Sunday 11th January

In many ways we love the seasons, the slow change from blazing Summer into mellow Autumn and the purging cold of Winter until the re-birth of Spring brings us round again, but sometimes that change can just be too damn slow.  The older I get the less I like Winter; putting up with it, plodding through it, counting the days almost until Spring, but not enjoying it at all.  I particularly dislike these wet and windy days, with squally downpours and tiny glimpses of elusive sun that disappear as soon as you look up to them.  In France recently it was certainly colder and yet it never seemed to penetrate as the cold on wet and windy days here does.  Or is it all more perception than reality, the knowledge that you would rather be somewhere else so affecting you so that you simply feel the cold more.

These depressing days when it hardly ever seems to get really light, grey cloud-filled skies blocking out the sun seem to go on forever.  And we seem to be at the wrong end of Atlantic storms again this Winter; hopefully not as vicious or long-lasting as last year where there was extensive flooding, but I have noticed water laying again in many fields.  I am currently reading a book about climate change, and the worsening weather predicted.  It is tempting to put these rainy days down to global temperature rises but then I can remember many many equally wet and windy Winters’ as a child.  The scientists keep telling us that the planet is warming up, and it probably is but how much it is affecting everyday weather is almost impossible to say.  In many ways we are lucky to be facing the weather coming off the Atlantic, as those countries further East and even a lot more Southerly are far colder every Winter.   We have a friend just returned from the Ukraine where it is deep snow for months – I really couldn’t bear that.  So maybe moaning about the weather is just another way of complaining about life in general.   And then again there is nothing nicer than sitting in a nice warm room looking out at all that wet and windy weather, knowing you don’t have to go out in it again all day.

Saturday 10th January

As promised here are my impressions of Leonard’s latest offering.  Well, it is extremely well produced – what else would you expect; Leonard has always given us immaculate records.  He has his template now and seldom veers from it, lots of beautiful girl singing harmonies to counterpoint his almost whispered lyrics.  Some might question whether an eighty-three year old should even be attempting a new record, but he doesn’t seem to want to stop.  There was a time, maybe a decade ago when he had stopped both recording and performing, but a financial disaster where he lost most of his money spurred him on to reviving his career.  Now one might ask if he is just milking the cow or if he has something to really add to his wonderful collection of records.  I was beginning to think with his last record that that might be the case and therefore approached this record with caution.

But I have been pleasantly surprised.  I don’t think there are any real classics here, but with songs like Suzanne, So Long Marianne, Bird on the Wire and Hallelujah to his credit it was always unlikely he would rival those masterpieces.   Instead we have a really pleasant laid-back and gentle rumination on life as seen through the eyes of an octogenarian who sounds as though he has seen it all.

The record starts with Slow – a simple song but very effective.  Almost like the Blues is possible the best song on the album with superb but deceptively simple lyrics.  My other favourite is Nevermind, an infectious melody with wonderful words.  In between there are a few fillers and a religious song – Born in Chains – I could have done without.  Still he has managed to create a perfectly respectable record; Patrick Leonard co-writing most of it, and a new band of sublime session players.

One wonders what next for our indefatigable hero?  Maybe a tour of the new songs, maybe another book of poems – long overdue, or even a book; maybe a sort-of autobiography – that should be good for a few laughs.  hahaha

Friday 9th January

What can we possibly say after such an outrage.  In the heart of Paris, in the country which represents Liberty and Fraternity, an assault on all of our freedoms.  So what next – everyone who even questions Islam or the words of their prophet (not mine) or even laughs at their stupidity is to be eradicated?  Am I now a target for writing these words?  If so, bring it on.  I will happily be their next challenge.  And if they think that Kalashnikovs and rocket launchers will silence us, they are wrong.

The real tragedy is that all Muslims will be tarred with the same brush, or that the philosophy that everything which happens must be “God’s Will” will end up justifying these vile actions.  If one looks both now and throughout History one can only be appalled at the terrible crimes perpetuated in the name of “Religion.”   And it is the intolerance of Religion that is the problem.  Genesis begins with God saying that he is the One God, and that all other Gods are false idols.  I believe that they all are.  Yes, that is right – all Gods are false idols.  I am prepared to believe that there may have been some creative force behind the Universe, the creation of matter and energy and the Laws of Physics, although I strongly doubt it.  But I will not believe that there is some all-pervading wondrous father-like figure looking after us and if we repeat his name often enough and bow down and pray to him that somehow he will either grant us eternal life (what a nightmare) or save the human race.  It will be rational caring and lots of education and maybe even a Revolution or two that may just save humans from themselves.

In the meantime – a step forward would be to refuse to engage with an ideology which cannot even laugh at itself.  Humour may not save us either, but it does have the ability to make us look at ourselves and see that we are all stupid.  Vive Charlie Hebdo, et moi – je suis Charlie aussi.

Thursday 8th January

We are supposed to live in a civilized society.  Some hope.  We have a culture where professional footballers are idolized and given ridiculous sums of money and almost applauded for behaving badly (on and off the pitch).  Young women are often keen to have sex with them, similar maybe to the “groupies” of the sixties and have in the past resorted to selling kiss and tell stories to the press.  These young men are, probably wrongly, held up as some sort of role models – and they often fall from these pedestals.

Ched Evans was convicted of the rape of a 19 year old girl.  She had agreed to sleep with another footballer but she says she did not consent to sex with Evans.  He says she did.  She was deemed to be too drunk at the time to have consented.  Who knows the truth – and in a way it doesn’t matter. Both of their behaviour’s are unsavoury and should not be applauded.  Mr. Evans served half of a five year sentence and is out on license until the five years are up.  He has been placed on the sex offenders register.  He has shown no remorse, insisting that he was wrongly convicted and his case is being reviewed.  None of that really matters either.

He is attempting to resume his career, and there is a strong pressure group attempting to stop him ever earning money as a professional footballer again.  I agree that his behaviour was awful, and in all likelihood he took advantage of a drunk woman.  How much lasting damage that has really done is hard to judge, but it is certainly less than violent rapes or many sexual assaults.  But he has served his sentence.  Now I ask; will an element of “public opinion” stop him from ever working as a footballer again, or indeed at any career? Should all released sex offenders be stopped from ever working again (it is hard enough for many to find work with a record) ?  Is he to remain “guilty” for ever?

And what will happen should his appeal be successful, and his conviction is found to be unsafe?  Will the campaign against him continue?  We live in strange times.  Believe me I am not defending him, I just question the motives of those pursuing him on twitter and with on-line petitions.  There are wars and children dying all over the world; surely there are more important things we should all be concerned about.

Wednesday 7th January

I wrote this maybe thirty years ago.  I was attending writing classes (ever ambitious) and our teacher produced an apple and told us to write about it.  This was more or less how it came out.  A bit of revision here and there over the years.  A re-telling of an old story…

An Apple

An apple fell on Newton’s head

He wrote a law and now he’s dead

————–

Eve gave Adam an apple – It’s been all downhill from there

The skin of the apple was dappled; to start, Adam knew not where

‘Twas dewy and damp, warm and round – Eve’s prints were all over he found

Adam held it safe and sound. Adam’s heart began to pound

Eve suggested with her lips; Adam touched her on the hips

They drank together, little sips; neither noticed the swallowed pips

Eve egged him on, she wanted more – his fingers flung away the core

Eve’s tongue, a snake’s skinless eye explored ‘till knowledge was truly found

Leaving the garden they didn’t see their first impressions lying there on the ground

And after all the apples are eaten, It’s the woman’s fault – she’s to blame

The man has the knowledge when she’s beaten; he runs away to hide his shame

——————

Newton never knew the depth of his depravity

He fell to earth, a victim of gravity

Tuesday 6th January

Yes, today it was back to work and the madness of millions pushing and shoving their way to earn their wages.  And amidst all the lunacy the thought struck me that there must be another way.  Is the final endeavour of the human species to carry on industrializing and building cities and extracting fossil fuels and metals from the Earth until there is nothing but one vast over-populated and broken shell of a burnt-out planet left.  And it is all madness.  We all (in the West anyway) have far too much of everything and yet we all want more.  Materialism has been so knocked onto our brains from an early age that most of us can think of nothing else.  Each new i-phone that comes out, each new kitchen gadget, each new high-rise luxury flat in Docklands, each new sports car, each new fashion – all become desirable and must-haves, until we have them and soon realize that they have not really made us happy, just hungry for the next toy.

“Easy for you to say” – do I hear you say.  And yes, I have enough of everything, so why should I be advocating that those coming after me should be less rewarded?  But maybe it is only at this point – when, at last, things are financially easier and my future fairly secure that one can look back and question the sanity of it all.

Trouble is, if even a few of us can see the madness of our present consumerist lifestyle, and maybe have a vision of a more caring and kinder society where time is more treasured than money, how the hell do we get from here to there?   Most political parties are arguing for a bigger slice of the cake for their particular electorate, either for some to be able to hold on to more despite the clamour from below or for a “fairer” distribution – both incidentally seeing an ever-expanding cake as the long-term answer.  Strangely, with the increase of technology eating many many traditional jobs, and un or under-employment a real problem, nobody is campaigning for a shorter working week, where time could be freed up for people to really live their lives; work becoming an incidental not the defining role on their lives.

Anyway, even if I am just “pissing in the wind” at least I am thinking about alternatives to the madness we are all swallowed up in.  Onwards and upwards folks.

Monday 5th January

I will not be breaking or failing or forgetting any this year, ‘cause I ‘aint made any.  It is not that I think I am so perfect (but getting there) that I do not need improving, or that I do not know a few faults I have that I would like to remedy, but it is only 5 days into the New Year and I would probably have broken them by now anyway.   I am always forgetting (too tired) to clean my teeth at night and each year I resolve to do so, but when sleep beckons – or too late has overtaken me on the sofa anyway – I find the last thing I want to do is zing my mouth with chemicals that will stop me from falling back into oblivion.   Maybe I should just make the effort to do it an hour or so after a meal.

I mean (honestly) to both see and phone my children more regularly, but on those days off when a quiet moment is grasped I just put it off and then before I know where I am a month has passed and I still haven’t phoned them; I do at least always acknowledge any Facebook statuses they post (is that the new replacement for speaking to people?).

And so you see, going on past behavior I just feel more depressed at not keeping my resolutions, so maybe if I don’t make them I won’t have broken them and so I will feel a bit better too.

Anyway – back to London and work tomorrow (today).  Speak soon – I promise.

Sunday 4th January

I am almost tempted to say “Au Reservoir” a la Mapp and Lucia; I read the books by E. F. Benson many years ago and am always delighted when a new production comes on the TV.  And so we say goodbye once more to this lovely petite Bastide town in Aquitaine.  We have been here for three years now and it still continues to delight and surprise us.  Very little was open at this time of year, the Wine Shop and the Charcuterie were closed.  One of the Boulangeries has a new owner who is re-decorating and it will open en Fevrier.  Mama Chow, the “Chinese” restaurant is relocating and the Creperie is closed while a new kitchen is installed.  Even Poppy’s, the very amateur “Indian” in town was shut except for New Year’s Eve, and we went there in 2013, so did something different this year.  Last night (Friday) in a mood of desperation we went out to “Floc and Tea” another English run place in Lauzun, we had a disaster two years ago but they were advertising an Accoustic Folk Music evening with dinner so we booked.  Not a bad meal at all for 14 euro’s though the place was bloody freezing and the music a tad boring.  It is apparently a regular monthly venue for folk music purists and there are only so many acapella Hey-Nonny-Noes one can stand.  But it made a difference and in a way was fun.

Today (Saturday) was cleaning the house and packing, although we had a nice drive out and I discovered some old ruins near Auriac which might be worth a closer look in the Summer.  So, all in all a lovely break; some painting done, a few parties, lots of people dropping round for coffees, and despite the bitter cold (though it has rained and warmed up today) a lovely time.

Sad to leave, but then it won’t be long before we are out here again; I will probably fly down in early February to join my partner who should be here for a few weeks then.  I will be posting this blog very early on Sunday morning, and we will already be somewhere between Brive and Paris by the time you read this. Bon Journee

Saturday 3rd January

In a perverse reversal of common sense the gift of great intelligence is no guarantee of a lack of Stupidity, in fact the two quite often co-exist happily in the same brain.  It is not that there is a switch and the brain is sent hurtling into reverse; one minute solving Pythagoras in a new and novel way or understanding the technicalities of a hedge-fund swap option on the price of a commodity three months hence and the next making a really stupid purchase and not realising until you get home that the cupboard is far too large for the enclave it was intended for, or far more seriously insulting a friend or loved one by some poorly heeded comment (or even home truth) – no, the two things can and do exist at the very same moment.  In fact the propensity for stupidity is often enhanced by the self-knowledge (or suspicion) of great intelligence, as if simply knowing that you are clever means you don’t have to think about anything; you are clever therefore you must be right.

Wrong – and by Jove I have learnt the hard way.  Being able to answer around a third of the questions on University Challenge and the majority of general knowledge on Mastermind simply means that you memory is an overfilled store-cupboard of nigh-on useless information.  In today’s world knowing how to access information is far more important than holding that information in your brain – that’s what the internet is for….Durghhhhh !!!

In fact I suspect that great intelligence is simply a case of training.  I am fairly certain that most of us, yes even those who watch Emmerdale, are capable of far greater brain power and so-called intelligence than we have bothered to ever try to assimilate.  Much as scientists are now discovering about many animals who having evolved into a near-perfect state, it is only when they are environmentally challenged do they ‘learn’ new behaviour.   So, those of us who have spent years in intense study or even learning the intricacies of a profession may have great “intelligence” but are just as “stupid” as the rest of us when confronted by sometimes simple decisions.   In fact the “stupidity” of humans; this supposedly most “intelligent” of species must be truly staggering – otherwise why on earth would anyone vote for Nigel Farage.

Friday 2nd January

The weather had been damned cold.  And by the looks of it back in England too.  Well what did you expect – it’s Winter.  But we have been down the last two years and it was a lot milder.  We have had frost on the rooftops and even some ice on the river Dropt.  Add to that a quite biting wind and you have a very cold mix.  But even though it has been sub-zero most days there has been no rain, and so no snow either, just brilliant sunshine, which when you stand in it for a few seconds lifts the spirits.  No-one really minds cold weather s long as it is dry and clear.  The weather we hate is the stuff we get most Winters in England, rain, rain and more rain.  Cold, wet and overcast, that is the weather we usually get most years.

Last Christmas Day we were sitting outside the Café de Paris drinking hot mulled wine with no coats on at all, but now we are wrapped up in four or even five layers.   Bit still I would rather be here than back in London.  We were invited by some rather wealthy but not at all ostentatious French friends we met a year ago to have drinks with them on New Year’s Eve.  They are developing the Moulin over the river and have rented a gite just outside of town.  We met Anni and two of her daughters and assorted husbands, cousins and their children.  They are scattered all over the world, in South Africa, Cameroon, Corsica and Paris.  One husband works for the World Bank, helping developing countries in Africa, a cousin works for an Aviation company in Perigeux specializing in Aerial photography and the children were all multilingual and polite.  As they all spoke excellent English we had a good chat and drank champagne and felt really accepted by the French at last.

We had to leave early as we were also invited by some of our English friends in Eymet to a New Year’s Eve party, with lots of food and drink culminating in a lovely Paella.  At 11.30 we left for the square and had hot mulled wine and crepes before the fireworks above the Chateau.  And despite the very cold weather we had a lovely time and were back home again to watch Jools Holland bring in the New Year an hour later on the BBC.  Fantastique.