Mystery of Constantine and his Horse

One of my favourite pieces of statuary is the equestrian statue shown above It can be seen over one of the doors of the great church of St Hilaire in the town of Melle in Deux Sèvres, Poitou Charentes. The statue, which is almost life-size, shows a figure on a horse. The horse`s front hoof is about to crush a recumbent figure in a long robe or dress. The rider is missing his right foot and stirrup, the horse`s right foreleg has also been broken off. I have read somewhere that French revolutionaries broke it off to `protect` the threatened person, whom they felt was a member of the proleteriat being oppressed by the nobility! However, these limestone statues are fragile and it may be just wear and tear.
  Nobody seems very sure what the scene portrays. Some sources suggest it represents the emperor Constantine crushing the Muslims, who were threatening Christendom at the time. Another theory states that it is the local Seigneur protecting the population, though if the prone figure is a woman, as it appears, `Protecting` appears the last thing he is doing! An intriguing enigma....

  Bye for now, going to prepare my tea, which MAY contain a more recent horse...

French as she is spoke--it`s a cow

    All us ex-pats will cheerfully acknowledge that it has not been easy to acquire our level of French language, however modest. You can imagine, then, my amusement this morning to see some native speakers in difficulty with their own language.
  I was watching TéléMatin on French TV this morning as I drank my first coffee of the day having first fed my menagerie of cats, dogs, sheep and tropical fish. This is a daily morning programme of news and snippets of interest presided over by William, a genial host of a `certain age` as the French say. Incidentally, this is a good way to improve your French and your knowledge of our adopted country. A young lady contributer was explaining how a fashion house had devised a way of re-cycling des baches publicitaires, those large plastic sheets or tarpaulins, printed with huge publicity photos, that you see lashed to, or breaking loose from buildings. They were cutting them up for  fashionable shopping bags, she explained. William seemed amazed at this revelation, as well he might be, as it turned out that he had misheard the raw material as vaches publicitaires!  He must have had in mind those lovely cows depicted producing creamy milk for cheese or yoghurt, or even the purple cow in the Milka chocolate ad, though this is, I am sure, a computer construct. His hesitant and slightly shocked suggestion of Biftec haché, or mince, alerted the contributer to a crossed line, and she corrected him crossly, Non,non, pas vaches, baches avec un `B` comme en biberon!  I do hope his air of bonhommie is not assumed or I am sure she would have been taken to task after the cameras had moved elsewhere!  Funny, though...
  Bye for now, going to walk the dogs.

Hunter- Killer..Well, one out of two isn`t bad.

Have just been walking the dogs up the field track adjacent to the Bois Cambert. At this time of year, this is a bare earth field, with a thick fringe of grass along the edge of the track. Now Jilly and Laika love to try to dig out (and eat) the little field mice or voles that have their burrows in the grass. However, the little beasts are very cunning and mostly seem to avoid the combined hunting skills of the two dogs with an almost contemptuous ease!
  This afternoon was a typical train of events. Jilly located a burrow, which she could smell contained a mouse. First shoving her nose down it to check direction, she started to dig furiously. Laika, seeing that the hunt was on, joined in, digging a couple of feet away to try to cut off the prey`s retreat. The mouse, choosing its moment, emerged unseen from between Jilly`s hind feet and ran out into the field. Quickly checking that both dogs had their noses underground, it ran with twinkling feet around the two dogs at a distance of four or five feet, in a curve to re-join the verge. Locating a new burrow, it disappeared into its refuge. Jilly had dug so enthusistically that she had struck the water table and was blowing bubbles. Did she think the mouse was aquatic? Eventually, I had to blow the `gone away` on the hunt and urge them back towards the car,  Jilly with mud to the eye-brows. She should be ashamed of herself, a great dog like that out-thought by a tiny mouse!
   Bye for now, going to hose Jilly down with the spray nozzle before she can come in!

Listen carefully to these instructions--I shall say this only once

  Kim has given me a rechargeable razor for my birthday, in which I am very pleased. It comes, of course, with its instruction leaflet in impeccable French, but also in far from impeccable English. I am the sort of person who reads the instructions first, very different, I am afraid to say from my dear spouse, who will do so if all else fails. So I was a little nonplussed at the direction`Push the switch down and close electrical power`. And what does` Be sure the scored power is completely out (the first time) before charging, which the battery can durable.` Or ` once the shaving is over, push down the switch and cover it with the shelter.`  And the English-speaking nations are even favoured with the following warning which does not appear at all in the French version--`Do not insert the device further than the tip of the shearing blade up your nose!` !! The mind boggles!
  Enough is enough, I turned to the French version, much more comprehensible (given that you understand French!) All is now clear. Remove the plastic blade guard ( the shelter?) turn the shaver on and shave with it. Run the recargeable battery right down the first time ,which increases battery life. Simples! You could even dispense with the first phrase, few people being daft enough to try to shave with the cover on.
    Why do they think we`re such dopes?  Perhaps Kim is right after all!

    Bye for now, going to have another shave!

Tidal Power- a different sort of hydroelectricity

  On our outward trip to the UK (see my previous blogs,) we arrived at St Malo rather early. Having located the Ferryport and checked in the dogs, we looked for something to do to take up the idle hour and incidentally to find somewhere to run the dogs in advance of their overnight stay on the ferry Pont Aven. We spotted a sign to the `Barrage de la Rance` and thinking that this sounded a bit rural, we made our way in that direction. However, far from being just a reservoir, as most `barrages` are, this turned out to be the first and the largest of the World`s tidal barrage hydro-electricity schemes.
  The principle of such a scheme is simple. You choose a tidal inlet with a good tidal range, and erect a dam across it. The water flowing in and out of the dam can be used to drive turbines and generate electricity. True, there will be a couple of slack periods, but these are at least predictable, not like a wind turbine which can be becalmed for long and random periods. In this instance, a further benefit is that the busy main road runs along the top of the dam. The scheme provides enough power for 250,000 households, was completed in 1967 and has since paid for itself.
   I did find a deserted road at the side of the dam, so the dogs got their walk in the end! A very interesting impromptu `find`

   Bye for now, going to turn on the lights, partially powered by the scheme?

A Trip Too Far

    Well, I`m back from our impromptu trip across the Channel. As I said in my last Ark, we had to drop everything and race to the assistance of our daughter, Alyson, struck down by an aneurism on the brain.   She was taken into Derriford Hospital at Plymouth, who diagnosed the cause of her fearful headaches, and have operated to stabilise the condition. It`s early days yet, but she seems to be making a good recovery and is out of hospital and back home with Kim looking after her. Please God, she continues to improve. I`ll keep you posted. Kim will be over there for some time, I think.
   Normally, we cross to Plymouth from Roscoff, in Finisterre, arriving at our destination on the other side. However, Britanny Ferries doesn`t run this link in midwinter and we had to go from St Malo to Portsmouth, some five or six hours from Plymouth in normal times and due to snow and Ice threatened for both France and Britain, these were not normal times!
  In fact, the weather was not the cause of any problems on our outward trip in France, the only problem was caused by a slow puncture which made the wheel emit a strange vibration. Luckily, I diagnosed the cause and blew up the tyre at a garage. It has since been mended in Plymouth.
   We took the overnight ferry from St Malo, the Pont Aven, a fairly recent addition to the Britanny Ferries line-up. We did remark two changes from the facilities provided on the smaller vessels. The first is that the dogs, whom we took with us, had to travel in kennels, rather than in the car. An improvement? Perhaps, but I think our dogs prefer the familiar surroundings of our car. Still, there is more room and you can visit them when you want. We took them, accompanied by a crew member, to the kennel room located high on the top deck, just behind the funnel. In a secure room, were provided a range of kennels, in fact, stainless-steel cages. We gave Jilly her blanket and a biscuit and she entered willingly enough the floor level cage. Laika was a bit nonplussed to find herself unceremoniously picked up by me and stuffed, along with her blanket and biscuit into a head-high cage on top of the lower range!  She was so surprised, she forgot to struggle. On the return trip the crew member had a spare ground level cage.
  The second difference to meet the eye, was in our tiny but adequate cabin--there was only one bunk! For a moment we thought we were going to have to spend the night in VERY close proximity, there was definitely no bunk in the rear wall where they are usually hidden. However, scrutiny of the ceiling revealed a hidden catch, which , when pressed, allowed a hidden panel to swing down, nearly braining me. The bunk itself hinged forward out of this.
 I must admit the Pont Aven was very smooth and quiet and we slept away the crossings as best we could, it`s not quite like your own bed...
  The forward journey to Plymouth was uneventful. though snowy apart from an hour-long crawl near Honiton, caused by a traffic accident to a motorist who had failed to negotiated the sharp corner above the town in slippery conditions. We went straight to the hospital to see Alyson.
  Well that`s enough for today--got to feed logs to the newly re-lit stove. Bye for now!