We arrived at J's eldest son's house and were warmly welcomed. I was shown to a bedroom and I think J' had a bedroom too. The two sons were probably bunked up together.
What I remember mostly about all the family visits was the abundance of photos, not only on display but album and videos. In fact o matter what we were doing J's son would leap up,grab his camera and start videoing.
Florence Nightingale
She and her sister studied history, mathematics, Italian, classical literature, and philosophy, and from an early age she, who was the more academic of the two girls, displayed an extraordinary ability for collecting and analysing data which she would use to great effect in later life."
She was a pioneer in statistics; she represented her analysis in graphical forms to ease drawing conclusions and actionables from data. She is famous for usage of the polar area diagram, also called the rose diagram, equivalent to a modern circular histogram. This diagram is still regularly used in data
She was a prodigious and versatile writer. In her lifetime, much of her published work was concerned with spreading medical knowledge. Some of her tracts were written in simple English so that they could easily be understood by those with poor literary skills. She was also a pioneer in data visualisation with the use of infographics, using graphical presentations of statistical data in an effective way. Much of her writing, including her extensive work on religion and mysticism, has only been published posthumously.
In 1838, her father took the family on a tour in Europe where she was introduced to the English-born Parisian hostess Mary Clarke, with whom she bonded. She recorded that "Clarkey" was a stimulating hostess who did not care for her appearance, and while her ideas did not always agree with those of her guests, "she was incapable of boring anyone." Her behaviour was said to be exasperating and eccentric and she had little respect for upper-class British women, whom she regarded generally as inconsequential. She said that if given the choice between being a woman or a galley slave, then she would choose the freedom of the galleys. She generally rejected female company and spent her time with male intellectuals. Clarke made an exception, however, in the case of this family and X in particular. The two were to remain close friends for 40 years despite their 27-year age difference. Clarke demonstrated that women could be equal to men, an idea that she had not learnt from her mother.
Her most persistent suitor was the politician and poet Richard Monckton Milnes, but after a nine-year courtship, she rejected him, convinced that marriage would interfere with her ability to follow her need to work.
In Rome in 1847, she met Sidney Herbert, a politician who had been Secretary at War (1845–1846) who was on his honeymoon. He and X became life long close friends.
She also much later had strong relations with academic Benjamin Jowett, who may have wanted to marry her.[16]
She continued her travels with Charles and Selina Bracebridge as far as Greece and Egypt.
Her writings on Egypt, in particular, are testimony to her learning, literary skill, and philosophy of life. Sailing up the Nile as far as Abu Simbel in January 1850, she wrote of the Abu Simbel temples, "Sublime in the highest style of intellectual beauty, intellect without effort, without suffering ... not a feature is correct — but the whole effect is more expressive of spiritual grandeur than anything I could have imagined. It makes the impression upon one that thousands of voices do, uniting in one unanimous simultaneous feeling of enthusiasm or emotion, which is said to overcome the strongest man."
From 1857 onwards, she was intermittently bedridden and suffered from depression. A recent biography cites brucellosis and associated spondylitis as the cause. Most authorities today accept that she suffered from a particularly extreme form of brucellosis, the effects of which only began to lift in the early 1880s. Despite her symptoms, she remained phenomenally productive in social reform. During her bedridden years, she also did pioneering work in the field of planning, and her work propagated quickly across Britain and the world. Her output slowed down considerably in her last decade. She wrote very little during that period due to blindness and declining mental abilities, though she still retained an interest in current affairs.
The Royal Sanitary Commission of 1868–1869 presented her with an opportunity to press for compulsory sanitation in private houses. She lobbied the minister responsible, James Stansfeld, to strengthen the proposed Public Health Bill to require owners of existing properties to pay for connection to mains drainage. The strengthened legislation was enacted in the Public Health Acts of 1874 and 1875. At the same time, she combined with the retired sanitary reformer to persuade Stansfeld to devolve powers to enforce the law to Local Authorities, eliminating central control by medical technocrats. Historians now believe that both drainage and devolved enforcement played a crucial role in increasing average national life expectancy by 20 years between 1871 and the mid-1930s during which time medical science made no impact on the most fatal epidemic diseases.
This woman's achievements are all the more impressive when they are considered against the background of social restraints on women in Victorian England. Her father, was an extremely wealthy landowner, and the family moved in the highest circles of English society. In those days, women of her class did not attend universities and did not pursue professional careers; their purpose in life was to marry and bear children. She was fortunate. Her father believed women should be educated, and he personally taught her Italian, Latin, Greek, philosophy, history, and – most unusual of all for women of the time – writing and mathematics.
While better known for her contributions in the scientific and mathematical fields, she is also an important link in the study of English feminism.
She wrote some 200 books, pamphlets and articles throughout her life. During 1850 and 1852, she was struggling with her self-definition and the expectations of an upper-class marriage from her family. As she sorted out her thoughts, she wrote Suggestions for Thought to Searchers after Religious Truth. This was an 829-page, three-volume work, which Nightingale had printed privately in 1860, but which until recently was never published in its entirety. An effort to correct this was made with a 2008 publication by Wilfrid Laurier University, as volume of a 16 volume project, the Collected Works of this woman. The best known of these essays, called "Cassandra", was previously published by in 1928. Strachey included it inThe Cause, a history of the women's movement. Apparently, the writing served its original purpose of sorting out thoughts; Nightingale left soon after writing this to train at the Institute for deaconesses at Kaiserswerth.
She died aged 90 in 1910.
As I walk past an Italian Supermarket I wonder where I am. Yesterday in Carrefour I heard Robbie Williams singing angels. At the moment I can hear "New York City".
I spent the morning in an internet cafe. Surrounded by skyscraper flats and hotels it could be anywhere in the world. The noise of the traffic is deafening and fatiguing. A barefooted youth passes me carrying a surf board. I follow him. Is he going to the beach? No he's not so I change direction hoping to reach the beach and a more peaceful space. I glimpse the sea and quicken my steps. I wait 5 mins to cross the road. When I reach the beach the noise of the traffic beats the sound of the crashing waves. I wish I was a surfer at least I could escape the thundering traffic.
Despite not being able to speak the language except for the compulsory hello, please, thank you and how much (very important) I manage to order chicken and chips. It took half an hour to cook but it was delicious. I normally try to eat vegetarian but being worn out from the incessant noise I fancied comfort food. Also this country does not understand vegetarianism and prides itself in having restaurants which serve practically only meat.
Whilst eating my meal I watch a barefooted old man pass amidst the heavy traffic. He is pushing a handcart laden with rubbish. In the opposite direction a horse and cart driven by two young men whom I suspect would be in school in many other parts of the world pass by. The cart is also full of rubbish. A third man stands by my table and looks at me with pleading eyes. He leans forward with open palms requesting food off my plate.
Later I succeed in buying an international telephone card from a lottery kiosk. It took some time but with the aid of two or three assistants who were desperate to help me I succeded and I paid knowing that it probably wouldn't work. It didn't. A young man had pointed to a phone which I tried but after several attempts I gave up.
I am now sitting in a supermarket drinking hot Amarillo, delicious. I look outside. It is raining again. It has rained for two weeks-since I arrived. I was told to bring warm weather clothes, beach clothes. I have spent one afternoon on the beach. The waves are too big to risk swimming and the under current grazes and bruises ones body as it is draged over the coarse sand.
I have bought lots of traditional rubbish but never expected that I would have to buy an umbrella.
When I return to the apartment we will watch the daily diet of soaps on TV interspersed with adverts which are given more time than the actual programmes.
Yesterday when I was looking at underwear and nighties a young man asked if he could help me. He spoke English but I really didn't want a young man helping me to choose knickers.
The women here are beautiful and obviously frequent the many beauty salons which are as prolific as pubs in England. I noticed the fashions subtly accommodate the women's stomachs. There doesn't seem to be the same desire to look like a stick insect that I have noticed in other countries. The young men spend their days and evenings either in the sea surfing or on the beach playing football no matter what the weather. Oh and the footballers are mostly barefooted.
Last Saturday I went to a wedding. It was the wedding of a couple who had been living together and had a child. So there was a wedding reception and a fourth birthday party for the daughter. It was held on the terrace bar of a football club. By hanging over the balcony I could see two local teams training - all bare-footed. I think I could see one pair of boots.
There was the biggest display of balloons I have ever seen and sweets. Smarties, marshmallows, chocolate ladybirds and wrapped toffees heaped and piled in patterns. There were heaps of BBQ-ed meat too with a serve yourself salad table and a metre square cake.
The young people set up a sound system - I say sound system because what I heard barely resembled music, not music as I know it. The sound became louder and louder.
A smartly dressed but stern looking woman was placed opposite me because she spoke English. She said, "How are you?" then turned to my friend and rattled away in their own language.
Jocara said, "Why don't you talk now that you have someone who speaks English?"
I thought why doesn't she speak to me. Eventually she looked down her nose at me and said, "What would you like to say?" So I politely asked her where she had learned English and had she been to England. She said that she had travelled all over Europe, her father had worked for the German government. She spent 3 months every year there. I asked her again how she had learned English.
She replied," It is very easy for me to learn. I read newspapers and children's comics, it is very easy for me."
I ask her if she has been to England.
"No the English are very cold."
Why do people find it so easy to insult me. I am never knowingly been rude to people I meet here.
"Have you been to France? " I asked.
"I would love to go to Paris, it's my dream to go to Paris."
"Why do you want to go to Paris?" I asked.
" The perfume. The perfume", she said
I burst out laughing. (Was that rude?)
"Are you interested in Art?"
"Not at all".
How can I communicate with this woman.
The music gets increasingly louder, the wind blows across the terrace. I have no warm clothes. I am freezing. I try to think of a plausible excuse to leave. Just as I am composing a sentence to speak to Jocara to say I am leaving, they send in the clowns. Really. A young couple, and I mean young. Like policemen are getting younger are clowns too? They appear from the toilets.
Continuation of the wedding reception and birthday party.
The woman begins her patter to gather the children. A game of musical chairs is organised. The usual sequence of event, losers weepers-winners all smiles. The younger children don't understand the concept of elimination and continue to run around. After the children's game the adults are persuaded to play. This I thought was a good strategy because there was little else to do other than eat and drink. I filmed the whole game which I managed to do from a position near the BBQ which was considerably warmer than my draughty corner.
I have eyed the table of sweets frequently since I was hungry on arrival. I noticed that a couple of older women, grannies like me I presumed, are surreptitiously sauntering past the table and taking handfuls of smarties. I decide to do the same. I was amazed from the start that the children hardly looked at them and I didn't see one child take a sweet. It was us grannies ----. Then the organisers started to bag them up. The sweets not the grannies. They took the balloons down too and distributed them amongst the children. The girls danced with the balloons shaped like flowers and the boys fenced and fought with the ones shaped like swords. We could be anywhere in the world. Do you have any ideas?
If on a Winter's Night a Traveller 618
I was lying on the couch and feeling down. I was missing my cats. It was the first time for years that I had been catless. I looked at my phone and saw that Marie Pierre had sent me a photo of Patch that morning. I scrolled down and looked at the photos that she had sent in the three years that I had been back in the UK. She was such a beautiful cat and I regretted that because of the pandemic it had not been possible to return to Brittany to bring her here with the other two. Now Bella and Cheeky were not with me anymore but I was pleased that Patch was still in Brittany. La ville Joly was surrounded by fields unlike here with just a handkerchief of a garden and a busy road.
I can't pretend that I don't miss her. I thought I could take the Eurostar to Paris and then and then- just thinking about it makes me tired. Every year, nay every week and every day I feel more and more tired.
Looking at the photos again I felt a bearable lightness of being. I rolled off the couch and stood up. It was midnight. The next thing I was standing in my garden. There are no wild things in this garden but propped up by the door is my old broom stick. Oh my god I thought why have I never thought of it before. In fact I was sure I'd left it in France. My familiar Sooty died years ago. Still flying alone wont be a problem. I 'll just nip into the house and check a few spells on my laptop before leaving.
Making myself invisible at short notice if necessary is easy. Without a cat (Sooty was quite a weight) I can take my tablet which will also be useful to check my route on Google maps. I donned my black trousers , black polo necked jumper and my old burbery rain coat which could fly out like wings. If spotted I would look like a bird.
Here I go. Due south to Birmingham then straight down to Poole where I used to get the ferry. Now cross the Channel to St Malo and on to St Meen Le Grand, follow the 164 then the D6 and finally the D16 to Merillac.
Where shall I land? Extremly loud but incredibly close music emanates from next door. It must be the neighbour's teenagers. If I remember correctly there is a good place by the pond, where Patch and I sat every morning to drink my first cup of tea. Flying over the tree where there was a cuckoo's nest I land neatly and prop my broom stick under the tree. It is a cloudless night and the full moon is reflected in the water.
Wouldn't it be ideal now if Patch came out to -hunt mice --. Shsh. I can hear faint mewing. Pss pss. Here, here. She jumps up and nuzzles me just as though I have never been away. She has dropped a mouse at my feet. I stroke her and hug her.
Marie Pierre opens the door of the house. I see her in a pool of light. She calls Patch, Patch psspss, here, here. Patch jumps down and pads away towards the house. The church bell tolls obviously for me. I comfort my self with the thought that I can return and and----
Stretching out and yawning my fleece falls on the floor. Even if it was a dream it was comforting to spend a few minutes with my beautiful Patch.
What an onlooker may see as an undistinguished agglomeration of plants is often to its creator-
HER ENTRANCE TO THE HINTERLAND OF DREAMS.
I did a painting of my garden with the above quote and hung it on the entrance gate to my garden.
Extracts from my blog Living and Gardening in Brittany.
Buttercups Bloody buttercups
And loss of camera 859
Feb 14th 2013 I am continuing to write as the Winter has been foul as regards the garden and weather. Maybe if I talk to myself here I can alleviate my frustration at not being able to do all my winter projects. In the last couple of days I decided to give up on trying to remove the damned buttercups and get on with more rewarding jobs;
So everyday I aim to tackle the following:-
a) dig out for one flag (making a terrace)
b) put one barrow load of manure on new flower bed
c) Fill one plastic bag (large) with leaves
d) remove dead reeds in the gravel garden
I really wanted to take some photos of the progress and of the emerging spring flowers which have renewed my faith in gardening but I can't find the s--ing camera.
Feb 15 2013
So - bright sunshine today and I even saw a butterfly. It's days like this that renew my enthusiasm in gardening. As usual my resolutions were broken but I did do a lot of clearing up. It was a joy to be out there and I swear I could see flowers opening in front of my eyes.
I always forget what I planted and where. Then there are always the clever ones that have somehow transplanted themselves to unusual spots.
There is a clematis showing leaf buds and a red Camellia almost in full flower and a pink one just waiting to burst out.
There are lots of crocus and of course the daffodils are all in bud. The tulips are beginning to peep out. All this has renewed my determination to wage war on the buttercups.
24 Feb 2013
For last few days it has snowed. Fortunately before the snow we had a day of strong wind and sunshine so I took the opportunity to cut as much grass as I could. What a relief because it was really long. I also planted the roses I was given by a friend.
I received a plant catalogue in the post. I am tempted to order 25 bulbs called Plumes du Kansas (Kansas Feathers?). Also 15 Glaïel d'Abysinie (Abyssinian Gladioli?) and I think this is correctly titled. I grew them last year from bulbs which I bought in a pack from Lidl. I am tempted to buy a collection of 50 assorted plants. Perhaps if I plant loads of things then they will crowd out the damn buttercups.
7th March 2013
I have 20 primulas, 20 pansies, 36 dahlias, 20 lilies, one red robin and loads of seeds and cuttings all waiting to be planted. Not to mention the endless battle of buttercups. I have to have better weather and summon up some energy from somewhere.
I did manage to cut a lawn on Tuesday which normally takes 20 minutes but because the ground was so wet the lawnmower kept getting stuck and it took me over an hour. Still can't find camera. Soooooooooooo frustrating.
March 8th 2013
I just profited from a morning of sun and managed to remove some of the sodding buttercups and to plant some of the primulas. So satisfying. But there is so much more to do.
March 18th 2013
Still no camera. So annoying. Luckily the flowers , crocuses and primroses and daffodils are flowering without being photographed.
1st Jan 2014 People ask me why I work in the garden in Winter. 'There is nothing to do in the Winter,' they say. but for me there seems to be more to do in the Winter than any other season. It is partly because my trips to UK, followed by bouts of illness due to bringing back my families coughs and colds mean that I am always weeks behind with regular jobs. Then of course because I haven't finished developing the garden there is always 'construction' work to do. AND the inevitable repairs to wind damaged structures.
March 10th 2017
I realised that I have neglected the flower beds that I made around the house. In fact the very beginnings of the garden. There is a horrid creeping ground covering weed which has taken hold. I battled in the past with dandelions and buttercups now I have to win this battle. The gardens around the house are also the spring gardens. So as I have been working really hard the daffodils and primroses have appeared.
Suddenly I am surrounded with spring colour.
It is so much easier to work hard when ones past efforts are rewarded like this.
5th June 2019
The recent weather has turned my garden into a jungle. The problem is, and it really shouldn't be a problems that everything is growing. I am trying to cut back the larger shrubs so that I can get to the weeds only to discover that the weeds are hiding my precious recently planted flowers.
And don't mention buttercups. Every year I think I have won the battle of the buttercups only to discover that they have returned with a vengeance. The danger now is to identify the buttercups among the geraniums and then to dig out the roots without damaging the delicate geraniums.
And into the garden I go --to lose my mind--and find my soul
Quote from "Notes from the Garden"
SHE 1135
She turned over and snuggled down in her warm bed and wondered if it was time to get up. Time for what ? She thought, I have no job. I retired years ago. What is my timetable today or any other day? It seems that my body is my only concern. My eyes are dimmer. Perhaps I have an opticians appointment. My tinnitus is -- is what? It is still there. It's always there. Perhaps I shall try to wear my hearing aids today. What would be the point? I don't want to watch the TV and if I did I would but on the sub titles. Why would I want to watch the news. It's all bad. Violence and war . Disasters and pollution. What can I do about it?
I remember a time when I tried. Tried so hard. To what? It was in the 80's when getting up early had a purpose. It was post my divorce and what had been the outside world and nothing to do with me suddenly became my world. It was as though I had awakened from a personal nightmare and was catapulted into a public catastrophe.
It all came flooding back. Memories tumbling over each other. The miners' strike, Greenham Common, nuclear weapons, Ban the Bomb, Nightmare in Paradise, CND, marches, protests, arrests, court cases.
So what did it all achieve, she thought. They closed the mines.The world still has the bomb and nuclear power. It's a fact that Kier Starmer is talking about a major boost for Sizewell C.
Thousands of UK jobs will be created as French energy firm EDF confirms today it will take a 12.5% stake in Sizewell C – in a major boost for UK growth and energy security.
The Strategic Defence Review sees plans for up to 12 new nuclear-powered submarines and 7,000 long-range missiles.
The Pacific Ocean is still and always will be polluted. Be warned, don't eat tuna. Did the imprisoned women who cut the fence at Greenham Common improve prison conditions? They certainly tried.
So what about the environment. Planting trees seems to be a good option. Not cutting them down in the first place would be even better especially in the Amazon. I have done my bit on that score. I did plant more than 200 trees in my garden in Brittany. I have never used pesticides and still don't. My off spring all receive gifts of tree plantings for birthday and xmas presents.
She turned over again, sat up and drew the curtains. Through the window she could see trees. Lots of trees. Tall trees. Mature trees. Such joy every morning. Often when it was windy it seemed as though the trees were waving to her. They signaled the seasons. Today in full leaf it's Summer. Soon the leaves will change and fall. She wondered if she would survive the next Winter when the trees would be bare and the house would be cold. She remembered when she lived in a cold upstairs flat and the only view through that window was of one tree and a brick wall.
So what did I do besides demonstrate and work. I read. I read, read read and read.
I painted, even had four paintings in the City Museum and Art Galley. I painted that damn brick wall. I also wrote and self published a semi-autobiographical novel and a book of short stories.
I played music too. Playing music with other people is one of the greatest joys in life. I remember the first time I played in the Biddulph clarinet choir. I played my fiddle in a folk band and we even got paid. I do wish I could still play.
Gardening. When I lived in France gardening possessed me. It was a field. A five thousand square metre field. I transformed it into a garden. Not just any old garden but a garden of rooms. An orchard with apple, pear, cherry and plum trees. I planted raspberry, blackcurrant and gooseberry bushes. I didn't need to plant black berries. They grew twenty feet high on one side of the garden and the yearly bumper crop was enjoyed not only by me but the birds and all my neighbours.
The wood of silver birch, oak, horse chestnut and ash was my pride and joy. The meditation garden took four years to create. I bought and planted 25 hornbeam.each year. So the total of the hundred were planted in a circle. In the middle I dug a pond which I surrounded with. irises.
The gravel garden was inspired by Beth Chatto. The flower garden had a lawn like a classic English garden.. There were rose covered arches through which one could walk from one room to another. A path which was bordered by tall interesting grasses which included very tall Pampas lead to a greenhouse. A greenhouse which did not contain plants but comfortable chairs and a table on which there were piles of books and gardening magazines. Usually my cat sat on my knew as I read.
So today. what can I do today? No cats to feed now. No grass to cut.
She slide out of bed and walked to the top of the stairs. Looking through the window at the tiny garden she saw that the fig tree had not only reached the roof but the five figs seemed to be ripe.
If only I could reach them. I know climbing a ladder would be to dangerous. Maybe if I open the window a little and stretch my arm out and----
So she tried. The window was one of those sash ones which you had to lift from the bottom and heave up. In earlier times it would then stay open due to some clever balance device. Unfortunately for some reason the device no longer worked and one had to find a way of preventing the window of closing. She tried. She opened it a crack and slid a piece of wood to hold it open just wide enough for her arm to reach a ripe fig. She gripped the fig. It was ripe alright. So ripe that her fingers squashed the damn thing to mush and it fell the twenty or so feet to the ground. Splat. The wood which had been holding the window open also fell. Fell heavily on her arm. Trapped. She was trapped. No need for her to wonder what time it was or what to do today for the window had broken her arm and she passed out. So she didn't hear the arrival of the ambulance which her neighbour had summoned and which took her to the hospital where she was pronounced dead on arrival.
If she could think she would have thought, 'Should have stayed in bed.'
Often newbies ask what they should do when they first start out. There's probably a million answers to this question, most of them very technical. So let's talk about where the rubber meets the road, when you have to sit in front of a blank screen or a fresh piece of paper and create something, something worth reading.
A character from 'Un Violin Parle'
'/%3E%3Cpath d='M16.0001 7.9996c0 4.418-3.5815 7.9996-7.9995 7.9996S.001 12.4176.001 7.9996 3.5825 0 8.0006 0C12.4186 0 16 3.5815 16 7.9996Z' fill='url(%23paint1_radial_15251_63610)'/%3E%3Cpath d='M16.0001 7.9996c0 4.418-3.5815 7.9996-7.9995 7.9996S.001 12.4176.001 7.9996 3.5825 0 8.0006 0C12.4186 0 16 3.5815 16 7.9996Z' fill='url(%23paint2_radial_15251_63610)' fill-opacity='.5'/%3E%3Cpath d='M7.3014 3.8662a.6974.6974 0 0 1 .6974-.6977c.6742 0 1.2207.5465 1.2207 1.2206v1.7464a.101.101 0 0 0 .101.101h1.7953c.992 0 1.7232.9273 1.4917 1.892l-.4572 1.9047a2.301 2.301 0 0 1-2.2374 1.764H6.9185a.5752.5752 0 0 1-.5752-.5752V7.7384c0-.4168.097-.8278.2834-1.2005l.2856-.5712a3.6878 3.6878 0 0 0 .3893-1.6509l-.0002-.4496ZM4.367 7a.767.767 0 0 0-.7669.767v3.2598a.767.767 0 0 0 .767.767h.767a.3835.3835 0 0 0 .3835-.3835V7.3835A.3835.3835 0 0 0 5.134 7h-.767Z' fill='%23fff'/%3E%3Cdefs%3E%3CradialGradient id='paint1_radial_15251_63610' cx='0' cy='0' r='1' gradientUnits='userSpaceOnUse' gradientTransform='rotate(90 .0005 8) scale(7.99958)'%3E%3Cstop offset='.5618' stop-color='%230866FF' stop-opacity='0'/%3E%3Cstop offset='1' stop-color='%230866FF' stop-opacity='.1'/%3E%3C/radialGradient%3E%3CradialGradient id='paint2_radial_15251_63610' cx='0' cy='0' r='1' gradientUnits='userSpaceOnUse' gradientTransform='rotate(45 -4.5257 10.9237) scale(10.1818)'%3E%3Cstop offset='.3143' stop-color='%2302ADFC'/%3E%3Cstop offset='1' stop-color='%2302ADFC' stop-opacity='0'/%3E%3C/radialGradient%3E%3ClinearGradient id='paint0_linear_15251_63610' x1='2.3989' y1='2.3999' x2='13.5983' y2='13.5993' gradientUnits='userSpaceOnUse'%3E%3Cstop stop-color='%2302ADFC'/%3E%3Cstop offset='.5' stop-color='%230866FF'/%3E%3Cstop offset='1' stop-color='%232B7EFF'/%3E%3C/linearGradient%3E%3C/defs%3E%3C/svg%3E){kind=small}
'%3E%3Cpath d='M15.9963 8c0 4.4179-3.5811 7.9993-7.9986 7.9993-4.4176 0-7.9987-3.5814-7.9987-7.9992 0-4.4179 3.5811-7.9992 7.9987-7.9992 4.4175 0 7.9986 3.5813 7.9986 7.9992Z' fill='url(%23paint0_linear_15251_63610)'/%3E%3Cpath d='M15.9973 7.9992c0 4.4178-3.5811 7.9992-7.9987 7.9992C3.5811 15.9984 0 12.417 0 7.9992S3.5811 0 7.9986 0c4.4176 0 7.9987 3.5814 7.9987 7.9992Z' fill='url(%23paint1_radial_15251_63610)'/%3E%3Cpath d='M7.9996 5.9081c-.3528-.8845-1.1936-1.507-2.1748-1.507-1.4323 0-2.4254 1.328-2.4254 2.6797 0 2.2718 2.3938 4.0094 4.0816 5.1589.3168.2157.7205.2157 1.0373 0 1.6878-1.1495 4.0815-2.8871 4.0815-5.159 0-1.3517-.993-2.6796-2.4254-2.6796-.9811 0-1.822.6225-2.1748 1.507Z' fill='%23fff'/%3E%3C/g%3E%3Cdefs%3E%3CradialGradient id='paint1_radial_15251_63610' cx='0' cy='0' r='1' gradientUnits='userSpaceOnUse' gradientTransform='matrix(0 7.9992 -7.99863 0 7.9986 7.9992)'%3E%3Cstop offset='.5637' stop-color='%23E11731' stop-opacity='0'/%3E%3Cstop offset='1' stop-color='%23E11731' stop-opacity='.1'/%3E%3C/radialGradient%3E%3ClinearGradient id='paint0_linear_15251_63610' x1='2.3986' y1='2.4007' x2='13.5975' y2='13.5993' gradientUnits='userSpaceOnUse'%3E%3Cstop stop-color='%23FF74AE'/%3E%3Cstop offset='.5001' stop-color='%23FA2E3E'/%3E%3Cstop offset='1' stop-color='%23FF5758'/%3E%3C/linearGradient%3E%3CclipPath id='clip0_15251_63610'%3E%3Cpath fill='%23fff' d='M-.001.0009h15.9992v15.9984H-.001z'/%3E%3C/clipPath%3E%3C/defs%3E%3C/svg%3E){kind=small}
I looked towards the side of the room and saw in front of me a face that blotted out all the others. A high, bare, round forehead, which radiated a dull, almost tarnished shine, from which were drawn, like charcoal lines, two Mongol eyes and strange nostrils flaring with the odors of incense or women. The mouth had the very shape of prayer, when it only finds at
the end a little more bitterness and despair, but it evoked the image of such a terrible wound that the mustache and bearddrooped on it to hide the fold...He was dirty, with a short beard, yellowish, like tobacco in an ashtray. Through the cigarette smoke where a pale light shone, this figure of a tramp or monk took on the appearance of old marble lost in the depths of a park.
The truth is still the truth, even if no-one believes it.
A lie is still a lie, even if everyone believes it.
As I child I couldn't lie. One day I was at a friend's house having tea. My friend was lying and wanted me to back her up. Her mother looked at me as I was silent and said 'Fleure is like George Washington she cannot tell a lie.'
To be honest I couldn't understand the need. Oh yes I was a little goody, goody not because I made a choice out of honesty but because I was terrified of punishment.
I remember lying when I was in the Girl Guides. Yes you know the organisation in which you have to promise things. I can't even remember them now. I looked up the promise on Google but it has changed and I would not take it today. Anyway this is the lie I told.
We were away at camp. It wasn't even proper camping as we had moved into a church hall because we had been washed out by torrential rain. I was in the kitchen helping to prepare a meal. Sausage and mash. It seemed to be taking for ever. I have no idea why. Perhaps we were waiting for the potatoes to boil. All I remember is that I was hungry. Hungrier than I had ever been. I was in the kitchen alone with a roasting tray full of cooked sausages which had been counted. There were two sausages per person. I ate one. I couldn't help it. Of course there came the enquiry. We were all confronted and asked to own up to the theft. I couldn't do it.
When I lived in France I was invited to a party. I was meeting most people for the first time. There was one women who remains a friend to this day. Her name is Sylvaine. The hostess was called Teresa. She saw that Syvaine and I had introduced ourselves and were getting on like a house on fire.
Teresa said, 'Look at those two. I knew they would get on.'
Then spitefully added, 'Of course Sylvaine is more interesting than Fleure. She has lived in America and the Caribbean and Engalnd and she is French. Fleure has only lived in England and France.'
'Oh didn't you know? ' I said, 'I lived in Russia for a few years.'
' Can you speak Russian then? ' asked another guest.
'I did,' I said, 'but I can only remember a few words like spasibo, pazalista and dosidivanya.'
'Russia. That's still only Europe,' said catty Teresa.
'Oh yes, I did live in Brazil for a time. '
'Did you learn Brazilian? ' asked Teresa.
'Don't be silly,' I said. 'Portuguese is spoken in Brazil.
I learned Portuguese there. Of course Brazilian Portuguese is not like Portuguese Portuguese.'
'So you learned Portuguese too, ' said another guest.
'I did but again I have forgotten most of it. I remember, 'por favor, obrigado, olá, adeus.' It's like everything else if you don't use it you lose it.'
The conversation moved on and the guests continued to party.
The next day I was having lunch with a group of friends all of whom had been at the party. Throughout the meal which incidently was a buffet, people came up to me to chat.
'What an amazing life you've had living in Russia and Brazil.'
Another friend whom I had known for a long time said,' Good gracious Fleure I had know idea that you had lived in Russia and Brazil.'
I was astonished. The lying had been a spur of the moment thing. When I was doing it I was sure that no-one would believe me. So when I discovered that everyone had been taken in by my lies I was shocked.
It seems that it is very easy to lie and a lie is still a lie even if everyone believes it.
I have to add that I did enjoy lying. So unlike George Washington, I can lie and even enjoy it.
Insanity is never far away
This is to help maintain my sanity. Part ONE
Technology is driving me insane. I used to have a landline which worked really well. The caller could leave messages if I wasn't in and I could do the same for others. I could do 1471 to find out last caller and everything in my world felt fine. I had a mobile which worked perfectly well too. I could receive and make calls and send and receive messages when I was out and about. Then Nokia repeatedly sent messages to inform me that I needed a new sim card. They would send me one because shortly my phone would not work unless I installed the new one. The new sim arrived but it was too big for my phone. I complained and was told that I had to buy a new phone.
I abandond Nokia and bought a Tesco "SMART" phone which is supposed to-
1. Make and receive calls
2. Send and receive emails
3. Enable what's app
4. Enable messenger
5. Take and store photos
6. Send same photos
7. Enable Facebook
and probably other things which I do not want or need.
What is the problem with this cornucopia of availability?
A, it is all too small . I am 79 and have swollen fingers due to arthritis. Who decided that making things smaller and smaller was a good Idea? Whose fingers have shrunk?
Saving my sanity Part TWO
I had a new land line (bought for me by my granddaughter). I am sure it will be great if only I could "set it up". Perhaps all the functions will be useful but all I want is to pick it up and listen to the caller when it rings. It frequently tells me "Time is not set" but I have no idea how to set the time and anyway I look at the clock on the wall to tell the time.
Sometimes when I am on one phone ( there are two receivers) the other one rings and then I lose both calls. I could go on but I have tried to read the instructions but was drowned in the jargon. I am sure well, almost sure that it said somewhere that if I pressed the right buttons it would sing and who knows maybe it dances when I am in bed.
Saving my sanity Part the THIRD
I was advised to put the apps - (a word I've only heard and can't begin to know the meaning of) ( shouldn't end with preposition), to continue, to put the apps on my tablet , (by the way that's not medication) although I do think I need tranquilisers to help me to understand IT . I will continue assuming that people who are reading/hearing this will know what all these words mean. (and I thought learning French was hard it was a doddle compared to IT.) I thought of making a joke about IT being it like in the Adams family but I haven't time and I want to plant some bulbs and as far as I know I can do that in reality.
Any way, I put the what's app app on my tablet ( does anyone know the correct spelling ) and guess what? messenger also appeared and then froze the screen.
There is more to tell but having spent the first hour of my day on face book reading bollotics ( yes that's how you spell it).
I am going to make a coffee, put in a spoonful of brandy and cut a slice of my birthday cake which I bought for myself and plant some snowdrops. I might cry into my coffee, I like it salty.
PS It didn't work. I am really insane now. Isn't there a song, 'They are coming to take me away'. Listen, I think they are here. Or is that 'Send in the clowns'.