Thursday, 28 June 2012
Off to the dribbly UK tomorrow leaving the boys to cope with ant invasions on top of all usual stuff. People have told me it is about 16 degrees where I am going. Difficult to imagine as I write this in gardening shorts and vest top with the dog panting like a traction engine next to me. However, I have packed a cardigan, no socks though. socks are banned after April whatever is going on.
Saturday, 23 June 2012
At last a great evening on 'fete de la musique'. Normally we are in Limoux hoping that this year's events will be wild with music and dancing. No. It apparently was same as ever, Dead. Instead we were at the small village called Fa near Experaza. Despite being no more than a church, some houses and a very nice bar, the organisers had got four bands, food, proper light and sound system. Excellent! Here is our group, 'Les Quat' Cats playing something, possibly Honky Tonk woman, or a Beatles number . . .Mark hidden by drums, Eddi on Guitar, Stan, bass and vocals, me, vocals and sometimes drums, while Mark nips to the piano. Next slot: St Jean de Paracol fete 15th Aug, and a wedding in Nimes next week.
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
You know you are dining with lovely relaxed folks when you can be eating desert and someone nonchalantly mentions there is a small shark head under the table. This was given to us by the fishmonger for the cat, who rejected it, and decided to leave it at our soiree. Better than the headless rat present he brought us the day before I suppose . . . Here is a picture of the said cat, Bronzino who lived in a car before we took him on about nine years ago. He's a good sort, part of the pack, joins in the dog walking, up to a point, and drapes himself decoratively around the garden according to where the sun is.
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
Friday, 15 June 2012
Actually you learn a lot of things, well I do anyway. Like if you leave Toulouse at 5.30 you will get stuck in a huge traffic blob and it's always good to look in your wing mirrors when reversing, to avoid hitting green metal bollards. Before I learnt these things I also learned that Blagnac is actually a rather quaint little town, not just an airport. It has a wonderful species of church: rose brick as Toulouse, newly painted door and ongoing work inside. The painted ceilings are magnificent, but it was a tad dark . . .here are some images of it's old wood-scented interior. After, I wandered to a café in a heavenly state and sat writing for an hour with not a bad cup of tea. Then reversed into said bollard and got stuck in traffic blob. Remained calm and serene throughout.
Wednesday, 13 June 2012
Even here. Our charming parrot likes to leave her deposits scattered around the house. She saves it up over night, and then, 'dam busters' music in her feathered head, bombs. Most get found before they dry to a crispy green shape. This one got away. I had lost my address book . . .again, then found it at the back of the computer. With a decoration. Look at it closely and you will see a perfect Japanese pen and ink drawing of a bird in a marshland setting. Or not.
Saturday, 9 June 2012
I went to Marseille yesterday with Claire. I hadn't been since we nearly changed direction, sold up in Limoux and moved, but didn't . . .That was an odd few months. I had been standing with Mark on the hill of Notre Dame de la Garde about six years ago, looking at the splendid city, the sea and the white chalky mountains. "I could live here," I said. Mark was keen, we put the house up for sale, sold it and then realised Marseille was a step too far. I looked at a flat in this block at the back of the photo, about the same price as a large villa in Limoux. Where would Mark teach, where would we put all the stuff . . . So we moved about half a mile up the road in Limoux, and I'm glad. It was great to be back though, and I think the whole episode was one of those points where you take stock, throw 60 percent of unnecessary things out, and start afresh. Anyway, we had a grand day out: spend hours queuing in an office for a visa for Claire, ate ,moules looking at the sea, got in the sea, and even saw a famous person.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Ollie's best fire sticks (juggling) have been stopped in the postal system due to them smelling suspiciously of kerosene, and thus causing people, as you might expect to become alarmed. Faced with absence of sticks, we went to Parchemin today and got all necessary items to make new ones. This probably should be in my post-mat blog, but . . . The next photo, if in order is the afore-mentioed bits and bobs. Two broom handles an inner tube, a zimmer frame? some screws and an old pair of jeans from my painting cloths box Next pic is of Ollie assembling all the stuff. And hopefully I'll I'll soon upload some photos of him twirling the sticks at night . . .
Monday, 4 June 2012
Our dog situation is pretty feeble at the moment. Una, pictured here, is now about a hundred and thirty in human years and is walking v e r y slowly. The runty dog, having only three legs walks at a pace which is just slightly behind my own, so I have to be careful not to garrote him as we perambulate up the road. When we get back to our mostly car free road, I let him off the lead and walk ahead of them both at the brisk pace required to keep fit. The old dog hobbles along occasionally stopping to smell something unspeakable, and runty runs about until he suddenly freezes for no apparent reason, and you have to walk all the way back to a small quaking dog heap on the verge. When I was back at mum's recently I joined a gym: I never thought I would do this, but it was actually quite good to be able to walk very fast on one of those moving belt machines. with no distractions and having to yell 'Vien ici' every two minutes. Of course the manufacturers could replicate the dog walk experience. It could alleviate the boredom of the 'tread-tread-tread. You could have a program that would incorporate a tangent of running at super high speed to stop your dog pooping on someones doorstep, eating a pigeon carcass, or smelling a ferocious Doberman's backside. The room could be filled with new exciting sounds, 'Rover, you bastard, drop it, or get away you filthy hounds, she's not interested, whack whack of large stick hitting tarmac etc, rather than occasional grunts as someone overdoes the rowing machine, or the hiss hiss of an I pod.
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Strange blip in weather. Good for the garden. After 36 degrees yesterday, a slight shock. I might go back to bed with a hot water bottle and write. Mark is in the studio running his spooky fingers over the keyboard (see pic) and Ezra is flitting between weaving a rag rug, and watching episodes of hell's kitchen. I have had to stop this as there is only so many times you can watch Mr Ramsey finding some bacteria ridden meat and exclaiming 'what ****** left this in the fridge.