Rocks, ice and buildings.

   One of the fascinations for me in visiting a new region is to see how the different conditions have formed the landscape and even influenced the buildings.The surrounding shape of the lie of the land in the region of Aucun  were created by glaciation and you can see how the eroding power of the huge ice-rivers have scoured out the sides of the valleys, leaving the typical U shape behind. In my picture you can see the road to Vers les Cimes, which runs along the top of a narrow rige, with flat floored valleys on either side. The ridge is about 100 feet above the plain and is made up of sandy soil filled with rounded granite rocks. Occasionally a much bigger rock is stranded on the hillside. We had a visiting expert give a talk and he told us that this ridge was in fact a moraine, a bank of debris left as the glacier retreated at the end of the last ice-age. This was caused by global warming, no doubt due to the dinosaurs and mammoths selfishly driving about in cars and burning fossil fuel to run their central heating. If only they had been able to build windmills all this catastrophic change to their living conditions could have been avoided!

  One effect of all this material lying about is its influence on local buildings. You can see in my Pic a typical local barn or house, with steep-sloped roof of slates and walls built of stones gathered locally. The building-stones are selected rounded granite rocks left by the glaciers. They are not easy to shape, so are left round, which produces a rough appearance, very different from the walls here in Poitou Charentes, where the local limestone can easily be shaped into squares and cubes.On the right is a pic of the interior of the restored barn at the Colonie, showing this effect. No doubt the wall will be pointed soon, which will make it a bit prettier. It`s strange, isn`t it to think that a glacier millions of years ago can influence the style of today`s buildings?

   Bye for now, going to get some breakfast!
 

A week in the Mountains

As promised, I will continue with the saga of our annual stay in the Pyrenees.We left the Formule 1 hotel at about 930 and arrived at our destination Vers les Cimes at about midday.
   A bit of background if you haven`t read my last year report. Vers les Cimes is a holiday centre owned by the evangelical church of Orthez. Many years ago they bought the land near the village of Aucun,  at about 850 mtres of altitude, under the peaks called the Gabizos, which you can see in my picture. Originally the centre had wooden huts, which still exist, though now their `campers` are chickens! Later these spartan hutments were replaced by more modern buildings, which have recently be updated further. The site is used to provide Christian holidays for children of the church at Orthez and more generally throughout the Evangelical church. It was decided some years ago, to run a `Camp des Ainés` in the week before the centre opens for the children. About 30 older people spend a week in he mountains,with a session of Bible study for an hour in the mornings and an outing to the mountains in the afternoon. All meals are provided and we risk to come down heavier than we went up, despite some strenuous walking!

  Talking of the continuous effort made by the Ortez church, they have this year almost completed the restoration of the traditional barn, which was used as a meeting hall but was becoming very delapidated. Here are some before and after pictures. The restoration has been beautifully done and the old barn should be good for another century or so of its long life.
    This year we had the Pasteur Eric Denimal leading the Bible Study. He is famous in France and is the author of many books, the latest of which is Le Bible pour les Nuls. Eric has the gift of making the bible comprehesible for all levels and we were very lucky to have him, despite a painful injury six weeks ago when he fell from a step ladder and broke a bone in his foot. We now have a signed copy of his book which will prove interesting reading. He was asked to give us instruction on the Apocalypse, Revelations to us Anglophones, not the easiest of books. Still, we now know a bit more about it...
  The weather was fairly kind to us--it is often a bit capricious in the mountains, and we were only stopped once from our daily excursions. As the cancelled day was a full-day climb to the Lac d`Estom, I was a bit muted in my disappointment....

   We did manage to visit some beautiful and high scenery. We take the two biggest dogs with us to camp and they were pleased to have some new places to sniff. Besides their local strolls up the Route de Then, they were able to sample the air in several cols and upland walks. They shared our interest when we came across a farmer moving his sheep to their summer upland grazing near the Lac d`Esteign. Well, I`ve run out of inspiration for today and Blogger is showing worrying signs of revolt so I shall quit while I`m ahead. I`ll be back soon to muse a bit more on our retreat to the high places. Bye for now!

I will lift up mine eyes to the hills ....

`

Faithful followers of the Ark (you know who you both are) may have deplored its temporary absence for a week or more. This unavoidable lapse was, of course, due to the Ark`s annual habit of voyaging from the plains, not to Mount Arrarat, but to hills probably even higher, in the Pyrennées near Argeles Gazost. We entrusted the Ark`s feline, ovine and avian passengers to the kind care of our neighbours Ian and Sarah, and Toffee, the smallest dog, to the equally benevolent attention of Jacqui and Adrian. We loaded up the 106 with supplies,bedding for us and the other two dogs, sundry contributions to the diet of our other friendly campers and we set out for the town of Aucun, which could be translated as   `No-name` in French!
   We have now adopted the habit of breaking our journey at a Formule 1 hotel. This time we chose one just south of Bordeaux, in the satellite town of Villenave d`Ornon. The Fomlule 1 hotels are cheap, clean and just slightly primitive, in that their showers and toilets are on the corridor, not en suite. However, they suit us very well. They have the advantage of being of one design so you know what to expect. The down-side is that you have the curious sensation of always being in the same town. If you wake up befuddled in the morning it takes a severe mental effort to recall whether you are in Bordeaux or Orléans...

   We have also the tradition of eating at the MacDonald`s the first night. However, as the Buffalo Grille was right next door, we made an exception. Kim had her usual bleeding steak, but I ordered chicken and had the most enormous chicken breast I have ever eaten. The bird must have been the size of an ostrich!
   Hotels of this type in France are often grouped together in the commercial estates which also hold factories and enterprises. This seems odd to our eyes but seems to work. After all, once the firms have knocked off for the night, the hotels are quite quiet. There is thus an odd mix of hotels, restaurants and businesses sharing the area. Formule 1`s clients are also an oddly assorted mixture. Tourists stopping for the night on their journey further south rub shoulders with entrepreneurs installing chimneys, double-glazing and roofs. Many of these seem to be foreign and you can hear half the tongues of Europe. The car-park of this branch was nicely shaded with mature trees. ideal for keeping the dogs cool, as they always spend the night in the car, with a specially installed barrier.
   I was up early the next morning and found a good place to walk the dogs, along a little cycle track and a peaceful minor road. After eating as much as we could stuff down of the hotel`s unlimited breakfast, we set off quietly and soon began to see the mountains rearing up on the horizon.
   We bought and ate a snack in a little town just off our road, enjoying watching the world go by. A girl was waiting for her date at the side of the road in the village, perhaps she had been stood up as he never seemed to arrive. A wizened old man was eying her from the door of his minute house... We went on.

   After a short length of motorway we at last arrived at Argeles and climbed the 800 metres or so to Aucun and to our destination, the Colonie de Vacances  `Vers Les Cimes` I`ll tell you in my next blog how we got on.

      Bye for now, bed is calling....

Cheese, please, Louise!

  You may know that the Poitou Charentes and in particular, Deux Sevres, where we live, is well-known for its goats` cheese. Our friend`s from other, less favoured regions often ask for us to bring some when visiting, so yesterday I visited the nearest Fromagerie at Villemain, a little village close to us. This is the local producer Georgelets, which I can thoroughly recommend. He has large numbers of goats, about 450 I think, though I may be wrong. They are kept indoors in large, airy barns with loads of food and immaculate litter and are of course machine-milked. They even have piped music!
  We wanted some cheeses `Sur Feuille` or on leaves as you can see above. The Fromagerie sells to the public as well as its considerable commercial sales, and when I went to buy four cheeses yesterday, I found that Stefan, a friend from Loubillé, was on the counter. I was able to ask him about the `leaves` used, which had intrigued me for some time.
  Stefan told me that the leaf is, in fact chataignier or sweet chestnut. I asked where these were obtained. He told me that they are cut from the trees in Autumn, after the first frosts, when they have turned brown but are still attached to the twigs. They are stored in nets in a dry, dark store-room. Of course, several thousand are needed to last the year! Are the leaves used just for decoration, I asked. No, no, was the reply. The leaf is put under the cheese when it is young and moist and absorb the excess moisture. As the cheese becomes more mature it returns the moisture to the drying cheese, adding to it a slight woody flavour. We always buy the young, milder cheeses, liking the sweeter flavour, so had never appreciated this point. It`s interesting to tap the knowledge of an expert and an enthusiast!
 
  Bye for now, all this talk of food has given me an appetite for my breakfast!

The Curate`s Egg--Singing in Parts

  I like to choose an appropriate  title for my blogs, but perhaps I`ve been a bit obscure this time. I want to talk about the problems of a `Dis-musical` choir member; that unfortunate  soul who wants to sing in a choir but can`t read music. The diffident Curate, when asked whether his addled egg was good, said it was good `in part`s---get it? Or am I over-explaining and risking evoking another egg, that which the proverbial Grandmother was being taught to suck... Passing swiftly on, I will continue to discuss harmonies (or indeed, discords, or should it be dischords..)
  I like to sing in a choir, and have done so for a number of years now, with Catholic, Baptist and Evangelistic churches (not all at once, I hasten to add.) It would have been most helpful if I had been taught to read music but there it is, I never was and now it`s a little late. More gifted Choir-leaders find it difficult to believe that anyone should lack this skill, others sympathise. I have, in fact, discovered in myself some embryonic skill in fathoming out the tune from the notes but am very far still from being able to hum an unknown piece from the music. The only answer for me is to learn the part so thoroughly that I don`t need the music.I have been spoilt in our current choir, in that Christine Charlton, who does read music and can sing all the parts, prepares a cassette for me of the tenor part, so that I can immerse myself in it in private. I also take the precaution of blocking my ears when others are rehearsing their parts so that I don`t inadvertently learn the bass or even the soprano part, especially if these are more melodic. This looks silly but I have found it a wise precaution. Being `dyslexic` in this fashion has both advantages and disadvantages. Once I have learned a tune, I can trot it out even years later, practically note-perfect. They say that un-lettered persons can learn reams of information verbally and remember it, a trick which we more literate people have never had to learn. Primitive tribesmen can recite their rites or even books of the Bible with astonishing fidelity. I believe The disadvantage is, that if I already know a tune, it is almost impossible to replace it with another version, the `erase` button doesn`t seem to work in my case!
   The result is that it is a real struggle for me to learn the tenor part of a new piece, so sometimes I ask myself if is is worth the struggle. The reward is, of course, that there are few things so enjoyable as singing your part in a well rehearsed choir, and joining in the creation of the rich sound of a pice in four voices. All real singers would do it `in camera` even without an audience, which only provides an excuse or a feed-back for all that effort. It`s a sensation almost impossible to describe to a non-choir member.

  Bye for now, going to listen to my new cassette!

The Silent Killer.

 


This year, if things had turned out differently, could well have been the fifteenth anniversary of my death. Sends a shiver down the spine, doesn`t it? But fifteen years ago I was suffering from a condition that could well have killed me.
  They called it the silent killer--hypertension or high blood pressure. Often enough, the illness has no  symptoms--except for one, you die suddenly from a stroke or a heart attack. About that time ago, I began to get headaches, almost daily; I was one of those who did have symptoms. Everyone has headaches, don`t they, I thought perhaps it was eye-strain or pressure at work and treated it with aspirin. Then one day, something happened that could not be explained so easily. I had woken with a vile headache and took the excuse to phone in sick, an excuse I was happy to accept as work was really becoming not a happy experience. I was on the phone to my office manager trying to exaggerate ever so slightly my indisposition, when I could not bring out my words. You know how it is when you have a slip of the tongue and say a nonsense word, not what you wanted to say. You stop and start again, continuing on the right track. But I could not bring out the words I had in mind, and nothing would emerge. Thoroughly frightened, I handed over the phone to Kim, who dealt with the manager, though I think even more scared than I was. Then, of course it was a gallop down to the Doctor`s. He took my blood pressure, which turned out to be well over two hundred, and was the cause of this strange loss of language.
  The Doctor gave me pills to reduce the level of blood pressure, Atenolol initially. These stopped the headaches dead, a really smashing result in my eyes. Unfortunately, they did not reduce the pressure and further pills were prescribed and adjusted until a good combination was discovered. Apparently this varies wildly from person to person. With minor adjustments, I have been taking three pills daily ever since, and as long as I do, my blood pressure is fine.
 I don`t know why I started to suffer this condition, I thought possibly stress at work, but in fact my mother died suddenly at 55 and my sister has told me she also has the problem, so it is probably hereditary. Nevertheless, I am lucky to live in a time when such things can be detected and treated, unlike my poor Mum.
   Here in France, this would probably have been detected earlier, any visit to the doc`s will entail a blood-pressure check. However, if anyone reading this blog has not had one, I implore you, profit from my experience to check up, it only takes a moment. I strongly suspect the British establishment of being let us say ambivalent about preventative measures on the grounds that they don`t want people surviving to draw pensions! Don`t let them steal 15 years from you!!

   Bye for now, going to appreciate being alive...

God Save the Queen!!

  It`s Jubilee weekend and although the French TV has shown a certain interest, we have not significantly altered our life programme. This morning we went to church as usual but did note that a prayer was offered up for her Britanic Majesty. This afternoon, we visited a car-boot sale at Loubillé and went and bought a stool from a lady in Ligné who is clearing out her garage.
  However, as you can see, we have gone so far as to raise the flag over our bit of territory. Truly, `there is a corner of a foreign field, that is forever England` ( or in fact Great Britain, but it doesn`t scan!) Jacqui, our friend in Loubillé said she was afraid the locals would be offended and stated that there is a French law that foreign flags must not be flown over French territory. In fact, her French neighbours seemed tickled to death and said nothing was more normal than to celebrate the occasion.
   And really we do have reason to celebrate. It is common to be accused of jingoism if you praise your birth-country and sometimes it seems to be the fashion to run it down. No one wants to say `my Country, right or wrong` but Britain has given a lot to the world for such a small territory. The first to industrialise, the first to have a large canal network, likewise for railways, and metalled roads. The Americans often claim the high ground, but after all, we colonised that land first, too! We had the mightiest navy in the world and formed a huge empire which was (fairly) benevolently managed and was given back to its inhabitants without excessive bloodshed or bitterness. Not bad for a land the size of Belgium or whatever (geography was never my strong point, but substitute a more suitable country if you like.) The sixtieth anniversary of the start of the Queen`s reign is a good occasion to show a little national pride!
  I was only 10 when the old King died, on the day before my birthday. I can only remember if, because the Headmistress of my prep school called us together in assembly to announce the sad news and to call for a minute`s silence, the first I can remember. Half way through this solemn ceremony, someone`s stomach produced a loud rumble and the second half minute was spoiled by desperate efforts not to laugh. When, after an age the sign of dismissal was given, an irreverent roar of mirth caused our fierce Headmistress`s brow to darken but nothing was said. Of the Coronation I remember even less, there was no television in our house on which to watch the ceremony. I do remember receiving a coronation mug and bowl and of making a plastic model of the golden coronation coach.
   However, in the following sixty years Her Majesty has done us proud and I don`t think anybody will grudge the British a little party to mark the occasion.

              God save the Queen!

         Bye for now, gone to stand to attention...

Computer-literate, wot, moi?

  I came into the computer field comparatively late in life, after disliking them for some years. Many years ago I pottered happily with a ZX81 (remember those?) which was really a games-player, though some computer capabilities were available. But then, at work, the computer disease struck. The Cooperative Insurance Society, for whom I had happily worked for many years as a Claims Examiner, started to computerise many of its operations `to save costs`. The fact that they had engaged many highly qualified staff at head office, bought hundreds of expensive machines and used up untold reams of paper did not, of course, count as costs! At a stroke, staff who had been competent workers for many years were supposed,with little or no training, to become computer experts practically overnight. A boffin from Chief Office descended on us for a couple of days, rattled through an insanely complicated procedure and said ok it`s all yours. Computer buffs can never understand how, to the uninitiated their pet machine can appear completely daunting. We didn`t even know how to type, let alone operate a keyboard and the results were less than impressive! From the experience I developed a deep and abiding hatred of all things informatic, which lasted a number of years and which still breaks out now and then, when the ordi is being particularly stupid or obstinate. One example was the complaints procedure. All complaint letters had to be laboriously copied into the system, replied to in a day and entered into an infuriating file which could not be deleted even if some silly error was made, which it often was. A good two hours work for unskilled labour ( only five minutes said the boffin) at a time when the firm was reducing staff at a great rate. The un-intended result was that all complaints were immediately solved by the harassed claims worker, if necessary by paying the happy client whatever he wanted, justifiably or not, and thus didn`t have to be entered! Luckily I was within a couple of months of retiring and in the end blythly refused to undertake this work, which nonplussed the management  a bit. If you dont do it who will, they said. Not my problem I replied, the same chap who will have to do it when I retire. As I was of course not replaced the problem must have caused a bit of havoc, which the CIS solved shortly after by closing the whole claims office and replacing it with a call centre `Oop North` manned by inexpensive labour. I got out just in time!
  Phew, just writing this has brought me out in quite a sweat, it all comes back to me, as the skunk said when the wind changed. All over ten years or more ago, but you can see that computers remained for me somehow reminiscent of an unhappy time, a symbol of the changes in conditions which still, I think, have changed employment into a stressful and unpleasant experience.
  After that, I instinctively avoided anything to do with computers, having almost nothing to do with Kim`s machine apart from the mechanical problems of setting it up. However, when digital photography began to establish itself, I started to take an interest in entering and later, in improving photos on the screen. Then, when it became advisable to back up our increasing store of frames, I decided, instead of getting an exterior hard-drive, to buy an old Mackintosh from Adrian Brown who restores and re-homes these machines, once top-of- the-range but now almost given away as obsolete. Kim bought me one, a Leopard, for my birthday, and gradually I took an interest in its non-pictorial possibilities, including the writing of this blog. Strange how things turn out, isn`t it? And I think you will agree that I am no longer completely computer illiterate.

   Bye for now, going to tear myself away from the keyboard to experience some real life!