The End Of Summer

The End Of Summer

The long spell of extreme heat has ended and we are now into temperatures in the middle 20s during the day and warm enough with a sweater on in the morning and late evening. I feel a liberated man and can now get on to the tasks I have for some time wanted to do. They are numerous but I can feel a surge of energy.

One of these is to finally prevent water run-off from the small plots of earth around the trees opposite my house. I’ve tried stone barriers to no avail because the water creeps between them but now have a couple of small bags of cement to reinforce them. The Fingers crossed that that will work and then that I can find plants that will flower there without too much attention.

Most of the other tasks concern the allotment. It has been the best year yet for that by quite a margin. The early crops of potatoes and leeks were plentiful, as have been those of gooseberries, blackberries, tomatoes, beetroot, aubergines, chillis and courgettes; green beans are loaded but as yet too small to pick. The only failure has been onions, for reasons that I don’t know but all on the allotment have had the same experience.

My renewed energy enabled me to do some digging a day ago to clear enough space to plant more lettuces and also broccoli and shallots for later on. I’ve bought some big bulbs of garlic and have got these sprouting in readiness for planting. Any green tomatoes that are still around in October I will make into chutney.

I haven’t yet made any chilli jam this year but will think about doing that. I haven’t enough chillis from the allotment as I have been using them as I go along but can easily buy the shortfall.

Away from gardening there’s not much. But sales of my book on Mollans have stalled; costs have been recovered so all revenues now go directly to the school, which was always the promise; I need to think what I can do to restart them. I also need to print off some notices giving the restart date for the English conversation sessions and get them posted ar ound the village. My planned trip to Scotland in October is all booked so there is nothing I need to do there except print off some tickets. I’ll be a year older when I return but hopefully won’t feel it.

Notices

I’ve printed off and had sealed in plastic two notices that I’ve posted opposite my house. One, which I’ve pinned to the bench, is a quote from Brassens song Les Bancs Publics. It reads “Les amoureux qui se bécottent sur les bancs publics…..ont des queules s très sypathiques”. The other, pinned to one of the trees, is a quote from a John Donne poem, picked up by Ernest Hemingway: “ne damandez pas pour qui sonne le glas, le glas sonne pour vous”. This quote, which Hemingway used as a warning that WW2 was coming, has always resonated with me and I think applies to world events today. For me, itmeans that warning signs are always there; can you see them and, if so, what are you going to do about them because you, as an individual, must be responsible for what you do or don’t do.

I’m gratified to see lots of passers-by read the notices but have no idea what they make of them. 

The Visit And After

 

The Visit

My family arrived on schedule on the Saturday afternoon for a 10-day visit. For the whole 10 days the weather was indecently hot and that dictated to a great extent what we did; that is, we kept as cool as possible. Every day except Wednesday when we went early to the Buis market started with Breakfast at the Bar du Pont. They spent a lot of time in the pool and I left watering, around thz house and at the 

llotment to the early morning or late evening. This really was very similar to previous years: Natalie relaxing, swimming and reading, Eilidh swimming, learning to dive coached by Andy, taking trips to the Ouvèze to see how many little fish she could catch and also reading a lot; Ahdy swimming and managing to get in the compulsory cycling rides in the early morning. And we all went to the pizza and moules-frites evenings. A trip to the allotment was of course obligatory where Natalie gathered the last of the gooseberries and the first of the blackberries while I watered. We measured Eilidh against my tallest sunflower but she is still not quite there yet.

Also I thought it a good idea for my family to meet my friends so we had open house on the second Saturday evening where everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and Andy did a barbecue. This may not seem very exciting but all the family declared it a very good holiday and I got a lot of practice with my “Ferrari” as well as the pleasure of being with my family.

On the practical side Andy markedly increased the lighting in my kitchen and living room and I Bought a larger screen TV which Andy hooked up to the fibre connection I now have so that I’m in better shape than I was to deal with my failing eyesight.

Obviously I was sad to see them go but, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. But not quite all things. I have music to console me: the crickets’ chorus in the day and the frogs’ chorus in the evening. And I can still sit on my balcony in the evening, listen to the frogs , encourage the grapes growing overhead to ripen, drink a glass of Calvados and contemplate the day. That’s not so bad.

Then it is back to the watering and whatever I can find to do in between. When the heatwave ends I shall start playing boules more often.

And After…….

After the visit I still had the meal in the street and the 14^th July to look forward to.

For our annual meal in the street, since there was just me, I just took one dish this year: the usual coronation chicken. Other years my family has been there and I also baked a baklava. I mentioned to Olivier, who is on the council, that watering the plants opposite my house and at the washhouse was becoming difficult for me and the thought that these plants would die when I could no longer do it saddened me. He said that that wasn’t going to happen, that thzeMarie had taken photos and the area was now protected. Great news! It must mean that my digging up of the side of the road opposite (strictly illegal but the neighbours encouraged me) is now officially sanctioned.

The 14^th July was like none previously. Usually the fun and music starts at 9.30 with the national anthem. This year the music started at 6.30 and the national anthem came from the TV on the terrace of the Bar du Pont at the start of the France-Spain match. The music stopped and all attention switched to the TV. I ventured to some friends that if they wanted some more music they could think about singing Viva Espana; but I got no takers. I went home to watch the match as I couldn’t see what was happening on the TV from distance. If the music did ever resume I presume it would have been the funeral march.

Corruption

I am not so naive as to believe that corruption is rare in the western world but the extent and openness of it recently has surprised me. In the Uk there is Farage accepting money from foreign sources to sustain his efforts to change British politics and in the USA clown prince Trump trying to rig the World Cup, aided by the Italian Infantino. In France the managing director of the la rgest European bank, BNP Paribas, has been caught out in what could be described as short-changing customers Money, the accredited source of all evil, is of course at the root of it. This is not the petty corruption that seems commonly to occur around local councils in many places, it is large-scale and not too difficult to discover if not actually in the open. Sleaze reigns, the mega-rich ripping off all and sundry and ,attempting to make the world dance to their tune. When will people at large wake up and put a stop to their game rather than believing in the media and voting for the political parties that support them?

Getting Ready And English Conversation

 

Getting Ready

1. In four days’ time my daughter, son in law and granddaughter will arrive for a ten day stay. It’s shorter than usual this year as my son in law’s (Andy’s) brother is visiting Scotland at a time that clashes with my family’s usual stay here and they naturally want to maximise the time with Andy’s brother since he is coming from the USA. So I’m planning what to do to make their stay here as enjoyable as usual.

If forecasts are correct, the weather will be playing along, hot but more manageable as their stay progresses. They will be shopping en route and I’ve advised them on the best rosé wine that they like to drink that should be available in supermarkets. Anyway they are very familiar with the area from previous holidays here and don’t need a lot of input from me.

They’ll find Mollans changed slightly this year but to little consequence. The usual trips over the bridge to get pains au chocolat won’t happen because both the bakers in the village are now adjacent, by the Bar du Pont. The Café des Sports is still closed and, if local gossip is correct, won’t be offering meals when it eventually opens but just a sandwich bar. If that is correct then I fear for it’s business as the Casino opposite already offers that. The Casino’s new owner has revamped the shop to stock a much wider variety of products than the shop had before. I think this is a bright move, relieving villagers of the necessity to go to Vaison or Buis for many items. My family will notice these changes but they won’t be of much consequence to them. They’ll come to the pizza evenings and moules-frites but otherwise be happy around the swimming pool or paddling in the Ouvèze with maybe a bit of cycling thrown in.

One thing the village clearly lacks is a restaurant. In the past we have occasionally gone to the nearby Les Castors camping site since that has amusements for granddaughter Eilidh. However this week I discovered a new restaurant not far away, in Pierrelongue, La Palanca. The food is good, reasonably priced and the siting is excellent, at the side of the old railway tunnel to Buis and at one end of the new pedestrian bridge bridge over the Ouvèze. There is enough there for kids to explore while waiting for a meal. Maybe we’ll try it together.

There is always of course the ritual trip to the Buis market, which Eilidh finds “amazing. Street markets are not so common in the Glasgow area. Anyway I think I have enough possibilities in mind to make my family’s visit an enjoyable one.

The house is in reasonable shape, the flowers are looking good and the jasmine is flowering all over the balcony. The watering is a chore, around the house and at the allotment, as by 8.00 in the morning it is already too hot to do much, which means getting up really early or doing it in the late evening. But if I can keep that up I think I’m done with getting ready.

End Of English Conversation Season

Well, we managed to end it with a bang. There were about 10 of us, meeting as arranged at the allotments. Normally we would tour the allotments but somehow we didn’t find time for that. Everybody brought food and drink, more than enough. Jacques also brought music and those still able and willing to stand started dancing. Baudouin and Josefa jitterbugging were a revelation and of course Jacques had to join in too, with Pascale. Knowledge of English was not advanced a lot but everybody had an enjoyable time, which was what mattered. That is it now until the end of September. During the rest of the summer everybody has holidays, guests or family visiting and there is rarely enough of us to make up a reasonable class at any one time. So It was goodbye and happy holidays until the end of September.

Death

Death

I have just received the news that my cousin, Sarah, has died. She was not just a cousin but also a close friend for most of my life. She helped me grow up in my adolescence when I was struggling to understand these strange creatures called girls who had suddenly imposed their importance on my existence. She was like the big sister that I never had to me then. She bought cider to celebrate my O level exam results when I was 15 and at a loss as to how to celebrate and welcomed me and my children for a holiday in Southend when I was nearly broke (and not a little broken) after my wife left for another. She shared my love of gardening and football, although in the latter case for different teams; hers were Napoli and Italy, mine Chelsea and England or France. She married an Italian and lived most of her life in Italy.

I’m told she died peacefully and, as with my mother, at a stage when she could do little or nothing for herself. She was three years older than me. And had led a full life and wasn’t religious.

I have written to her family to say that I am very saddened by her death but, in a way, happy for her. I think that when one can do little or nothing for oneself, certainly none of the things one likes to do, then that is the time to let life go. The most one can hope for is that the end is peaceful.

Attitudes to death change over time and according to beliefs. In the past, when the large majority of people were religious, I think death even in late age must have been feared more than it is now. If you knew you were about to die, presumably you thought you had three chances: heaven, hell or, if the jury was still out, purgatory (or equivalents in beliefs other than Christianity). So you had to do a kind of reckoning in your mind as to how many Brownie points you might have accumulated in your life. How well had you followed the prescriptions in the Scriptures or the Quran or whatever and what repentance might recover in your favour. In any case it wasn’t an inviting prospect and certainly one for apprehension. Atheism makes for a kind of quietude, if not with a bare bodkin, as Shakespeare would have it. My hope, when my time comes, is just to die peacefully (and in mid-project; I can’t live without a project). 

The Weather And Patriotism

 

The Weather

The weather dictates a lot of what goes on here, certainly a lot of what I do. If that doesn’t seem surprising to many people it’s relatively new to me. In England I rarely knew from day to day what the weather would be, only more probably colder in winter and more probably warmer in summer, very rarely extreme. So most of the time I disregarded the weather as far as possible and decided what I was going to do anyway. Besides, most of the time I was working and my work was always indoors. Here, the weather can even dictate work.

Pedro, the man who fixed my roof, told me that when he came here at first he worked for a builder and had to be at the builder’s house each morning at 7.30 to start work. One morning Pedro arrived, knocked on the builder’s door and got no reply. It was raining, Pedro was getting wet and so he kept knocking. Eventually the builder opened the door, dressed in his pyjamas, and asked Pedro what he was doing there. Pedro answered that he was there to work. 3Work?”, exclaimed the builder, “It’s raining; we don’t work when it’s raining”.

At the moment summer seems to have arrived with day temperatures around 32-34 degrees. Temperatures are unlikely to dip significantly until mid-August at least. For me, as a gardener, that means watering, watering plants in pots around the house and the allotment. Early mornings are not my forte now so I do it mostly in the evening. It’s tiring but that means I will sleep well. All the planting is now done barring last minute replacements and filling in so watering is the main chore. Rain can be a welcome relief and if we get any it is likely to be a storm which will thoroughly soak the ground for a couple of days. Anyway, the plants around the house are looking good and so is the allotment so those are projects more or less completed for this year; they just need to be maintained.

Another effect the weather has is eating out. I don’t remember ever eating outside in England except at pubs. Here I can hardly remember eating inside at a cafe or restaurant. And I do like eating outside.

Patriotism

The European Champions’ League final between Arsenal and PSG made me reflect on patriotism. I went to watch the match at the Bar du Pont and the assembled crowd there seemed to assume I was supporting Arsenal. But I am a Chelsea supporter, from 1952, and in the previous two years Arsenal had eliminated Chelsea in the semifinals of the FA Cup. So I have an extreme dislike of Arsenal. I didn’t really care who won. So where was my patriotism?

If patriotism means being proud of one’s country I’m afraid I don’t have it. Am I proud of England? No; why should I be? It has, in my judgment, done some very good things but also some very bad ones, like almost every other country. My school education certainly encouraged me to be patriotic but that must be one of the lessons from school that didn’t stick. Do I love England? Yes, in lots of ways I do: I love the countryside, some of the customs, some of the typical dishes, the beer, the variety it displays in many respects and some of the people. Also I was born there and grew up there quite happily; but that is simply happenstance. But simply as an entity, a country, a nation, I can’t see why I should love it or be proud of it. The same applies to France.

I shall enjoy watching the World Cup in the coming weeks and hope that either England or France win it but that is as far as my nationalism goes.

Government And Straight Lines

 

Joined Up Government

I have had a number of conversation with Friend Steve on this subject. Althiugh we have differing political views we both agree that joined up government would be a good thing and that ach to problems holistic approach to problems would help.

In the UK ministerial accountability hinders this. If ministers are to be accountable for the actions of their ministries they need autonomy. Which means that a ministry can take an action to resolve one of its problems that puts another ministry in the proverbial. In theory this conflict gets resolved in Cabinet; but that is just theory.

If a holistic approach seems to be lacking in the UK it appears totally absent in France. I first encountered this when I came to the Sorbonne as a student. In England I had a student card that defined me as a student and therefore entitled me to any advantages available to a student. Access to university classes? Evidently. Discounts on entry to museums, art galleries or theatres? Obviously. Concessions on banking or other financial matters? Included also. I was, after all, a student studying at an officially recognised educational body.

Not so in France. I needed a card for access to classes at the Sorbonne but that was all that it entitled me too. Student restaurants? I needed another card. Discounts at theatres? Sorry, I needed another card. Travel? Yet another card. And so on…….I ended up with a pocket full of cards for different activitites all of which had one thing in common: the fact that I was a student. Could that commonality be used to reduce the administrative load? Of course it could. Was it? Dream on.

What astounds me today is that this practice continues, nearly 70 years later. The most forms anyone who is not already a French citizen will need are those to claim citizenship. Then, if you mislay your health card, what do you need? Many of the same forms. If you want to apply for a driver’s licence what do you need? Many of the same forms. If you want to hire a lawyer what do you need? Many of the same forms. And so it goes on……..A French official once told a Friend of mine that if the government diesn’t have a file on you you don’t exist. But I do; could I be an alien form of life or am I just an illusion?

I’m reminded of one of my favourite films, Orfeu Negro, when Orpheus searches in the underworld for Eurydice. The underworld is a building for bureaucrats and Orpheus searches through rooms full of nothing but filing cabinets. 

Joined up government? Repetitive is nearer the ark and it's the number of duplicates demanded by the French administration that is filling up all those filing cabinets in Hades.

Straight Lines

The word among gardeners on the allotment is that I have a strange way of gardening but that I get results. What is so strnge? The absence of straight lines. My defence is that in gardening we are dealing with nature; we all agree on that. So find me a straight line that isn’t man-made in a wood, in a meadow or on a roadside.

My friend Sylvie, who is helping me on the allotment this year, wanted to knowwhere I was putting the flower corner when I mentioned that I wanted to growsome sunflowers Thre is no flower corner, I said, I plant them among the vegetables. Blank incomprehension. Worse still, there is a lilac tree beside my front door through which a honeysuckle and a clematis are grwing. And the lilac tree isn’t pruned but left to find its own shape. Quelle horeur! But everyone loves the floral display. Strange but it gets results.

Signs Of Spring And Miscellany

 

Signs Of Spring

The first signs of spring are around. Intermittent days of warm sunshine are becoming more frequent, japonica bushes are in bloom as are some fruit trees, almond or wild cherry, and I have four daffodils in bloom in front of my house. The rosemary bushes are in flower too, a light shade of blue. It’s just a beginning but turns my thoughts to gardening and the prospect of asparagus and strawberries before long.

In the front there are a couple of score more daffodils and narcissi still to bloom. The irises I cut down and replanted last year have regrown robustly so I am expecting a good show from them in about a month’s time. Everything on the balcony has survived the winter and I have decided not to continue with flowers in troughs there this year, to cut down on watering later, so there is little to do there or elsewhere in the front until may. I need to lightly prune the vine that grows over the balcony but that is about all for the moment as regards the house. After friend Gérard pruned the vine heavily last year I had a bumper crop of grapes and can hope for the same this year.

I’ve been over to the allotment just to put sleeves on the leeks to increase the portion that is white and do a little weeding. Nothing much seems to have moved over the winter, probably because of the inclement weather so the leeks won’t be worth pulling for at least another month. I noticed that some cress (lamb’s lettuce) has self-seeded so I’ll have a crop of that this year. The thornless blackberry has produced some new branches so I should have a good crop of blackberries too, as last year. I’ve bought two sacks of chicken shit fertiliser ready for when I start planting, a box of seed potatoes to start sprouting and a pack of spring onion seeds which I’ve sown in a trough on my balcony. So I just need to wait about a month now, maybe doing some weeding in the meanwhile.

Miscellany

The French seem to me to have an excessive regard for intellectuals. I have a university degree and therefore am classed as an intellectual. Nothing seems to be expected of intellectuals other than lofty thoughts and just about everything is excused. “Well, he’s an intellectual; what do you expect?” just about sums it up. Nothing practical s expected, certainly no DIY, and my gardening and boules playing, the latter particularly, are a bit suspect, eccentric.

I can live with that.

Harder to live with is the taste a lot of my friends have for bland food; not badly prepared or badly cooked food but food that to my taste lacks oomph. Or maybe it is just my predilection for herbs and spices, which I rarely cook without. There is a Vietnamese restaurant in Vaison, a woman who makes Thai dishes and one and one who does creole dishes in the village. But the Thai dishes are nothing like those I ate in Thailand and the others I find rather bland. In all cases it’s the spices that are missing, either in quantity or altogether. Well it’s said that there is no accounting for taste. Nonetheless I am cooking a fish curry for friends this week and it will have noticeable chilli, ginger and cloves in it; I’ll probably have to go easy on the chilli though.

The English conversation classes are still going well and are attracting new followers, which is just as well as some of the regulars have recently dropped out for heath reasons. Last week I taught the class to play the Black Widow card game, which I thought appropriate as the rules are simple, any number can play and there is quite a bit of new vocabulary in it. However one member couldn’t get their head around the idea that you need to avoid winning tricks with hearts or the black widow in them. Anyway that puts card games on the agenda for the future. Maybe I’ll get them to teach me some French games.

Translation And Immigration

 

Lost In Translation

Lost in translation is the title of one of my favourite films but this is not about films, it’s about translation; specifically, why do the French not get translations into English checked by an English native-language speaker? I and English friends have encountered many examples of mistranslations, from the gor blimey to the hilarious to the potentially dangerous. Here are some examples.

A friend visited a restaurant that had its menu translated into English. The menu listed the usual entrées, plats, desserts and the problem was with plat, flat or dish in English. Flat in English means on the same level or apartment. So the translator had some choices to make. He or she got it wrong. The result was a flat of the day and flats to take away. Hilarious but not too difficult to fix.

Some years ago I used Avignon airport frequently to visit England. Inscribed on a very large plate glass wall in the waiting area are the words Bienvenu en Avignon, le coeur de Provence. The English translation beneath it reads Welcome in (sic) Avignon, the hearth of Provence. Avignon residents might be surprised to know they are living in a cheminée. No harm done but very expensive to fix.

The other airport local to Mollans is at Nimes. On the wall inside the airport building is a large security notice, in French and English, with the English translation garbled. OK, it’s a security notice so much of the content can be inferred but the potential for misunderstandings is large. Isn’t airport security important enough to ensure an accurate translation?

Finally I sometimes visit wine websites to look at their English translations. One such was the Chateau Du Clos, in the Bordeaux area. It claimed that one of its wines was the colour of rubies, translated as “rubish”. I emailed the owners to point out that this was suspiciously close to rubbish and asked if they really wanted to claim their wine was that colour. The result was a good bottle of wine for me and a return email stating that the owners were thinking of suing the company that had created the site and the translation. Could be expensive for someone.

In all these cases what would it have cost to ensure an accurate translation from a native English speaker? Now whenever I encounter a mistranslation into English I offer the correction as a gift.

But before we English start smugly smiling it works the other way too. When the French new wave films hit Britain in the late 1950s one of the star films was Truffaut’s Quatre Cents Coups. The English translation was literal: The 400 Blows. But the film has nothing t do with 400 blows; faire les Quatre cents coups means to make mischief. So making mischief would have been a correct if not the sexiest of titles. I’ve no idea what the distributors paid for the right to distribute the film but it will certainly have dwarfed the cost of an accurate translation.

Immigration

I got an insight into the immigration issue in a dinner party at my house the other day with friends who are not racist or particularly politically active. It was to do with the safety net. The insight was that to defuse the issue countries need to ensure that they offer their existing citizens at least as much as they do to asylum seekers and would-be immigrants. This particularly concerns housing. Asylum seekers and would be immigrants are confined, which isn’t great for them, but they are housed. In the outside world (too) many people are sleeping on the streets. Finland has avoided this discrepancy by ensuring housing for all but I know of no other country that has done this. I haven’t yet had time to think this point through but intend to do so in the coming weeks.

It's A Waiting Game

 

It’s A Waiting Game

The Mairie always provides a new year lunch for free for the old folks in the village sometime in January and, for me, that is usually the only event of significance before March. It was, as usual, a good meal with a prawn, smoked salmon, ham and salad starter followed by roast pork in a mushroom sauce, cheese, dessert and wine “à volonté”. Hats off to the Mairie and members of the village council who served it. After that………..what, until March? I’m waiting for potatoes to appear in the garden shops so that I can buy some for my allotment; they’ll need a month for sprouting before I can plant them. At the same time onions should be available for planting. So basically nothing happens until I can start work on the allotment. I could do some clearing of debris there in the interim but that depends on the weather. So passing the time reduces to reading, listening to music or watching TV. It feels like an age but really that’s not so bad, is it?

(Don’t) Contact Us

I don’t know how many people have tried to contact the organisation behind a website and found it a frustrating experience but I certainly have many times. Contact Us can generally be taken to mean Please Don’t. Forging relationships with customers? Well, if you are buying, otherwise…...(who needs customers?). It’s all part of removing staff (and cost) from the process. Customer service? That’s a term that applies only to the sales staff. I’ve tried to interest relevant magazines in the issue, particularly from the point of view of old and limited fogies like, with no success. Isn’ t there a helpline phone number? Of course there is, if you can find it, but how long can you hang on the ine before you die? And if you have a specific problem there is probably a menu that will include all options except the one you want. So, an ELSE clause, an “other” option? Dream on.

I have had a bee in my bonnet about user testing for as long as I can remember until I recently found out that UX specialists are employed (sometimes). UX specialists are trained to examine the user experience on a website. That’s great, even if they don’t measure up to my benchmark of a 90 year-old granny living in Kazakhstan who has just been given a PC for her 90^th birthday and wants to buy a present on-line for her grandchild in England. But what is the remit of these UX specialists? Are they allowed to investigate and test beyond sales? There seems little if any evidence that that is the case. So do we just have to suffer and get on with it? Well, it seems to me that there is a gap in the market there; and if there is a gap in the market there could be an opportunity for someone to exploit it. Nationwide has only recently woken up to how to exploit its position as a mutual, doing so in a manner that no other bank in the UK can copy. So there is hope, even if it is tenuous. In the meantime I’m waiting, waiting for some organisation to meet my Kazakhstan granny test.

Christmas

 

Christmas

For me Christmas is all about children, contact with friends and family and gourmet eating and drinking. Believe it or not there is room for spirituality in there, if not religion. It may sound hedonistic but, for me, it is not.

In the absence of children and family it reduced to contacts, eating and drinking. In principle all this should be good but the contacts at my time of life always has a potential sad edge. I contacted my family on Christmas morning and all were well and preparing to enjoy their Christmas lunches. But what of those from whom I have heard nothing? When, many years ago, I was working as a volunteer at the Oxfam bookshop in Reading, the manageress said that if any of the older volunteers did not turn up when expected she just assumed they had died. If that was a bit cold-blooded it was not an unreasonable assumption. I shall of course follow up on my “absentees” but with a little trepidation.

Christmas began early for me, on the 13^th of December to be precise, when I went to the Christmas dinner organised by the Amitié Mollanaise. Smoked salmon, foie gras and confit de canard were all on offer and gratefully consumed. The village was already decked out with its Christmas lights, in blue and white, colours dear to the heart of a Chelsea football club supporter (but the less said about that perhaps the better).

On Christmas eve friend Sylvie invited me to join her and her extended family for their Christmas meal, again enjoyable for her daughter is a good cook, centred on pork and with enjoyable company to boot. The evening introduced me to what may be what may be a general practice or simply a family one. The children got their presents but not the adults. The adults don’t exchange presents but add some trinket to a collection for which they “fish” the next day. I must find out how common this is.

On Christmas day itself I went to Daniel’s for lunch with assorted friends; prawns, oysters and roast lamb. So on Boxing day it was down to me. I invited seven friends which meant that for space we had to eat in the large terrace room upstairs and also meant I got some of the exercise needed to burn off the calories consumed on the previous two days, carrying dishes up and down two floors. I’d bought prawns, oysters and a cold chicken and prepared some salads. We started with champagne and one of my friends had bought a good bottle of Gigondas to which I added a Gevrey Chambertin and a Pouilly Fumée. A friend also brought the traditional Yule log. So what’s not to like?

All in all that was a somewhat hectic Christmas but definitely an epicurean and enjoyable one. I think my stomach needs a rest for a few days. As to the 31^st, nothing is yet decided. It remains for me to follow up on those from whom I have heard nothing, with a little trepidation.

I’ve no idea what the new year will bring but, for myself, little if any deterioration in my vision and hearing. For others I wish peace, comfortable survival if prosperity is not a prospect, and goodwill.

Christmas Letter And Rip-off Country

 

It’s that time of year so here is my Christmas letter to friends.

Christmas Letter

So it’s been a year of mixed fortunes but not a bad one. In fact there have been a number of positives in it, the most significant being that I’m still alive. The downside is that I can’t say the same for some good friends and relatives. That’s how life goes now.

My family are all well, happy and successfully doing the various things that they do in their lives. That is a definite and the most important positive.

The world…….. ? I think I’d better leave that to what you want to make of it. Could be better ? Certainly. Beyond that you can make up your own mind but efeating the extreme right-wing demagogues, funded by the obscenely wealthy, present in most countries seems to me a priority.

All of which reduces to me. Well…...I still think I am lucky and privileged to be where I am.

My deteriorating eyesight has meant I have had to give up driving and my hearing is on ongoing battle so I have had to make considerable use of medical services here which I have found excellent. It has also meant reduced indpendence and more reliance on friends who have similarly proved extremely helpful.

What makes me still want to get up in the morning ? As ever it is boules, gardening, football and writing. I also continue to give the free English conversation lessons in the Mairie.I haven’t done anything of note except going to see my family in the UK, a trip that was very enjoyable if not very long; they all lead busy lives that I can interrupt for only a short time and my limited mobility means that there is not much scope to stay and explore the surroundings by myself. But I found London to Avignon by train in 6 hours 10 minutes impressive.

So for most of the year it comes down to ……..

I’ll deal with football first. It may not surprise you to know that I no longer play. However I do watch, avidly on TV, especially when my team, Chelsea is playing. An aunt took me to see them play when I was 10 and that became a lifelong loyalty. I once saw a survey that found that men changed their loyalty to football teams less often than they changed their wives and so it has been with me.

On the boules front I still play regularly and most of the time quite successfully if not to the standard that helped me win tournaments in the past. I now sometimes need help knowing exactly where the cochonet is.

Gardening has been a mixed experience. The floral display in front of my house has been as successful as usual and appreciated by all in the village. The allotment was not as successful as last year, although still useful. I’m not sure why, a number of factors could contribute, but that’s how it turned out. I’ll hope to do better next year (as all gardeners do)

Which leaves writing. There I can point to one definite success. The guide for visitors to Mollans which I wrote and published, with a lot of help from friends Claudine and Jacques, has sold well and should make the hoped for 1700-1800 euros for the school here over the next couple of years. Apart from that I have been writing an autobiography, largely for my grandchild, a kind of apologia of me and my ancestors, so that she in later years may understand how life was lived in the last 80 years or so. I have also continued a project to write a response to Voltaire’s « Lettres Philosophiques » on the English from the opposite point of view. As ever Claudine, my faithful critic and nterpreter, is in tow. I’m not sure what I’ll do with these when finished, print them as a vanity exercise or just leave them in electronic form. I’ll decide that later and, anyway, the reesarch and interest are justification for me in themselves and appease my obsession to keep writing.

So that’s my year. I hope yours has been as fulfilling and happy. And let me wish you and yours a happy Christmas and new year. My Christmas won’t be with family because they all have a number of considerations and priorities with which to juggle and to which I don’t want to add ; but it will be with many good friends.

Rip-off country

Viewing a recent TV programme on Norway made clear to me some of the reasons why the UK is a mess. One thing Norway and the UK have in common is that both are outside the EU; but that is about the only thing the countries have in common. Norway stayed out to protect it’s fishing industry, integral to its economy. The UK came out because the country accepted being conned. Important to both countries economies is north sea oil. Norway has kept most of the proceeds in the hational coffers and still has them: the UK gave most of them away to private shareholders and they have disappeared into private pockets (and possibly tax shelters). The Norwegian economy also depends heavily on the export of wood which it culls from extensive forests which it is expanding whilst culling. The UK once had extensive forests but these have long disappeared. Norways train network, which is nationalised, runs through much of the most difficult terrain in the world, featuring snow, ice and mountains, with 90% punctuality. The UK train network, which is mostly privatised, faces no such challenges and struggles ti get above 80% punctuality. The Norwegian tax regime is one of the highest in the world; the UK tax regime is middling and governments strive to get it lower. Norway has abundant water, the supply is nationalised and is harnesses for hydroelectric power; the UK has has abundant water, the supply is privatised and a lot of it is lost in floods and trough leaky water pipes. So which country is moving in the better direction? And what are the lessons?

Back From Scotland

 

Back From Scotland

I had been looking forward to the trip to the UK but not the journey there. I had decided to do it by train, as last year, Avignon – Lille – London – Glasgow, and in the event it was easy. I’d booked assistance at Euston and Glasgow as I had a heavy case and the trains can be very long; lugging a case with two wheels the length of a long platform, a possible 18 carriage-lengths, was at the limit of what I could manage. However I was in the middle of the train for the Eurostar connection to London and so had to trundle the case only 9 carriage-lengths at St Pancras. I’d tried booking assistance at Lille and London St Pancras but the system defeated me. I resolved the problem when in Glasgow by buying a case with 4 wheels. The journey back from London to Avignon was again impressive, 15 minutes shorter than last year at only six and a quarter hours. Although I didn’t then know it my glimpses of sun on departing northern France were the last time I would see it until my return. It wasn’t cold in England or Scotland but, boy, was it cloudy.

Natalie met me at Glasgow and so my stay started. The next day we went to the local garden centre for breakfast, the mandatory Scottish morning soft roll (mine with back bacon), and I bought presents for friends here and plants for Natalie’s garden. Much of the time during the stay was spent around the house but on the Sunday we went to Eddlestone to see Steve and Jo and, as arranged, René and Armelle who were visiting. René and Armelle were staying at the local pub so we went there for lunch. That is where I had the fish and chips I have to have at least once when I come over. It was good to see them both again. Armelle, it seemed was the braver, having had haggis for breakfast. When they left Mollans they had given me a picture so I reciprocated by giving them one,a framed image of a scene from the Rubayat of Omar Khayam painted on bone which I had purchased in Esfahan in Iran 50 years earlier. They weren’t familiar with Omar Khayam or the Rubayat but will no doubt be doing the Internet searches. A poem about love and wine should ring bells with any French person.

On the Monday, on an impulse, I bought Eilidh a large cardboard castle construction kit. It proved an inspired move. The castle was large enough for Eilidh to get inside and needed colouring all around it. That was where Eilidh resided for most of the rest of my stay and the colouring still hadn’t been completed, despite help from Natalie, Andy and me, when I left. Eilidh had decided she would be a bat for Halloween so I bought her some bats’ ears and stickers and thought the castle should be Bat Castle. However Eilidh decided it should be Primary Palace and who am I to argue?

We didn’t do a lot on my birthday itself although I had some lovely presents from my family but the afternoon was given over to gardening, planting the bulbs and plants I had bought on my first day there. In the evening we had the ritual cake. There wasn’t enough room on it for 84 candles so Natalie had placed 4 and, to my shame, I had to have two goes to blow them all out.

On my last day in Scotland we went to the Transport Museum which was having a children’s day, having to find small effigies of people hidden amongst the exhibits. Glasgow really has some fine museums, as well as parks, a world away from the grubby industrial centre I had known 50 years before.

As always it was great to be with the family again, if only for a few days. Eilidh seemed to have shot up inches between July and then.

I left on Thursday and went meet my son Carl and friend Margaret for lunch the next day. Unfotunately Margaret had brochitis and couldn’t make it so Carl ended up with the cheese, olives and lavender essence I had bought for Margaret. I expect Carl’s girlfriend will at least appreciate the lavender essence. I was pleased to find Carl fit and on form and we had a good chat as well as a good meal at Zedel, a French restaurant in the heart of Piccadilly. It’s an amazing place with the restaurant three storeys underground which served as a bomb shelter during WW2 for people letting their hair down in the area.

On my return (to the sun again!) I was met by Jacques and Claudine at Avignon TGV and we had a meal in Malaucène on the way home. I couldn’t face unpacking my case entirely then but just extracted the necessities and went to bed.

Sylvie came round the next day with some things she’d looked after while I was away and insisted we celebrated my birthday here also. So this Thursday she, Sophie and Daniel and Jacqueline came round for a meal of sausages and mash, the sausages I’d brought with me from the UK. I’d put bottles of Worcester and HP brown sauce on the table, both alien to France, and Sophie fell in love with the HP sauce; so I’ll have to buy her a bottle the next time I go to a supermarket and can find it.

From now on it should be life as usual. A colloquial French term for grandparents is “les chicoufs”. It’s chic when grandchildren come to stay and ouf when they depart. I think I’ve done the ouf, but have no idea when the chic came; as every body who knows me knows, it’s not me. I must have somehow done that already.

Gardening, Politics And Rebooting

Gardening

Somewhat to my surprise there is still a decent floral dislay in the front. The red sages I planted a year ago are in full bloom, as is a solanum in a pot by the front door. One hanging basket has petunia has surfinas still in bloom and there is another on the balcony. And the argyranthemum is providing its usual golden autumn show to add to the blue and red. I planted a half dozen Nepeta in troughs in the summer and these I’ve moved across the road where they are still blooming. So it’s all looking quite good for the time of year. I’ve lifted and pruned about half the irises across the road and am not sure whether I’ll get around to the other half. I’ve decided that next year I shall no longer use troughs ; they need too much watering and I’m not getting any younger.

The allotment is ready for closing down for the winter. I’ve already culled all the tomatoes and made chutney with the green ones but there is still the celery to be had. That apart it’s ust a question of clearing out the debris, which I shall do on Saturday. The shallots, garlic and leeks for next year are already planted.

Politics Again

In France the next elections are looking like a gift-horse for Marine Le Penn or her chosen acolyte if she is not allowed to stand. It’s not clear what anyone can do about it other than by a large and broad coalition of the centre and left and that looks unlikely.

In the UK a recent poll fore cast a victory for Reform and a government headed by Nigel Farage, God help us. Fortunately a new election is 4 years away and little is likely to change that, even the saying that a week is a long time in politics. Unfortunately intermediate bye-elections are likely to see Reform gains in members of Parliament. Unless these new members make complete fools of themselves, or even if they do as is quite probable, the Reform bandwagon looks set to continue. What can stop it ?

I can think of only one thing and that is to change the current political narrative, which is all about immigration. It would mean centre and left politicians of all parties, whilst acceping that immigration is an issue, forcing a focus on economic and social issues. The economy would not be fertile ground at the moment but that could change. Social issues and the cost of living are where Reform is at its weakest and they could be a way to change the olitical narrative. But these issues would have to be forced into the debate. Invited to comment on immigration, as all MPs often are, centre and left MPs need to interject on every occasion that important social issues are not being adequately addressed and need to be. The centre and left media would need to take up the baton too.

Would that do it ? I can’t think of any other strategy that curreently could.

I believe that the immigration problem in Europe can be solved only by a Europe-wide strategy. The EU seems to be dragging its heels on this and yet the very existence of the EU could be at stake. Does the EU fully realise this ?

The Eternal Reboot

My computer printer seems to have a life of its own. No paper ? Yes there is paper in the tray ; it still insists there isn’t. Not connected ? Yes it is connected. So what do I do ? I reboot it. Then it is a happy printer. When my PC locks up (a so-called transient error : no one knows what is going on) what do I do ? I reboot it. When I have an electricity cut what do I do. I reboot it to see if it’s an appliance or EDF. I think rebooting has become an essential part of life.

Summer Visit And Politics

Summer Visit And Politics

Natalie and family ame to visit this summer as usual and I think enjoyed their holiday doing nothing very much but swimming and, Andy, cycling. I was pleased that the front of the house was in full bloomwhen they arrivedand we sat for a while on the bench in front as they arrived too early to go directly into the gite. He photos below are of the front of the house and their visit. 

They took back with them the two old figures sitting on a bench (i told Eilidh they were her mum and dad when they will be my age) and the spinning wheel which I had bought at the Telethon auction. I bought the spinning wheel because I thought it a beautiful piece of wooden machinery. But I thought that, rather than here it belongs in Scotland where there is a tradition of spinning wool, especially in the islands.

Politics

I’m still struggling to understand French politics, which seem much more complicated than their British counterparts. The sheer number of political parties is in itself daunting. For me at this time the political imperative is to ensure that the far right does not gain majority power. I feel that the wealth imbalance in the developed world, let alone the less developed countries, threatens something akin to feudalism if the far right gains power. And wider war in Europe becomes a stronger possibility.

To gain power far right parties exploit stupidity which, as Bonhoeffer has pointed out, is the hardest obstacle to counter. However it means that there is a depth of stupidity in their power base that will be shunned by a majority using at least some ntellect so the only intelligent people who will be attracted to them are those who seek power at any price, the Goebels of the world. I have found comfort in the idea that power and wealth alone don’t imply any coherent set of domestic policies and I have always presumed that, given some small measure of power, far right party representatives will openly display their inadequacies and thus won’t gain more power. A strong focus on nationalism gets you only so far.

This would seem to be the case in Britain and the USA at the moment. But can I be sure that this will always hold true ?

At base my contention is that far right parties cannot succeed in a democracy, they will be shown to be inadequate and that to succeed they need a dictatorship. I think that whether this is true or not depends on the level of stupidity (and irrationality and prejudice) present in a society. A colleague of mine once said that we plumb the depths of oceans and space but the depths of human stupidity have never been plumbed. 

The Book And The Meal

 

The Book Is Out

On Tuesday friends Daniel and Gérard took me to the printers to collected the printed books, 300 copies. I’ve since distributed them to the tourist shop, the tourist office, the Bar du Pont and the baker’s and I’ve put up two posters. There’s quite a bit mre to do but it’s a start.

I’ve set myself a goal of selling 100 copies by the end of August. If I achieve that the costs of the book will be covered and there will be more or less 200 copies to sell for the school, which has the potential to raise more or less 2000 euros.

Fingers crossed.

The Street Meal

On Sunday we had the annual meal in the street when everyone brings something for others to eat. This year, as last, I brought along a baklava and a coronation chicken. Both were completely eaten and I got a number of compliments incluing one from Audrey who also makes a curry to sell from her food cart and asked for the recipe. So that really was a compliment.

I also managed to sell four books. Selling the books is preoccupying me now but Claudine has warned me to back off. I’d gone into the tourist shop on Saturday and none had been sold. A man came into the shop when I was there so I picked up a book, showed it to him and he bought it. I complained to Claudine about the lack of salesmanship in the shop and she poited out that that wasn’t allowed. The lady in charge, Magali, had to be impartial and couldn’t promote one item over others. That was news to me so I shall indeed back off. Softly, softly catchee monkey.

It's June

 

It’s June

It’s June so I really need to write an update to my blog and that is just what this is.
On the flowers around the house the work is more or less done (more on that later) and the compliments have been flowing so that is gratifying. The roses are more or less over, as is the honeysuckle, but the jasmine has started blooming so the scent on the balcony is maintained. I need to replace some pansies that have been in a trough since winter but that is mostly it.

The allotment has needed watering every other day but that is mostly it too. I have lettuces and rocket at the moment, also some chillis, and a bit of weeding to do. The garlic has been harvested and is a reasonable if not generous crop. The rest is planted with the usual selection of vegetables. The unexpected development is that where I planted bean seeds I seem to have a crop of sunflowers. I’ve no idea how that happened but they all look strong and healthy. I’m going to have to remove a lot of them and propose to transplant several of them into spaces in front of my house. I’ve no idea if that will work but I’m going to try it. Earlier this week I had the English conversation participants here at home and it’s possible they will take some when we have our final meeting before the summer break over at the allotments.

On that front the work on the scrapbook we have been doing is almost complete and next week I hope to be able to take the scrapbook to the Mairie for display in the hope of attracting more students.

The book, THE BOOK, the visitors’ guide to Mollans, is with the printers and should be available in early July. Most of the shops in the village are happy to sell it without commission and I’ve made a poster advertising it to place in camping sites around. I need to sell around 120 copies to get my costs back but if and when that happens it should make around 1800 euros for the village school. For me that will be a good result.

With all this going on boules as taken a back seat I’m afraid. And I need a new project for nextwinter.

It's That Time Of Year

 

It’s That Time Of Year

France where I am is seasonal in more ways than you might expect. I like dark chocolate, in truffles for instance, and you can get them only at Christmas. Something similar happens in Italy where my Italian cousin resides and who sends me dark chocolates with an intense coffee interior that are obtainable only at that time of year. There is no weather related reason for this so it must be something to do with perceived commercial interests.

Anyway it is strawberry and asparagus time here now and I think I have just about had my full of both. You have to indulge when they are available because neither will be in a couple of months’ time, asparagus in much shorter time; and neither is suited to freezing. The good news on that front is that cantaloupe melons are already obtainable and they, unlike strawberries, taste the same whether they come from France or elsewhere. And I can look forward to the soon arrival of cherries and then apricots, peaches and nectarines.

But this is the time of year I really like because there is so much to do. Being retired one thing I have a lot of is time. In winter it is a problem but not now and the weather allows lots to be done. It’s work, which can be a controversial issue here, but the kind of work that I like. I have heard some people here, maybe newcomers to the area, complain that the French here don’t want to work, they are lazy. But that seems to me a misunderstanding of the underlying attitude, which puts quality of life before work. The people here can work, and often do, very hard, but they want to do it when it suits them. If they have earned enough for the week and the weather is fine, why not go fishing? No one is trying to, or expecting to, get rich and create a commercial empire. It is counter to the northern European (protestant?) ethic of having to improve your circumstances through hard work (which will necessarily be rewarded?).

Anyway my hard work is on the allotment and on the flowers in front of the hose. I’ve not yet done a lot in the front apart from some plants to replace daffodils on the balcony. This year I’m going to try some sunflowers in the front. One of the reported sayings that is always in my mind is that, around 1917 Diaghilev apparently advised Nijinsky “Etonne-moi” (astonish me). It echoes a thought from a cousin of mine many years ago who said that if you are going to fail, fail gloriously. I think sunflowers could be stunning and I could put two or three in pots on my balcony and across the road. We’ll see if that works. I’ve bought another jasmine for the front so maybe I should rename my house jasmine or honeysuckle house but the rest is still to be decided. The lilac next to my front door is already in bloom so I’ll have a perfumed balcony from now on.

The allotment is under control at the moment. I have to erect the plastic greenhouse friends Steve and Jo gave me before they left so that I can transfer seedlings now growing on my balcony. There’s a bit of weeding to do but not much. Over the next three weeks I have to remove the remaining leeks and cabbages and prepare that area of the allotment for planting tomatoes, aubergines, courgettes, peppers and chillis. I’ll adjust these according to the space available and plant lettuces, spring onions and carrots where there is remaining space. The aromatics, mint, winter savory and oregano, are already there. I probably won’t bother this year with basil which I can grow on my kitchen window ledge and rosemary, parsley and sage I already have in abundance in front of the house. Thyme grows wild al over the place so I don’t need to cultivate that.

Rebirth At Easter

 

Rebirth At Easter

There’s not a lot holy about this one but it is nonetheless something I very much look forward to. For different reasons distant friends whom I look forward to seeing have delayed their arrival beyond the usual date but should be here around Easter. Easter, a bit late this year, is also when a lot happens on the gardening front. The allotment needs to be in shape to receive the vegetables I shall be planting at some point in the first half of May. I’ve spent considerable time clearing the over winter debris and weeds and still have a bit to do but that should be completed in good time. I want to re-erect the fragile (plastic) greenhouse that friends Steve and Jo gave me on their departure two years ago to hold the seed plantings that I’ve made and which are now sitting on my balcony. I also need to think about the flowers I shall plant in front of the house and which I shall purchase in the first half of May. A visit then to the market in Vaison is on the agenda. The planning and the doing keep me preoccupied and that is great. At this time of year I feel rejuvenated and that is a kind of rebirth after the winter months.

Book Number Two

Writing is an obsession for me and has been since my schooldays. It has continued into my retirement and there is quite a lot I have written for my own amusement and to clarify my thoughts; writing, I find is a way to do that. Anyway I’ve decided to put what I have written together in a book I shall simply call writings. The English version is essentially done in three sections. One section is articles I have written inspired as a converse to Voltaire’s Lettres Philosophiques or Lettres Sur Les Anglais: an Englishman’s observation of the French. Another is a collection of reflections on subjects that occupy my mind from time to time, late in the evening when I sit in the summer on my balcony with a glass of Calvados to hand. The third is my sole attempt at fiction. My mind tends to be analytical so I do not find fiction easy but I have felt the need to attempt it. So I invented a character, in retirement like me, who goes through some adventures of which I have experience. The effect is intended to be humorous, the reader will decide.

Claudine Cellier, a close friend, is not just my translator but also my encourager and critic, has already translated much of the text. So the book will appear in French as well as English.I’ll publish the book myself so it will be a case of vanity publishing. In my case, I think, not so much vanity as obsession.

World News

Much that happens in the world passes me by in my small secluded French village. However I cannot escape the headlines. I have come to see history as a struggle between a small coterie of powerful and rich to become richer and more powerful in which the vast majority of populations have been mere pawns. Only in the last couple of centuries have the pawns united on occasion to briefly state their case. In the latter part of the 20^th century they managed it for longer and there could be hope that the interest of the majority might prevail. However events have since taken a backward turn and I fear that the age old fight is on again. War of any kind is never in the interest of the majority and I can only hope that the majority will realise what is in their interests and act to ensure that their interests prevail.

Spring And Cooking For The French

 

Spring And Cooking For The French

Spring

Spring announced itself this week but is predicted to take a break next week. Anyway it is coming and lasted long enough for me to get some useful things done. I’ve cleared the space where I will plant potatoes and onions but my seed potatoes could do with more time to continue sprouting so I will delay planting them for another ten days. I fed the gooseberry bushes and the garlic and shallots that are already well on the way and hope that will provide results in June. I also planted some climbing bean seeds and some spring onion and spinach beet seeds on my balcony. So vegetable growing is on the go. I have some more weeding to do among the leeks and cabbages and have to think what to do with about 10sm covered in cress. If next week is as dull and wet as the weather forecast predicts further action will have to wait a week and then I shall go to the market in Vaison to see what plants are on offer. It’s a temporary pause but I can feel the adrenalin flowing.

I have about 10 daffodils flowering out front and primroses are flowering on all the sheltered banks around. I haven’t noticed any violets or Japonica but they will certainly be around somewhere. And forsythia is blooming on my allotment. I’m waiting for the sunflower seeds that the birds that feed on my balcony always drop to sprout in the pots below so that I can transfer them to the allotment too. There’s a robust aquilegia there and I ‘ll have to think what other flowers I’ll grow there, probably marigolds or nasturtiums because both are easy.

Cooking For The French

Last night I had Daniel and Jean-Claude around to eat and I cooked a Chinese style chicken with rice, water chestnuts and bean sprouts. Jean-Claude was delighted but Daniel much less enthused; he liked the chicken and rice but not the water chestnuts or bean sprouts. This is a common problem I find when inviting French friends. Most, but happily not all, of my French friends have very conservative and traditional tastes. Spices are a risk. Saffron is OK but others are debatable. Chilli in any significant quantity is a definite no-no. I once asked a French friend why there was always fresh ginger in the supermarkets but no one seemed to cook with it. The answer was that the French make a tea, “tisane” with it but, cook with it? Never. Yet the rougail de saucisses I made a couple of weeks ago was roundly acclaimed and full of ginger. I think the problem may lie in innate traditional French tastes. I remember a programme years ago in which some renowned English chefs were invited to create a meal for their French counterparts. The meal went well, as expected, but what was not expected was the French reaction to the desert, made with elderberry flowers. The French gastronomes were delighted with the desert and all said “but we have elderberry flowers, why don’t we use them?” I suspect that, prior to this, any desert served to the French using the flavour of elderflowers would have been regarded with suspicion. However once tasted and used by a French chef it would be happily accepted. A friend who has spent time in Thailand, as I have, has the same reaction as I to the meals offered by a Thai lady in the village. We both say that the meals are OK but they are not Thai. Why? Because they have been adapted to French tastes (and, in fact, are popular here). They lack the authentic Thai flavour. But give the French an authentic Thai meal and most of them won’t like it. Perhaps it has something to do with travel. The French, in general, don’t have “la bougeotte”, itchy feet; after all France itself an offer almost any kind of holiday you want. So they tend not to have the experience of authentic foreign cuisine as much as other nationalities do. Only those French who have travelled extensively are likely to appreciate it.

Rewriting History

 

Rewriting History

The weather is inclement so not much boules playing or gardening and too much TV watching. I’m already to go on the allotment but need to wait another week or so. IMarch is the starting point for me. So here’s another blog post.

The TV watching hasn’t been entirely without point though. I was aware that archaeology h had gone high-tec, no longer just scrapers and paint brushes, but not up to date on recent findings, some of which I find greatly pleasing. I have always been much more interested in social history, books like Mayhew’s London, Akenfield and Montbaillou, than the kings and wars I was taught about at school; and some recent findins have reinforced that. In particular some findings about the so-called Dark Ages in Britain after the Romans all left, a period of presumed misery about which there is precious little documented evidence. Now, it seems, we understand it wasn’t like that at all.

I was taught that after the Romans all left (which they didn’t, only the army left, or most of it) Germanic Anglo-Saxon hordes invaded the country, laying waste to the land and driving the Britons, mostly Celts, into Wales, Cornwall and Scotland. Good kings and wars stuff that. With the new archaeological evidence, the picture doesn’t look like that at all. It looks rather more as follows.

There were probably already some Anglo-Saxons in England at the time anyway, through trade. But the Romans left a bit of a vacuum so a few boatloads arrived on a beach somewhere (sound familiar?). The local lord of the manor thought “great, I can use more manpower to farm more of my land”. The locals thought “great, more choice of whom to couple up with” and they all got coupling and farming together. Word got back to the continent that England was a good place to be (lots of pretty girls there) and boatloads more came over. DNA proves that at least the coupling happened. Of hundreds of skeletons unearthed from the period only a tiny minority show signs of violence; so no bloody invasion, perhaps a few spats (“too many foreigners here” – sound familiar?) Other technologies indicate extensive building and farming and that England was thriving at the time. The Celts in Cornwall, almost certainly not all Celts, far from beaten and cowering in rocky enclaves were doing a roaring trade with countries across the seas and building large settlements. Of course this may not be exactly as it happened but it is a more likely version than the one I was taught at school.

All this gives me the same feeling of elation that I felt when I came across chaos theory in the 1990s, which destroyed all those neat little equations I had been taught in physics. I do love it when everyone has to think again. It may be obtuse of me but it does brighten up a gloomy day.