Alan Rickman

Years back, when I was a student at the Royal College of Art, one of my classmates decided to leave the course a year before graduating because he had some some daft idea of becoming an actor. Naturally, I told him he should stay on for the final year, get his degree, then have a crack at this acting lark and if it didn't work out he'd still be qualified as a designer. But no, he wouldn't have it so he left. Then I heard he'd somehow fiddled his way into RADA. A couple of years later I saw him on telly playing Obadiah Slope in The Barchester Chronicles. Didn't think much of it but best of luck sunshine, looks like you've achieved your ambition and become an small-time actor. Hope it works out. Follow your dream. Maybe one day you'll become a star. Or maybe not. Who knows.

  

Parasite

Went to Aubusson yesterday for a blood test. Have to do that before my regular three-monthly check ups at the doctor's. When he gets the test results he gives us an in-depth report on my physical condition and then prescribes medication to put right whatever's going wrong. Anyways, I don't particularly like going for a blood test as it involves being stabbed by a needle and drained of blood. I call them my Dracula visits. Which reminds me, I was attacked by an aggresive, slimy, vicious and extremely spiteful hirudinea (if you don't know what it is, look it up) a few decades back. Slithering pondlife. Scarred for life.

 

74

We should now be slobbing around on Formentera but, due to this Covid-19 plague, we ain't. We cancelled the jolly holiday jaunt after news of nearby Ibiza and its airport (the airport wot we would pass through twice in order to get to and from Formentera) being invaded by loadsa young Brits who couldn't give a monkey's about contacting this killer disease and the possibility of infecting others. Maybe we'll get there again next year. Or maybe not. Who knows. 

Anyways..., as a birthday outing we headed yesterday for a lakeside restaurant just south of Sardent which is just south of Gueret. Messaged the owners (British, apparently) via Facebook the day before asking if the restaurant would be open. They answered 'yes'. Arrived there at 1pm. Shut. Closed. Fermé. Bugger. Won't be going there again. What is wrong with these people?

Plan 'B'. Georgie's suggestion. Lake Vassivière. Arrived there at around 2pm. Sauntered into a Bistro at 2.05. Five minutes late for a lunch snack. Had a small beer. Figured we were at the north end of the big lake so we should head for the east side as that was the side nearest our direction home. Found a simple sort of lakeside restaurant on the way that seemed to be open. Asked if lunch would be possible. 'Oui, no problem'. Shared a pizza and peach melba with Geo and a few wasps, plus a glass of rosé and a coffee. Not bad for €20. Then headed down the lane towards the lake, not really expecting to find anything special. But, big surprise, there was a sandy beach, nay, two or three sandy beaches, plus a café/bar, enough smiley people but not too many, a kiddies' swimming area plus a grown ups' with an attendant lifeguard, and a welcome air of being on a French holiday with sunshine. Didn't have a swim but may do in the next week or two if the sunny weather holds up.

Corréze cottage

Bought a wreck of a cottage back in 2013(?) in a tiny hamlet down in the Corréze region. Made sense at the time, but old age, Brexit, poverty and a million other issues have meant it doesn't really make sense any more. And besides, the roof desperately needs renovating as it probably won't survive another winter. So, we contacted a roofing chum of the chap who cuts the grass (the cottage is a couple of hours' drive away so we're really fortunate to have a local man who's willing to keep an eye on the triffid growths in our absence). Arranged to meet the roofer last Monday at 6pm.

Had a very pleasant afternoon drive there, stopping off at Egletons Lidl to stock up on essentials such as vin rosé, vin blanc and vin rouge plus some other stuff. Being elderly and afraid of death we wore our face masks and so did most of the other shoppers, young 'uns included. Interestingly, when I nipped down the local mini Carrefour supermarché in Felletin yesterday, I was the only one in there wearing a mask. Ah well, better safe than sorry. So, shopping done, we headed for the cottage well ahead of schedule. To kill a bit of time we detoured, on Georgie's suggestion, to the nearby touristy village of Gimel-les-Cascades. It's a pretty little village perched on the side of a steep ravine and is famous (apparently) for its waterfalls. Unfortunately, due to my inability to walk far and lack of vacant parking spaces, we didn't get to see the watery bits, but we did drive down the tiny lane to the bottom and back up again without running over any of the ambling tourists who seemed oblivious to the imminent danger of a vehicle being driven by bad-tempered geriatric who was convinced that this deviation to a tourist hot-spot was not a good idea.

Having escaped Gimel-les-Cascades we stopped off at a nearby lake which appeared to have what looked like a café. Maybe it was shut due to this Covid-19, or coronavirus, or whatever it's called. No, it appeared to be open as there were a couple of gents at a table. But, there was a 'no dogs' sign, so Georgie waited at the lakeside with Hamish while I ventured inside to consult the management. No problem, small dogs okay. So we had a pleasant Orangina each and I had a small black coffee too. Looked up the café/restaurant on the internet when we returned home and it turns out to be quite a gem. Look it up - Bistrot de Ruffaud, Saint-Priest-de-Gimel.

Next stop, the cottage. Breathed a sigh of relief that the roof still hadn't collapsed after yet another winter of rain and snow. But, when we opened the front door, part of the interior ceiling had been holed by water from upstairs. Leaky roof. Where was the roofer? 6pm came and went. Still no roofer. Maybe he's not coming. Panic ye not, just as I was about to suggest we pack up and return home, the roofer turns up. He went inside to survey the problem with Georgie. I stayed outside with Hamish. Georgie said "you know that sharp intake of breath that builders do when they see the size of the task they've been asked to quote on, well, this chap did a few yelps instead". Be interesting to see what he quotes for - I suspect a new roof, rather than a touch-up job.

Anyways, we hit the homeward trail at about 6.45pm and enjoyed a sunny evening gallop over the Plateau Millevaches, a glorious bit of French countryside (look it up). Stopped off near home for a dogwalk and arrived home at about 9.30ish. Still light. That's what I like about summer. Sat outside with a cheeky little rosé as swallows swooped overhead. Good stuff.

      

Flowery stuff

When we first came here the garden was a jungle. Now it's not. All due to Georgie's hard work and know-how. It really is wonderful. Nowt to do with me. Though I have been known to mow the lawn occasionally. And water a few blooms. Anyways, I have loads of snaps of flowery stuff and I've only just realised that I haven't loaded any on this bloggeau for ages. So I'll do it now.

Moto Guzzi Nevada

For future reference, this 2016 750cc Moto Guzzi Nevada (1490kms) arrived yesterday. She's a beaut.

Saturday 30 May. Having donned my anti coronavirus mask I risked almost certain death by visiting the local insurance office a couple of days ago to get the bike insured and therefore legal for road use. Been brilliant weather recently so I dug out the dusty old bike riding clobber, donned the skidlid, swung the steed into action and galloped cross-country for a most enjoyable twenty mile evening jaunt. Encountered two cars and two tractors. Must have been the rush hour. 

Connie Francis

As of yesterday there were globally 2,348,953 cases of, and 161,221 deaths from, coronavirus. Or, as I jokingly called it some time ago, Connie Francis. But it's no longer a joke. People are being imprisoned in their homes. Escape is only permitted for a limited number of government approved reasons and timings. Social distancing is compulsory. The wearing of surgical facemasks and gloves is advised, if you can get hold of them. Apparently there's a world shortage.

Interestingly, some countries prepared for the onslaught of this plague and some didn't. The UK didn't. While others were stocking up on personal protective equipment and introducing lockdowns at an early stage, the British government was sending stocks of PPE to China and elsewhere whilst adopting a King Canute attitude to the imminent danger. An island mentality. Now, of course, as they're running out of PPE for their own medics, they're regretting this generosity and looking a bit stupid. This morning stupid Gove appeared on TV and admitted his government's stupidity. Too late mate, it's just another example of your Tory party's incompetence. Similarly, madman Trump was way too late in recognising the danger and introducing defensive measures. Instead he's blaming China for his nation's deaths. Never his fault. Shift the blame. Accusations? Fake news. Bad reporting.

Trump and Johnson have both been completely irresponsible in their reactions to this epidemic. Seems they're both more concerned with its devastating effect on their economies rather than their people. While Trump huffed and puffed in denial, Johnson was busy having another baby, missing five vitally important Cobra meetings, generally going AWOL and leaving a bunch of other clowns to run the nation. Then he was conveniently smitten by the plague, ending up hospitalised and being saved from death by, ironically, immigrant medics of the NHS - the very institution that he and his Tory sidekicks had earlier reduced funding and support for while promoting private healthcare.

Another interesting thing. Before Liar Alexander de Pfeffel was rushed off to hospital with Connie Francis, his demonic advisor Cummings was seen slithering out of No.10 by the back exit. A bit earlier No.10 had denied Cummings had opined that the disease would kill off a million or more geriatric pensioners thereby saving the nation a considerable sum. Good for the economy. Shortly after, it was announced that demonic Dominic was self-isolating after showing signs of catching the bug. Ironic or what? Unfortunately I understand he's recovered.

I wonder by how much those figures in my first sentence have increased since I started this posting. But I doubt if Trump will be interested. The only figures he'll be looking at are his popularity ratings. And he'll see that they're falling due to his bad handling of the epidemic. Hopefully he'll be booted out at the next election. And as for de Pfeffel, well, according to a Tory insider he doesn't work week-ends. I gather that he's still convalescing at Chevening, at taxpayers' expense, with his pregnant lady friend, presumably blissfully unaware that UK deaths have now passed 16,000 with 600 being added in the last 24 hours.

Lastly, I'm pleased to say that Connie Francis is still alive and well. Unlike so many others she has not succumbed to this vile disease. Yet.