What more could a Marmite lover get for Christmas?

I've really made it. Is this fame or what? Live I was. Live, over Oxford street amongst the Marmite Christmas lights. Will life ever be the same again?  I always knew my Marmite obsession would lead to higher things. But this just took the toast with butter and marmite! I could have said 'biscuit'. But who wants drab and dull at this time of the year.  As to what's next. Well. . . the calendar of course! Marmite Girls. I'd be Miss August as my birthday's that month. There I'd be holding my jar of marmite in a tantalisingly strategic fashion. Some of my friends would probably and unkindly say that I'd only need a small jar. But I can take the jibes! Then of course there'd be the film and the stage versions. 2013 is suddenly looking distinctly promising. Who needs to go to France!

Marmite has served me well. And for some time. How could I forget the miniscule savoury sample of marmite in my 'fresher' pack at Uni., the size of a two pound coin that lasted about two minutes? Or my godson's birthday present to me one year, surpassing himself with a box of marmite jars containing the smallest to the very largest. Flying ducks on your wall. You're kidding. Flying marmite jars - empty ones mind you. That's stylish. 

There was a slight aberration (from my point of view) by the producers of Marmite with the arrival of squeegy Marmite. For goodness sake. No way does the marmite from that container taste the same as from the traditional jar. I refuse to be convinced. In any case, who wants a runny Marmite that bears an unfortunate resemblance to the contents of a baby's nappy. The only thing I think that runny Marmite is good for is art classes. I wrote humorously to Marmite to explain all this. Fortunately someone replied humorously with a two-page letter, and included a voucher for a large jar of Marmite and a set of Marmite coasters. Since then I have acquired a pair of Marmite socks with Love on one and Hate on the other; a Marmite T-Shirt, a Marmite coffee cup and saucer and a Marmite fridge magnet. I've eaten my way through quite a few jars of the delicious brown stuff as well as trying Marmite cereal bars. That was a real turn up. An unexpected treat - at least for me. Bristol station one mid-week morning, to discover free Marmite cereal bar samples being handed out at every entrance/exit.  Mike was somewhat perplexed at the time it took us to leave the station and go to the Arnolfini Gallery, which was the whole purpose of us being there, as well as by the size of my coat pockets, which by then, were almost bursting with cereal bars.


So now, as of Thursday 20 December, my dedication to the cause has paid off, and I've been inspired to experiment with foodie things for the festive season. Having just made a batch of delicious lavender ice cream, I want something chilled and savoury as an alternative.  

A Marmite sorbet!  Imagine that!

Heston Blumenthal eat your heart out!

Happy holidays everyone. Go well and I hope 2013 is everything you would like it to be.

Back Blog

End of the Season

We've been back in BOA a month now and totally absorbed in sorting things out in and for the house. All of which has had to take priority, but has meant no time for blogging, photography etc.  However yesterday morning I managed at last to get out early and got some shots in and some editing done. Then got the blog underway, loads of music stuff done and finally French conversation. All in all, a satisfying day. 

Us 'no longer working' types clearly have the opportunity to influence what we do as well as when do it, even though things still don't always work out as planned. I  appreciate that 'no longer working' is a mouthful to say, but I really loathe the word 'retired'.  It's stupid.  What exactly does it mean?  And as for being shy and retiring. Ha! I tried that one on some long-time pals when I was having a pathetic moment, a while back, after several glasses of wine. Shy and retiring? Me? They all just burst out laughing. No mileage in that idea. I've never been retiring or shy either in thought, word or deed. So I don't see why I should start now.

One good thing is that our book problem has been resolved. Ex- Libris, our local bookshop, has taken quite a few. Friends are taking some others. Another friend, Dickie, is having all my German paperbacks by Heinrich Böll (H.B.) who she actually met on one occasion.  I just love his writing. I've held on to my favourite book of his - Group Portrait with A Lady. Just couldn't part with it. I found out about H.B., purely by chance while on holiday in Canada and the States, back in '86. My knowledge of German Literature at this time was quite limited. but Helen an Israeli from Tel Aviv, who we met while travelling through the Canadian Rockies phase, told me about him. Helen and I became pen pals, which lasted for about twelve years until she died. Hers was an extraordinary story and a precious friendship, from which I learnt so much. As to the remainder of our books . . .well we're quite happy with them. Most will go into storage while some will come with us to France.

Took delivery of a sack yesterday afternoon, when Bradford on Avon Community Agriculture Co-operative came by to deliver some vegetables. The link is straight to their website. Worth a look. BOCA is a new food initiative, which supplies local residents with 'affordable seasonal fruit and vegetables'. It all looks so delicious. This is the first time we've been able to buy/support. We've always been away. Really pleased with the quality and the quantity. Just hope it can keep going.

The Kindle's been working over time. Just finished The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton.
An intriguing chain of events that begin in London during WW2 and finish in the present. The story development is so well-handled and you only get an idea of where it's going to land right at the very end. Now started The Lewis Man by Peter May. A superb thriller, which had to get published in France where it won an award, after being turned down by  English publishers. It's set in the Outer Hebrides. I'm definitely an Ian Rankin/Rebus fan, the same way as I'm a Le Carré/Smiley fan. Addicted is probably a better description. Anyway Peter May as enticed me away to a new landscape and a new and equally gnarled detective character. I'm really on a roll with reading at the moment. Neither of these books I've wanted to put down. Remember one time on my way into work on the London Underground with a Richard Harris novel stuffed in my bag. Sat down (that was a surprise!) and started reading. Managed to overshoot my station by three stops. Got off. Crossed over to the other platform, got back on the tube, started reading and overshot in the other direction. I put the book away!



Good weekends all!!

Busy week

I have been wondering whether I really can write a blog called Tales from BOA, or if I should just stick to Tales from Cravant. After all we're only going to be here for two months.  Geographically Tales from BOA  would be accurate. But then I thought perhaps two blogs would cause the very confusion I was trying to avoid, as well as being a bit over the top and probably unsustainable. In any case the idea before I left France had been to write a blog in French. But that would mean I'd need a third blog address. Then even I'd be confused. French bits no doubt would start creeping into the English blog and English bits into the French blog. Worse still I could run out of ideas, in any language. Then what? noideasforablog.blogspot.com? So for sanity's sake I'm sticking to one blog, Tales from Cravant, which until 2 January 2013 will cover stuff from Bradford on Avon. As to the French blog - we'll I'll see.

We've had a great first week back. Seen lots of friends. Taken loads of photos, mostly macro. Yesterday morning there was a farewell coffee and cake 'gathering', about twenty of us, at the Fat Fowl for friends Moira and Anthony who are moving to Skye. They leave on Tuesday. Last night we went to Jenny and Rob's joint 60th ceilidh birthday party at their village hall in Holt. Such fun. Got absolutely hysterical at one point. Crying with laughter as everything went hopelessly wrong. I was aching everywhere. This morning, we've been absorbing the Beeb fiasco, and catching up with the papers etc. Also got some bread made, more cutting back done in our garden and made a start on our books. So we've not been idle.


The books are a real problem. Only a few can come to France and we don't want loads of them in storage. But at the same time, when we move back, we want books in the house. So it's complicated. Mike and I are as bad as each other. As you pull them off the shelves the books start weaving their magic, and you have to sit down and read at them. Before you know it - another hour has gone by.  Books are precious friends!  So I'm forcing myself to be rational: how many times have I read this book? What can I remember about it? What did I really like about it. Am I truly going to read it again? I started going through them one by one, which in itself takes a long time. There are some books I must have read at least a dozen times and I know that at some point I'll need my fix and will read them yet again. Some of them I've read every year for as long as I can remember, but only as winter kicks in and Christmas gets nearer. Regressive and at least for me, gems, such as  A Christmas Carol and The Wind in the Willows. The really tricky books are those that I've only read once, but which made such a lasting first impression, that I've not as yet been able to read them a second time. They've been sitting on our book shelves for a few years, offering visual reminders of amazing reads:  Marguerite Duras - La Douleur, Heinrich Böll - Group Portrait of A Lady, The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov, Joseph Heller - Catch-22.  These and a few others I either read straight through in one sitting or over a couple of days. Since then I only have to look at each cover and wham. There's still a powerful response.

Anyway we've not done too badly. There are three large boxes sorted out. One of them contains those books I'm 'joined at the hip with'. The others, books we've both agreed can be sacrificed. Then it's a question of where they go?  No point selling fiction on Amazon. Our local book shop that keeps a second-hand section, looks very overwhelmed. Charity shops probably. Of course amid all this book soul-searching and book angst, what did I do. I bought another book. 

One of the local groups in BOA - the Art Association organises various events throughout the year. I'd booked a place in advance for one which took place last week, just after we got back.  A talk by Persephone Books. Persephone is a small team of two with a turnover of trainees to help, who re-publish neglected fiction and non-fiction by women, for women and about women. I've been on their mailing list for a while. The first book of theirs that I read was written by Winifred Watson in 1938 - Miss Pettigrew Lives for a day. Wonderful writing. Couldn't put it down. Read it in a day. Anyway the talk was held at the Fat Fowl, and came with tea and cakes. Couldn't resist a collection of short stories, available at a special price of £10 and which I have just started to read. The books are available through Amazon and some also on Kindle. So if you've not heard of them, suggest you take a look.
Well worth it.


 













 

Stuffing a national treasure

Well we're back in BOA. Got in early hours of yesterday morning having driven through torrential rain on our side of the channel. Seemed to be a lot of customs activity checking lorries going through. Can only assume there was an alert on. Crossing was a bit up and down, literally, but having taken something in advance, we were fine. Port traffic meant we  disembarked about 30 minutes late. Very busy, but customs checks were moving along. We got in at about 12.30pm. Not too bad. Our friend John had got some milk and bread in for us and as always had sorted through our mail in his usual meticulous fashion. Only this time he'd had four months worth to deal with. Nonetheless it was all laid out, Bic style in  'her' and 'his'piles.  Mike discovered he had a tax rebate - three figures - so useful. And I discovered I was now eligible to register to receive my pension. Got to bed around 2am. Up at 8am. Ploughed through the paperwork. Online pension registration didn't seem to be working, so I phoned the 'special' number and had a very nice lady take my details. Then she asked if I was considering delaying receiving my pension in order to get a better deal or lump sum or something. Politely, I explained to her I had already had an 18 month delay from my 60th birthday before receiving my stately dues, because of changes to the system, and suggested that perhaps I should automatically receive 'the better deal'. Strangely she laughed! Finally all was correctly registered and we parted company on the best of terms. So as of 6 Jan 2013 I officially become an OAP.  What more could a girl want.
By lunchtime we were asleep.  Got going again in time for me to start my first advanced French conversation group at The Dandylion pub. Mike's starting his group next week. Called 'French Upstairs' I got there for 6pm had about an hour with two others. Gérard who leads it is a very nice guy. Apparently there's usually five or six people, but most were away this week. Then afterwards I shot off round to a near neighbours to meet up with Mike and some others for dinner. Great evening, lovely food. We left around midnight. 

This morning of course we were both wide-awake at 7am. It was only a matter of time before fatigue kicked in. I'd made arrangements to meet some friends for coffee. On the way I went to buy some vegetables from the lady grocer in The Shambles in the centre of BOA.The street really doesn't look that different today, from the photo here.  Anyway I asked for two big flat mushrooms. Or so I thought. She stared at me and asked if I'd meant to say that. 'What did I say then?'. 'You asked for two big flat tomatoes'.  I'd already managed earlier this morning to write out our Sainsburys shopping list in French. 
Now I've just decided to eat some Quaker Apply and Blueberry Porridge oats, which is the only thing I use the microwave for. And of course it has overflowed all over inside and  down the side of the bowl. What was left of my porridge was delicious. I'm approaching equipment with care for the rest of the day.

My hazy gloom however was only momentary. Let's try this out. What does
Get stuffed mean. I can think of a few interpretations. To get stuffed, as in eating too much. Why don't you get stuffed? - the unpolite version of to please mind you're own business and go away. Researching further, there are various websites telling you where
to get stuffed crust pizzas. There is a cookery programme called the Get Stuffed Cookery Show, an ITV late-night show offering apparently 'unpretentious recipes for the totally clueless'. Tring Festival has a Get Stuffed Comedy club. And of course there's www.thegetstuffed.co.uk. an old established company dealing with all aspects of taxidermy. 
The next thing I researched was the meaning of A National Treasure. Stephen Fry is often referred to as a national treasure (N.T.). Sir Winston Churchill was described by Queen as an N.T. in 1952. David Attenborough is regarded as another one. A more official definition of a national treasure is an artefact, institution, or public figure regarded as being 'emblematic of a nation’s cultural heritage or identity'. No surprises there.

So it was very interesting this morning to read about Albert at the Foreign Office.
I want to keep this in perspective. Here in the UK, like everywhere else, we're in dire economic straits. Drastic action required we're told. Which is why this government of ours is cutting everything back it can gets its paws on. We know it. We feel it. William Hague our Foreign Secretary views deep cuts to public spending as 'essential to the future of the country'. That must be why he's signed a £10,000 bill on behalf of us taxpayers to have Albert the Anaconda who has hung in the F.O.library for 120 years, re-stuffed. Albert was last stuffed about fifty years ago.  A spokesman for the F.O. stated "we will not scale back in our dedication to preserve this historic national treasure". The work was carried out by a specialist team from the Natural History Museum. Shame none of us are going to see it.
 

Busy Days

Teazle Heads

It's always a strange, mixed set of feelings as we get set to go back to the UK. We've friends over there who we are really looking forward to seeing and spending time with. Bradford on Avon has a very special feel about it at Christmas and New Year. If the weather is good, preferably a bright, crisp day, with a splattering of snow, BOA transports you into the traditional Christmas card scene of another century, with the narrow streets and old bridge and buildings. Bath is absolutely glorious as well, leading into the festive season, with the Christmas market and concerts. But somehow or other France has captured our hearts and minds and it's a wrench to return, even though this time we know we must, to sort things out for our move. There are some friends who over the next few months in the UK we must say 'bye' to, as we won't see them again unless at some stage they come to visit in France. Technology of course makes keeping in touch so easy. For the first few years after we've moved, we are allowed to spend fifteen days each year in the UK. We have an annual commitment in London which is important to get to. But apart from that we don't in the first year, what to use our allocation in one hit, in case something urgent crops up that we have to return for. It affects your residency status. In all likelihood we'll travel over to London next June, by train.

Cravant vines in autumn

The way things have worked out, we're going back earlier than we usually do. In fact this time last year, we were taking the ferry out to France, rather than back to the UK as we are this year.  Autumn has yet to fully develop as far as all the colours are concerned. We know what it can look like here, so have a clear picture in our heads of the Cravant panorama in all its glory. It's a stunning view. 

Getting ready to go back is always quite a performance. The week before, you're packing things up, tidying things away, getting wine orders together and this time Christmas presents as well, all of which is mixed up with a hectic social life. There's been something happening with local friends every day since last Thursday - great fun, and today we're meeting some more friends for lunch at L'Auberge. One way or another it's a whirl of activity. And it's the same when we get back to the UK. One piece of news that we weren't wanting to get concerns a wine producer here Fabrice Gasnier. We met him for the first time on the rando round Cravant at the beginning of September and have bought wine from him a couple of times since. Lovely guy and family. We'd been trying to make contact with him, as friends in BOA who had stayed with us and tasted his wines, had specifically asked if we could bring some of his wine back for them, for Christmas and New Year. So since last Thursday we've been attempting to make contact by phone and going round on the off chance we might catch up with him. But not a sign and calls weren't returned which is most unusual. Anyway last night, we heard he'd had a very bad accident, which involved him falling from a high enough point directly on to a concrete floor on his back. Various injuries as you can imagine, including a punctured lung. Wine producing is a delicious business from our point of view as customers. But it's a tough business and at times it is also a dangerous business.

Our first night back in BOA, we've had a lovely invitation to dinner from friends who live about five minutes away. Other friends are going as well, who are also moving away. They leave for Skye on November 13. Just before dinner I'm going to my first weekly French conversation group. Really didn't want be back in the UK and not chat in French. Fortunately there is a weekly group led by Frenchman Gérard, which restarts the day we get back. So the timing is perfect. Mike is joining one of his other groups.  During the day we will have attacked a four month pile of mail. We have a wonderful friend John who looks after the house for us. He is meticulous in his organising of our post. Firstly into his and her piles and then in date order of arrival. Also he gets rid of all the junk mail! He's so good about doing it.  Sunday night we're out to a jazz gig that a friend of ours is involved with.
Monday we're round to dinner with our friends Sue and Dave, although the Origami Chef will have been at work over the weekend with a few apéro dishes to take along. Then we're all going to a big firework party. Or maybe it's the other way round.

The following week we're into a run of appointments. Dentist, hairdresser - that means me going to Jim. Will be lovely to see him and the rest of the gang. There's a whole tranche of birthdays on the 9th and 10th of November and joint 60th birthday party. After all that, we're getting on with getting sorted.

So for the next few days, I'm blogging of. Then over to Tales from BOA.

Go well!!

The rebranding of Chick Lit

Well it was only a matter of time. I will freely admit I've never read any Chick Lit. I do know what it is!  Anything that deals with the issues of modern womanhood, which I regard myself as still being part of, in a frequently humorous and lighthearted fashion, I should perhaps have made time for. After all I thoroughly enjoyed the film version of Bridget Jones's diary. It was hilarious. What's more the author Helen Fielding is an English graduate from Oxford. So that must surely mean decent writing!

However it's all quite irrelevant. Been overtaken by events. Because what we now have is Bic Lit, which I'm assuming is more or less the same as Chick Lit only more girly, more relevant to the modern woman, more humorous and more lighthearted, because it's written with those pretty pastel coloured pens. And of course Bic Lit is much better value. Made for the female hand, Bic Lit authors can hold their pens for a greater length of time.  Not as exhausting as having to write with those nasty, heavy male pens.  Which means that with the added bonus of the smoother writing action of the Bic lit pen, there'll be more words committed to paper, so the books will be longer. Isn't that a lovely!

Bic Lit looks different as well. Gone are the days of boring old black on white. The secret yearning of the 'gentler sex' to use materials that compliment their ultra-femininity has been realised. For the first time ever, Bic Lit authors will be writing on that lovely pink, scented paper. There's a clear strategy at work here. The pens have been specially designed for this application. Just think of it. An aromatic waft with every page turned. Finding Bic Lit in bookshops will be a doddle. All you need do is follow your nose.  It is going to revolutionise the reading experience.  I wonder how the Kindle will respond to the nasal challenge? After all, these days book and kindle version are part of the regular marketing mix.

What I am looking forward to are the Bic Lit awards or the Bic-er awards. Not sure when the first one will take place or where. Will it be in London? Of course! At The Gherkin.With its uncanny resemblance to the cap shape of the Bic pen, the awards have found their natural home. There'll have to be a bit of rebranding of course. But all The Her-bic would need is a special lighting effect with a sequenced colour change across the entire Bic for Her range, and London will have added an orgasbic visual experience to the city's skyline. Life's a bic really. There's poor old Sir Norman Baron Foster of Bic Bank - sorry Thames Bank - thinking he's designed an iconic architectural form for Londoners, when all the time he's been working for the Bic marketing department.

Presumably the Bic-er awards will get similar tv coverage to the Booker?  Who'll be hosting it? Mariella Frostrup perhaps. Don't think it would be up Germaine Greer's street. But you never know. What about Miranda Sawyer? Patsy and Edwina?
As much as I love him, I don't think it could be or should be Stephen Fry.
Hm.
Got it!
What about Ellen Degeneres?

The Origami Chef

The Origami Chef

Food in France is very important. It's not just something you eat. The essentialness of eating and cooking is deeply embedded in the national psyche. So every culinary experience, wherever and whenever it takes place, has to be good. And the expectation here is that it will be. Therefore every time we 'entertain', it's always carefully planned. Sounds like a lot of work, but it isn't. We keep things simple and use quality produce from our local market. I do the regular catering, as tomorrow when we have a French friend for lunch. Although Marie-Michèle is bringing the ingredients for the dessert - Pain Perdu, which Mike adores and I don't know how to make. So she's making it here with me helping. Whenever we go to Cravant's L'Auberge for lunch, they no longer ask what Mike wants for dessert. He is known as 'Monsieur Pain Perdu'. 

Mike is a reluctant cook, although he's actually very good at it. The few times I have been really unwell he has come up with something simple but delicious. But he very clearly sees himself as the 'emergency' chef. He doesn't enjoy doing it. So I look after the daily stuff. 
However Mike has found his niche within the culinary world.

Most of our friends and children either side of the channel know that the taller Shearing is into origami. Fascinated by it in fact. Quite a few homes have a Shearing fold or two, perched on a book case. Fortunately this fascination with things small, which clearly includes me, has been extended to include food, in particular small more fiddly savouries, which are the format for un apéro or un apéro dinatoire - as we had here last night with some neighbours. 

We began with baby tomatoes, which he stuffed with egg, anchovy and olives with pimento. There were little tartelettes with various rillette fillings - fish and meat. Blinis with smoked salmon, crème fraîche and 'mock' caviar. Miniature courgette tartelettes - no pastry just courgette baked in a particular way - so it's a very light mixture. Quails eggs with celery salt. Manchego cheese with membrillo, which is a quince paste and finally my sole contribution, which were individual miniature pavlovas with fresh orange. Started off with fizzy, red wines during and a dessert wine, which as you'd expect were sourced locally. I have to say it was all quite delicious. He'd prepared everything, made all the tartelette cases etc. I was really proud of him.

So as The Origami Chef's newly appointed manager we have unexpectedly and half-seriously, hit on a brand name for our particular range of savoury bouchée. Perhaps we should do something with the idea.Would be rather exciting.

I lost my phone inside a cow!

Every time I get an idea together for a blog at the moment, something distracts me and sends me off on a completely different track. I think it's all part of my generally distracted demeanor, as I finish getting ready for a visit to the UK next week. One half of me is in France and the other half in England. It's always like this just before we go back. I'll be pleased when it stops. I end up putting things in the wrong place.

So what caused the distraction this time? Well there a several things .To begin with a posting on Facebook from The Daily Mail by Michael Shearing entitled,  I lost my phone inside a cow! It's an article  about mobile phone insurance claims. The title comes from a claim by a farmer who was trying to help a cow give birth and was using the light on his phone, to do what he needed to do. Without being too graphic, the farmer managed during the process, apparently, to drop the phone inside the cow. I just hope there weren't any calls or text messages!  This reminded of a list of hilarious car insurance claims I've got somewhere in the BOA house. They make wonderful reading. . . 'I was parking my car and a tree suddenly jumped out at me and made me swerve into the other vehicle'.  I've had the list for ages and never used it. Now's my chance. Watch this space. Then there was the late night news round-up on Southern TV when I was down in Sussex with Mike one time, which included a report about  a man who had been arrested one evening, after knocking down a cow while on his pedal bike. And then running over it! How? The cow survived but had an interesting kink!  This story remains a complete mystery.

Then I remembered my own mobile phone moments, all of which happened while I was still working in the theatre. I'd phoned one of my technicians from my mobile on his mobile, not knowing that he'd given his phone to an actor to rehearse with. So I managed to phone up in the middle of a rehearsal at the most perfect moment by all accounts, which had the cast in hysterics and they had to stop. Another time I was on tour in Scotland, in a restaurant with the company on what was now our night off. I'd gone to the loo - a modernised block of six metallic cubicles which after I'd arrived, were all occupied. My mobile phone went off. It was so loud, that all the little metal boxes resounded with laughter, as I tried to discuss in a whisper, details of a company call my boss wanted the following day, over breakfast. I could only imagine what it must have sounded like, me whispering 'I'm on the loo and everyone's listening'. The incident at the Barbican was the worst. Me of all people! After a hefty day of rehearsals I had gone to see a show and had forgotten to switch my mobile off. No phonecalls, but the battery was low, and so of course in the middle of the action, it started bleeping. I couldn't get at it either until the interval as my bag had got wedged right under the seat with my coat in front of it. Never did it again mind you!

Then came a Ellen Generes clip, again on Facebook, which a uni pal of mine Debbie posted. I'm not saying any more. Just have a look at it if you've got a minute.
What I wanted to blog about is a French magazine I'm reading which has a whole series of features about French cinema. As I mentioned in an earlier blog we go to the cinema regularly in Chinon and thoroughly enjoy the mix of mainstream and art house movies. So reading a bit more about the history of French cinema has been really interesting.

So finally I am at the point where I was going to start. Although after all the earlier stuff, I'm not sure this really fits in. Anyway I found a really interesting article about the brothers Auguste et Louis Lumière who are credited with the development of film as a mass medium, using the camera-projector called a 'cinématograph 1' They were born 150 years ago on the 19th of October 1862. Their first public film showing was on the 28th December in Paris,1895. Entitled 'Workers leaving the factory' the film started at 7pm and ran for 50 seconds, in front of 33 people. The you tube link is a bit sticky. One of their other famous pieces is called L'Arroseur arrosé which runs for about 44 seconds. The affect on audiences to see moving images must have been quite astounding. The same when sound in movies arrived. For me such a moment was watching a man land on the moon - live broadcast. Quite amazing and something I'll never forget. Back to the Lumière brothers - their house and studio in Lyon is now a cinema and museum and attracts renowned cinéastes (film directors) from all over the world for talks, lectures etc.
A couple of brilliant inventors.

The things you find

original cast

I had got a blog sorted out for today. At least in my head. But then everything changed to more important matters. First of all, Trekkies have been gathering for a Star Trek convention in London this month: 19-21 October.  Got to admit it has been an amazing year for London. First of all Mrs. Queen celebrates her sixtieth anniversary as Mrs Queen. Then came the Olympics, followed by the Paralympics and now a Star Trek convention, which this year has five Star Trek Captains all present and correct. My favourites are Kirk and Jean-Luc Picard otherwise known as William Shatner and Patrick Stewart.   
Am I getting excited or what! 
I am a Junior Trekkie, in as much as I loved the first few series, but never progressed to the costume or make-up stage. The idea of getting decked out does rather appeal though. The question is as what. I'm grappling with the fact that despite my aspirations, I would never have been cast as an Elf in Lord of the Rings - height problem. Or maybe they did they have short elves and Tolkien simply never got round to writing about them, and now obviously, never will. So Star Trek has got to make up for it. I quite fancy playing Uhuru the Communications Officer in the original series. (That would be me in the back row second from the right). Driving the Starship Enterprise instead of Sulu would be good. (That would be me in the back row first on the right). Warp factor 9 Lt. Shearing. Beam me down Shearing. Oops no that means that I'd have to be the whizz engineer, Scotty - don't think so! I'm not good with a spanner.  This is all too much. I'll just have to content myself with watching the DVDs of the original series. Devil in The Dark is one of my favourite episodes featuring The Horta. Terrifying at the time, it now looks like a speeding brown blancmange with acne and a fringe. Still good ideas in the script though. Or The Menagerie - a two-parter all to do with  mind control, illusion and other things.

Then came the news that Superman had resigned from his post with The Daily Planet. This is serious stuff. You know things must be really bad if even Superman has given up. Does this mean that the all American hero is going to disappear for ever? Who will he be replaced with? Wonder if there's any chance that the Lone Ranger and Tonto will come back with their trusty steeds Silver and Scout. Nice little clip here. Will have you on the edge of your seats! Not that I'm regressing or anything, but according to my mother, I used to watch this every week, and every week I would run round the back of the television set to see where all the cowboys and horses and disappeared to.

Having suffered a double whammy of missing a Star Trek convention and a superhero resigning, I thought I'd go outside and do some gardening. Beautiful afternoon and after all the rain we'd had, the beds had dried out enough so that I didn't get covered in mud as I walked around pruning and weeding. Started cutting back one of our rosemary bushes that had grown too big and was becoming a bit of a thug. The branches were so thick, I had to climb into the bush to be able to cut it back. I'd taken off a couple of pieces, then saw carefully balanced on a thick branch but wedged against our house wall an empty, but perfect birds nest. It was an amazing construction and completely hidden from view. Whichever bird built it had a good eye for a secure spot. I took a few photos of it, then left it intact. Had no idea it was there.  Cheered me up no end.



PS It looks like The Lone Ranger is coming back. There's a film being produced with Johnny Depp. Well who else could it possibly be!

The Arts Crowd

Autumn Bell

Having spent thirty+ years immersed in the London arts scene - career and for fun - the decision to move away wasn't an easy one. Our choices of where to move to were heavily influenced by the degree of arts stuff available. We breathe the arts, so continued access was very important. Sounds very smug I know, but with both places we've pretty much aced it. Bradford on Avon (BOA) has been a creative town for centuries and continues to attract all sorts of artistic talent, many of whom are nationally (and internationally) very well known. Bath which is about 8k from BOA is packed with arts events in all sorts of conceivable spaces and all year round, as is Bristol. Then there are annual music and literature festivals in nearby-ish Cheltenham, Salisbury and Gloucester.  And of course London isn't that far away so we usually go back at least a couple of times a year.  We're there the weekend before Christmas.

Our French life is similarly busy with arts events.  From time to time we'd do the usual touristy things of visiting chateaux and gardens. But pretty much all of them organise special themed events and late night openings as an extra way of attracting visitors. Living half the year in France we've gradually become aware of the depth of the creative life in the region. Obviously there's a lot more happening during the season, but being around regularly, you get to know those smaller hidden places and spaces which operate all year round and which we always support when we're here.

Some of them I've already mentioned in earlier blogs and there's more to come. But as far as well known faces are concerned this side of the Channel, the Loire has certainly attracted some 'star' turns. Two of the best known are Leonard da Vinci and to give him his full name, Joseph Mallord William Turner. A quick drive over to Amboise will bring you to the Clos Lucé - Leonardo da Vinci's last destination, which is dedicated to his memory and creative genius, with fabulous working scale models in the house as well as the gardens. Turner was totally besotted with the Loire and appears to have sketched his way along the Loire via Brittany. Whether or not he came to Chinon or Cravant even, I've no idea, but he certainly went to Amboise and Saumur which is another big town to blog about at some stage. The Tate has at least one of Turner's French scenes in its collection. Turner also encouraged other British artists to experience the Loir, including Samuel Proute (architectural watercolour), William Callow (landscape, engraving, watercolour) and Clarkson Stanfield. He was a real turn up. I had heard of him as being an exceptional marine painter, but it turns out that he also worked in the theatre as a scene painter, including the Drury Theatre in London.

Calder mobile: Saché

Two more recent names are Max Ernst and Alexander Calder. Max Ernst lived in Huismes about 8 k from Chinon, with American artist Dorothea Tanning who, amazingly died in January this year aged 101. Calder lived in Saché, which is a bit further away from us at around 22k. There's all sorts of information about him (and Ernst) on the web. I'll never forget the first time we drove through Saché, which is a sweet place but not overly special and there in the centre of the village was/is an enormous Calder mobile. The Chateau at Tours which we visited recently for another exhibition, staged a massive retrospective exhibition of Calder's work a few years ago, which included some filmed pieces of his amazing miniature circus and photos - including shots with his friend Max Ernst. Wonderful collection. 

Anyway if you want to see more, there's a lot of information about all three artists - Calder, Ernst and Tanning - on the web including youtube. It's worth having a look.

What's the French for. . ?

I love the French language as much as I do English. If I didn't I don't think it would be possible to live here. I've always preferred the sound of the lyrical languages such as French, Spanish and Italian. There's something uplifting, expressive about them and they make me smile. But gutteral languages such as German just have never appealed to my ear and I never enjoyed the feel of the language on my tongue. Which is perhaps why I gave it up at school as soon as the opportunity presented itself. 

I can't imagine what the effect would be if, one morning you woke up not only disliking the sound of your own language, but not having any interest in it. Luckily I've always been fascinated by words and they've shaped my life sometimes in the most unexpected ways. Now of course, out of choice, I've two lexicons to play with.

I hadn't appreciated until relatively recently, that at least 43% of English comes from French. Our neighbours here and our co-conversationalists found this quite intriguing. Given our countries shared histories, it's not surprising that language would be part of the cultural exchange. But it's only since I started studying French again and regularly using both languages that I've become aware of the cross-over. Many 'every day' words in English are the same in French. On occasion they are even spelt the same, or there might a one letter difference. Some words are of French origine, but over time have acquired different meanings in each country.

During the summer the grand-children of our neighbours Norbert and Jacqueline came round for an English lesson, to try and ease their worries about starting to learn it at school in Septembre. So I got about 100 words together just to start them off, which were either exactly the same in either language, or had a one letter difference. Of course pronunciation is clearly différente and important to get right. And each word in French comes with gender definition. However the look on their faces as the réalisation began to sink in, that they already knew some English words was just wonderful to see. 

Here are a some which are so obvious, but I'd just stopped thinking about the connection: chef, diction, blancmange, cuisine,orange, table, impossible, ballet, jungle, patron, discipline, adorable, judo, vampire. lion, panorama.

The link below gives an A-Z of English/French cognates.

French language

If not now then when?

Top Girls - Caryl Churchill's play popped up in conversation the other morning. I've just checked up when it was written. I couldn't remember.  Thirty years ago - 1982. Can't quite believe it. I've always enjoyed the device Churchill uses of mixing historical characters - factual, fictional and mythological with those of 'today', as a means of tracking the female condition/situation. And it coincided well with our group's conversation, during which we discussed and attempted to choose another period to live in, as opposed to our own time. 

The characters in Top Girls offered an interesting selection of time and place to give us a kick-start. Pope Joan a legendary female Pope who apparently was in the lead spot for a few years during the Middle Ages; Isabella Bird a 19th century English explorer, writer and natural historian; Dull Gret who appeared in a Breughal painting-I think in 1562; the concubine Lady Nijo from 13th century Japan and Patient Griselda who appears in Chaucer's The Clerk's Tale (Canterbury Tales), although P.G., seems to have been adapted from an earlier text by Boccaccio. None of us girls at the conversation fancied being concubines. There was something appealing about Isabella Bird who bore some comparison to Alienor of Aquitaine in terms of travelling about, and crossing oceans and vast landscapes. A French friend Bernard who regularly comes to the conversation sessions ( phonetic pronunciation = Bearnar) fancied being a Troubadour and seemed happy if a few of us wanted to tag along.  Mike volunteered. Difficult for me though, because probably women (as in early theatre) weren't allowed to perform. Then someone reminded Bernard he couldn't take his car, so the whole trip was cancelled.  

The idea of being a Time Lord was far more interesting at least as far as I was concerned. Being able to leap backwards and forwards, preferably without changing sex has always appealed to my imagination. Gender issues apart, the main drawback with the Time Lord c.v., is that you're saving the world 24/7, which doesn't leave much time for sight-seeing. So no easy answer to the question of 'If not now, then when?'. Rather than living permanently in another time, there are people and events I would truly like to see.  Quite a few of them are musical moments such as hearing Mozart play or if you believe the film, the moment Glenn Miller discovered his sound. There are all sorts of unanswered historical questions about the pyramids I'd love to resolve. What's the real reason dinosaurs are extinct? Far Side Cards would amusingly have us believe it's because they smoked too many cigarettes. Scroll down the link here - it's about the seventh image.

One region and period that intrigues apart from the Plains Indians in the United States, is Andalucia in Medieval Spain. I came across 'The Ornament of the World' by Maria Rosa Menocal a few years ago. It's riveting stuff, although academics/specialists of the period feel her writing is a little light-weight. But as an introduction it's terrific and describes a time when Muslim, Jew and Christian communities created a culture of tolerance which lasted for at least five hundred years.

Too many options. It's as difficult as trying to pick your eight favourite records for Desert Island Discs, which we tried to do one Christmas. Or if you really want your brain to go into overdrive - the ultimate dinner party - who would you invite to your last meal?

The whole conversation was brought to a close by one of Bernard's jokes. 
 What do you call a mad man who throws himself into  the river in Paris. . .?

InSeine. 

I think I'd better bring this blog to a close.

What a great few days!

Winter flower on the hydrangea

Monday 15the October some friends of ours arrived for a couple of nights on their way down to Spain where they're in the process of restoring a house up in the Pyrenees. Two of them, Jane and Bob, live in Bradford on Avon and we see each regularly. Jane's daughter Sarah was with them, who is married and lives and works with her husband (they have their own practice) as an architect, also in Spain. So Sarah was going home. Jane and Bob had been to once us before, but that occasion, they were on their way back from Spain to Bradford on Avon. For Sarah this was her first visit. We had a really good time together. Dinner at home here Monday evening - the wine was flowing, so a late night. Tuesday 16th was our wedding anniversary (41st). Having finally managed to get up and make coherent conversation, we went for a walk round the village and then headed down to our local restaurant L'Auberge for lunch. We're so lucky to have this place - just ten minutes down the road. That is if you're not going for a wander round first. It's one of those gradually disappearing places that offer great food at a great price. Lunch at € 14.50 offers a freshly prepared menu with a choice of starter, either a buffet or a hot dish, which this time was a leek tartelette. Three choices for a main dish - steak, beef casserole or fish followed by a cheese board. Finally a dessert from five possibilities. Wine is also included - 250 cl. person or half a litre for two, unlimited bread and water. Coffee is the extra and any pre-lunch drinks. It was all just wonderful. We'd reserved a table in advance and they'd given us the round table in the window, which was ideal. We'd wanted the others to be able to see everything that was going on and from this table it's possible.  As usual we were looked after very well. After that there was a visit to Fontevraud Abbey which they all just loved. Unfortunately they also found the impossibly delicious cake shop opposite the main entrance to Abbey. So back home for tea and cakes. We were treated to lunch and cakes - so spoilt rotten. Loads of chat and discussion in the evening and singing with Mike accompanying on the ukelele. Up earlyish this morning (17th) - 7am, as they needed to have some breakfast and get underway as soon as it was light - which at the moment here is about 8.00am. Didn't envy them their drive - at least eleven hours - a long haul, including a stop for lunch. Fingers crossed they arrive safely.

 

Looks like being a great day

Monday 15 October has got off to a very good start. It's SUNNY!!!! If it can only stay like this for the week and dry things out. The second good thing is that we have some friends staying for a couple of nights from Bradford on Avon (BOA), on their way through to Spain. The third good thing is that another close friend of mine from BOA sold six pieces of work over the weekend at an annual Art Trail, which has a very good reputation. The first time I believe she's entered it. So so pleased for her.


Anyway this is a necessarily short blog. I need to dry my hair. Then we're into Chinon for French conversation. In thirty minutes so I must get a move on.

Also it's our wedding anniversary tomorrow, Tuesday 16th - so no blogs as we're out all day. Loads of news on Wednesday.

The Vendange is not underway

A friend sent some information yesterday about a wine producer in Sussex (my county), or West Sussex to be more precise. Nyetimber wines, who produce terrific sparkling wine. They have had just had to scrap their entire 2012 harvest because of the weather, which has badly affected the grapes ability to mature. They rate quality above everything else. This was the company who supplied the wine for the Queen's Royal Barge during the jubilee festivities. The impact will be felt in three to four years time apparently. I've attached an newspaper article about it and their website. 

There have been some 'local' producers on FB giving up dates on how their harvest is going. Laure Dozon at Ligré has had a very good harvest. Another Chateau de l'aulée in Azay le Rideau has had a bit of a struggle with theirs, but it seems to be coming together. Both producers make excellent wine and we buy from them regularly.

It's very difficult to understand fully what's going on locally here in Cravant with the wine harvest. Since my last blog about it, there's been no activity in the village. It started Wednesday then stopped. Plenty of equipment and people waiting to get going, but we've had such heavy rain pretty much ever since that nothing and no one is moving. Today, Sunday, it's more of the same. Producers have parcelles of vines with different soils, all over the place to provide the fabulous range of flavours that all of us here are accustomed to drinking, and from just one grape. Cabernet Franc  But the balance between sun and rain is crucial as part of that process. 2012 has been up the creek in that respect.

I just hope that there are any 2012 harvest casualties amongst the Cravant wine producers.

The Clothes Peg

The Lowly Clothes Peg

I didn't reckon on clothes pegs coming into a blog, let alone provide the story behind a blog. They seem remarkably uninteresting even though they're useful. I would imagine that of all the items or gifts H.M.QE2 has received during the last sixty years, a clothes peg - gold plated or otherwise - is not amongst them. Clothes Pegs never warrant a mention at coffee mornings, are never included on Christmas present lists or birthday present lists. Who has ever seen a wedding present list with clothes pegs on it? But wonder of wonders the clothes peg, as of last night, became my heroine of the hour. I say heroine because in French, a clothes peg is a feminine noun - la pince à linge. This new found status is from my point of view very splendid indeed and totally unexpected.
 

I was born with double-jointed fingers, toes and thumbs. It's a common condition. The biggest problem for me are my fingers. They can lock like claws, and have to be massaged  back into a normal shape so they work again. I used to play saxophone and piano and didn't seem to run into any difficulties with either of those instruments. But I now play the accordion and it seems to trigger my fingers into such a locked position that I can't bend them or play anything. Last night was one of those moments. I've often thought about giving up playing, but I enjoy it too much, and being of a stubborn disposition I can't quite bring myself to do it.

In desperation I surfed the net and discovered a site, How to correct doublejointedness. It's written by a violinist Loralyn Staples, who is herself double-jointed and has had all sorts of problems during her career. There is a short video on her site which shows an exercise using a clothes peg, to help build up the muscles in those fingers which are usually the worst affected - the thumb, the little finger and the ring finger next to it. These fingers on both my hands are so weak, that even using two fingers to open and shut the clothes peg, as the video demonstrates, was impossible. So to start with I had to use the middle finger as well. Today however, I am already noticing the difference. I'm down from three fingers to two and will keep on going. This exercise really seems to be working. If there's anyone you know with a similar problem, please pass it on. Definitely worth them trying it.

Rain stopped work!

Cloud build-up yesterday evening

This morning - oh my. The rain just let rip. Torrential. Then thunder. Thick mist - couldn't see the end of the road. And so dark. It was more like 8pm than 8am. So sorry for the wine producers. The weather is part and parcel of their working lives. But even so. This was just hopeless. No way we were going for a walk in the vines etc as I mentioned yesterday.  




We drove into Chinon this morning as usual to the market. Nothing was moving. The harvesters were parked up, ready to start - whenever that might be. As for the hand-pickers in their tents. Cold, wet and depressing I would think. The market itself was very empty - of shoppers as well as vendors. Not a good start to the day.

So sorry everyone no photos and a very short blog.  

In the meantime a short entertainment provided by Mr. C. Chaplin.

At least the first version is short and the second version - full length.


Charlie Chaplin 1


Charlie Chaplin 2

Hopefully normal transmission will begin again tomorrow.

The vendange is underway!!!

Early stages

I had a coffee morning here last Monday for some neighbours - Jacqueline, Micheline, Emilie and little Antonin, who was born in the summer and is growing fast, and our immediate neighbour Isabel. Good fun. We were discussing when the vendange was going to start and it seemed pretty much everyone was beginning today, Weds 10 October. Others will start this weekend. It will be a two/three week period of intense activity. In an earlier blog I mentioned that the weather had been so bizaare that the vendange had been knocked back by nearly a month. So for it to finally get going was quite a relief.

We had another overcast day today. Fine for working on the vines I'm guessing. It's pandemonium on the roads though once forty wine producers get going. This means vans, tractors and trailers, enormous harvesters, pickers in various vehicles. There's a lot of traffic about. Add to that some local roadworks and . . . it's been an interesting time moving about. 

Mike and I had a ride on a harvester about four years ago. A wine producing family organised it for us. The vehicles in height are the nearing the size of a two-storey house. At the top is a little cabin for the driver. The frame that supports the cabin and does the work of harvesting is a huge lower case n shape. The harvester is positioned at one end of a row of vines and basically encases it, so that the vine is positioned in hollow of the frame. Then as the harvester moves along the row, it vibrates and shakes the grapes off the vine, which are caught by a container fixed to the machine. The harvester is an enormous piece of kit  and amazingly efficient, with steering control that can turn on a pin-head. It's quite something to ride on one and to see them in action. 

This evening we unfortunately had a massive rain burst. The last thing needed right now. Some roads were flooded. Muddy fields I imagine are not good for the machines. They might be big, beautiful and super-efficient, but they're also very heavy. Tomorrow (Thursday) will be interesting.  It so happens that we're going slightly further out in our region in the afternoon with a conversation group for a wine tasting. We're meant to be walking in the vines, but I'm not sure this will happen with the harvest going on. We'll see. Then we're having a wine tasting. I'm hoping I can get some photos. We're going into the market as per usual early tomorrow morning, so if the weather and light are good I'll try and get some photos on the way in and more in the afternoon to load on to the blog.

We were in Chinon this evening for the AGM of one of our Anglo/French groups. As we drove along, we saw a lot of the pickers just finishing. They were staying in caravans, under canvas etc, all positioned next to the vines they're working on.

Anyway we'll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully a good day for the vignerons and the harvest and a good day for me to get some shots in.