definitely out of the habit.
It seems to be something that afflicts other bloggers too. Definitely fewer lately. (Or is it less, I know there is some rule about less and fewer that affects/effects signs but I'm blowed if I can remember what it is.) I find I feel guilty somehow at reading blogs without contributing something - weird. But I have noticed that I haven't written anything since Remberance Day, so I'll try just burbling and see where we get to.
We had a lovely Christmas - although it now seems like two years ago not two weeks ago. It did seem at some moments that all I was doing was waiting for the weather to decide whether it would let people get here or get home. The flights out from England were delayed by snow and the flights back by fog:
Whether the weather be cold
or whether the weather be hot
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not. (Thanks Mum x)
But everyone got here eventually and we had a lovely time with the added family thing of grandchild with chicken pox. Since then, after a flurry of getting the house back to normal and dealing with all the leftovers, life has settled back to normal.
Thinking of food, Him Outdoors had another cholesterol blood test before Christmas and we are still managing to get the numbers down with a lifestyle that we can lead. It pained me to have to throw out the butter/cheese/cream that was left over but better in the bin than in us I guess. A disadvantage of flying visitors is that they can't cram another thing into their bags so no room for the leftovers. I find myself acting like my mother with departing children. Suddenly I have to give them stuff just like she did, we couldn't get out the door without cake (we'll never eat all that), sandwiches (for the journey) something for supper (you won't want to be cooking when you get home) fruit ............ Bless her.
Anyway, belated Happy New Year wishes to one and all and I will try to get my head back into gear!
It seems to be something that afflicts other bloggers too. Definitely fewer lately. (Or is it less, I know there is some rule about less and fewer that affects/effects signs but I'm blowed if I can remember what it is.) I find I feel guilty somehow at reading blogs without contributing something - weird. But I have noticed that I haven't written anything since Remberance Day, so I'll try just burbling and see where we get to.
We had a lovely Christmas - although it now seems like two years ago not two weeks ago. It did seem at some moments that all I was doing was waiting for the weather to decide whether it would let people get here or get home. The flights out from England were delayed by snow and the flights back by fog:
Whether the weather be cold
or whether the weather be hot
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not. (Thanks Mum x)
But everyone got here eventually and we had a lovely time with the added family thing of grandchild with chicken pox. Since then, after a flurry of getting the house back to normal and dealing with all the leftovers, life has settled back to normal.
Thinking of food, Him Outdoors had another cholesterol blood test before Christmas and we are still managing to get the numbers down with a lifestyle that we can lead. It pained me to have to throw out the butter/cheese/cream that was left over but better in the bin than in us I guess. A disadvantage of flying visitors is that they can't cram another thing into their bags so no room for the leftovers. I find myself acting like my mother with departing children. Suddenly I have to give them stuff just like she did, we couldn't get out the door without cake (we'll never eat all that), sandwiches (for the journey) something for supper (you won't want to be cooking when you get home) fruit ............ Bless her.
Anyway, belated Happy New Year wishes to one and all and I will try to get my head back into gear!
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Rememberance Day
I have just read last year's blog about Rememberance Day and it made me think that perhaps we have progressed a little socially. In very small steps.
Just the sort of weather today that makes me think of The Somme and the trenches. Cold, wet and miserable. Went up to the memorial in the car although it is only a short walk up the hill. Lots more nods of welcome. The mayor was there in his sash and Bernard - his right hand man - was there in his kepi, (left over from military service he said later) holding the commune flag. There was another man who obviously owned the portable CD player and microphone - hastily covered in plastic bags - rather officiously checking stuff.
The ceremony set off after a wait - not for 11 o'clock ,or the bells from the town, or the man that everyone said 'here's someone else coming' - with the french equivalent of The Last Post on the CD player. Bernard duly lowered his flag. CD owner then grabbed the microphone and said that there would be a minute's silence............................. Shortly followed by the beginning of the Marseillaise - oops - panic stations.
Lots of fumbling and button pushing which took up most of the minute.
(Interruption for car that wanted to get by.)
Then a transfer of microphone to the lad that reads the names on the memorial. After momentary tangle of wire and flag, each name was announced with a murmur of 'mort pour la France' after each one as we all stood with umbrellas dripping and heads bowed.
Then a continuation of the Marseillaise, a few words from the mayor and off to the Mairie for an apero.
CD player man then stood up and told the gathering a story which I think was about the first and last french soldier killed in the first world war. Definitely something about a french soldier that died at a quarter to eleven on 11th November 1918. But, as usual, in full dramatic flow a lot of it went over my head.
Nice to see the old boy that does the potager up the road out and about (His potager has been uncultivated this year). Spoke to the skeletal guy who we haven't met but wave at most times we go to the shops, who had obviously heard that we had had the trailer stolen 2 years ago. At last managed to continue a conversation with a lady that had mentioned to me before that she wanted to learn English. Still not sure what has prompted this interest, something to do with a DVD she wants to understand. But hey. She also had her friend who is the lady from the place where Him Outdoors buys sand/cememt and between them they were brave enough to talk. The sand lady is used to all the guys coming in who can't speak french so we all managed very well. (Helped along by a couple of glasses of Sangria!)
We are gradually getting less scarey, more familiar...........................
Just the sort of weather today that makes me think of The Somme and the trenches. Cold, wet and miserable. Went up to the memorial in the car although it is only a short walk up the hill. Lots more nods of welcome. The mayor was there in his sash and Bernard - his right hand man - was there in his kepi, (left over from military service he said later) holding the commune flag. There was another man who obviously owned the portable CD player and microphone - hastily covered in plastic bags - rather officiously checking stuff.
The ceremony set off after a wait - not for 11 o'clock ,or the bells from the town, or the man that everyone said 'here's someone else coming' - with the french equivalent of The Last Post on the CD player. Bernard duly lowered his flag. CD owner then grabbed the microphone and said that there would be a minute's silence............................. Shortly followed by the beginning of the Marseillaise - oops - panic stations.
Lots of fumbling and button pushing which took up most of the minute.
(Interruption for car that wanted to get by.)
Then a transfer of microphone to the lad that reads the names on the memorial. After momentary tangle of wire and flag, each name was announced with a murmur of 'mort pour la France' after each one as we all stood with umbrellas dripping and heads bowed.
Then a continuation of the Marseillaise, a few words from the mayor and off to the Mairie for an apero.
CD player man then stood up and told the gathering a story which I think was about the first and last french soldier killed in the first world war. Definitely something about a french soldier that died at a quarter to eleven on 11th November 1918. But, as usual, in full dramatic flow a lot of it went over my head.
Nice to see the old boy that does the potager up the road out and about (His potager has been uncultivated this year). Spoke to the skeletal guy who we haven't met but wave at most times we go to the shops, who had obviously heard that we had had the trailer stolen 2 years ago. At last managed to continue a conversation with a lady that had mentioned to me before that she wanted to learn English. Still not sure what has prompted this interest, something to do with a DVD she wants to understand. But hey. She also had her friend who is the lady from the place where Him Outdoors buys sand/cememt and between them they were brave enough to talk. The sand lady is used to all the guys coming in who can't speak french so we all managed very well. (Helped along by a couple of glasses of Sangria!)
We are gradually getting less scarey, more familiar...........................
Monday, 8 November 2010
Don't waste it
As children a large part of our play was with boxed games. As I remember it, we always had a new one at Christmas. Eldest brother would have the job of reading the instructions and then telling the rest of us how to play. There would often be a frantic search of the house for paper and pencils.
I could never bring myself to use the pads of paper that were provided with the game. My spirograph box still had all the paper that came with it when I retrieved it from my parents' house when we cleared it out! We have never used the Pictionary paper. Never written the answers on the Cluedo pads..................
I have noticed the same feeling today.
On Saturday we went to the twice yearly book fair. A sort of English Jumble Sale where every book is a euro. We took back the dregs of our last visit and some of the hospice shop trawl from England and brought home another 50.
I love the feeling of delving into the pile and sinking deep into a story. BUT I can't bear the feeling of 'oh no I'm halfway through and then it will be gone' Slow down, read more slowly, don't waste it. But I can't read slowly (or carefully, or remember it) just great gulps of words that transport me to wherever the author intends. And then it's gone and there is a huge feeling of regret that is bigger than satisfaction in the ending.
Still there are another 49 to go!
Friday, 5 November 2010
It's unsettling
As I've said before, we live a quite isolated life in rural France. One of my contacts with the world is through here and today I have realised that two bloggers that I read with interest have moved on from France to other things. Another returnee has stopped blogging. Our only near English neighbour is set to go back to England before Christmas.
All these people, subconciously or otherwise, are writing/talking of the negatives of France.
Now, I know, from experience, that this is what you do when you are set to leave somewhere for pastures new. We have done it ourselves - although not from England to here which was a happy adventure. On some level, you have to go on to a better place.
That's all ok, and I understand, but for the ones left behind it's unsettling.
All these people, subconciously or otherwise, are writing/talking of the negatives of France.
Now, I know, from experience, that this is what you do when you are set to leave somewhere for pastures new. We have done it ourselves - although not from England to here which was a happy adventure. On some level, you have to go on to a better place.
That's all ok, and I understand, but for the ones left behind it's unsettling.
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