a day in history …

I just wanted to record on my blog, for me, myself, I : what an amazing day in history to see a black American become President yesterday and just one day after Martin Luther King day !

I missed the live inauguration speech but watched the procession to the White House and the Obama family going into the viewing area. On French radio today I caught the end of an interview of people’s reaction here and a young (sounding) girl sobbing into the microphone, saying how happy she was and what changes it was going to make in the world.

He has such a tough job ahead of him but there’s so much hope now for a brighter future with this young president. I hope he is advised well and he keeps to the courage of his convictions, but I can’t help thinking about a caller on BBC Radio 4’s Any Answers who said that history would truly be made when a native Red Indian becomes President. (Actually, taken out of context).

If you have the time and you’re not sick to death of all the media hype. I can’t copy the link to the iplayer, but it is the 16 January show which will be available to listen to until 23 January, when the new program is aired. Listen to Any Questions first – about 50 minutes and then the listeners’ views in Any Answers – about 30 minutes. There is also a transcript of the show.


Whilst in the middle of this post my friend Claire rang from London and said that she had heard another viewpoint by Nick Abbot of LBC (20 Jan). He wonders what all the euphoria is about : nobody knows very much about Obama … Sadly, LBC feel that they need to charge to listen to their podcasts.

Claire also pointed out that Obama is not Black he is Mixed Race. He happens to have darkish skin and brown eyes. Would you call a Mixed Race person who has a fair skin and blue eyes, White or Black and
why ?

Not wanting to get controversial and seeing that this could turn into quite another debate, I will leave it at that for now …

I’m so cross …

I’m so cross with myself.

For lots of reasons … mostly that I haven’t made a post since 9 October because I’ve been so distracted reading other people’s and generally spending too much time surfing. In my head, I have written a post almost every day but haven’t physically done so and it makes me so angry with myself because this was meant to be like a diary : capturing a record of things I’ve seen and done, mostly for my own benefit and enjoyment.

I’ve so enjoyed everything I’ve written up till now and when I take LB for his daily walk I’m planning the next post; but then guilt takes over and I don’t write anything at all because I can’t just write a few words – it becomes an essay, as Lucy Corrander knows ! She sent me a quick email and my response to her was almost a post in itself.

Another reason I’m cross is that I forgot to take my camera with me the other day and missed three ‘photo’ opportunities. It had been raining hard for 46 hours and within twenty minutes of it stopping I went out with the Tibetan Terror. The mass of water was rushing along the irrigation canal and at one point I could hear some 200 metres away the sound of water falling – impressive and slightly scary to see. Later, I missed being able to capture the golden watery sun on an old building, the grey rain clouds in the background. Doesn’t sound half as interesting to just describe !

And then, when I have had my camera, missing an opportunity. I’ve seen something interesting (but that’s subjective anyway !), gone past it, thought ‘damn’ and instead of turning round (assuming the opportunity was still present) carrying on, cursing myself for being so useless.

So, having scolded myself thoroughly, I’m hoping to do some back dating of a few things : quite a bit of cooking, so a few recipes perhaps and a fairly epic (for me) removal and replanting of some olive trees for a job. Now – get over being cross and get on with it !

love thursday : friends

I was starting to write this post for my Love Thursday offering before I realised that the Shutter Sisters had called this week’s post ‘Friends’.

I have just driven Petunia and her other half to the station to start their journey home to England. We’ve had a lovely ten days together and Petunia and I have caught up on each other’s news and spent last night with a couple of glasses of sparkling wine setting up a blog for her : Panglossian Prose. Just before we got into the car she asked for a photo be taken of the two of us and I realised that we hadn’t taken photos of just the two of us this trip. Her other half obliged by taking at least three, because we both blinked at the wrong time, and it set me thinking about how negligent I have been towards keeping in touch with my friends. We all know that the sign of true, long-standing friends is that it takes but moments to catch up where we left off, but I wanted to use this opportunity to apologise (yet again, but publicly this time !) to all the people I know who may be thinking of giving up on me …

Most of my girl friends go back quite a long way and I started counting the years we had known each other :
Claire – 47 (gulp !); Zoë – 41; Phillippa – 37; Petunia – 35; Louise – 28 (I’ll have been in contact with you before you read this !); Di – 27; Sandie – 26; Emma – 25; Melanie – 25; and many more since. Now I risk offending people I may have forgotten, so I really just wanted to say to you all : “You’re all so special to me. Thank you for being my friend”


This is a picture of a more recent special friend

happy birthday, Lucy !

Happy Birthday, Lucy. I was reading Esther’s blog and so happy to hear she is back on Earth and writing about her new life and adventures. She mentioned that she had a strong feeling that it is your birthday today and then later on your Loose and Leafy blog that your brother was holding a pot (with the new bamboo?).

I went to some friends for dinner last night and there were two cakes that I was going to take a picture of to post as a birthday cake for you, but they got sliced up and divided before I had chance. So I took a picture of the portions (oh yes, I had a piece of each) on my plate, they were a sponge with chestnut purée and cream and the other was a prune tart with a filo pastry topping. Unfortunately the photographs made it look a mess – but they tasted wonderful. Everyone at dinner sends their best wishes – they sat for nearly ten minutes whilst I (bored) enthralled them with the tales of my blog and my loyal follower and other sweet people such as Barbee, who have left kind comments on my posts.


So, I’m posting a picture of a giant birthday cake and some sunflowers and hope you have a lovely day in delightful Dorchester.


Happy Birthday, Lucy. I hope you sort out your annoying feed problems with Pictures Just Pictures and wish you a wonderful year to come.

love thursday : mugs

I love my tea mugs.

I drink a lot of tea – builders’ tea (strong with milk), chai (spiced black tea with milk), early grey, green tea, ‘sleepy tea’ last thing at night (a caffeine-free herbal tea usually with chamomile and other calming blends) and I have a bag full of boxes of different flavoured herbal teas and infusions.

I use different mugs and cups for different teas.


My favourite builders’ tea mug has had a crack and a broken handle for months and it is difficult to move around when hot, because it burns your fingers. I found a new one to replace it in a shopping trip to Tesco when I was back in the UK. If you imagine a mirror image of the handle, it would make a perfect heart shape, so this is my first picture for ‘Love Thursday’ which I found on the Shutter Sisters blog – a love-themed photograph every Thursday.

anyone for tea in the garden ?

I’ve just got back from my week’s visit to the UK. It was damp and green unlike here, which is dry and baked brown. However, last night the heavens opened and it rained consistently for many hours leaving the earth soft and claggy. Now it’s raining again. I hope it isn’t going to have a bad effect on the grape harvest vendanges which appears to be underway. As I drove home from the airport yesterday afternoon, I passed several tractors with their little trailers bumping along behind – I’m sure our local wine co-operative is getting really busy.

Whilst I sort myself out and make some retrospective posts, I just wanted to put up these two photos I shot in Whittards of Chelsea.


The garden sets are : mugs in the shape of a terracotta flower pot with a coaster on top, presumably to keep your tea hot whilst you are gardening (I like what’s written – ‘I don’t go to the gym ... I garden’ & ‘You’ve got to propagate to accumulate ...’); tall mugs like long toms; sugar and creamer set of small pot with a spade-shaped spoon and watering can milk jug; and I believe the tea set has a watering can for a teapot.

I love Whittards and think these are so cute. Perhaps they are rather twee, but they made me smile even though I resisted the urge to purchase anything other than some teas.

don’t play again, Sam ... or quelles mauvaises herbes !

We went for our morning walk joined, as usual, by Sam the Golden Retriever. Sam’s owners let him wander around all day whilst they are at work. He’s often waiting for us because, quite understandably, he loves to go for walks with people. I feel so sad for him – I think he’s a young dog and obviously needs lots of exercise which is why, no doubt, they let him out in the morning to spend the day following people up and down the canal.

The problem is : I’ve often found him in our chemin – so he has crossed the main road, which can be very busy at times. Also, he’s a large dog and the the track along the canal is somewhat narrow. On Thursday, last week, right at the start of our walk, he knocked me down. He’d just met up with us, was full of beans and so happy to see L B. They started running up and down using me a ‘home’ and Sam ran into the back of me, causing me to twist my left ankle, come thumping down on my right buttock ending up flat on the path. What a great game this is, thought Sam and came and threw himself down between my splayed legs and rolled onto his back, muddy paws in the air. L B, being the intelligent dog he is, realised with my cry as I went down and the moaning as I lay motionless that something was definitely not right and promptly jumped on my stomach, growling at Sam.

There the three of us stayed for some moments until I felt able to move the two dogs away from me and work out whether I could get to my feet and if so, would I then be able to walk ? Luckily I was able to do both and was glad that there had been no-one around to see how inelegantly I scrambled upright, clutching to the chain-link fence for support. I gingerly placed one foot in front of the other and hobbled slowly along with one hand against the fence. They started again ! Racing up and down the path and spinning round at the point I stood. “Get away, dégagez, you blasted animals !”

I walked for a little, but progress was slow and they carried on their game of tag until I decided I could take no more and headed for home feeling somewhat sorry for myself.

The ankle swelled, the buttock and pelvis felt slightly bruised and everything ached and creaked, so no more walks for L B and I until yesterday morning.

Sam appeared and was somewhat calmer, but they always go mad when we get down to a grassy track away from the canal as we’ve turned for home. The tag started again and I spotted a short, thickish stick which I picked up with a thought of using it in some way to keep Sam at bay ... too late – he’s a Retriever, after all – he grabbed the stick from my hand and started galloping up and down with the stick protruding from either side of his mouth at knee level ! Not a good idea. Luckily his attention span was short and he dropped it a little further along, to investigate an interesting smell. A little further along, he came rushing out of the undergrowth, with L B in pursuit, carrying half a dried baguette. He ran L B followed and I wondered how far L B would go before he realised that Sam wasn’t going to stop this time and was taking his prize home. Not very long and we enjoyed our Sam-less walk all the more until we got to his place to see him swallowing the last mouthful. L B sniffed at the crumbs, but Tibetan Terriers aren’t too fussed about scavenging for food.

Back to this morning : Sam’s obviously been in the water already and seems relatively calm, but continues jumping in and out of the canal, shaking furiously, jumping straight back in. Even L B stands back and I’ve already got wet shoes, splashes on my trousers and a couple of wet, faintly muddy patches on my calves where he has pushed past me. When we get to the open area where the potager is right next to the canal I stop momentarily to take photos of the new growth on the courgette plants as a follow-up to my earlier post. The two of them are playing along the verge and in and out of the vegetables – oh yikes, please don’t let them have done any damage. L B starts rubbing himself along the ground and I realise that I can’t see his white eye ... It is totally closed by some innocent-looking grass which acts like irreversible velcro and hermetically seals whatever is underneath. Then I see he is absolutely covered in the stuff around the right side of his head, the short hair on his legs and around the paws. I sit on the bank and try in vain to part the fur over his eye. A local dogwalker with his tiny Yorkshire Terrier – who yaps frantically at these two when ever we meet him – offers to go to his nearby house for scissors, which I decline (I hope, graciously) as I don’t have my glasses with me.

I put L B on the lead and walk as fast as my fragile ankle will allow, to try and stop him from rubbing his face. By the time we’re nearing the end of the canal he has managed to put his head in the dirt a couple of times and jump in and out of the canal as if he were able to gain some relief from this horrible stuff. Another dog walker holds her dog and stands out of the way. She asks if Sam is my dog and says he often follows her. I tell her he is not, but not to worry as he will probably follow us and not her. During this time she has looked down at L B and the expression on her face as she says “Je croîs qu’il y a un petit problème ... I think there’s a small problem... ” makes me glance at him to see that all of the right side of his snout has grass sticking out of it and where his eye once was is now covered in grey dust. I mutter about the mauvaises herbes and getting back to sort him out and she says it will probably be necessary to take him to the vet. Not again, I’m thinking, we must have bought shares in the veterinary practice by now – how I wish I’d taken out what seems now to be a most reasonably priced pet insurance and wonder if Sam’s owners are covered for any accidents he may cause ...

I see Sam’s garden gate is open and bundle him through, pulling it to until the bell clangs and I rush on. By the time we cross over the road and get to our chemin all L B wants to do is put his face down and not move. So I pick him up and carry all 8kg of him up the hill and the rest of the way home. In the house, he stays in the kitchen were I put him down, whilst I search for the seam unpicker – some tip I’d read about on a pet-grooming site.

It took 35 minutes to free his eye, some of the fur round is nose and the stuff that had got into the (already short) hair between his pads. His eye, which looked extremely red, now looks fine and I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon carefully freeing the fur on his legs. If I thought he looked a bit wonky after his dog grooming with Amandine, you should see him now !