Catching up!
3 years ago
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Yuck!
Typical! One minute I'm saying the weather's fab for mid-December (see previous posting), and the next, the clouds move in and dump mega-gallons of rain for an entire week. And yesterday it turned noticeably chillier. No surprise that it started snowing in the evening. Not a lot, but enough to turn the landscape white. It's that breadcrumbs on the window sill time of year.
Monday, December 12, 2011
The calm before the storm
This is getting silly. Mid-December and it's still sunny. Bit weird doing Chrissy cards in bright sunshine. Mind you, I read that snow's recently fallen in Val d'Isère. And not a moment too soon according to the hoteliers and ski-ing instructors etc. Personally, I'm quite happy without the stuff. Think I'll go and Dubbin my boots, just in case.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Presbyterie renovation
Popped into the 'presbyterie' across the lane a couple of days ago (nosey!) to see how the renovations were coming along. Last visited there way back in July (see posting 1st July '11) when they'd just started work on rejuvenating this historic old building. The place has now been transformed and will presumably soon be ready for occupancy. Haven't a clue who's going to live there though rumour has it that a young couple with kids might move in - an effort to considerably lower the average age of the hamlet's few inhabitants. All I know is that the house won't be sold; it'll remain a state asset, which is a good thing.
It's been interesting watching from a distance as work has slowly progressed. Obvious changes include a new roof, new window frames, a new west-facing side window (kitchen) to catch the evening sun, a new front door, re-pointed external walls and structural renovation of the attached barn which, presumably, will become a garage with a storeroom above. All very impressive. But, knowing how the French generally love all things modern when it comes to house renovating, I've been long concerned that the original character may have been gutted from the interior - hence my 'nosey' visit.
Armed with my camera I explained to the workers that I was a nosey neighbour who just wanted to see how work was progressing. Luckily they didn't tell me to get lost so I had a quick look round saying "wow" and "cor, splendide" each time I visited a new room. However, my apparent enthusiasm hid a slight disappointment that, as suspected, the original character had been ripped out. All the internal walls had been plaster-boarded over, the old doors had gone and the original floorboards had been replaced by prefabricated cement blocks. The only original feature remaining appeared to be the fine old stone kitchen fireplace in the new lounge. I then checked the window frames, thinking them to be plastic. Interestingly, they're wooden, despite everyone round these parts reckoning (wrongly?) that plastic lasts longer.
Having said all that, I have to admit the house will be absolutely fab when it's finished. Perhaps a little too moderne pour moi, but a highly des res for a young family (or whoever). I was particularly impressed with the newly installed staircase. A brilliant piece of carpentry. Perhaps lacks the character of our squeaky old woodwormy item but will no doubt stand up to the pitter patter of tiny (and grown-up) feet for many years to come.
It's been interesting watching from a distance as work has slowly progressed. Obvious changes include a new roof, new window frames, a new west-facing side window (kitchen) to catch the evening sun, a new front door, re-pointed external walls and structural renovation of the attached barn which, presumably, will become a garage with a storeroom above. All very impressive. But, knowing how the French generally love all things modern when it comes to house renovating, I've been long concerned that the original character may have been gutted from the interior - hence my 'nosey' visit.
Armed with my camera I explained to the workers that I was a nosey neighbour who just wanted to see how work was progressing. Luckily they didn't tell me to get lost so I had a quick look round saying "wow" and "cor, splendide" each time I visited a new room. However, my apparent enthusiasm hid a slight disappointment that, as suspected, the original character had been ripped out. All the internal walls had been plaster-boarded over, the old doors had gone and the original floorboards had been replaced by prefabricated cement blocks. The only original feature remaining appeared to be the fine old stone kitchen fireplace in the new lounge. I then checked the window frames, thinking them to be plastic. Interestingly, they're wooden, despite everyone round these parts reckoning (wrongly?) that plastic lasts longer.
Having said all that, I have to admit the house will be absolutely fab when it's finished. Perhaps a little too moderne pour moi, but a highly des res for a young family (or whoever). I was particularly impressed with the newly installed staircase. A brilliant piece of carpentry. Perhaps lacks the character of our squeaky old woodwormy item but will no doubt stand up to the pitter patter of tiny (and grown-up) feet for many years to come.
Bleu et orange
Crikey..., December already. Almost at the shortest day and it still hasn't snowed. Or rained. Still quite warm with that gentle southerly breeze. Bit cloudy today though, unlike last Friday when I nipped down to Felletin for market day. Blistering sunshine. Sat outside the caff with a coffee and a fag (table on the left). Chatted to a couple of anglais couples. So hot I took off my sweater. Teeshirt weather in November? Very odd. (Click pics to enlarge.)
Knock on the door in the afternoon. Guy (pronounced 'Gie'), the ex-mayor, clutching his mobile and a chimney sweep's business card. Asked me to phone the number 'cos the sweep's an anglais who's not exactly fluent in frog lingo and Guy doesn't parlez-vous anglais. Rang the chap and arranged for him to visit Guy's gaff on the following Wednesday at 10.30. Come the appointed hour, I popped round there just in case there was a communication problem. Sweep had already started cleaning the chimney and all was well. Guy offered me a scotch (!) which I politely declined. Sweep had recently retired after a heart attack and moved to France a few months back (heart attack had convinced him to emigrate while he still could). Fell in love with the place on his first visit last year. He'll probably get stacks of work now 'cos Guy knows everyone and he'll put the word out. And I loved the trading name on his business card - Toute Sweep!
Anyways..., having done the market, the sun continued to blaze. Perfect weather for doing some washing. Did a load and hung it out to dry. Had to keep reminding myself it was late November. Felt more like summer. But despite the heat, I wheel-barrowed some logs in for the evening stove. Seemed a strange thing to do in all that sunshine. But as soon as that sun goes down it gets really chilly. Could be frosty so brought the flowery things in that had spent all summer on the outdoor window ledges. Then went for a dogwalk out the back. Bright orange leaves against a clear blue sky. And the orange became deeper as the sun slowly set. Wonderful colours.
But, of course, that was a week ago. Today's dawned grey and damp. Not exactly perfect weather for visiting the market and sitting outside the caff in a teeshirt. Just spoken to Georgie on the phone. Apparently sunny in London. Ah well, there you go. C'est la vie.
Knock on the door in the afternoon. Guy (pronounced 'Gie'), the ex-mayor, clutching his mobile and a chimney sweep's business card. Asked me to phone the number 'cos the sweep's an anglais who's not exactly fluent in frog lingo and Guy doesn't parlez-vous anglais. Rang the chap and arranged for him to visit Guy's gaff on the following Wednesday at 10.30. Come the appointed hour, I popped round there just in case there was a communication problem. Sweep had already started cleaning the chimney and all was well. Guy offered me a scotch (!) which I politely declined. Sweep had recently retired after a heart attack and moved to France a few months back (heart attack had convinced him to emigrate while he still could). Fell in love with the place on his first visit last year. He'll probably get stacks of work now 'cos Guy knows everyone and he'll put the word out. And I loved the trading name on his business card - Toute Sweep!
Anyways..., having done the market, the sun continued to blaze. Perfect weather for doing some washing. Did a load and hung it out to dry. Had to keep reminding myself it was late November. Felt more like summer. But despite the heat, I wheel-barrowed some logs in for the evening stove. Seemed a strange thing to do in all that sunshine. But as soon as that sun goes down it gets really chilly. Could be frosty so brought the flowery things in that had spent all summer on the outdoor window ledges. Then went for a dogwalk out the back. Bright orange leaves against a clear blue sky. And the orange became deeper as the sun slowly set. Wonderful colours.
But, of course, that was a week ago. Today's dawned grey and damp. Not exactly perfect weather for visiting the market and sitting outside the caff in a teeshirt. Just spoken to Georgie on the phone. Apparently sunny in London. Ah well, there you go. C'est la vie.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Another week flies by
Fattygayed.
Just returned from a week in London. Popped over there to do a bit of work stuff and renew my passport. Would have stayed for less than a week (dogs are the problem) but there are fewer flights at this time of year. And, for some strange reason, our winter flights take off ridiculously early. Going there, 10am; coming back, 7am. This meant I had to drop the dogs off at the kennel a day early in order to be at the airport by 8am (9.30 would have been okay but I like to get there early). Which meant I had to get up at 5am. As it turned out, I got up at 4, left the house at 5.30 (I thought it might be foggy as well as dark) and arrived at the airport at 7.20. I then killed a couple of hours by sitting in the car playing I-Spy, watching the sunrise, noshing a couple of sarnies I'd knocked-up the previous night, swigging coffee from my battered Thermos and attempting to get some kip (failed miserably). Amazing how slowly time drags by in that sort of situation.
Anyways..., arrived Stansted at mid-day (French time) or 11am (UK time), hopped on a coach and arrived at Victoria around 1.30. As Georgie was working (Covent Garden), I thought it'd be a wizard wheeze to meet her after work. This meant I had to kill four hours. Having just finished reading 'Tinker, Tailor' on the plane, I decided to see the film. Tracked it down in Leicester Square, watched it, met Georgie after work and together we ambled off to Putney.
The following day I had to report at the passport office at 10.45am (Ecclestone Square, Victoria). Arrived there early (as usual), killed some time at the caff opposite, reported bang on time, presented documents and photos expecting to be issued with a new passport there and then. Wrong. Had to come back at 3pm to collect. More time to kill. Had arranged to see Georgie for lunch at 1.45 (after her dental appt.) outside the National Portrait Gallery. Arrived there at 1.40. She still hadn't arrived by 2.15. Then remembered I had a mobile phone in my rucksack. Rang her up. Asked where she was and if she had a problem. "No," she said, "all's fine. I'll be there at 1.45." This confused me 'til I suddenly realised I was still on French time. Doh! Half an hour later we went up to the best bar in London (top floor of NPG) and were told we could only enter at lunchtime if we were eating. Well bugger that, so we had a lunchtime drink in the National Gallery restaurant instead. Then Georgie went back to work, I killed an afternoon by picking up my passport and wandering around Covent Garden being a Christmassy tourist, taking a few snaps and downing a couple of halves. Rendezvoused with Georgie after work, ambled across Waterloo Bridge, strolled around the Christmassy riverside hutshops and a bookshop under the Festival Hall (Foyles?), took a few more snaps and eventually headed for home (well, Putney) via Waterloo.
The following day (Friday) was workday at Quadrangle by Tower Bridge (see Quadrangle.com). Saw the big tower thing being built by London Bridge station - couldn't see the top though as it was hidden in mist. Didn't get it all done so went in again on Monday after a very lazy week-end doing nothing (well, did a bit of shopping in Putney with Georgie on Saturday - always rather jolly).
Then, Monday soirée, saw Bob Dylan and Mark Knopfler at Hammersmith Odeon (now called the Apollo?) as the guest of the Quadrangle boss (an old mate from way back). Despite my mate reckoning Knopfler was uninspiring (just 'going through the motions' and 'painting by numbers'), I thought he was pretty good, in a laid back sorta way.
But the main event was Dylan. And on his last night of the European tour. Just to be there was a thrill. Hadn't seen him since his famous gig at Earls Court many moons ago. He's older now, of course, and his voice has changed. Some say he sounded bad to start with and he's even worse now. Some say his voice has gone completely. Some say he never had one to start with. But, as Dylan said recently "I now have the voice I always wanted." It's somewhere between gravel and a drain. Like an old blues singer. Rough. Suits me fine. And his band - brilliant! Trouble was, I didn't recognise half the songs 'til about halfway through. Thought they must have been new. But then realised they weren't. Just new interpretations of old faves. But the main thing was, he looked like he was enjoying himself. Ended as usual with 'Forever Young'. A great night.
Tuesday, killed time shopping. Early night. Cab Wednesday 3.30am, flight 7.10, delayed due to technical malfunction, swapped planes, took off late (8.15ish?), arrived Limoges 11ish (10 UK time), picked up dogs, drove home via supermarché, walked dogs up the Lightning Tree (they loved being back in the old routine), lit kitchen stove, knocked up egg and chips, watched Chelsea v some German team, fell asleep on the sofa before the match ended, woken by phone call from Georgie, yes got back okay thanks, went to bed.
Just returned from a week in London. Popped over there to do a bit of work stuff and renew my passport. Would have stayed for less than a week (dogs are the problem) but there are fewer flights at this time of year. And, for some strange reason, our winter flights take off ridiculously early. Going there, 10am; coming back, 7am. This meant I had to drop the dogs off at the kennel a day early in order to be at the airport by 8am (9.30 would have been okay but I like to get there early). Which meant I had to get up at 5am. As it turned out, I got up at 4, left the house at 5.30 (I thought it might be foggy as well as dark) and arrived at the airport at 7.20. I then killed a couple of hours by sitting in the car playing I-Spy, watching the sunrise, noshing a couple of sarnies I'd knocked-up the previous night, swigging coffee from my battered Thermos and attempting to get some kip (failed miserably). Amazing how slowly time drags by in that sort of situation.
Anyways..., arrived Stansted at mid-day (French time) or 11am (UK time), hopped on a coach and arrived at Victoria around 1.30. As Georgie was working (Covent Garden), I thought it'd be a wizard wheeze to meet her after work. This meant I had to kill four hours. Having just finished reading 'Tinker, Tailor' on the plane, I decided to see the film. Tracked it down in Leicester Square, watched it, met Georgie after work and together we ambled off to Putney.
The following day I had to report at the passport office at 10.45am (Ecclestone Square, Victoria). Arrived there early (as usual), killed some time at the caff opposite, reported bang on time, presented documents and photos expecting to be issued with a new passport there and then. Wrong. Had to come back at 3pm to collect. More time to kill. Had arranged to see Georgie for lunch at 1.45 (after her dental appt.) outside the National Portrait Gallery. Arrived there at 1.40. She still hadn't arrived by 2.15. Then remembered I had a mobile phone in my rucksack. Rang her up. Asked where she was and if she had a problem. "No," she said, "all's fine. I'll be there at 1.45." This confused me 'til I suddenly realised I was still on French time. Doh! Half an hour later we went up to the best bar in London (top floor of NPG) and were told we could only enter at lunchtime if we were eating. Well bugger that, so we had a lunchtime drink in the National Gallery restaurant instead. Then Georgie went back to work, I killed an afternoon by picking up my passport and wandering around Covent Garden being a Christmassy tourist, taking a few snaps and downing a couple of halves. Rendezvoused with Georgie after work, ambled across Waterloo Bridge, strolled around the Christmassy riverside hutshops and a bookshop under the Festival Hall (Foyles?), took a few more snaps and eventually headed for home (well, Putney) via Waterloo.
The following day (Friday) was workday at Quadrangle by Tower Bridge (see Quadrangle.com). Saw the big tower thing being built by London Bridge station - couldn't see the top though as it was hidden in mist. Didn't get it all done so went in again on Monday after a very lazy week-end doing nothing (well, did a bit of shopping in Putney with Georgie on Saturday - always rather jolly).
Then, Monday soirée, saw Bob Dylan and Mark Knopfler at Hammersmith Odeon (now called the Apollo?) as the guest of the Quadrangle boss (an old mate from way back). Despite my mate reckoning Knopfler was uninspiring (just 'going through the motions' and 'painting by numbers'), I thought he was pretty good, in a laid back sorta way.
But the main event was Dylan. And on his last night of the European tour. Just to be there was a thrill. Hadn't seen him since his famous gig at Earls Court many moons ago. He's older now, of course, and his voice has changed. Some say he sounded bad to start with and he's even worse now. Some say his voice has gone completely. Some say he never had one to start with. But, as Dylan said recently "I now have the voice I always wanted." It's somewhere between gravel and a drain. Like an old blues singer. Rough. Suits me fine. And his band - brilliant! Trouble was, I didn't recognise half the songs 'til about halfway through. Thought they must have been new. But then realised they weren't. Just new interpretations of old faves. But the main thing was, he looked like he was enjoying himself. Ended as usual with 'Forever Young'. A great night.
Tuesday, killed time shopping. Early night. Cab Wednesday 3.30am, flight 7.10, delayed due to technical malfunction, swapped planes, took off late (8.15ish?), arrived Limoges 11ish (10 UK time), picked up dogs, drove home via supermarché, walked dogs up the Lightning Tree (they loved being back in the old routine), lit kitchen stove, knocked up egg and chips, watched Chelsea v some German team, fell asleep on the sofa before the match ended, woken by phone call from Georgie, yes got back okay thanks, went to bed.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Soleil
Rather splendid sunrise ce matin. Reminded moi of that saying 'red sky at night, shepherds' delight; red sky in the morning, barn on fire.' Actually, this could be a warning that the weather's about to change. Which is a shame because it's been absolutely brilliant lately. 21 degrees a couple of days ago (11.11.11). Quite amazing for mid November. Flung the windows open and aired the duvet. Been quite warm at night too. Very clear with a full moon. Marvellous stuff. Clouded over a bit now though. Maybe winter's about to arrive. Mind you, I've been saying that for weeks.
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