Dear All
Hopefully you will find Missive 17 attached, which once again has a theme running through it! Not sure if I can keep this up, but we’ll see!!
This latest missive has been a long time in the writing, interrupted by my having to pay a “flying” visit, by ferry (courtesy of Iceland!) as a foot passenger to Portsmouth, for the funeral of my Mum’s sister – Auntie Marg, who had been poorly and in hospital since before Christmas. She was however, fortunately able to attend the wedding of her Grandson, in Cambridge in early December, where being in fine form gave us time for happy reminiscences and lots of further happy memories of this wonderful lady. She loved life to the full, and particularly loved the Spring flowers, which she used for a inspiration for some of her many paintings, and was very supportive of our move to France, but sadly never got to visit us here. So this seasonal offering is dedicated to her.
So if friends in Stroud did a double take and thought they saw me passing in a car the other day, it just might have been – there’s something rather clandestine about being somewhere when nobody, or at least few people, know you’re there!! Sorry not to catch up with anyone, but I arrived Sunday teatime and left again the following morning, leaving Linda and Max marooned in deepest Vendée and being carless myself, not as upwardly mobile as normal!!!
Visitors continue to arrive at La Loge, or book up for the coming months. My Mum and Dad, unable to fly because of recent volcanic disruption, returned as foot passengers with me to Caen, where I had left the car and are now having a restful and reflective time after the sadness of the preceding weeks, despite today’s problems with the fosse septique (septic tank)! Best not to ask and it probably won’t make it into a future missive, as I know some of you are of a nervous disposition!!
But enough for this covering letter, to allow you TIME for the missive! – Phew just made it in April!
Love
Roger
rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk
Mes chers amis
SpringTIME ~ Missive 17
To Aunt Marg ~ August 1922 – April 2010 ~ with love.
The theme idea is catching, well at least for this missive, after that who knows! As they say the clue’s in the title and this month’s seasonal offerings are all connected, albeit sometimes loosely, to time! Something, which at the moment I have plenty of and to turn around a well known quote: “Time is no longer my master!”
The Count returns (Back in Time)
Attempts at conversions with Mickaël the grown up youngest son of the nearby farm, are at the moment, sadly infrequent as he is not needing to collect water from the trough in our front yard to top up the cows drinking troughs in the fields, the winter rains having more that replenished the field ponds and troughs as well as making streams flow where the previous very dry winter and summer had dried them up completely, only the presence of a linear dip across the nearby fields, linking the ponds together giving any hint to there being a stream here, weather permitting. But, shortly after our return from England last time, Mickaël stopped as he passed in his tractor to say hello and catch up on where we had been, he usually wants to know how many kilometres we have done!, and mentioned that Monsieur from the chateau was returning the following week to assess the damage caused by “Tempest Xynthia,” as the devastating February storm has been called.
I came into the house with the news for Linda and to be honest became quite “lyrical” as the imagination started to kick in and to think about what such a visit would have entailed in years gone by! A time when such a house would have employed a large staff, who if not travelling with the master when he was away, would keep things ticking over – the kitchen garden dug, planted, weeded and watered, seasonal produce for use at the table or preserved for use during the winter months, no deep freezers then, but preserving as jams, pickles and salted items. The rabbit house would also have been in its prime, not dilapidated and rotting as it is now, the door ajar and the hutches largely door-less, now the roof only kept weather tight as the end of the house contains our modern concrete water tank, filled not from with buckets hauled manually from the well, but from the large concrete water tower (called in France “Chateau d’eau” in recognition of the importance of water) situated behind one wing of the stable block, but more of that at another time. Back meanwhile to the kitchen garden of old; large – almost 100 meters square, with a large stone wall surrounding three sides and a thick hedge and ditch on the other. The sunny north and west facing walls, now crumbling and tumbling down in places have just the remnant of one of the fruit trees that must have at one time lined the walls.
The ornate rabbit house, curved carved window frames, lintel and matching door is now very sadly jaded, but must also have doubled as a potting shed as the hutches have a potting table above them and opens through another ornate door to what must have been the jewel in the crown, the cast iron curved greenhouse, made not a million kilometres away in Angers as the makers mark proudly proclaims on the outside of the outside door, The curved glass roof, reminiscent of an upturned boat, is built onto a low brick wall with a stone flight of steps leading to a iron walkway along the ridge of the greenhouse with ornate railings along the sides, this appearing to be an elaborate mechanism for allowing the gardeners to open and close the windows that curved downwards from the ridge, in an age before electric motors made the job much easier. This like the rabbit house is in a poor state and has many of the hand cut glass panes missing, some blowing some way across the lawn in the recent severe gales. But the potager, kitchen garden must in times gone by have had quite a staff to keep it ticking over and the household fed.
Then there is “our” bit; the farmyard, cart horse stable, chicken coups, massive stone built and pantile roofed barn, for storage of the farm implements and to house the cows in the twin briars, either side of the large central barn / cartshed. This would have been quite a hub of activity, our house La Loge probably housing the farm workers and gardeners in a number of small simple dwellings, with the grenier, attic, a store room for the various produce produced in the garden, greenhouse and surrounding fields. The grenier, like so many in rural France, is boarded out with rough plastered walls and exposed beams and tiles – ripe for conversion as they say! But ours provides clues to another time , another age as clearly preserved on the old and in places crumbling plaster are long dated tallies of the produce that has previously been stored, some indistinct and little more than tally lines appearing thus – IIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIX, others clearly annotated in the beautiful French script so carefully taught in French schools with dates and what the tally related to: Blé (wheat), Melon, Oignon (onions) or the like. Now sadly, the grenier is bare and home to various wild animals that scamper around late and night at times, pursued by a flurry of flapping wings as well as bats that are carefully hidden away in the various nooks and crannies, but are given away by their droppings! After an unexpected visit from a French naturalist yesterday morning, although at the time I was a little worried as he introduced himself as a naturist!, who was doing a research project on Barn Owls, I now know that you can tell the difference between bat and mouse droppings, or “shit” as he called it – his English was excellent but was just occasionally let down! – as mouse dropping are hard and bat droppings powdery, as he demonstrated with his bare hands!! Well, he had just been collecting owl pellets from the next door barn, so it didn’t really matter, but having finally after a coffee and a good conversation about the French attitude to nature conservation amongst other things, he and his young assistant parted with the customary handshake and I waved them off and quickly went to wash my hands. I was reminded of a conversation from a day or two earlier, where I had asked, as we waited for the man to come and sort out the fosse septique, septic tank, if Linda thought that it was still customary to shake hands with the “shit” cart operative. When he arrived –yes it was!!
But so far this is only a small part of the estate, and as April is rapidly coming to an end, and to avoid too many pages, more on the theme of the chateau’s past times will follow in a future missive. But with no ceremony, or staff lined up outside the front door to bob or bow in welcoming home the master, Monsieur returned and over the few days he was around we had a guided tour of his private chapel, of which he is extremely proud, and other both hilarious and in-depth conversations ranging from religion to politics, crime, popular music, dancing with chairs and language! But similarly you’ll have to wait for these!!
If only I’da known at the time!
Remember this one, featured in the last missive, to which I said I’d return: “I have since found out I was suffering from what is known in the psychobabble circle as ‘Low Self-Esteem.’ Jesus! If only I’da known that at the time, I’da put a jack under it and raised it up.” by Malachy McCourt in “A Monk Swimming” But I guess he just didn’t realise at the time – hindsight is a great thing!!
The more I read this the more it “kind’a” haunts me, firstly for its depth but at the same time its simplicity. They do say many a true word is said in jest, and there is a “comic” element in this quote, but also how very true. It also seems so simple a problem to put right; “Oh Jo, know what your problem is? Low Self Esteem. Feel good about yourself and everything will be alright!” But, as I’m sure you will realise, it’s far from this simple and I guess the more I think about it, and I’ve got to admit I’m not sure where this piece is going, having sown such a strong seed, the more thoughts I have. Before you can “put a jack under it” people have got to have something to feel good about and I find myself returning to that old chestnut of equality. It’s easier to have something to feel good about if you’ve got something, something of a paradox particularly as having lots of things doesn’t always equate to good self esteem, but it maybe is a start. Never having studied psychology, perhaps I’m out of my depth here, but there is still that nagging feeling that there must be something that can be done to help with the thorny issue of self esteem and recently a number of things have come loosely together as I have wondered about the direction in which this piece is going, and I’m lucky as along the way this section may fall flat on its face, but should it do so I feel suitably good about myself for it to be disappointing but not sufficiently devastating as to let the pressure out of the jack and bring my self-esteem with a bump back to the ground!!
Some of you may have seen a number of articles, at the back end of last year, along the lines of “Tough Love is back on the agenda!” Although I can’t help but feel that for many it was never off the agenda, when tips for tough love include:
• Always praise your children for good behaviour. Tell them that you love them and make sure to give them a hug to reinforce the message.
• Make clear what sanctions will result from bad behaviour, so children know the consequences of their actions.
• Ensure that both parents adopt the same approach, so the children don’t play one adult off against the other.
And, so the advice and it’s not about physical punishment, that is so familiar to many of us, goes on and on. Some of the articles stemmed from a report published by the think tank Demos (www.demos.co.uk), which concludes that “Parents who take a ‘tough love’ approach to bringing up children give them a better chance of doing well in live.” But for me the important part to come out of these articles wasn’t the rehashing of tips as above, but rather what is a much bigger issue and one which has troubled me for some time and continues to do so, that children from poor backgrounds are obviously disadvantaged but in far deeper way than might be apparent on the surface.
In a key section of the report, Richard Reeves, co-author and Director of Demos says that governments must end a “conspiracy of silence” on poor parenting and the need to support the most vulnerable children and their parents: He continues that “The Right is obsessed with family structure and the institution of marriage rather than the actual job of parenting, while the Left is more comfortable with economic explanations and terrified of appearing judgemental. The result (being) to deepen disadvantage for already deprived children.” This leads, by the age of five, to ‘tough love’ children being twice as likely to develop empathy, determination in the face of difficulty, controlling of emotions and avoiding temptation as those with disengaged carers. The tough love approaching of balancing warmth with discipline is the most effective for generating these key characteristics and is of paramount importance during a child’s pre-school years. The report states that no government can ignore the fact that some parents need more support than others
I’m reminded of a presentation I once did, about just this point and one of my sections questioned the validity of a SATS paper that asked Y6 children to write about their feelings having queued for the sales after Christmas and having managed to get the last of the latest computer game consoles, before the shop sold out, with the knowledge that new stocks wouldn’t be in for many weeks. Children from wealthy families might well have experienced such emotions, or at least think such a scenario a possibility, but not for a child from a household where food is scarce and leisure time is spent keeping quiet and trying to avoid the next thump, by Mum or Dad on the back of the head. Incidentally, both children in the presentation were based on real children I have known.
This neatly takes me to the current SATS situation and the present relief that it seems that finally some of the unions have done what they failed to do a couple of years ago, and that SATS may be on the way out, or at the very least the highly mistaken use of using SATS results to judge schools and to create misleading league tables as well as “serving to humiliate and demean children.” Let’s hope that the action is thorough and effective and doesn’t become watered down by people losing their nerve or as seems to be happening at the moment unreasonable pressure being put on School Governors during what is a legitimate and legal industrial action? Interestingly, on a bit of a side issue, I’ve always believed that there are too many teachers’ unions, but can’t help but feel that the NASUWT just might have a point in worrying about what is being implemented to possibly replace SATS and hence not supporting the boycott! You see I do keep in touch with what is going on in the world, particularly education, and read recently one Headteacher’s reasons for voting to boycott this year’s SATS. The bit that sticks out in what he said was that Year 6 used to be a “fun” albeit productive year, not one that is largely taken up cramming for meaningless tests and, to go back to my main trust in this section, one to give children confident and experiences to help jack up the self esteem, not cause it to hit rock bottom because they only got a Level 3, when they should have got a Level 4, as that’s what is expected nationally. Not perhaps the best preparation for transition and the next major step in their lives. It’s really very difficult to try and boost such a child’s self esteem, by saying “Well actually Level 3 is really a great result for you!” and hoping, in the case of the child above, that their father hasn’t read the pamphlet that says you should have got Level 4 and cause them more pain and suffering, not just with another thump on the back of the head but also the ridicule about being relentlessly called a “thicko” by your father whenever his friends come around. Also gives a fairly ambiguous message; does that mean that Level 3 is actually quite alright despite what you hear to the contrary, or is your teacher just trying to be kind?
Nearly enough of this heavy stuff, just to finish off, I was gratified to see recently that The Prince’s Trust has just withdrawn its endorsement of a “self esteem” campaign run by the cosmetics firm St Tropez, fronted by Kelly Osbourne, for an expensive range of fake tan products, said to improve self esteem. Were a good tan the answer, it would perhaps be easier than ordering a lorry load of jacks, but for once “the haves have not” and the advertising campaign seen for what it really is, loaded with “many damaging and mixed messages,” once again shows that this self esteem issue is a tough nut to crack, although it might be something I return to in the future and try to “bottle” the solution!!
Printemp (Spring)
We had had something of a false alarm the week previously when the storm clouds parted and the sun came out to such an extent that the garden furniture also came out and we were able to sit outside for coffee and on one of the days, suitably wrapped up had our first alfresco lunch of the year. We even both agreed on one of our walks that we could quite easily be wearing shorts, teeshirts and sandals. Unfortunately, on the next day and for a few subsequent days, the bubble burst as did the clouds and the temperature dropped back to cold for the time of year!
However, the following week things did start to look up again, swallows – at least 3 in number putting pay to that old saying “Two swallows don’t a summer make!!”, were spotted joyfully hunting over the pasture next to our garden and over the large lake behind the chateau during our evening wanderings. The signs were beginning to mass up; the cows in the fields were wearing redundant wellies where the mud had stained their legs, there began to be a noticeable contrast between being in the sun and in the shade, skeins of geese with their sonorous honking like a rapid foghorn crossed the evening skies and “bunches” of flitting goldfinches, like groups of excited children hung around together but rarely in one place for long. The sky returned to blue punctuated with just a few small fluffy clouds which allowed the sun to shimmer on the top of the car, if the dust from the drying up road wasn’t too thick, and the warmer air sported small insects and the first fluttering butterflies. Perhaps then it was this warming up that caused the wren to start collecting moss and making a new nest in readiness and the frogs to start their incessant and noisy croaking, as their thoughts also turned to procreation!
Then there was the morning below, when I came into the house having been for my morning inspection of the garden and announced that “Even the bird’s have a spring in their flight!” Indeed, Spring really did seem to have arrived, if only in sheltered spots as the N / NE wind continued to blow!! But there have been times when the shorts have come out, pretty sight or not, but only during the hours of daylight as long trousers seem best to avoid the amorous intentions of our neighbourhood toad!! See “My Original ‘Thought’” below!!!
Oh! What a day!
In fact it wasn’t even a day, just a very short time one pecking morning in late March; the sun was shining and I had just finished a rather inspiring book so felt a mixture of elation and disappointment that comes at this time, elated by the inspiration, but sad that there wasn’t any more! So what better thing to do than to wander over to the garden and talk to the veg – well I was a little concerned about how long the spuds were taking to come up!
As I walked down the drive towards the road, a chirpy robin circled me in greeting and a green woodpecker, with its hurried cry preformed a low level fly past, just as 9 o’clock chimed on the church clock of St Cyr, some way across the fields but distinct in the relatively still morning air. The grass was bejewelled by a heavy dew and what little breeze there was still had a bit of a nip to it.
But everywhere the birds were singing, chaffinches fluttered through the trees and woodpeckers pecked as well as issuing there fairly harsh “song.” Stealthily, I managed to walk slowly up the road and located the tree on which the green woodpecker had alighted and was busy pecking, but sadly before I got a good view of the hammering beak, the bird saw me squawked and was off on another of its dipping flights away over the glistening pond. Then suddenly without warning another woodpecker, or pic as they are aptly called in France, very close by started up its staccato pecking and just as abruptly stopped, but not before I had managed to locate the red head of a greater spotted woodpecker as it nimbly hopped up to the higher branches of the tree and almost as nimbly reversed down, before “joy of joys” there in front of my very eyes it started its frantic pecking, over and over again, and still some minutes later as I came in to note down my observations was still pecking away, reminding me of that age old conundrum – why don’t woodpeckers get headaches; answers on postcards or the back of a sealed envelope please, but there are no prizes!! Then I see another one on a horizontal branch on the tree behind and this is pecking but only every so often and just one peck at a time, obviously having a lazy breakfast!!
Then on what was a relatively silent morning, if you discount the cacophony of the surround sound bird song, was broken by a movement and a tearing sound almost at my feet, as the leaves and grass on the verge start to move as a mole audibly tears at the roots under the ground, displacing the soil as it makes its way along. Sadly, I didn’t get to glimpse its velvet face or pink nose, but as the woodpecker continued its loud hammering, an owl hooted behind me and it all became too much – I needed a coffee to revive me and croissants to set me up for the rest of the day and just maybe paracetamol if the noisy woodpecker carried on. And, as I ate the croissants 3 swallows performed outside against the brilliant blue sky – too much for one day, senses had gone into overload, yet I’d only been out for about 20 minutes and as the ducks splashed noisily off the pond, I headed in for breakfast and I still had the field full of Snake’s Head Fritillary, in the chateau grounds to check out!!
“Clever Words”
• Ted Hughes: “Before us stands yesterday.” A dedication in a copy of “Birthday Letters” that he gave to an old school friend shortly before his death.
• Abraham Lincoln: “And in the end it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”
• James Allen: You are today where your thoughts have brought you: you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you.”
• Marlene Dietrich: “It is the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter.”
• Dalai Lama: “Spend some time alone everyday.”
• Gandhi: “The future depends on what we do in the present.”
My original “thought!”
Some of you may remember the missive from this time last year, when I mentioned the toad that came a calling late at night, for many nights, when I let Max out into the garden. At that time I wrote: “I was tempted to kiss it and see if it turned into a beautiful princess, but it looked rather slimy and I didn’t think Linda would have been too pleased to have a stunning blond princess move in!!! Bet it would have been a different story if it had been a handsome flaxen prince!!”
Well, a year on its back and I think the question has been answered!! I really am beginning to try to pluck up courage not only to face Linda with a Princess in tow, but also for the slimy kiss, as a year down the line it is becoming desperate and the other evening saw me when it was in the middle of our gravel terrace, and as I called Max away, it launched itself, or should I now say herself, at me and it was only because the leap from loose gravel didn’t get sufficient purchase that I was saved from a life of luxury in a cosy castle full of servants and all the finer things in life. Hadn’t had a drink for some time, honest, on second thoughts perhaps next time I should have a wee dram to give me Dutch courage!!!
Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love, Roger, Linda and Max
(It’s obviously Spring as the grass is growing making it difficult to walk through the wildflower meadow, but being thoughtful, Roger keeps throwing himself to the ground to flatten a path for me! But what I can’t yet understand is why he then shouts at me to keep away as he points that camera thingy of his at these purple flowers that look like a snake’s head – he seems very excited by them! Almost as excited as Linda was, when Roger was away, and she almost sat down on the toilet as a snake reared up close to her rear!!)
And maybe to come next time? Further past times, Ricky Nelson, Barbie Dolls and Chilli Pasta!!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
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