The dreaded plague!

  Sorry to report that the personnel of the Ark are assailed by a horrid cold and are far from feeling on top line. If you have noted a lack of posts lately, I must plead incapacity. We went to a handicrafts reunion with friends last Wednesday and were given a little souvenir we could well have done without!
   Kim went down with it almost immediately and as she tends to be chesty, it affected her badly. I was congratulating myself on my greater fortitude or resistance, avoiding it for several days, but spoke too soon and developed a  sore throat etc a couple of days ago.
  The extent to which the lurgy has sapped the confidence and optimism of Kim can be judged by a little incident this morning, which I hope she will not be upset in my sharing. I was sleeping soundly towards morning, when I felt a hand on my forehead and found an anxious face peering at me from a few inches away. Kim explained that she could not hear me breathing and was checking that I was OK. It`s lucky I am a quick waker up, as I suspect the next thing I would have felt would have been a violent bang on the sternum and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! You never know with these ex-nurses!
   We are both gradually recovering,I hope, with the aid of Humex, and I hope to be able to give better news next issue.

      Bye for now, going to blow my nose!

Stoke it up!

One of the nicer aspects of Winter is that the stove is lit. You can see on the right our wood-burning stove in all its glory. It is an old Franco-Belge with a cast-iron top cooking plate and is shown in the act of cooking a tasty dish and heating two great kettles of water. What you cannot see is that it is also keeping the kitchen warm, typically at 23degC and spreading its heat throughout the house. The smoke and waste heat rises up the stove-pipe which  you see in the photo, and then goes up the stone chimney which acts as a storage radiator.
  It`s also easy to manage, once you have got used to stoking a wood-burner. The firebox, located under a hinged plate under the frying pan takes large logs up to 30cm long. Once the fire has been lit in the Autumn we usually keep it going till the Spring. Most of the original controls have disappeared or jammed and I regulate it by the size and number of logs inserted! Last thing at night I put on the largest log it can hold which smolders until morning. When I come down, to a warm kitchen, I give the embers a good poke to clear the ash a little (not too much, a wood fire needs an ash bed) ,open the ash door at the bottom to increase the draught, and add small logs or sticks if it`s a little low. Once it is going merrily, I add larger logs and close the draught.Once a week or so, I take out the ash tray underneath and dispose of the ash, it goes well on the garden. Once a day I carry in a good armful of logs. Really,it`s as simple as that!
  However, it does have its moments, if you don`t know what you are doing. If re-lighting it from cold, it has been known to send up a column of choking smoke through the log door instead of up the chimney and it is very difficult to stop it, short of emptying a pan of water on the fire and starting again! I have learned to pre-warm the chimney with a hot-air paint-stripper...Kim used to be terrified of it and it reserved its worst behaviour for her!
  The nice thing about the cast-iron cooking surface is that it offers graduated heat. A pan or kettle  boils quickly on the left, just above the fire, and can be progressively moved right for gentler temperatures or simmering. There is room for LOTS of pans on the plate.
  The final advantage is that wood is cheaper than oil or gas and is a green fuel, beloved of conservationists. And I just like the feeling of not using irreplaceable fuels.
  I will admit it does cause dust and wood has to be bought, stocked and sawed. Everything has its downside but taken by and large, I`m glad we use wood.
    Bye for now, going to stir a tasty stew simmering on the stove!

What`s in a name?

Shakespeare tells us that `a rose by any other name would smell as sweet` and like many of the Bard`s sayings this rings true. It is also likely that if the flower was re-named the lesser stinkwort it might figure less in romantic poetry, but that`s beside the point. What is clear is that the name given does not change the basic nature of the physical object.
  I was musing on this point the other day when I recalled that a frequent change of name is resorted to by chains of retailers to try to leave behind a reputation far less fragrant than that of the rose. I always find that an organisation which is obviously less than proud of it`s current name is one to be avoided. I could quote two examples. The first is the retailer Weldom who irritated us a month ago by not only failing to supply spares for the items it sold but by indifference to the customer`s opinion in that the branch NEVER rang back as promised. When we first encountered it it was called Catena, then Terrassier. It then changed to Weldom, then to Gitem ( Je t`aime--gettit?) and recently has re-badged as Bricodom, perhaps hoping to be confused with the much bigger and better firm of Bricomarché. The branches don`t change though, and they seem to be getting a bit desperate with names changing more and more frequently. Expect an imminent closure.... Another example is the Cooperative chain (the French, not the English which is doing well under the same name as ever) It changed it`s name to Attac but not long after it has been taken over by Carrefour who have completely revamped our local shop, another kettle of fish entirely. In their case the change to a well-known national marque is likely to bear fruit.
  It goes to prove the old saying about fooling the people, doesn`t it?

     That`s all for now, bye!
 

Jottings from Mort Limouzin.

This week all sorts of things, great and small seem to have happened, so I thought I`ld write a sort of odds and ends edition to bring people up to date.
    The most serious event is the death on Wednesday of Mamy Madelaine, as she was known to us, more properly described as Mme. Madelaine Marilleau. She was the mother of our friend Samy, mother-in -law of Denise, and was 98 years old.  She has been ill for some time and was in a rest home at Les Touches de Perigné. The funeral will be on Saturday at the Salle Communale de Sonnac, her village. I am sure there will be a large turn-out of family and friends. She was a lovely old lady with a twinkling eye, and we were very fond of her. She formed a strong bond with our granddaughter, Kerri, in spite of their having no common language.
    A continuation of the story of the problems of the local Catholic church at Loubillé following the death of the Curé, Pere Ribot-- the meeting of parishioners which Kim attended on Monday as interpreter for Sarah decided that the church would be run by a committee of worshippers aided by a part- time priest shared between several parishes. A further meeting will be held to thrash out details.

   Followers of this blog will be concerned to hear that Sox has been ill for a week with his first experience of cat-flu, an illness which can be serious with cats, especially young ones. It has flu-like symptoms but is caused by a different bug to the human variety. You will be glad to hear that he is slowly recovering and has been much more his old self these last two days, though still sneezing occasionally.
   Finally, on a happier note I am pleased to be able to report that our insurance company, AXA made a most satisfactory settlement of our claim resulting from the lightning-strike which damaged our telephone and hot-water heater-tank. After the terrible service we received from Weldom when we tried to replace the damaged heating element we were pessimistic and thought the insurance would hide behind red tape and lack of a professional electrician`s report. However, they came up trumps and dealt with the matter with no fuss, even waiving the excess as we had made no claim on the policy for three years. Credit where it`s due and can recommend them!
    Well, that brings us up-to-date on a somewhat mixed bag of news, so I`ll finish now. It`s time for tea!

                       Bye for now!

My shameful secret

This morning I have decided to share with you a secret I have hesitated for years to confess. I am afraid it may lead to universal condemnation and banishment... but here goes--the fact is..I quite LIKE global warming. What`s so unpleasant about several degrees of extra warmth, less frost in the Winter, lower fuel bills, no ice on the roads, less snow....all things I can give up without excessive regret! Life is so much more pleasant as the temperature rises, sun-bathing on the beach, cool drinks under a parasol, just lead me to it. The weather here lately has been exceptionally balmy, with temperatures approaching 20 degrees and frankly I`ve been wallowing in it!
  Oh, I know I`m going to be attacked with all sorts of dire predictions. What about the hurricanes, which may become  more common, heavy rain, floods, animal extinctions, changes of landscapes as trees can`t adapt, advance of deserts, etc etc. Well I will admit that there risk to be changes, but what I am trying to say is, they are not necessarily all unpleasant.  The Spanish have a saying `May no new thing arise` new things being of their nature bad...The real problem is that we are all nostalgic and resistant to change, hankering after the good old days and clinging desperately to what we know.
   Well, like it or not, times change and we are going to have to adapt. There are many who believe that the rise in temperature is normal, a progression of the worlds climate away from the last ice-age. or is a cyclic phenomenon, which will right itself in time.  The fashion is, of course, to beat our breasts and say it is all due to human wickedness and selfishness in wanting to keep warm and have modern conditions. This may be true, of course but is also inevitable.  Even if Europe renounced all burning of fossil fuel, the emerging countries like China and India, together with the USA burn 20 times more than us and are highly unlikely to renounce their modernisation even to `save the planet`. Would YOU give up your car to help save the world? Oh, come on be truthful!  I thought not...
  In the end we are going to have to adapt to change, and it may not be so bad with a little flexibility. People living at sea-level are going to have to move to higher ground, it`s not rocket science. Irrigation or resettlement will have to solve the advance of the desert. As for Nature her self, she may be more adaptable than we think. I have read an article recently suggesting that birds adapt rapidly to warmer conditions by delaying or even cancelling their migration. Certain species move north or south as conditions change, even plants change or extend their range, abandoning untenable areas but equally colonising new ones. I saw a Little Egret, or White Heron at Plymouth, for example and can never remember seeing them north of Roscoff. Seagulls now follow the plough where crows used to predominate. We shall have to follow their example or be miserable.As the old saying goes, if you can`t avoid it, lie back and enjoy it!
 
Bye for now, I`m off to sit in the sun!

The Global Village?

An event last week has thrown into relief the problems of a small community in rural France today--the `desertification` of the Commune with the progressive loss of services. The event to which I am referring is the death of the village Curé.  The decease of the local Catholic Priest at an advanced age was scarcely unexpected but will probably lead to the effective closure of the Church. We have received a note, delivered by the commune van, of a proposed meeting of parishioners on Monday at Villemain, at 3 o`clock to discuss arrangements for cover. Without wishing to anticipate the views of the Catholic Church, I would imagine that no replacement will be available and a locum will be shared between the parishes of Loubillé, Villemain and La Bataille with a Service once a month. I`ll let you know if their is a happy surprise!
  It is fashionable to bemoan the `death` of the local community and there is a lot of truth in the feeling that the sense of local solidarity is changing. I think our village is pretty go-ahead for its size and streets ahead of its English counterparts. Its true we no longer have a village school , pub or grocery, but we have retained our bakery and local Mairie and village hall; in fact, due to the political cunning of our Maire, new buildings are in course of completion for the two latter. The spirit of togetherness still survives, and the various gatherings throughout the year, 14th July, entrecote picnic and Christmas celebration etc are well attended.
   The reliance of the locals and new inhabitants on locally organised festivities in walking distance has been diminishing year on year and this is due to increased mobility and communications, of course. We, for example, attend a Protestant Church 30 minutes away at Matha, a much more thriving and dynamic affair than the poor old Catholic local church which has been limping along for years with an aged Priest and small and aging flock.  We do our shopping at the Supermarkets of Chef Boutonne or Ruffec, both 20 minutes away by car, but far cheaper and far more choice than that offered by the local shop, which as a consequence has now closed. We talk to friends by phone and lately by Internet at great distances, for example in the South of France and in Glasgow, as easily as we used to talk to next-door neighbours. The effect on the feeling of local community is regrettable but it is nice to have the choice. And, after all, people don`t always get on with their neighbours, do they?

  That`s all for now. A la prochaine!

Strange phenomena in the English Channel

First let me set the scene.. For the last few weeks Kim has been in the UK lending a bit of moral support to our daughter, who is involved in the almost insuperable task of rearing teenage children. I would give more details but, as I have remarked before, this is a family blog and `adult` content is quite inappropriate.. She crossed to Plymouth where we lived before by taking the plane to Bristol, where Alyson picked her up.  However, the return trip was planned for me to cross via Brittany Ferries from Roscoff to Plymouth to spend a few days there myself  to carry out a few DIY jobs and to bring back `one or two` items that Kim had bought. Our car (exhibit A above ) is not a large one, in fact, not to put too fine a point on it, it is very small, a Peugeot 106. This time we had decided to take two of our dogs across and had carried out the somewhat complicated procedure for obtaining their own passports.
  So I duly arrived in Plymouth and spent a pleasant few days catching up with the changes to my home-town.  Like most wrinklies, I didn`t approve of most of them but then neither do the Plymothians, the new and expensive road system seeming to do very little to help the morning and evening traffic jams.
  However, I was somewhat concerned to find that Kim had run amok and accumulated a bedroom full of items which she proposed to repatriate to France in the long-suffering 106 as well as the dogs and us. `No way` I thought but being an experienced husband, I kept my doubts to myself. My daughter compounded the problem by adding a large wrapped Christmas present to the heap. I shook my head sadly but privately.
   The day we were to set out Kim began to pack the car, in a fine drizzle, of course, this is Plymouth after all!  The Tourist board years ago publicised the area as Sunny Devon, a blatant lie which would breach the Trades Descriptions Act nowadays, but I digress. Kim is a sorceress at packing and I use the word quite literally. Would you believe she crammed the contents of that spare room first into suitcases then into the tiny car and managed to include me and the dogs, and of course herself. I just would not have believed it possible. It is true the dogs` allocated space would have shocked the RSPCA but by dint of putting the largest case on the seat for the crossing (the dogs travel in the car) they made it without any harm.  We thus managed to return to our French home with a complete outfit of new wotsits without having to leave anything behind, well not on purpose anyway.
  A miracle that Dr Who would have understood but not me!

      That`s it Folks, Bye for now!