O’Connor.

Courtesy of Myster. I couldn’t have done that. I shall buy a frame shortly and then hang it on my kitchen wall. Ever to be remembered as the worst dog that I have ever owned, but also the funniest and the sweetest. Get your head around that if you can. Excuse me, must mop up another Pee. Meanwhile O’Connor is out digging up the garden again. My friend Rob in New Zealand is watching out for O’Connor’s arrival.

My Avatar is not really relevant, although it does look a bit like me in my hay days, although I was probably marginally better looking and I had much more hair, sadly now diminishing along with everything else, other than my brain of course.

Forgetting things is only really funny to me. If only everyone thought so. But this lies in your own hands. If you laugh then everyone else will. And does it really matter anyway?

However, this is a Thank You to Myster who had the time and patience to do this and made me feel as though my Blog is worth reading. There are others on The UK Justice Forum who have been kind to me, being a Moderator as I am, but always from the most unlikely corners.

Alice has been dead for two years now, but still missed by me. He was a kind man. But he wasn’t alone.

Sorry, I got a bit morbid there for a minute. Probably Full Moon coming up again. I don’t do well at Full Moon, but it always passes. And The Moon is such a glorious thing, especially at it’s most high. And tomorrow will be another day.

Covid.

Covid.
Now I didn’t know that thousands of people die every year from Flu.  In fact, not having caught Flu myself for many a long decade, I didn’t even know  that people were still catching it.

So when the news of Covid broke last March I went into the statutory decline and threw the duvet over my head while contemplating being dead in a fortnight.  Not funny.  I don’t want to die just yet.  Besides, I’m not giving up my British State Pension until I’ve had my money’s worth. And Yes, I was seriously worried.  But I kept on waking up which meant that I wasn’t dead and had to deal with this fear.

Don’t go out unless you have to and wear a mask if you do.  This mask business wasn’t a problem for me as I’ve seen photos of people wearing them to guard against Pollution.  What could be the difference?  Not a lot, I thought.  But since Pollution is non existent around here I don’t really know.  And so is Covid, so I don’t have much idea about that either?  This could be due to everyone obeying The Rules.  Don’t knock it, I say.

Nearly a year later everything staggers on, although the kissing had to stop, obviously.  I do miss that a bit as it was such a part of our daily lives.  Instinctive actually, after thirty years.  I wonder sometimes if it will ever return.  But if that is all that is missing then there isn’t much to worry about.

God knows what is going on out in the real World.  Somewhere to The East of Lann Georges where I haven’t ventured for a very long time and almost certainly won’t if and when I ever can.

I read Leg Iron’s Blog a lot because he seems to be the only person who actually knows what they are talking about and doesn’t change his mind every ten minutes.

d
O’Connor as ever lightens my days and gets me out of bed in the morning.  What a very funny little soul he is, although what I find so amusing about his penchants remain a mystery.  You try laughing when you’ve just stood in a pile of poop.  But what else is there to do.  Rien de tout, that’s what.
So from me to you, Have a Happy Covid.

Wood Burners.

Wood Burners.

Wood Burners are Good.

They keep these old stone built houses slightly above freezing in Winter and cooking on top of them is fun, especially when you think of all of the gas and electricity that you are saving.  Also very easy to kick start in the morning if you know what you are doing, which I now do.  Rake the ashes and Voila.

However, it is a bit like living in a warm Woodshed what with wood chipping and such all over the floor.  In fact it has crossed my mind recently that this might be easier since you wouldn’t have to cart piles of wood indoors every day and be forever sweeping up.

And then my mind turned to Ye Olde Dirt Floors.  Not such an awful idea, eh what.  The detritus gets walked into the dirt and vanishes and no muddy footprints or dog’s paws either.  Not sure about the dog shit, but who cares.  You likely wouldn’t notice.  What with the House Cow and the House Goat living under the stairs to The Seed Loft.  Just keep them chained to the wall, otherwise they might wander about a bit in the night.  Who needs a Cow giving you a kiss at O’Crack Sparrow Tweet.   The Hooks are still there.  I couldn’t bring myself to remove them.   And besides, I was a bit worried about the wall falling down.

Come Spring you contact The Dirt Floor Man who delivers a ton of earth.  No idea how much but I bet it was cheaper than having all those very expensive Floor Tiles laid.

Then you throw a Cheese and Wine Party for the neighbours who do a bit of Breton Dancing.  And how’s your father, you have got a new, clean dirt floor. All stamped down and ready to go. To be reciprocated all around the Village of course.  Resulting hangovers nothwithstanding.

Breton Dancing is something else.  Really hot foot stuff when you are young.  But it does involve a lot of hanging on to each others arms, which means that you don’t actually fall over no matter how pissed you get.
There are Dances for Chances and some of it is quite beautiful and tells a story.  The footwork alone is incredible.  I don’t know what it means, but I learned how to do it because it is lovely.  And it made me feel good.

Kindling.

Now here’s a Riveting Enterprise.

All you need is a Wood Burner, a Big Bin Liner, a Decent Pair of Loppers and similar Secateurs.  Not to forget a Rampant Wisteria, of course.  But you will have one of those already. Three weeks of lovely flowers and then nine months of unadulterated misery as it tries to strangle you every time you go anywhere near it.

First you save money on Firelighters which makes you feel useful.  And secondly it gives you some time out in the fresh air when you can’t think of anything better to do.  Usually in the middle of January when it’s really cold, although hopefully not pissing down again. Then you just chop it into Stove Sized Pieces and store it for next year.

But watch out.  Wisteria has tricks up it’s many sleeves.  Just as you are about to hack it to death it starts growing Flower Buds.  Now I don’t know about you but I couldn’t do it last year, which is why it is that bit more awful this year.

O’Connor, of course, thinks this is a wonderful game designed just for him as he grabs the really long bits and dives around the garden depositing them as far away as possible.  He gets loads of exercise and so do I as I try to retrieve them while he runs off with another bit behind my back.  But at least he isn’t digging up the garden at the moment.  Must remember to be thankful for small mercies as well.

One very big bag for now and probably another bag to come.  I am getting a break today because it is raining again.

Kindling has long been an industry in Brittany when for centuries old women like me used to scour the hedgerows for it.  Fortunately I don’t have to do that because it is all in my garden, so perhaps there is more to be said for Wisteria than first I thought.

Shopping.

I went shopping today for the first time in six months. Oh, what joy. And I never thought I would ever say that.

First I went to The Butchers in Melrand to spend my 20 Euro Voucher for not getting an Old Person’s Lunch this year. I bought half a leg of Lamb. It was expensive but fresh and unfrozen. And it wasn’t my money anyway, so no worries there. Some people around here grow a few Lambs but chuck them straight into The Family Freezer so no one else get’s a look in. This is not generally Sheep Country.

I was as ever treated with absolute charm and good manners. This still surprises me after thirty years. The Bretons are such kind people. And how lovely it was. That alone made my day.

Then I went to Carrefor clutching an 8 Euro Voucher off this week’s ordinary stuff. I am up 28 Euros by now. Also got two Bidons of Parrafin which were 8 Euros off the normal price. Up 44 Euros. Things were looking good. So I blew 12 Euros on reduced Smoked Trout. That saved another 6 Euros, if you can see where I am coming from. Plus a packet of Peppered Mackerel, although I can’t remember how much that was reduced to.

So let’s call quits on 50 Euros saved. I came home full of delirious delight. 2021 is looking up.

The Moon.

Well, here’s an uplift for you all. I am feeling great. Until the next time.

Full Moon passed over three or four days ago, although I always admire The Moon most when it is doing it’s worst to me. So my fascination must be genuine.

An awful lot of people are affected by this marvellous thing but don’t ever realise. A few down days and then everything is fine again. Me? I tend to pull the duvet over my head and sleep a lot. Or I eat Black Grapes. It depends on whether or not I see it coming. I don’t actually go looking for it, especially at this time of year when it is fucking freezing out there. In Summer I sit in my garden under it’s canopy and raise a large Gin.

If you should be so inflicted then it helps to know that it will pass. I would never want to be without such a glory.

The Year of Our Lord 2021

Xcuse me while I bog off to get a hot water bottle. I forgot that before I embarked on this debacle. It is bloody freezing here. 10 degrees in my kitchen despite the wood burner and a paraffin fire belching out God knows what to offend the environment. I don’t actually care.

My own particular offering to a New Year Bash has fallen into disaster. Everyone is ill so no one turned up. I am alone again, apart from Robin Dominic and he isn’t exactly what you might call fun. I can only hope that they haven’t all got Covid 19, or 20, or even 21. And certainly not Robin Dominic. I need him to deal with The Wisteria, which has gotten a bit out of hand. Largely due to leaving it a bit late last year when it produced so many buds of flowers to come and I couldn’t bear to cut them off.

Three weeks of glory and then nothing. Wisteria is a weed which coerces. Don’t grow it unless you want eleven months of utter boredom.

So No Hail to this New Year. Mayhap tomorrow.

But we do have a Complete Palindrome this year which I find interesting. Although I somewhat doubt anyone’s Calendar. But we can only work with what we have. Numbers are everything Mathematics are all. You can do anything you want to do if you understand the most basic of principles.

I have had a really good year. All is well in my house. I have gained a couple of good friends while still missing another, but then he was the beginning. And everything starts somewhere.

This is for Alice.

Noel 2020 In Retrospect.

Monday.
Sent Robin Dominic out to buy two small Turkeys.  Disaster.  No Turkeys.  He came home clutching two Capons and looking apprehensive.  I told him not to worry.  I know what a Capon is.  It’s a Castrated Cockerel,  but I’ve never cooked one or even eaten one.  French Freezers must be stuffed full of Turkeys.

Google.  And not a bad word to say about them.  The Prince of all Birds.  Or Princess, depending on your stance on gender realignment.  Sadly, the Birds don’t get a say in the matter.

I stuffed it on Christmas Eve as is my wont of a lifetime and my neighbour cooked it.  A joint arrangement as Kate is better at Yorkshire Puddings than I am.  And her oven is bigger than mine  And I have to say that The Dinner was excellent.  No one mentioned the as ever marvellous stuffing which never tastes the same twice.

Christmas Day.
Lann Georges was deserted.  They were all recovering from their Christmas Eve Dinners.  These Dinners are a delight, but the idea never quite gelled with me.

Robin Dominic managed to stay reasonably sober.
Glen regaled us all in his inimitable and outspoken fashion.  Glen is a Cockney.  I told him that I am a Cockney too, but I don’t think he believed me.

Charlotte who is Kate’s daughter is pregnant so that was nice as well.  A new life on the way.

Glen left at about 5pm to go and feed his host of animals before it got dark and I came home to see how The Forum was getting on.  Yer, I know.  Get a life.  But this is my life and often grateful I am for it.

The Feast of Stephen.
Stephen was stoned to death on that day.  I bet you all didn’t know that.  But nothing new there.  Stephens have a habit of doing this.  May his soul rest in pieces.

Sunday Morning Early.
And time to reflect.
I got a book about The Wrens during Wartime.  Such a thoughtful present.  Apart from reading Requiem for a Wren I don’t know much about that time in The Navy.

Also a really nice and long, fluffy scarf as a present from The Food Bank.  What stoics they have all been during a difficult year.  All volunteers.

Last but not least, a lovely PM from the most unlikely of friends on The Forum.  It nearly made me cry.  And I am not prone to crying.

Not long until New Year.  Have a good one, you all.

PS.  O’Connor is absolutely fucking fine.  Dear of him.

Nothing About Anything.

I need to write about something.  Anything would do, but I just can’t think of anything.

It has rained in buckets for over a week now but there’s nothing new about that.

O’Connor can smell rain from twenty metres while buried in his blanket.  He doesn’t need to go and have a look.  Nothing new about that either.  He gives me the same old jaundiced snake eye when I say, ” Come on you, out we go”.  I stand in the garden getting drenched while he lurks in the doorway and pees against the door post.  Same old same old.  Jesus, he is so funny.

Apparently we are getting a bag of presents next week from The Food Bank.  Isn’t that nice.  Let’s hope it doesn’t include Yoghourt.  Anything else will be lovely.  I remain forever grateful.

Got two Vouchers for twenty Euros from The Marie due to No Dinner for The Elderly this year, both to be spent in Melrand.  Local businesses of course.  I think I might try The Butcher.  What I choose to buy doesn’t really matter because it is free.

The Butcher Perron has been around for a very long time.  It is the grandson Perron nowadays.  What a laugh he was when he was young.  Racing Trotters.  Those horses that trot by different feet.  No use for riding when they retire, so don’t ever be tempted to buy one, no matter how cheap. They finish up living in a large field and interminably eating.

I have just cut some Camellias for the house.  How very beautiful they are and they brighten Winter.  The Roses are done now, but there is always something in my very small garden.  Heaven knows how that happened because it was never by design.  I am a very messy gardener.  I just plant things and hope for the best.  Chrysanthemums remain my one abiding love.  Flowers for The Dead in France, but never for me.

Raining again.  Will this pile of rubbish about nothing satisfy me until Noel?

Wine.

I do not like Wine and never drink it, unless I am desperate and there is nothing else in the house.  Fortunately, this doesn’t happen very often.  This coming from a long term inhabitant of the country that is the font of all wine is little short of Blasphemy.  I never voice this opinion in public as I might get lynched.

But have you ever stopped to consider the people who purport to be experts on the subject?  They take a sip, swill it around in their mouths a bit and then spit it out into a bucket.  This does not surprise me in the least.  Best place for it.  But don’t put it on The Roses.  It will probably kill them.

Being a bit ignorant on the subject I once bought a bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pap from a discount store. I had actually heard of that one.  But I got the noughts on Francs mixed up so I got a bit of a shock when I discovered at the check out that it was £17 instead of the expected £1.70, especially as I was seriously broke at the time, although common sense should have told me otherwise, despite it being a discount store.  I lived on French Beans on Toast for the rest of the month.

Anyway, I was far too embarrassed to make a fuss and change my mind so I paid up and took it home, resolving to keep it for a special occasion.  That happened one dark night when I needed a lift and opened it because there wasn’t anything else.  It was disgusting.  Corked?  How would I know?  But it did have a proper cork.  Not many of those these days.  Perhaps because if it doesn’t have a cork then it can’t get corked. Did I finish the bottle?  I can’t remember.  Which leads me to suspect that I did.

Needless to say that I won’t be buying any more Chateau Neuf du Pap in a hurry.
These days I drink Kirsche which is someone’s weird idea of Sherry and it tastes alright with a lot of fruit juice and water.  Although I still prefer Sherry.

Put recycled Tea on Roses.  My Roses are wonderful.