Valley stream

I appear to have survived Christmas. Geo and Don haven't though. They're both horizontal with food poisoning apparently. Geo reckons it may have been the sprouts. I'm not so sure 'cos I noshed bucket loads of 'em with no ill effects, apart from quietly passing wind into the sofa while watching telly. Geo said it wasn't quiet. Anyways, I reckon the alleged food poisoning may have been vaping. They both merrily puff away watching telly, totally denying it's poisonous and a killer. Covers up the aroma of my gaz de derrière though.

So, today, with both of 'em kaput and out of action, I nipped downtown for bread and bottled water then gave Hamish a walk down the bottom stream lane. Cor blimey, muddy or what! And the stream was in full flow. Gushing along. Seems only recently (August) it was almost bone dry. Stagnant. Now look at it. Took some snaps to contrast with August photo. It's a floody time of year. Big floods in Angleterre apparently. And down south in France. But we're okay up here in the hills. Water just drains off down the valleys. River Creuse is well up down in Felletin. Burst its banks in a few places. Which reminds me, my shoes leak. Timberlands. Crap items. Must remember to wear my proper shoes. Northampton-made Crockett & Jones's. Or Lowa boots. Pricey but worth it. Nowt worse than soggy feet when dogwalking. I digress. Ah well, there ye go.

Red carpet

Yesterday's dogwalk was in the forest up at the Walkers' Barn. Been a bit rainy and windy lately (an understatement) so it was soggy and damp underfoot with bits of broken trees littering the open ground. But in the forest of tall trees there weren't so many fallen branches as it's sheltered from the wind. Damp though. And the ground was covered in fallen leaves. A red carpet. So the trees were bare. So it was lighter than usual. Even on a cloudy day at dusk. Odd in mid-winter. Strangely, in summer, it's darker. That's when the leaves shield the sun. These were some of the thoughts I had when trailing Hamish. Odd too that the recent downpours have swollen the valley rivers and streams while on the other side of the planet bushfires are raging on the hottest day ever in Australia. Floods too in Angleterre apparently. Wasn't so long ago our valley stream had ceased flowing. No stream, just puddles in rocks. Cattle were parched. Farmers hauled water tanks behind chugging tractors delivering to distant fields. Tough times. But now the fields are sodden. Cattle are wet and huddled under sheltering trees. But the trees have no leaves. So the rain gets through. Ah well, that's winter. Soon be the shortest day. Come to think of it, it's today. Soon be spring. The red carpet will have disappeared. Munched by worms. New leaves will appear and the forest will darken again.

Noel nosh-up

Just survived the annual Christmas lunch for local retired old farts up at the village mairie (official town hall). Kicked off at mid-day and eventually emerged into the evening mists at around 4.30 feeling a bit fuzzy. Headed for home and took the dog for an evening stagger. Was a good do. Grub was prepared by neighbour Thingy (forgotten name) and his wife Wotsit (forgotten name) who run the restaurant at nearby Magnat-l'Etrange. They always knock up a fab menu accompanied by plenty of vin blancs, rosés, rouges and champagnes with optional cassis and jugs d'eau, not to mention a course of pear ice cream swimming in a lethal amount of delicious calvados. On the mayor's table there were a couple of, presumably, on duty gendarmes complete with guns in holsters, just in case an old fart or deux became a tad over exuberant due to imbibing beaucoup de laughing juice. Interestingly, many of the assembled dodderies burst into communal song after a few tipples and I, of course, joined in with hearty grunts as I didn't know the words, and half way through the nosh-up same dodderies began enthusiastically waving red napkins in the air while, again, singing some jolly old song as I grunted along singing 'vive la revolutution' and 'Boris Johnson est merde'. Have to say it was quite a relief to escape while still being able to assume the vertical. Shame I missed out on the fruit, choccies and coffees. Wouldn't be at all surprised if a few brandies suddenly appeared. Buggaire-moi, these old folks are a hardy bunch. Passed the mairie later that evening. Lunch appeared to have finished. Christmas lights were twinkling on the tree outside the venue.

Election

With a UK general election happening in about four weeks' time on 12th December the British media has been in political overdrive. Almost everywhere you look - television, news, press, social media, radio, etc. - you're inundated with messages designed to influence your decision about how to vote. Interestingly, the vote is not only about political parties, but also about the dreaded Brexit. So, somewhat confusingly, if you're a Tory Brexit Remainer, are you supposed to vote Tory (which is a Leave party) or, perhaps Lib Dem (a Remain party)? Similarly, if you're Labour, how would you know if the party is Remain or Leave when Corbyn hasn't committed one way or t'other? Then there's the dilemma of Johnson (a compulsive liar) and Corbyn (allegedly a Marxist, Leninist, Trotskyist, commie lefty). Which one is the lesser of two evils? It's a nightmare scenario. However, opinion polls suggest that the Tories will win, albeit with a hung parliament. That means another five years with Johnson as PM. Personally, I find this a terrible prospect. The Tories have a shocking record in caring for Britain's underprivileged society, and I fear it will get worse. And as for leaving the EU, which the Tories are intent on doing, well, it's like turkeys voting for Christmas.

Autumn

Clocks have gone back. Evenings drawing in. Kitchen log burner back in action. Winter looms. Autumn colours abound. Trees are turning from greens to yellows, oranges, reds and browns. Rich colours. Up in the woods it's getting damper. And mistier. Carpeted with brown leaves. And out in the fields up Sprocket Hill I look up at the skies for a glimpse of cranes heading south. Haven't spotted any yet, but they're there, somewhere. Keep forgetting to take my camera. Always take my mobile phone though. Keep forgetting to switch it on. Comes in handy for taking snaps. Not as good as a camera, but better than nowt. Trouble is, when I spot something worth snapping, like a deer or a shaft of sunlight, it's gone by the time the mobile gets switched on, loaded up and turned to camera setting. Most annoying. Fine for doing leafy trees though. Well, when I say fine, I really mean verging on adequate. Colours need a bit of fiddling with computery jiggery pokery to add a bit of sparkle. Cheating maybe, but I call it artistic license. Fun and games. Keeps moi amused.

Fungi

It's that fungi time of year. The local chemist has dug out the dusty old window display showing which fungi are edible and which are not. Personally, I find it hard to tell the differences, apart from those red ones which even I know are rubbish.

After that dry summer the rains have finally arrived which has led to all sorts of fungi appearing up in the woods and around the fields and roadside verges. Many of them have sprouted up in circles - well, not really circles, more sort of arcs. Very interesting. Others are on their own and flat topped while others have shot up looking like..., how can I put this politely..., er, big willies, and others resemble puff balls or those big radar domes on the North Yorkshire moors, but I don't think they're there any more so it's a bad example. Ho hum.

I understand our Creuse region is a top fungi area producing whopping cepes which are often sent up to fancy Parisienne restaurants to be added to their menus at ridiculously high prices. But I could be wrong. Has been known. And neighbour Christian often collects edible fungi which Isabelle cooks up but, like all country lads, Christian never reveals where he digs up his bounty. Top secret.

Me, I'm just a happy fungi spotter.