Monday, September 8, 2014

Wow – what a lot of sand!

I must admit to cheating a little with this blog post, as most of it first saw the “light of day” in a magazine I edit for the Association of Countryside Volunteers, of which I am currently the chairman, under the title of View Across La Manche, a regular feature I write about various countryside issues on the French side of La Manche. I guess for obvious reasons the French don’t call the narrow stretch of water between them and England the English Channel, instead referring to it, for again obvious reasons, as La Manche or The Sleeve.

Back around Easter time, we visited Bordeaux and courtesy of my daughter Victoria climbed the highest sand dune in Europe, not once but twice and this after the last time I walked just a little way on a sandy beach left me, for some time, in a lot of pain, something having complained in my left knee!!

But, the Great Dune de Pilat or Pyla, was worth every step, even though when we started off the easy way; a plastic staircase up the side was closed for maintenance, so it was soft sand all the way up, down the far side to dip a toe in the adjacent Atlantic Ocean and back up over the top. Incidentally, the correct name is apparently Pilat, which comes from the Gascon word for heap or mound, and which ever meaning you opt for it’s something of an underestimate.

Now, the dune in question totally exceeded my expectations and was quite simply mind blowing. You approach it through pine woodland, from a well kept albeit rather complicated parking area, passing through the ubiquitous gift shops and restaurants offering such things as dune burgers, reminiscent of childhood picnics on the beach, when however careful you were sand always got in the sandwiches and inside your swimming trunks!! The tat over and you get your first glimpse through the trees of the splendour you are about to encounter, a steep bank of sand rising at the back some 50 metres above you, falling away the other side slightly less steeply in excess of 105 metres down to the blue Atlantic Ocean, with a number of interesting sand bars and spits spreading across the entrance to Arcachon Bay, near the small town of La Teste de Buch, in the Gironde department of South west France 40 miles from Bordeaux.

This massive 100m plus dune is 2.7 km long and 500 m wide and these breathtaking dimensions can be admired throughout the year. Even in winter it is worth the visit, when if you are really lucky you might experience the dune covered with snow.

The dune is always in motion, created by wind and tidal movement, which combine to make the dune move further inland by several metres each year. The moving sand therefore has gradually swallowed the surrounding pine forest and several campsites as the overwhelming mass of 60,000,000 cubic metres of sand continues to move.

The dune is currently being considered as one of Grand Sites of France.

Currently there are about 14 sites (sites can come and go dependant on the strict criteria) that have been confirmed with this label, such as the Baie de Somme, the Marais Poitevin marshes near to us, Pont to Gard and the Puy de Dôme.

Something like a further 31 sites are currently under consideration, ranging from the Dune de Pilat to the Abbaye de Beauport, Cité de Carcassonne, Baie du Mont-Sait-Michel, Gorges du Verdon, Mont Ventoux and many many more.

Each of the Great Sites of France are working to improve conditions for the protection, rehabilitation and active management of the landscape, to better accommodate visitors, generate sustainable local development and benefit the people.

Having obtained the label, qualification is for a specified period, after which the site is reassessed.

This label belongs to the state, and is awarded by the National Institute of Industrial Property in 2003. It is managed by the Ministry in charge of Ecology.

"The label Grand Site de France may be assigned by the Minister to a site listed as high profile and high visitor numbers. Award of the label is subject to the implementation of a project for the preservation, management and enhancement of the site, complying with the principles of sustainable development.

This label is granted, upon request, to a local authority, a public institution, a mixed union or management body consisting in particular local authorities concerned. The award decision sets the length of the label." Sorry if some of this is lost in the translation.

It is the recognition of management that conforms to the principles of sustainable development, balancing preservation of the landscape and "sense of place" quality of care, public participation of residents and partners in the life of Grand Site.

It can be removed at any time in the event of breach of commitments for the protection, development, local economic development and respect for the visitor.

Further information can be obtained from the Grand Site de France website:

www.grandsitedefrance.com

or there is a Wikipedia site which can easily be translated from French into English, for the less adventurous of you!!

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Back with a bit of a travelogue ~

and a preview of what to “look out for!”

As I mention in the latest blog post from “Roger’s Creative Urge,” my other blog; I seem to have been away for ages, and the reasons in that post – Little Green Men – were, how shall we say, somewhat creative. In reality, the reason at least in part, has been that now much of the renovation of our French house has been completed, although in recent weeks we seem to have found plenty of “brico” (DIY) to do as my back will confirm, we decided that this year we will make up for lost time and do some long awaited travelling.

Before we were half way through the year, we had managed two weeks in the caravan in Spain, taking a further week to get there and back. (Look out for ~ Unfinished business and Fly drive and the caravan came too!) A further week in the caravan in Bordeaux, when we also visited Europe’s highest sand dune (Look out for [ Lof! ] ~ View across La Manche), then two weeks in England during which, Daniel, my son got married to Lisa in a lovely ceremony at The Rococo Gardens in Painswick and to get over this we had a week in Marrakech.

As our guide book for Marrakech says, P. J. Barnum has always claimed that his circus was the “Greatest Show on Earth”, but in fact as we can now confirm categorically, the actual greatest show on earth takes place each night on the square in the middle of Marrakech, Djemma El – Fna, and the surrounding rabbit – warren like multitude of souqs or markets. (Lof ~ Ali Baba’s tales!)

We then took the caravan to Brittany in July, for ten days, for a week long post wedding party for some a couple of Victoria’s college friends, and then went on to visit French friends at Pougastel Daoulas, near Brest, for a few days. (Lof at the very least ~ Transported by the mist)

And ... still to come, with who knows what Lof’s may come from these: A surprise invite to a large gîte in the Dordogne, for a “Stroudie” gathering in deepest France, a caravan trip for a few day to Fouras, between La Rochelle and Rochefort (not Roquefort where the cheese comes from!) to catch up again with our friends from Pougastel Daoulas and try to practise our French, if they are not busy practising their English! Then, a trip to England in October (when we hope to catch up with some of you!) and who knows what the rest of the year will bring?

We have also had numerous summer visitors who tell us that they are coming to see us, but I can’t help feeling that the wine and the sun might also be something of a pulling point!! (Lof ~ Snore de France and maybe others!)

In addition to all this, we have despite me undertaking a fair amount of structured procrastination (Lof ~ The benefits of Procrastinating Positively ~ I’m still “thinking” about whether this should be on the other blog or not!), as I said above, we have fitted in a fair amount of home and garden improvements, perhaps here Lof some before and after photographs. There’s also our own Clochemerle type controversy, in our case “guerre de parking,” updates on the various skirmishes to follow in due course!

Well hopefully, this has wetted the appetite and if nothing else, will spur me on to put fingers to keyboard and bring you the promised Lof’s, and all in all so far not a bad year considering I started the year quite literally singing to the wrong tune! (Lof ~ I started the year singing to the wrong tune!)

But, I’m forgetting something, or should I say someone, who has just right on cue come and lay down on my foot, no not Linda – as if!!!, but our faithful furry Fergus, or Fergoose as the French call him, as if I would or could forget him. He’s recently turned one and thinking back has taken a fair amount of our time and energy, which could also explain some of the lack of blog posts. Suffice to say we wouldn’t now be without him and despite a few quirks, as people keep telling us “You’ve got a goodun there” and although he’ll feature in many of the above Lof’s, look out also for: Van du pain, Still chasing shadows and A tale of two dogs!

So Look out for or Watch this space:

Bye for now or Á bientot, I’m definitely back amongst you and will probably also find some time to get creative!

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Incident diplomatic averted

A brief Fergus incident with a further update to follow soon!!

But first, an opportunity to say “My, hasn’t he grown!”

Oh, an also on our recent holiday in Spain,

he found a passion for chasing and

drinking (!!!!!) the waves on the beach.

Unfortunately, the sea water quite literally

went through him like a dose of salts!!!!

But, back now to the narrowly averted diplomatic incident.

As Fergus has grown in size, so has his speed increased and he has become braver, although some time ago, when he was still very young, in an email to my cousin I said: Fergus - cats, large dogs, horses, goats, chickens, cows, sheep, gunshots, low flying jets, people including children - no problem! But his shadow and trees that look like giants that's another story!, and indeed the latter will feature in a future story.

His speed and bravery combined have turned him into a chaser, great for exercise, although at times this habit creates something of a “one-track mind” and before you know it and he realises it, he is disappearing over the horizon, a mere blur not only because of how far away he is, but also because of the speed he is travelling at! But, he duly pants back and sits obediently hoping for a treat!!

Well, as I believe may also be happening in the UK, as the clocks have changes so there is a definite feeling of spring in the air, although having just gone to get Fergus in from the garden, as he was barking, well it is gone 1 o’clock in the morning and the neighbours are in bed!, there was a bit of a nip in the air, so all might not be sunny days and balmy nights! It transpired he was trying to chase the relatively new moon that is hanging in the sky, just above the fields behind our neighbouring gîte! But with the springing out of spring everywhere, as well as the multitude of stunning wild flowers, many of which need sniffing and occasional watering, the fluttering butterflies, that require a rather half hearted chase as they flit this way and that, and there has been a proliferation of birds all seemingly intent on heralding in the better weather. So the cuckoos are doing just that, the woodpeckers are not only pecking, but also “laughing” at Fergus, both of which need to be put in place with a wouf or two, no not woof in this case, as Fergus is being brought up bi-lingual!, and the multitude of other twitters and tweeters, of the featured variety, if not teasing Fergus from a safe vantage point are flying around and trying to get him to chase them. And chase them he does, along the track, over the field, through the hedge and along the other side, only just falling short, and not without the want of trying, from actually taking to the air.

On this particular day, a couple of small songbirds had already been put in their place, a blackbird stalked along both sides of a hedge and a couple of soaring buzzards were lucky his “wings” had failed him that day! We were at this point heading up the hill, the other side of the valley from home, towards a favourite walk that skirts through the edge of a large expanse of woodland, good shelter from both the sun and the rain and ideal cover for raiding parties out into the bordering field, taking the unsuspecting birds pecking about in the mud, totally by surprise and more effective than a scarecrow, as he not only moves, but also moves effectively in their direction and at great speed. They always make good their escape, but sometimes out of sheer bravado, not taking off until the last minute, and I’m sure a couple of days previously after some fairly heavy rain which had forced the worms to the field surface, the large flock of birds that had gathered to make the most of these rich pickings, carried out an orchestrated “let’s wind up the dog” routine, as when he chased one group a nearby group would fly up from feeding and head him off. This happened repeated, so didn’t just seem to be a happy coincidence, but did lead to a peaceful rest of the day, as Fergus lay on his bed for several hours afterwards, with only the odd twitch, wouf or flick of a paw or two, when his dreaming turned to chasing!

Well, he was walking with me for once, perhaps hoping the hand would go to the plastic bag in the right pocket, an action and sound he can, if in the mood, hear from a good hundred metres away. I say he was there, but suddenly without warning he was off, galloping at enormous speed over the field and heading, before I knew it, over the brow of the distant hill. At first I couldn’t see what had triggered the chase, but then I saw them flying quickly from left to right just proud of the horizon. I realised it was Thursday, and this was our weekly fly pass of a couple of French Airforce, MIG fighter jets on exercise!!

As luck would have it, he didn’t get them, so fortunately a diplomatic incident was narrowly averted, but not I’m sure without an initial degree of alarm and I could almost hear the hasty radio message back to base: “Je pense les anglais avez un nouveau weapon secrete,” before realising that it was in fact just a bit of harmless child’s play – well he was only five and a half months old at the time!!

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today...

We’ve all heard this and I’m sure many of us have not heeded the advice and found a multitude of reasons why tomorrow might be better – I’ll have more energy after a good night’s sleep, Maybe the light will be better tomorrow, Maybe I won’t have this bone in my leg tomorrow!!!, you know the sort of thing. It must also lead to lots of marital discourse, when that shelf or picture needs putting up or the lawn needs cutting and excuses such as maybe tomorrow my eye will be straighter or that wisp of cloud way over there on the horizon may be coming this way and what a shame to get everything out, only to have to put it all away again if it rains. Certainly in my house there are times when ‘er indoors tuts, raises an eyebrow or sighs loudly, before asking out loud to anyone who might be listening, I wonder if this will ever get done.

Well, for years I have known deep down that there was a reason for delaying certain things until tomorrow, the latest being cladding the ceiling in our new mezzanine area, even if at the time the excuses seemed a little flimsy, but now I have had it all explained to me when reading a copy of Good Housekeeping instead of being good at the housekeeping! It’s all down to a small snippet that suddenly clearly puts down on paper just what I have been trying to say for years. But as with most things in life there are certain conditions!

John Perry is an American professor of philosophy who explains: “Procrastinators seldom do nothing, they do marginally useful things, like gardening or sharpening pencils” (today I sorted out the offcuts of wood in the workshop and put the tools tidy!). He advises going along with this, explaining that you are still getting other things done, whilst freeing up your brain to mull over the chore you’ve put off. The upshot then of this is that said chore, having been mulled over and therefore better planned, is more effectively carried out.

So as long as you potter constructively, your procrastination therefore becomes positive or “structured” as John Perry refers to it and suddenly I find that not only am I positive and structured, or procrastinating positively, as I tell ‘er indoors, but also it has done my self esteem a huge power of good, as I no longer feel guilty when I make sure that the cutlery in the draw is tidily stacked together, the glasses in the cupboard are all in neat rows according to type, my socks and pants are neatly folded and colour coded or my toothpaste tube is carefully rolled up and squeezed from the end, it will all mean that important job tomorrow will go that much more smoothly and be finished just that bit quicker, albeit a day or two later and all those other things will have been done into the bargain!!

On the other hand, some of those things might just be put down to my “autistic” tendencies, but that’s to discuss another day, once I’ve raked the gravel outside into neat lines!!!

I know it’s only just gone 1^st April, and maybe you think I’m making it all up, well if you’re one of these Doubting Thomases’s, then check out the link below:

http://www.structuredprocrastination.com/

Monday, February 3, 2014

Not only the hunters I now have to worry about!!

As many of you will know hunting is a passion amongst many French people, the difference being that in most cases it is something for the pot and has moved on quite a long way since the French reportedly shot anything that moved, still admittedly for the pot, but multiple quantities of the required two dozen blackbirds needed to bake in a pie, had in the past denuded the countryside of much of its wildlife. Now there are strict rules about what can be hunted, where and when you can open fire and strictly enforced quotas for each hunt, although sanglier or wild boar seem to be very successful and are in parts of France, like the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire, wreaking havoc, and rules have been relaxed in the hunting of said beasts. Apparently allowing night time hunting of sanglier, a previous definite no no for any hunting. As it is afternoon hunting has its concerns, as part of the game seems to be frequent liquid toasts to the day, with more during lunch, so add to that a whole afternoon of toasts and wine with dinner, it could be problematic to say the least!

But, back to hunting in general, again not all is rosy and there is growing opposition to hunting, not least because of the “power” of the hunting lobby and their authorization to hunt every day, seven days a week, although I must say around us it seems to be most common on Thursdays and Sundays, so I take extra care walking Fergus on those days, as well as other days when gunfire is close by, particularly after lunch. But tensions continue to grow between the different factions, particularly with the anti-hunting lobby pressing for a Sunday ban, arguing that this should be a family day for other countryside pursuits.

However, it was not my intention here to discuss the merits or otherwise of the hunt, or La chasse as I should call it, but rather to bring up another potentially worrying issue, for me, which might lead to me being falsely arrested!! On the main hunt days, or as I said on those days where gunfire, as well as lots of shouting, horn blowing and dog barking is obvious – which I find far more evident than the actual firing of guns, as often an hour or two of frantic activity can occur before any shots are fired!! – I take sensible precautions, namely; tend to walk in the opposite direction to the noise, keep to roads or wide tracks avoiding woodlands or isolated tracks, keep Fergus on the lead if at all concerned about the closeness of any shots not that the noise seems to bother him, make a lot of noise myself, whistling or calling the dog rather than wandering around singing at the top of my voice or talking loudly to myself, causing a few shouts of l'anglais fou (the mad English – I get enough of those without trying !!), and above all I wear loud clothing, including during the cold weather a rather fetching bright red polatec fleece hat, great as it also keeps the ears warm, and making me look a little like Father Smurf, as opposed to Grandfather Smurf, the caption that appeared together with a picture on my daughter’s Facebook!!

And herein lies the problem. France has over the years had a disastrous road safety reputation, not least because of things like the toasts that take place frequently at hunts and elsewhere, and although it might seem as though I digress, please bear with me! Well, various Presidents and governments have taken it upon themselves to try a make a significant impact on this carriageway carnage, one of the strategies involving the proliferation of speed cameras, traditionally marked and with a sign placed about 3 or 4 hundred metres before warning of frequent speed traps, followed by a reminder of the correct speed, all in good time for motorists to make the necessary and often temporary adjustments to their driving so they pass the yellow marked cameras as good law abiding citizens. So, with maybe financial concerns foremost in this time of severe constraints, as the system above would seem to me to have the desired effect of slowing people down in know accident black spots, it has become more clandestine, with the camera markings becoming much less obvious and a proliferation of other methods such as; unmarked camera cars, roving mobile cameras with long leads so the operators can hide in their cars behind trees, houses, bridges or the like, and handheld cameras operated by the local constabulary again often hiding in the shadows. These, together with many other measures seen as an attack on the humble motorist, has led to a group of individual forming a vigilante-style group, who have amongst other direct actions, been setting fire to the fixed camera. The group is known as Les Bonnets Rouges, as part of their disguise in addition to masks over their faces, is a red hat (bonnet) very similar in design to my own that I use as hunt safety clothing. So now, whilst out walking in the countryside not only do I have to be vigilant about the hunt, but I also need to keep an eye out for passing gendarmes, and then have the dilemma of whether to keep it on or hastily remove said hat, hoping the passing gendarmes don’t see me suspiciously removing the anarchist badge. Perhaps in hindsight, I will have to start wearing a green hat and singing loudly, but then it might be another van that I’m bundled into and a different secure institution I’m taken to!!! And, having just got a new dog I don’t have the option of staying safely at home!

Monday, November 18, 2013

Leading question

I went, earlier today, on one of the walks organised by the leisure group of the next village to ours, of which I am a member. They are usually well attended, this time twenty three people set off on the walk, but numbers swell back in the “clubroom” after the walk when wine, hot chocolate and biscuits are served, conversation flows, on the two long trestle tables, predominately one for the men with the wine and another for the women with the hot chocolate. Donc (then), in time, as always seems to happen with such gathering in France the cards come out, and I usually take my leave with a cheery au revoir and even sometimes an à bientôt, or see you later! Here, I’m reminded of a day I once said à bientôt, to the artisans working on our electrics, as I left to go back to our rented house for lunch. They suggested, with a suitable twinkle in their eyes, that that wasn’t the best thing to say in the circumstances, as they were on a tight schedule to get the work finished for us to be able to move in, as although it means see you later, later in this context could mean anything from later that day, the next day, to several weeks hence. I quickly changed my leave-taking to “See you this afternoon!”

But, back to the beginning of the walk, assembled outside a recently beautifully restored 14^th century church, in a nearby village, just about to be led off, when a small indistinct man sidled up to me, in much the fashion of a pre cold war spy about to say something profound yet meaningless, such as “The birds are flying high today!”, by way of introduction as well as recognition. His opening line, in crisp cultured English was however, “Are you Great British?!”, to which I was somewhat taken by surprise as usually all the participants are French speaking apart from a friend I sometimes walk with, who was otherwise engaged today. Further, my surprise made me answer in the affirmative, itself something of a surprise, as with apologies to my friends from over the various borders, since the days of devolution I have tended to tell people I’m English, and indeed perhaps apologies aren’t needed as thinking of these friends they would all, to a similar question, answer that they are Welsh, Scottish or Irish as appropriate. In fact perhaps these days, I should answer, in defiance of the likes of some short sighted people that no I’m not Great British, or indeed British or English, but European and hope to stay that way for many years to come! But, I’m sure that sentiment would be lost on a lot of people, particularly the French, as despite the cultured English accent of my questioner he turned out to be, who seeming to be quite European in many respects do, rightly so, remain fiercely independent of their “Frenchness”, which I guess we buy into having chosen to live here, which neatly brings me back to the question: “Are you Great British?”

I found myself pondering this question a little as we strolled through the surrounding countryside. Certainly, there had been a time when I would have said I was British, possibly not going as far as to say Great!, and seeing “old blightly” from a distance, would I still regard it as being Great? Here the response might well be in the negative, particularly as recently Cameron, in posh evening suit and white tie, at a lavish dinner surrounded by much golden tableware, announced that austerity was here for some time to come, hardly a “great” statement in the circumstances and also at a time when the coalition cabinet is made up largely of millionaires, in May 2010, have they really been there that long!, it was 23 out of 29! I wonder how many of them will have tightened their belts over recent years and will continue to do so!!

However, I have another dilemma, nay identity crisis. The longer we live in France the more we realise that French bureaucracy has to be seem to be believed, it’s almost as bad as in India, although there they have at least three people doing each job, so sometimes the questions are asked in triplicate! No, our dilemma is just who are we, or at least where do we come from, as each of the many and varied forms we are obliged to fill in, sometimes even those originating from the same office, when asking you to select your nationality from the attached alphabetical list, could be any of the following: UK, United Kingdom, Royaume-unis, Great Britain / British, Grand Bretagne, Britannique, as well as others!! One day, maybe I’ll have the nerve to tick other and put English, or at least Anglais!

Friday, November 8, 2013

Actually, it happened one Friday in October, and although I’m quite a mountaineer, they keep making the fences higher – but today I’M FREE!!

Hard to believe that four weeks have gone by since I arrived, and all that time until today, despite several attempts to escape, I’ve been confined to barracks.

Then today they took me to see this “vet man” who stuck a needle in me, prodded and poked me and then said I was ready for the great outdoors, but I would probably be rather tired today – maybe walkies tomorrow. But, I had other ideas and the first walk failed to wear me out enough so they took me out again!!

Here are a few pictorial highlights of the last four weeks, during which time I have had a few traumatic experiences:

· There’s another dog living inside the glass fronted kitchen cupboard that keeps barking at me

· Also, my folks seem to be able to be in the kitchen and also, particularly when it’s dark, outside in the courtyard, through the glass door. But, as at times I do get up to mischief – pulling the towel off the rail, trying to climb over the fence or into the bin and trying to pinch potatoes from the veg rack, the extra pairs of eyes come in handy. But, it’s a bit harsh on me!!

· When in Rome do as the Romans do, well I’ve already tried frog’s legs and snails and jolly tasty they are too. Here perhaps I should point out; the legs weren’t those of the neighbours, but of the amphibious type that had demised in the garden!!

· I suppose it’s the border collie in me that makes me quite partial to a bit of leg, its all the more fun if they’re not watching and woolly leggings are especially good! If all else fails, I just have to chase my own tail, but it makes you a little dizzy and the floors are a bit slippery so I fall over rather a lot. I did however work out, that if you sit down and chase your tail it’s easier and if you back up into a corner it’s easier to catch it – but ouch, my teeth are rather sharp!

· I’m also a bit of a showman and do a mean fish dance, ask me the next time you see me, but I’ll have to remember to bring the fish.