The Road through the Woods?

   One of the routes where I like to walk the dogs is a track that swerves off from the cross-roads at the end of our village and mounts the slope between the tanged trees of a rough woodland. The track goes for about 300 metres, eventually emerging in the corner of a cornfield. I suppose it belongs to the farmer and is just an access track for his machinery.
   Yesterday, I saw this pretty flower, and took its portrait both for fun and to identify it. I believe it is a Clustered Bellflower, Campanula Glomerata, a relative of the Harebell. I had not noticed this flower before, it is strange how plants can be there one year, then disappear giving place to new.
    This short-lived little flower led me to consider how we humans can also flourish for a season then disappear into the earth that bore us, together with our works, which seemed so permanent. Take this track, beside which it had its temporary home. It is very heavily paved with stone, rather more than you would expect for a farm track serving a single field. There is a tradition here that the village of Mort Limousin is not on its original site, but was destroyed and rebuilt lower down next to the cross-roads. Might this track be an approach road or even the old village street? I can`t see any remains of houses but twenty metres away from the stone-laid roadbed is a field wall, now buried in the woodland, running parallel. Anyway, a wooden house or even a field-stone and mud mortar wall does not long survive the fall of the roof. The only other `evidence` I can offer, is that Jilly is always very uneasy going up this track and glares about, staying close to me. Can she see what is invisible to humans? Or is she just a silly ass? What do YOU think?

 By for now, going to sit in the sun and avoid the cold shivers...

A celebration of Raincoats!

   Today is the 14th of July, le quatorze juillet, the day when the proud French nation celebrate their Nationhood, the casting off of the chains of royalty and specifically, the Storming of the Bastille. And by George, from the Météo, it looks as if it will be storms they are going to have! The chief event of the day is the Défilée, the military parade down the Champs Elysée, a very impressive march-past of troops, cavalry, tanks and vehicles and a fly-past of aircraft including the Patrouille de France, the French version of the Red Arrows, trailing trails of red, white and blue smoke. The new President Hollande and his `companion` will be there to take the salute and the whole event will be covered all morning on French TV. The Army has been practising for weeks.
  To make the whole event perfect, all it needs is bright sunshine, but there`s the rub! The Heavens often seem not in the mood, and showers, even heavy rain often seem to take a delight in bringing the preparations of mortals down to earth, drenching the participants with a cold shower. To avoid discomfort, even pneumonia, the sensible precaution is an umbrella and/or a good mac. But it`s precisely this wise action which the modern politician seems to have abandoned. How often do you see the great and good walking or standing in the rain in their smart blue suits. drenched to the skin, as if to wear a mac would be admitting worldly weakness? I am reminded of King Canute trying to turn the tide. Or of the Beatles` Penny Lane `For the Banker never wears a mac, in the pouring rain, very strange...` Goodness knows, I was never an admirer of Harold Wilson, but at least he did not scorn a macintosh and was in fact famous for his Gannex and pipe,( another thing not often seen nowadays). Do the politicians think that the People will scorn the for taking sensible precautions? Will it be seen as a sign of weakness, of lack of optimism? I really don`t know. M. Hollande in particular, seems unfortunate in his weather and has already been dampened several times since his election. His plane was even struck by lightning and had to turn back for a check-up.  You would think he could learn by experience, but there, he`s a politico and must be well used to squaring the circle. We will see later whether his luck holds out today!

 Bye for now, going to have a hot drink, the thought of the rain running down the back of my neck has given me the shivers!

Dog Training or training dog?

 We have always tried to train our dogs not to be a nuisance to others and to obey certain commands, with more or less success. All our current dogs ( see above) will come when called (mostly) sit. lie down, together with other basic commands. Toffee and Jilly even went to obedience and agility training at Cherveux, near Niort, each week and were presented with certificates for aptitude to social education, whatever that is. They had demonstrated the ability to obey the above commands and also to walk to heel.
  Ben, our old black Labrador/Alsatian cross, was also trained by an ex-Police dog handler , before his death several years ago. We had him trained, chiefly to try and eradicate an unfortunate urge to fight any other dog not in the family that he met. The dog handler had to give up in the end. It appears that most dogs fight either because they wish to dominate or because they are afraid. Ben however, fought because he enjoyed it, his tail always wagged gaily before he hurled himself into the fray! We could only walk him in public with a muzzle and a wander-lead. In every other respect he was the ideal pet, friendly with all humans and particularly good with children. We had to take the rough with the smooth...
   Laika, in the middle of the photo, has not attended formal training, but we have taught her the same basic commands as the others, plus, as she is a very bright dog. some tricks, However, she also has her Achilles` heel. Being a former hunting dog, she will chase anything that runs and won`t come home for an hour or so. To avoid panic we have had to walk her also on a wander-lead, although we are making some progress.
  Lately, though, I have come more and more to realise that it is SHE who is doing the training. She trained us to let her sleep in our bedroom because she pined downstairs. Lately she has trained us to allow her to jump the door into the sitting-room and to sit on the settee. Not content with invading the bedroom, she has trained us to let her sleep on the bed, by creeping onto it each night and lying still as a stone. She is a much more patient trainer than we are and I think she is proud of her trainees progress!

  Bye for now, got to feed my teacher...

Scattered Showers.

  When we first bought this French house over twenty years ago, one of the first things we appreciated was that France had a climate, not just weather. You could count on the conditions at a given period of the year. From a rather late Spring round mid-April, the heat would gradually arrive, the rain would more or less be a thing of the past, time for swimming and sun-bathing if you were British or for closing the shutters and a sieste if you were French. Summer dress was sandals underpants and shorts, add a T shirt for formal occasions. A picnic or barbecue could be planned far ahead without the Engish proviso `If it doesn`t rain`. End of August,the fine weather would build up over three days to a spectacular thunderstorm, which would clear the air and the cycle would repeat. September, all would settle down again for an Indian Summer, often lasting until late October. The grass would die off and go brown from June and the mower could be retired for the year.
   Well, I`m sorry to relate that conditions have changed over the last two or three years, becoming more unsettled, more English. Mind you, from what I have seen on Facebook, You British stay-at-homes would be delighted even with our degraded `climate`, it`s not that bad, plenty of sun between the showery days. I`ve just watched a news item on French TV with Northern French camp site owners bemoaning empty windswept sites and even pictures of rain lashing the beaches around Bordeaux. It`s been cooler, too, shorts are not the default setting this year. Only the next item, dealing with a terrible heat wave in the U S stopped me from announcing the end of Global Warming on this blog!
    Still and all, it`s not all bad. For swimming addicts, it`s not ideal and I feel sorry for those whose fortnight holiday has been less than idyllic. However there`s something to be said for cooler nights when you can sleep comfortably without the fan turning, and afternoons when the sun doesn`t drive tou indoors. Watering is one chore that has not been too arduous, but the weeds and the grass have Taken up the slack!
  I suppose that the best solution to climate change is to enjoy what you`ve got, easier to do if you`re retired, of course. I can thoroughly recommend that!
   Bye for now, got to wake up Kim and have another coffee. Must remember to get some more fuel for the strimmer...

It`s a cat`s life...

Those of you who read my site on Facebook, will know that yesterday we were rejoicing at the safe return of Peaches. our one-eyed ginger cat. He went missing ten days ago just after we had returned from the Pyrenees, most unlike him as he is not a cat who roams. We had searched everywhere and had just about accepted that he had met with a fatal accident. Life can be dangerous for a country cat, foxes are not unknown here, we have also had cats taken in rabbit snares, besides road deaths.
   However, yesterday I was walking the dogs up a track some 200 metres from our house when I spotted an animal in the distance. It was too far to see what it was, but it did seem to be reddish. I went towards it leading Laika, who is inclined to chase animals. When the cat spotted us it ran speedily and vanished round the corner some 200 metres away. I did not really believe it could be Peaches, their are shy feral cats often seen near here, but nevertheless I followed calling for Peaches. The cat had vanished by the time I reached the turn but I continued to call, more in hope than in expectation. Suddenly, I heard a wailing cat cry from the lucerne field, on the other side of the high hedge. Something was struggling through the hedge and as it emerged I was overjoyed to see it was Peaches, ecstatic to see me and the dog. Where he had been in the intervening time goodness only knows. He was well, but thin and hungry. I feel he was chased by a dog and got lost, this theory is reinforced by the fact that he was very frightened on the walk back home by the barking of Alto, our neighbour`s dog, tethered in their garage beside the track. Thank the Lord I persisted in following him, I nearly left off. Kim was delighted and incredulous when he followed me and the dogs back into the house.
   He has led a rather difficult life, has Peaches. He was born wild in the little stone chicken house at the bottom of the village street, in June 2009. He must have been abandoned by his mother shortly after. The first we knew of this was when he and his two litter-mates came crying up the road, desperately seeking food and shelter. Here is an early shot of the three of them, Sunshine, Grissou and Peaches soon after. We always have dried milk suitable for lambs and kittens, so they had come to the right place. We found a good home for Grissou, the name chosen for her by her adoptive family, but kept the other two

   However, Peaches problems were not over. He developed a terrible eye infection, probably had it from neglect by his mother. It grew worse and worse and eventually our vet had to remove the eye. Here is the wounded soldier shortly afterwards. He soon recovered and the loss does not seem to inconvenience him, I have never seen him mis-judge a jump.
  Nowadays, he is a valued part of our  Ark crew, which is why we were so pleased to have him returned to us. He is a very affectionate cat and will give passionate kisses both to us, who enjoy them and to the dogs, who are a little embarrassed.
  All`s well that ends well, and we hope that this spells the last of his misfortunes.

  Bye for now, going to get a kiss from the prodigal...















                                                                 Our new canary

Stay of Execution

  One of the advantages of living in France, which would be the envy of you stay-at-homes, is that the controle technique, or MOT, is every TWO years, not one. Another and even more attractive, is that there is no Road Tax! The possible downside is that after two years, the Controle can throw up serious defects, serious enough to warrant scrapping the car...
  You can imagine our misgivings yesterday, when we turned up at the test centre to submit our aged Peugeot 106 to scrutiny. The little car has covered 137,000 kilometers in its 17 years of life, so it would not have been surprising to find severe defects. especially in the engine department. We were relieved to find that the examiner gave it a mostly clean sheet. It would be unrealistic to expect it to sail straight through, but the repairs look to be well worth carrying out to get two more years of life from the faithful machine, a tribute to Peugeot`s engineering!
  The most serious problem is that the left  hand side rear suspension has developed excess play and will need replacing. Three tyres will have to be bought, one damaged by the above fault. A rear seatbelt will also need changing. Laurent, our garagiste at Couture D`Argenson, is going to find second hand parts for the suspension leg and seat-belt. The little car will continue to mount up the kilometrage!
  The seatbelt problem is NOT the fault of PSA, but of Laika, who passed the idle hour just after we took her on, by chewing nearly through it. I had carried out a fairly effective repair using nylon fishing line, which was acceptable to me , but not, I felt, to the controle examiner. To circumvent his likely refusal of my homemade repair, I had securely sewn a seatbelt cover over both belts to conceal the job. I need not have bothered, the chap had obviously come across this little wheeze before, and neatly snipped them off again.. He took it in good part, however, explaining that a repaired belt was NOT acceptable, even if it was normally the dogs who travelled in the back....
   Lauret will give us and appointment once he has sourced the parts. We have a maximum two months to have the repairs done and the car submitted for its (free) re-examination. A very happy outcome even though the repairs will cost. Better than our friends at Matha , who paid 3,000Euros for MOT repairs!

 Bye now, going to stroke the car!
 











           Yes, you may well look ashamed!

Take a moment to think it through...

The other day on Facebook, I mentioned one of Finagle`s famous Laws `Everything takes longer and costs more`  For some reason, I was reminded of another one- `If anything can go wrong it will, and at the worst possible moment,` This in turn reminded me of a story roughly in connection with motorcycling which yet has a universal moral.
  I had just started work at RNAD Bull Point and rode my bike (not this one ) in to work each day. The subject of bike maintenance came up at lunch and one of my colleagues told me the following cautionary tale.
  He too had had a motorbike in his youth and was intending to carry out some work on the clutch. Bike engines are very close to the ground and to avoid standing on his head for hours, he thought he would raise the bike a couple of feet off the ground. He put two piles of three breeze blocks five feet apart and placed a sturdy scaffold plank between them. Another plank was placed at the end of the horizontal plank to form a ramp. So far, so good. He then attempted to wheel the bike up the ramp but found it was too heavy. Without another thought, he climbed astride his bike and kick-started the engine, then easily rode the heavy machine up the ramp stopping neatly half way along the plank. It was at this point that he was struck by the conclusion he should have considered before he took this course. The plank was too narrow for his feet to reach and he was two feet off the ground...
   He did not have much time to consider his predicament, as the bike started to fall over, and he had no option but to make a kangaroo-like leap to safety abandoning the poor bike which fell heavily to the ground, bending the handlebar and foot-rest. A roar of unsympathetic laughter greeted this conclusion from the other diners listening. Still there is a clear moral to the tale isn`t there?  But it IS funny, as other people`s misfortunes often are...

    Bye for now, going to check the car for its Controle Technique visit tomorrow. At least it has four wheels and can`t fall over...