Down our street ~ Missive 18

29 May 2010

Dear All

Hopefully you will find Missive 18 attached, again with a theme!!

Tidying up and getting ready for our next visitors – Chris, Chris and Sara, who as I write this should just be disembarking at Le Havre, ready to hit the road and be here for supper.

So, no time for any more, other than to apologise as 18 is a bit heavy in places, so my greatest critic tells me!!

Love

Roger

rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk

Mes chers amis

Down our Street ~ Missive 18

To Max ~ 10th November 1994 – 5th May 2010 ~ with love.

The theme idea is continuing, but hopefully dedicating the missives to a loved one who is no longer with us won’t be a regular occurrence! The theme this time returns to a couple of things, amongst others, that have appeared previously – nature and Max, and I make no apologies for either and as you will see they become inextricably linked! Initially, the worst thing about Max’s death was that we didn’t have anything to do – no job to go to!, to take our minds off it and to start with, it was very hard and “our street” was very quiet. So we set to and started to fill in the French tax forms – complicated or what, in technical French with no English translations available and hefty fines for not declaring things and returning them late, and then we argued!! I even questioned whether I would ever start the next missive as the gap he has left seemed so large, and we continued to listen for him as; he came in from the garden over the gravel sitting area dragging his weak right leg, barking at passing aircraft and wondering why, like tractors and La Poste, they didn’t pass the end of the drive and need chasing down the road, the clicking of his nails as we went to make a coffee and he had to check out the kitchen – ever hopeful for a crumb or a crust!, or simply snoring loudly with the odd wouf when the dream required it, in the corner behind Linda’s chair!! (Whilst thinking about nails and kitchens, the Barbie Dolls and Chilli Pasta mentioned as possibilities for this missive will have to wait!!)

Isn’t it strange how so often in such situations things conspire to remind you of what has happened! The day Max died we sat down for our evening meal and as we pushed the food around the plate, not really feeling much like eating, and as we toasted Max the digital picture frame loaded with numerous family pictures and on random play, selected the three main pictures of Max that are on it, one after the other: Him lying down looking out to sea at the Turk’s Head on St Agnes in the Isles of Scilly, asleep in the hot sunshine outside La Loge last summer and curled up in the corner of my Mum and Dad’s caravan when we were visiting Victoria in Plymouth. Then, everywhere we went over the next few days, there were Max look-a-likes or distant “sound-a-like” barks, and large glaring adverts for pet food or unrelated items like yoghurts which featured cuddly dogs.

The book I was reading, an autobiography about Julie Walters had a chapter about her pet dogs and their little idiosyncrasies, a pop up on my computer screen advertised dog’s for adoption and the Caravan Club magazine I opened, it being hard to concentrate on one thing for long had both a full page advert for pet insurance and the winning entries of last month’s best pet photographs – mostly dogs – held to celebrate National Pet month! But, that’s where nature comes in, as I’m sure surrounded as we are by the most staggering flora and fauna, with seemingly almost daily surprises, such as the large yellow twin winged damsel fly that decided the other evening to fly somewhat erratically around the yard whilst we were having our tea, occasionally lining up over the road and flying at us full speed, like a strafing raid, quite literally making us duck!! It’s these little glimpses of nature and the whole wonderful world around us that have seemed to have a real healing effect, that I’m not sure would have been the same if we were still working, but more of that below!


Thank you for the day ~ Associations

I can’t hear the song “Thank you for the Day” without associating it with a dear, sadly departed colleague – it was chosen by her husband to play at her funeral.

2010 hasn’t exactly started as we would have liked, with numerous bereavements of family, friends, friend’s families or acquaintances, but it has got me thinking about a phenomenon, which may be exclusive to me – I don’t know! When, I was living in Stroud and regularly walking Max on Rodborough Common, often late into the night or even the wee small hours, we would often stop for a rest and a look at the view, well Max would look at the view once I’d found a biscuit in my pocket and woe betide me if I’d forgotten them, he’d point blank refuse to admire the view!! I found this time of quiet reflection particularly comforting at times of loss, some people turn to the church, others including me turn to the wonders of nature and its healing power. Interestingly I recently read a book (The Apple Tree, a novel by Elvi Rhodes) that talked about the “architecture of trees” particularly in winter when you could clearly see from the supporting trunk to the smallest of twigs, but then said “a beauty hidden in summer,” which reminded me that I have often said that the woods and trees are my “church.” I even went as far as having an imaginary map of the various seats scattered across the common, in many cases put there by families in memory of loved ones, and I used different seats for different people, and thought about that particular person, in between nudges from a wet nose wondering if I had any more biscuits!

But back to my phenomenon! It’s all down to associations and when I’m doing something quite obscure or mundane, or someone says something, I’m reminded of “absent friends.” The list of these associations is lengthy, but here is just a flavour of some of them:
• Chopping vegetables I think about the same colleague mentioned above.
• Sawing wood with a cross cut saw, making sure that my first finger points along the handle, reminds me of my Nans – she taught me to use a saw!
• Someone pinching a tasty morsel of food that falls on the table from someone’s plate reminds me of my Grannie – for one so old she could certainly move very fast when it came to doing this, and it was straight into the mouth with a giggle. The first cuckoo of spring also reminds me of her as I clearly heard one in the churchyard during her funeral – in February!
• Pudding time in our household is often “Spoons up dig in!” courtesy of my Auntie Auds.
• Talk of touching your toes reminds me of my Auntie Biddy, who despite being a rather large lady, could still touch her toes – she proved it when I visited her once!
• Similarly, I shall never hear talk about lap dancing without thinking of Aunt Marg, no she wasn’t a lap dancer, but late one night during one of our camping family weekends, where the wine was flowing freely the tent pole was nearby and she nearly became one!
• Squeaking taps always make me think of Linda’s Dad, as just after I had done it properly and asked him if I could marry Linda, the bathroom tap squeaked and talk of marriage was forgotten as he uttered “That bloody tap!” Fortunately, he had said yes just before!
• Mills and Boon books remind me of Linda’s Mum, I think she had every one ever published; it’s amazing how many stories can be concocted from just eight standard plots!!

The list simply goes on – Rabbit pie and hot coffee, Linda’s Nan, Race walking - her husband (still going strong and winning when ninety and blind, missed the finish line but found the bar afterwards!), Plastic models of the Virgin Mary, Linda’s other Nan who had several in her front room, Dugati motorbikes, one of my governors from Uplands (the first funeral I had been to of someone younger than me) ......

Now, the latest is strangely when I’ve finished in the bathroom at night and I open the door to go to bed. I still expect Max to be waiting outside, being deaf it was the waft of air that made him jump, as best he could at his age and then fussing to go out for a final cock of the leg, knowing that “B & B” was to follow shortly. Indeed, so excited was he about “biscuits and bed” that sometimes he had to be reminded of why he went into the garden last thing at night!!

Nature Cure

I’ve pinched this sub-title from a book by Richard Mabey, written by him as part of the healing process after he fell into a bout of severe depression culminating in a breakdown. I mentioned above that I had thought that this missive might never happen, but three things came together to first give me food for thought, then inspiration as to where this missive was going. In my loo I have a pile of magazines, a folder of cuttings I have saved to read later and I was in the process of reading Nature Cure when it all came together. First there was an article in Natural World Magazine published by The Wildlife Trusts, about “Why children need nature,” then there was a newspaper cutting from the start of the year looking at the concept of “New year Resolutions” and finally the book.

First the article, and it initially struck a chord for a totally different reason and will rear its head again, when finally Barbie Dolls get an airing – but that’s a case of wait and see. For the purposes of now, it was the box at the end of the article containing various figures and a number of snippets – or do we call those “sound bites” now!?! The figures are in a section entitled “Nature vs concrete” headed with the following quote from Dr William Bird, Natural England’s Health Advisor – itself an interesting role within an organisation set up to “conserve and enhance the natural environment, for its intrinsic value, the wellbeing and enjoyment of people and the economic prosperity that it brings.” So not just about nature conservation, but this in a wider context of people and money to put it bluntly: “Increasing evidence suggests that both physical and mental health are improved through contact with nature. Yet people are having less contact with nature than at any other time in the past. This has to change!” The figures then cover a range of issues but four that jump out are: 50% Reduction in vandalism and domestic violence in families in tower blocks which have views of vegetation, compared to identical blocks without, £11.8bn, Cost of mental illness to NHS, local authorities and carers in 2002/3, 20% Improvement in self-discipline in children whose homes have views of trees and vegetation outside, and 90% Increase in people meeting and talking in green space compared to barren space. (All from a report by Dr Bird, called Natural Thinking, 2006 http://tinyurl.com/a6hwx7) Quotes from the same report follow with the title Nature and ..., the most pertinent her being Health “Hospital patients with views of nature need fewer painkillers following operation.” “Elderly people with easy access to nature are much happier with their quality of life than those in treeless, urban environments.” Aggression “Several studies show that nature can reduce aggression, possibly due to a restorative process in the brain.” and Stress “In tests of stressed students shown videos of shopping centres, traffic and nature, the nature videos reduced blood pressure and muscle tension far more quickly, and to a much lower level.”

Then, the newspaper cutting with the lengthy title (Linda’s always complaining about the length of some of my titles so not sure what she would make of this one, particularly as the article underneath it was less than a third of a page, with a picture taking up nearly a third of the article!!): “A simple thought for the New Year: spend more time appreciating nature, and you will find life wonderful.” (Life Class by Lesley Garner, Daily Telegraph 5th Jan 2010). Strangely, little of the article covers what the title would have you believe (Linda might also say that about some of my writings!!), much of it talking about perfection and then the lack of it that makes us undertake an “annual bout of self-flagellation,” or the making of New Year Resolutions! However, it finally gets on to “appreciating nature” bit, with the author making a resolution to take their camera with them wherever they go, to build a visual diary that confirms that “everyday life is beautiful and extraordinary.” They continue by saying “The way to reawaken wonder is to walk the worlds without expectation or prejudice. If you increase the amount of time you spend on appreciating nature and pay attention, I guarantee that you will find life wonderful. With my camera in my hand, I have become alert to the constant changes in light and colour that animate even the least promising city street. When it rains instead of grumbling, I cheer up because I know that magical new reflections are waiting for me.” “If you go dog-walking or bird-watching or gardening, you are carrying a freedom pass to wonder that never runs out. ........ If you’re fed up, go for a walk. That covers most things.” I couldn’t agree more, it certainly works for me!!

And finally, the book – Nature Cure by Richard Mabey (ISBN 1-8441-3096-7). This chronicles very eloquently how it worked for him, although it did involve a move from “down his street,” - the woods of the Chiltern Hills, to pastures new - the flatlands of Norfolk, where “Richard Mabey found exhilaration in discovering a whole new landscape and gained fresh insights into our place in nature.” As I read the book I can relate to why it worked for him, and just how powerful the natural environment can be.

The point? Quite simply that living where we do, surrounded by the most beautiful countryside and amazing and privileged glimpses of nature have made it possible to write this missive, particularly the bits about Max.

Further Past Times and Ricky Nelson

Now where did I get to with my imaginary reminiscences of the return of the Count in times gone by? Oh yes we covered the large staff awaiting the arrival of the Count, the hustle and bustle of the extensive kitchen garden and the farmyard and greniers (attics) for the storage of produce for the big house.

In addition to these there would have been the Home Farm with its Farm Manager, another bustling farm yard and extensive fields, dwindled now to a mere 200 acres but previously considerably more. This land would have throughout the year been a hive of activity, producing more food: wheat, mogettes (local beans), meat and fodder for the cattle and any other livestock, as well as continuing the seasonal activities of hedging, ditching, coppicing, and hunting and I’m sure some I’ve forgotten. There would also have been the Park to look after and provide a suitable area for the family to “walk out” and relax in relative privacy, although I’m sure that the woodland was also managed to provide timber for work around the estate, but also fuel for winter heating and for use in the kitchen – the hub of the house, “below stairs,” ruled over by the cook / housekeeper and butler, who between them would keep order amongst the other staff, and ensure the smooth running of the household – meals ready on time and served correctly, bedrooms aired and ready for use with beds turned down and hot water bottles filled during the winter months, and everywhere generally kept spick and span for the family and any visitors they might have.

The ornamental gardens would need tending for the family to enjoy, as well as providing a supply of fresh flowers to adorn the chateau rooms “above the stairs.” Maybe the gardeners would have lodged in the extensive attics above the stables, with the stable hands, in the two large stables blocks that make up two sides of the extensive stable block, the third side taken up with one of three lakes in the park, for recreation, fish stocks and water for irrigation. The final side has the back entrance to the stable yard, the tradesman’s entrance for the farrier, horse feed and anything else to come in that didn’t warrant the front drive. But in one of the stable blocks a large arch, with doors on one side, gave access to the front drive and allowed the horses or carriages to pass through once the family had been dropped off, in time to get ready, perhaps with the help of a maid for luncheon or dinner depending on the time of day.

And, it’s through the front gates, off the avenue, and the second gates allowing access over the moat and into the inner sanctum, that the Count still enters but without the due ceremony of yesteryear, indeed he drives himself in his Ford Mondeo and has to get out and open the gates himself, with no line of staff, in fact no staff at all to greet his arrival. As we get towards June, we are once more awaiting his arrival, for him to prepare the gîte, taking up about an eighth of the stable block and the only part of the stable now in use, with entry by the tradesman’s entry, and to be here to welcome his guests during the summer months. So we are looking forward to welcoming him and his constant companion – Tootoon his faithful hound back “home” and wonder what conversations and hilarity this visit will bring!!

If his last visit is anything to go by, there’ll me many a sore side as we exchange light hearted banter amongst the serious in depth discussions about religion, politics, crime and English tea! As his previous visit, to inspect the damage caused by the Tempest “Cynthia” in February was close to the General Election in England, (Oh No! I was trying to avoid unnatural disasters, but I guess commiserations are in order – not only to David Drew, do Stroud really know what they have done?, but also the country as a whole and I wonder how many other people will now take our lead and flee the country!! Certainly, from where I’m sitting Cameron and Clegg – strictly alphabetical you understand! – make strange bedfellows, and will hopefully not prove to be the comic Victorian Music Hall act that they sound like. Now that’s got that of my chest!!) conversation obviously turned to politics! He also, explained to us that it was necessary for him to return and ensure that his best interests were looked after when it came to disposing of the large amount of timber from the storm damaged trees, after all as he said once more “Whilst the cat’s away, the mice will dance!” This then led us on to a “thesaurus moment” when Monsieur, with his love and indeed proficiency of languages decided to compile a list of “mice” who would be queuing up to perpetrate the crime of wood rustling – vagabonds, thieves, scoundrels, villains, robbers, rogues, lowlife, pilferer, bandits, outlaws, marauders, to which later in the week, to much merriment and booming raucous laughter, caught up by events, we added politicians!!

We also, for reasons I won’t go into here, whilst being shown his private chapel, discovered that he had excommunicated himself from the Catholic Church, so at times some quite heavy stuff. It was indeed during one such heavy session of deep discussion about corruption in politics and trying to put the world to right, that Monsieur announced “I am going to change the subject now. I love the sixties songs of an artist called Ricky Nelson and recently my nephew has discovered a website of his lyrics including my favourite song, I was then so excited that I danced around the room with a chair!! So now, I know all the words of the song and understand most of what it is about, but there is just one part I cannot grasp – maybe you can help!!” He went on to say that this one line said “Yes Sarray” and did we know what it meant? By a process of elimination, Linda finally got it, the actual phase was Yes Sirree!!, but then we had to explain what it means, without the context of the rest of the lyrics, and try it at home – it’s quite difficult!! Eventually, after explaining it is some sort of exclamation, I decided to put it into context and ended up saying it was the sort of expression that a cowboy would make, when excited by something and accompanied by a firm slap of the thigh!!! More booming raucous laughter ensued at the time and most other times when we met during his visit and with a glint in his eye and a slap of his thigh, he informed me that he was perfecting his “Yes Sirree!” to try out on his friends back home in Spain!! So, should you have occasion to visit western Spain and come across a Frenchman impersonating a Spaniard, impersonating a Cowboy heartily slapping his thigh whilst singing a Ricky Nelson song and dancing with a chair – say hello from us!! You see, returning to the theme it’s still all happening “Down our street!!!”

“Clever Words”

• Laurens van der Post: “The fire had died down to a great coal pinned like a crimson rose to the dark earth.” We had a fire “down our street” in the garden the day Max died and stared into the flames deep in thought.
• William Vanstone: “The church is like a swimming pool – all the noise is at the shallow end.” With apologies to my religion friends, but as I said – my “church” is “down our street” in the woods or the wide open spaces!
• From “Under the Tuscan Sun” by Frances Mayes: “A Chinese poet many centuries ago noticed that to re-create something in words is like being alive twice.” It also can be very therapeutic from the street I’m in!
• Picking up the nature theme, Brian Redhead, late President of the Council for National Parks: “Not ours, but ours to look after.”
• Hassidic proverb: “What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul.”
• Perhaps fitting at the end of this slightly “off on a tangent” missive, Abraham Lincoln: “Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.”

My original “thought!”

Thank you for all your kind words after the last “inter-missive!” They made me cry, partly because they made me think of Max and remember he was no longer with us, but also, to know that he had meant a lot to others whose lives he had touched. An obituary for a dog may have seemed strange, but it was part of the healing process largely composed whilst walking in the curative countryside all around us, for a sadly missed member of the family. In the words of an Eric Bogle song, Elizabeth’s Song, regarding a baby daughter that he and his wife lost early in her life:
“So please won’t you talk about her, Don’t be afraid of how we’ll feel.
You won’t make the scars cut deeper, You can only help them heal.”

So, when we see you please DO talk about him, but don’t initially be surprised if we burst into tears or disappear quietly!

Some of you have enquired as to what has happened to him, well he has as I write this returned home, at least his ashes have and he will be returning to Stroud, where he lived most of his life, in due course.

Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love, Roger and Linda

(Little did I know that Max’s last comment would indeed be his last, however, Max says good-bye not au revoir and wouf wouf or woof woof to all his furry friends. And, asks you to keep an eye on the folks and look after them for him, they’re a bit fragile at the moment)

And maybe to come next time? We’re back to “Researching” Barbie Dolls and Chilli Pasta!!

Now we are two

Click on the link below and then click to go to the full version of "Now we are two" complete with some pictures of Max:

http://cid-42bedc71a8702824.skydrive.live.com/self.aspx/.Public/One%20Year%20On%20%5E4The%20Why%5E4.pdf#resId/42BEDC71A8702824!150

Be patient as it takes a little while to download!!

SpringTIME ~ Missive 17

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!!

Full version of One Year On - The Why

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Video: As Time Goes By

One or Two of Life's Little Mysteries ~ Missive 16

26 Mar 2010

Dear All

Hopefully you will find Missive 16, which is breaking new ground – it has a theme running through it!

Well, I’ve retired again and we’re back to France but the wish for warmer weather fell on deaf ears and we have returned to a storm lashed Vendée, with a bitterly cold east wind. Fortunately, the storms are not as bad as those of the previous week, the devastation only too apparent by the number of fallen trees and branches. The avenue down to our house suffered quite badly and felled our telephone / internet cable in several places, which it seems will be a fairly low priority job, as towards the coast the carnage was much worse with houses flooded and considerable loss of life, so to be incommunicado for a while pales into insignificance.

Visitors for this year have started already, they’re hardy folk in York and we are looking forward to welcoming lots of you to La Loge over the coming months.

But I’d best keep this short as the attached missive is a bumper one, lots of life’s experiences to report on this month!!

Love

Roger

rogerhiggs@hotmail.co.uk

Mes chers amis

One or Two of Life’s Little Mysteries! ~ Missive 16

Amazingly, there’s a theme running throughout this missive – Mystery! But before I start, just a quick correction to the last missive. Not spotted by my proof-reader and wife, Linda, but pointed out to me by my mistress, French mistress that is who is always quick to respond and very on the ball when it comes to correcting my French, she’s one ‘ell of a teacher as you will see if you read on!! The large wild boar we encountered late at night on the ring road around Nantes, was missing an ‘ell and should have been a sanglier not a sangier!! Many thanks, Carole, for continuing to respond to the missives, it’s good to know that someone is reading them, and for keeping an eye on my French!!

Sliding, slithering and other creepy crawlies! or Joining the Pet Shop Boys

As you can’t have failed to notice, last month I went back to work, a strange feeling having to get up in the morning and be out of the house before nine!! Linda and I went to help out with her sister’s family pet shop whilst most of the family, except their daughter Tracy, went on safari in South Africa, where temperature soared into the 30’s while Britain continued to freeze and experience further snow.

Tracy was to manage the shop, whilst Linda looked after her 9 month old son Jack and for the middle week her 8 year old daughter, who was on half term holiday and I was to help out in the pet shop as well as become the delivery boy for two and a half weeks! Now I know that this is Yorkshire and the mention of delivery boy might conjure up images of the boy in the Hovis advert, pushing his delivery bike up a steep hill exhausted at the end of the day, but the only similarity was the struggle up the stairs each night, exhausted after a day’s work and in need of my bed!! Mind you, it might have been more tiring looking after two active children – ask Linda!! And, instead of a heavy bike complete with front basket, I had a very distinctive white van with a large hairy spider on the front and an even bigger scorpion on the back doors and adverts for Acomb Pets Aquatics and Reptiles clearly painted on the side (I might as well give them a plug – telephone number available on request!!!). You may have already thought about the first potential problem, particularly if you know me well, yes – the first hurdle was to get passed the large photographs of the spider and scorpion and be able to open the back doors to load up and get out the deliveries, but they also provided the first mystery of the job – why was it that wherever I went, not only did people stand, stare and point, which was quite understandable but also lots of people waved in a very friendly fashion, well York people are friendly, but then abruptly stopped! It was then that I realised that the distinctive van is not only well known about those parts, but the normal delivery drivers are also known to lots of people and the waves were for them and stopped abruptly when the waver realised it was a stranger at the wheel!!

Another potential problem that many of you will again have realised, is that the pet shop not only specialises in a “Wide selection of Animal Foods for all Animals,” should you take up the offer to “Come and see for yourself” that is printed on their business cards, this food comes ”Dried, live and Frozen!” There’s a fridge full of live crickets and locusts for peoples lizards and snakes, a well as a corridor down which are housed the snakes (some quite large!!), lizards (some enormous bearded dragons!!), scorpions, spiders (large, hairy and menacing) that eat said food. There are also, fish (cold water and tropical) as well as a few cages in the main shop with animals such as rabbits (OK!), hamsters (just!!) and rats (no way!!) and lots and lots of easy stuff like packet food, empty cages, leads, brushes, dog beer, popcorn for rabbits (in three flavours and some apparently have a favourite!!), and seasonal goods such as Easter Eggs for dogs, cats and small animals!!! All these items are the gospel truth, I’ve sold them with my own fair hands. But the deal was very clear, someone else feeds and cleans out the animals in the shop; I’ll do the things that don’t move, although at first the frozen mice and rats were at first less than appealing!, help with the cleaning, shelf stacking and deliveries and even in time perhaps be able to answer the phone, remembering not to say “Bonjour!” What I did however agree to do, with the aid of a stout pair of gloves (much to the amusement of my nephews who live next door and regularly handle the animals!!), was to feed the animals at the house, but they were all furry and rats were the worst to contend with, or at least to overcome an irrational trepidation about!! But to sell any of the above items led to another mystery!

Electronic tills and card machines, and I needed careful coaching from Manager Tracy, who I must say was a very good and patient teacher, as things didn’t always go right, and I couldn’t always remember which items were VAT, Non VAT, Lizards or the like and was forever shouting “Tracy can you help me please!” But, no major problems here, except initially when I rung up the first customer’s goods, opened the till and was mysteriously confronted with strange money – it had been several months since I had used “pounds, shillings and pence!!!” Soon the fingers were flying, well moving quite quickly over the till buttons and there was ever some time for a bit of banter with the customers! This did nearly however, lead to what would have been the most momentous mistake of the week, when a lady paying by card spent £16-64 and in the excitement of saying that “seize soixante-quatre” (1664) is a popular French beer, I must have forgotten to press the total button, caught the 2 and the 3 on the machine and turned it around asking her to “Check the amount and put in her PIN!” Fortunately, she did check the amount and queried why it said £1664-23, it would have been an expensive week on dog food!! Rather red faced, I was able to cancel it and put the right amount through for this lady and all subsequent customers!! Here comes another mystery – why is some dog food two or three times the amount of other dog food, and why do vets tell little old ladies that their little pooch must be fed a scientifically manufactured food, when there seem to be plenty of other cheaper options that would do just as well. I guess it’s the difference between scrag end and topside, but as a pension doesn’t go very far it seems wrong that the cat is eating better, or at least costing more to feed, than the owner!!

Not only was there plenty of lighted hearted banter with the very friendly customers, many of them regulars wanting to know either why there were strangers in the shop or how the holiday makers were getting on!, but also there was at slack moments time to think up plans for the shop in the absence of the owners – schemes that we were, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, able to communicate when they phoned to see how things were!! Firstly, following one or two days where custom got a little slack in the middle of the day and a customer who came in having just returned from holiday in Spain and who was missing the siestas!, we decided that we should go to continental opening hours – two hour lunchbreaks and as these would be at the Carlton, a pub just around the corner, we would need a siesta to follow, and half days on Wednesday and Saturday (I was going to conveniently forget the opening at eight and shutting at six thirty!). Had we not been so busy the plan was to print out the new opening hours, display them on the door and send them a photograph together with the staff sitting having lunch in the Carlton. Then, to compensate the fact that the folding adverting board had been stolen from down on the side of the main road and only half of it returned, we decided, following the appalling and grating adverts that kept coming out of the local radio, that we would make out own, in a squeaky voice mimicking an awful advert for beds that some days seemed to be played after every record. The tag line, squeaked by the acting manager was to be “Acomb Pets the human face of pet shops” and by sheer coincidence the ad man from the local radio station happened to come in and try and sell us adverting - £12 for each time the advert was played on the airwaves, with most customers spending about £250 a week, but we felt that it really was rather too much to spend on a joke, but we did get the ad man to agree about the dire bed advert!! Again had we had time we were going to record our own ad and play the tape, pretending that it was on the radio, but again it didn’t come to fruition!! And finally, as far as new initiatives go, we were going to introduce “self service” arrangements for anyone wanting to by snakes, spiders, scorpions or rats!! This came about after a young lad came in when there was just Tracy and I in the shop, enquiring about rats, fortunately, he left without one and I mentioned how lucky we were as neither of us would have been able or indeed willing to serve him, in fact I had already decided that he looked under 16 and would therefore need to have an adult with him, if he wanted to buy an animal!! Breathing a sigh of relief, the next customer walked in just a couple of minutes later and asked “Have you any rats?” Fortunately, she wanted one for her son and wanted it saving for when he returned from college at the weekend as she wasn’t that keen on rats and thought the son could come and collect it himself!!

Whilst thinking about customers, working in a shop you do see life!! Customers came in asking for a collar for their new puppy and whether we thought that this one would fit the dog that they had left at home, or the wife who had been sent in for some crickets for hubbies lizard, but please put them in a brown paper bag as not only can they not bear the sight of them, they also don’t like the lizard!! Then, there were the children who dragged their mums in for a look at the lovely snakes only to find mum trying her upmost to put on a brave face, hiding around the corner whilst the little one peered into the tank nose pressed up against the glass, and did the two customers who came in for pizzles for their dogs realise that these treats that their precious pooches so enjoyed were in fact made out of stretched and dried bull’s penises – oouch!! But perhaps the funniest, or maybe saddest, was the mother who came in shouting at her son to “Come here you little sod and don’t touch anything!” only to start grabbing things haphazardly off the shelves announcing to anyone listening that “I’ll have one of these and one of these and one of these .....” in a manner that brought the saying a “whirling dervish” to mind. All through her frenzied shopping her running commentary was punctuated with instructions to her little sod, sorry son, who simply stood calmly and with interest looking at the animals, culminating in an almighty outburst along the lines of “Wayne (why are they always called that!), you little sod, STOP THAT! (What, I wasn’t sure, he hadn’t moved!) Anyone would think you’re a bloody delinquent!” The expression “Kettle, pot, black” came to mind!

These antics did make us think that there was perhaps some mileage in a new sitcom, giving the working title “The Pet Shop Boys and the Boss!” Sorry Leslie, but I’m sure there’s a role there somewhere for a Pet Shop Gal!! In the scene, Catherine Tate could play the mother and Harry Enfield in a young Kevin guise, the son – that would put the audience figures up!! But before I leave this section and start writing the sitcom, for which there must be at least enough material for a feature length launch programme and two long series!!!, I need to mention the deliveries or at least just a few of the incidents, as to include everything could be the basis for another sitcom: “Tales from the delivery bike” or “Hello, come in, you’re a nice boy!”
Deliveries were, except when it rained, or indeed snowed, great fun. The open road, A to Z ready and the radio on, blaring out plenty of the latest hits but punctuated by the repeating over and over again about free headboards with your new bed – all in a nauseatingly silly high pitched squeaky bed. I for one would have foregone the free headboard to avoid meeting the squeaky salesperson!! Then, there’s the variety – every delivery is different! The lady chasing you down the street because you’ve been given the wrong address and given up, but she’s spotted you giving up and leaving, the lady who at 11 o’clock in the morning answers the door in short leopard print dressing gown, but hastily covers up when she realised it wasn’t the regular delivery boy! There was the scene from a Hitchcock movie when you deliver to a flat, ring the bell and are buzzed up, you climb the dark stairwell, a door opens and a hand extends fortunately clutching money not a blood stained knife, but the arm is long, the person so tall you can’t see them as they disappear above the door lintel and you hand over the goods take the money and are relieved to get back into fresh air!! Then finally, for now!, two dear ladies, the first who’s shopping came to £14-99 and quite forcefully told me that she didn’t want the change for the £15-00 pounds that she handed me!! The second, worthy of a whole episode was very deaf. Indeed, on the first attempt to deliver her cat litter she was in but didn’t hear me, then on the second only “heard” me because she saw me through the glass panel next to the front door. On the second occasion, as the cat litter was heavy I had left it in the van until I was sure she was in and it took some time to get her to understand that I was from Acomb Pets and not delivering her a bed!! There, was a quite bizarre conversation with her telling me that she was very sorry, but her hearing didn’t seem too good today, perhaps she should but up a sign saying please ring the bell loudly, but as it didn’t seem to be working today that wouldn’t do much good. As she said this last bit, she had her finger firmly on the bell push, saying “There, I told you it wasn’t working, must need a new battery,” as the bell clearly resonated through the house!!! Collecting the money was worthy of a complete episode in itself, and I had to resort to sign language!!

What we didn’t tell them, was that there were a number of unexplained fatalities, both in the shop and at the house, but as the hamsters (male and female) got at each other, the geckos and bearded dragons lain a number of eggs and even the rabbits produced some offspring, overall for the two and a half weeks we were up on the number of animals they had left behind!! I waited for a suitable time in the car, having picked them up from the airport to tell them about the casualties in the garden, but felt it best to leave the acting manager to break the news about those in the shop, as well as the visit from the Trading Standards Officer and anything else from the shop floor!!

By far the biggest mystery here has to be why would anyone want to keep a snake or large hairy spiders, even though by the end of my pet shop experience I was able to walk down the corridor and look into the tanks holding the snakes and spiders, as long as I was sure they were well fastened up!! I certainly hadn’t changed my opinion or decided that there were any pets worth having other than a dog – sorry folks, but fortunately we don’t all feel the same!!

Well, that’s the new career over and I’ve retired again, but feel that there may well be enough material lurking for me to return to “Acomb Pets – The Sequel” at some time in the future!

French Mysteries!

• Céteaux meniere – this is really what started the whole mystery theme for this missive. Some weeks or maybe months ago, in my quest to better myself and certainly better my understanding of the French language, I saw these two words written down and not knowing what they meant jotted them down in my notebook. The note was then forgotten, only to be discovered some time later, when I decided it was time to find out what it meant, although by now I had completely forgotten where and in what context I had originally seen it. But I hit a blank, not being able to find the words in any of our French dictionaries, so it was a case of resorting to the computer for help!! Well the babelfish site translates céteaux meniere as céteaux meniere, which is not very helpful and google finds no explanation for céteaux, but translates meniere as a wedge sole, which similarly is not much help. So it’s over to you to see if any of you can help!!!! Maybe I need my mistress again!!
• French soft cheeses (such as camembert or bleu bresse) always come wrapped neatly in a waxed paper wrapper. But why is it that having unwrapped them, cut a sizable portion from them, it is impossible to refold the paper without leaving some of the cheese uncovered?
• Why is it that elderly, silver haired couples or young mothers with young children in tow, are regularly seen with their shopping cart, or chariot, crammed full with anything up to seventeen or more baguettes – it certainly isn’t advanced planning for the week, as the average French loaf is lucky to stay fresh until you get it home, let alone onto the dining table!! So do many old couples have hordes of offspring who just won’t flee the nest and are the young mothers older than they appear, despite the labour of giving birth to multiple children?
• Why are French villages and small towns apparently deserted, with no obvious sign of a resident population, except when, just before meal times the streets are thronged with people streaming towards the boulangerie, or heading home laden down with arms full of baguettes!?!
• Why do the French keep such enormous and immaculately lain woodpiles, enough in many cases to keep them going for several years – the local farm has one pile that is taller than a tractor, a couple of metres deep and probably getting on for 100m long, and there are other piles stacked all over the farm!? Is it simply forward planning for a rainy day or at least cold day, the budding landscape artist in every wood stacker or that there is so much to go around in such a sparsely peopled and well wooded country?
• Why, is it that after so many years of carefully following signs to many of France’s large supermarkets, in some cases, years later, we are still unable to locate them, despite carefully travelling several times around the same roundabout to be absolutely sure what the sign says? Some of it could be explained by having only recently discovered that “tout droit” doesn’t mean all the rights, but in fact means straight on!!!
• Travel to any French village and you will find modest two bedroomed houses surrounded by enormous, beautifully maintained gardens, which in the season are bursting at the seams with fresh and tasty produce. But how do the householders, maybe an elderly couple or even a young couple with two or three young children manage not to waste any of the fresh and wholesome produce, and it’s not even as though they can give it to their neighbours, as they have a similar huge beautifully maintained and well stocked “potager” of their own. However, rarely do you see any of the produce looking jaded and past its best, or even casually discarded onto the compost heap – another French mystery!!

The longer we stay in France the more such mysteries we encounter, but maybe someone out there amongst my readers can explain – perhaps via a comment on the blog, or indeed if you have a similar burning need to explain a particular mystery, why not pose the question in the same fashion and hope someone else can help you!!

The Noble Art of micturition (dedicated to York Anne!)

It happens everywhere, and is a totally necessary bodily function, only in France it DOES happen anywhere, mostly but not exclusively for the men. When the spirit takes them, or at least when they are bursting, out it comes and before you know it, casually a stream is cascading against or over whatever happens to be in the way! Passers by, or people with the person seeking relief, are unconcerned and go normally about their own everyday business, of less lavatorial nature!!

Recently, friends from York were visiting and Steve and I went for a walk in the Mervent Forest, a nearby National Forest, a bit like the Forest of Dean, whilst Linda and Anne arranged to meet us in a car park at the end of our walk. Arriving at the car park in plenty of time, Linda and Anne were sitting in the car chatting, when suddenly Anne exclaimed: “What’s that fisherman doing?” to which she promptly answered her own question with a “Oooh!! He’s weeing!!” Then during the rest of their visit it was very much a case of “and him, and him and him!!!!

Holidays in France, and indeed places like India, over the years have somewhat hardened us to this most natural, but largely private in England, phenomena, so it’s a bit of a case of “Oh, we’ve seen it all before,” so to speak!! But for the uninitiated, as with Anne it came as something of a surprise, if not a shock that required a trip to the nearby Irish Bar, which was where we found them after our walk, to calm the nerves of one with such a nervous disposition!! But, it did get me thinking about those I had seen before and there follows some memorable occasions, which I guess go some way towards why for us it’s all water under the bridge!!

But going with the flow (!), which reminds me of an afternoon some years ago when the children in my class all seemed to need to go and I became a little cross and announced that I wasn’t having a “constant stream of children going to the toilet!!” Fortunately, it was a year when I didn’t have that one or two children on the same wavelength as me, when it comes to humour and who you can often throw the odd funny aside into the lesson purely for their benefit, and I was the only one who saw the funny side of my comment.

But remaining on the theme of children and particularly French children, I’m reminded of a school outing I went on many years ago whilst on a French exchange with a teacher just outside Lille, in northern France. It was a walk around the area, taking in a section of unfenced ship canal, unfenced railway, several fast stretches of road and a visit into someone’s back garden to see an interesting old dovecot, largely I imagine to show me the area and maybe for Jean, the teacher and I to stay awake as we were over the five days managing to burn the candle at both ends!! There were about 27 children and Jean and I and as far as I could ascertain no prior planning had been done, no risk assessment and only possibly a casual message the day before that we were going on the walk. Even the owner of the dovecot didn’t know we were going and was rather surprised to find 27 children, their teacher and an Englishman in his back garden, but once he realised it was educational got quite into the swing of things, rather than send us packing!! I am digressing a little, but I must just mention that not once did Jean tell the children to be careful as he strode on and they tussled behind within falling in / on distance of the canal / railway line and indeed barely did he look back to see what was going on or to count that everyone was there – we’re back I guess to the French belief that if you have an accident then it’s your fault, but maybe a bit harsh at 9!! But back to the main gush of this section, namely; micturition, weeing, peeing, pee pee, call it what you will, and having left all the potential dangers behind we turned into an avenue of large trees leading up to enormous ornate iron gates set in a large wall that must, were you able to see it have opened onto a large chateau built in its own extensive and very private grounds. The large trees were horse chestnuts and it was autumn and the ground beneath was liberally littered with the most splendid conkers. One look and the boys charged behind the trees, not to collect the conkers but, yes you’ve guessed it, to unzip or pull down and stand there in all their glory watering the trees, whilst getting no reaction from Jean, the teacher, and barely a titter from the girls who either ignored or stood and watched!!

Then recently, on our doorstep so to speak, we have witnessed firsthand a number of passing incidents that bear mention!: First there was the Sunday that Linda and I decided to walk down the road past the next door “hunting lodge,” thinking it prudent to keep to the road and not venture into the woods! As we came level with the end of the lodge, out strode our friend the farmer’s son, oblivious to our presence and obviously intend on other things, and it was not until in the middle of the yard he was directing his stream in the vague direction of the hedge that he turned around and saw us!! Rather than an ensuing embarrassed fumbling and pretending that he hadn’t seen us, we got a cheery bonjour, and wished us a “bon promenade!”

Some weeks later his father was seen just outside the chateau, a large stick in his hands, kneeling down peering at the ground. Puzzled by his behaviour, I went to get the binoculars that are on the side ready to grab when an interesting animal or bird happens to go by. Focussing on the farmer, I was a little surprised to find him now standing up, in that characteristic pose on the front drive of the chateau, directing his stream in the vague direction of the front door – I suppose a case of “cocking a hoot” as it were! Monsieur, from the chateau was not there at the time, although I wonder if it would have made any difference, and the previous unusual behaviour I discovered was the farmer using a dipstick to check whether there was enough oil in the buried oil tank, prior to Monsieur’s impending visit.

Then after Monsieur had been and gone, there was what appeared to be a retired farmer’s work party, collecting up various piles of garden/hedge cuttings that had previously been left in neat piles, as well as clearing up debris blown out of the trees in the front avenue during the recent severe storms. They had been working their way towards the front gate and were collecting hedge clippings from the hedge that borders either side of this gate, just around the corner from the front of our yard, when we decided to go for a stroll. I say they were collecting the cuttings, well two out of the three were, the other had been caught short and was casually directing his stream into the hedge bottom as Linda and I turned the corner. He simply finished what he was doing, whilst wishing us a cheery Bonjour, although the other two did seem to find it a little amusing and stifled a titter or two!!

Returning to Anne, who seemed to find people engaged in the act of micturition wherever she went, there was even a young man weeing between the cars in the supermarket car park on one of our visits, rather unusually for France, somewhat the worse for wear and carrying a tin of strong beer from which he was topping up, even whilst freeing up some space!!

This brings me to lament the passing of the old-fashioned ornate pissoirs that used to grace the streets of French towns, sadly they are being replaced by ugly stainless steel “tardises,” in which spending a penny rarely costs less than 30 cents and which being electronic can easily break down or need sophisticated maintenance, as we recently found in La Rochelle where they were all closed for electronic update – they would take you money if you didn’t realise that they were securely padlocked, and the money in the slot didn’t open the lock!! I guess it’s all to do with progress and improvements in hygiene, but interestingly over the last few years Stroud has acquired its own hi-tech pop-up pissoir, that pops up each evening to avoid too many men popping it out in inappropriate places!!! Whilst not advocating random weeing, it does seem a little mysterious that the British have such a different attitude to this natural bodily function than the French! Maybe, it’s to do with there being so many people and so little space in England, or simply a throwback to Victorian times!

“Clever Words”

• “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, that’s why it’s called the present.” There’s mystery in the quote, but perhaps the biggest mystery is, who actually said this! Originally forwarded to me by Linda, as part of one of these round robin emails that regularly turn up, particularly from a couple of her friends, it wasn’t credited with an author. Extensive research, yes I’ve got time on my hands!!, has come up with a diverse selection of people who are reputed to be the original author. They range from Joan Rivers to Elenor Roosevelt¸ via a group called Indra who used the first two lines, to Bob Marley who sang the last two lines as; Today is the present, treat it as a gift, through to Babatunde Olatunji who was a Nigerian drummer, educator, social activist and recording artist. However, just maybe they might all have read that well known horticultural classic, published in 1902 and written by Alice Morse Earle called “Sun Dials and Roses of Yesterday”!
• Annie Dillard: “Our life is a faint trace on the surface of mystery.”
• Albert Einstein: “One may say the eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.” Great as the man is I do wonder if this quote works better, or to be diplomatic at least equally as well, if comprehensibility is replaced by incomprehensibility – perhaps times have changed since Albert’s time!
• Carl Jung: “Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.”

My original “thought!”

It’s amazing what happens when you’re away and people forget to tell you. On our last visit back to the UK, I was forced to read that most Tory of newspapers – The Telegraph, by dint of that being what is daily delivered through my parents’ door, try as we might to get them to realise the error of their ways! But on this particular day, you understand – no election called but all parties and pet newspapers campaigning like made. There’s a big picture of Cameron on the front page, been out for a jog and looking particularly jaded to put it politely, particularly so early on in a campaign that hasn’t even officially started! And, the large headline next to the photograph, I’m fit to run Britain! Well, he certainly didn’t look it to me and I couldn’t help wondering has the Telegraph changed their allegiance and nobody told us, either that or the Picture Editor will have some explaining to do!!

Don’t worry not a party political broadcast coming up, and thankfully on the long point scoring run up to the election we can’t get them in France, but to me one of the great mysteries of politics is why, on important issues such as education and transport, that effect the future of people and ultimately the world, why can’t there be cross party agreement for the greater good of all? But unfortunately an idea like that isn’t a vote winner! But enough of this and enjoy the next few weeks, if you can last the course, but above all don’t forget to vote when it happens!

Kind regards, Best Wishes and Love, Roger, Linda and Max (turned 100 last month!) ......


(Had a bit of a shock the other day, they took me off to the vet so I thought it meant we were travelling again and I do find it rather tiring!! But no, it was the annual check and all seems OK, just need to be careful in the sun – when it finally comes out to stay – and mustn’t walk too far particularly on hot days!! Suits me fine – I’ll just sit in the shade under the caravan and watch the world go by, with just a little exercise every now and again chasing the odd tractor – you try and stop me!! The vet knows how to make you feel good – said I wasn’t fat!!, but have to admit that now I’m so deaf, when they let me in the garden I bark – just in case!!)
As I said before, these missives are only going to a select few!!, do please pass them on to anyone who might be interested, and similarly, if you would like to be deleted (I promise not to be offended!) or added to the mailing list let me know!!!

And maybe to come next time? Another theme: SpringTIME, with sections entitled: “Didn’t realise at the time”, “The Count returns”, “Printemp”, “Oh! What a day!”

One Year On ~ The Why!! Slide Show ~ For full version see post on 6th April 2010