joly merry and bright

 

Club Des Aines

Sometimes we meet to play games, boules, belotes or scrabble. Sometimes we have outings. Sometimes we have a communal meal.
Last week we had a communal meal. The numbers vary from 100-300 but everyone is found a seat and we are waited on. The meals are usually five courses, sometimes more, and each course is accompanied by a drink. First of all we begin with the customary greetings at the door. Having lived here almost three years I mostly know who to kiss once, twice, three or four times and with whom to just to just shake hands. As you can imagine this takes some time especially when some people stay to chat which I always hope they do because it's one of the few opportunities I get to practise my French.
We began with a choice of aperitifs Ricard or whiskey with crispy nibbles and endless plates of sausages on sticks. I was assured that they were pure meat unlike British sausages which are famous for a variety of ingredients of which meat is often last on the list. Next came the starter which was a salmon steak and salad with a glass of white wine. The main course was freshly BBQ'd steak and chips. This was served with red wine of course. Next came the cheese and more red wine. The breadbasket is continually replenished and there is always butter in Brittany. The sweet as usual was apple tart and delicious as was the chilled Champagne which came with it. Coffee followed with the square of chocolate and last but not least a digestive. This was a local speciality made by one of our members. My table companion Clotilde gave me the recipe. You heat red wine and add sugar and plums and Eau de Vie and wait as long as you can. Not long for me as it was absolutely delicious rounded off the meal ideally.
During the meal between courses a microphone is passed around the tables and anyone who feels the urge can sing or tell a joke. The Doyenne of the village Simone who is 96 usually makes people laugh 'til they cry with her songs. She is word perfect. She is straight backed and has a lovely head of grey hair. If only we could all be so healthy at that age.
The meal began at midday and ended after 5 o'clock. The tables were quickly cleared away while the band warmed up and then the dancing began. We do mostly ballroom dancing on these occasions but also line dancing and the occasional Breton Dance. I think it finishes at about 8 o'clock but I am usually too tired to stay to the end unlike most others who are much younger than I.

War Past and Present

I began reading a book about the history of American Indians but found it too painful to finish. I finished reading the book about Michel Thomas whose life was extraordinary. Being a Jew in Poland as a child he knew racial hatred and living in France and Germany during the second world war he suffered indescribable pain. After the war he became a innovative language teacher. He proved over and over again that his method worked but until his recent death was shunned by academic institutions the world over.
Being a pacifist, I have always avoided 'war books' although I well remember the spate of 'we worn the war and enjoyed fighting' films that I saw as a child. I was born at the beginning of the war and the loudest message I picked up was that we the British are goodies, and we are fighting the baddies the Germans. I watched a lot of films in the crap cowboys and Indians genre. Same message. White man good, redskin bad. The Michel Thomas biography informed me very clearly about many aspects of the political manoeuvrings before during and after the war of which I had no idea.
Both books left me depressed and feeling powerless. I can't change the past. But the big problem is that we should be able to change the present. I look around the world and see the same arrogant cruel oppression. Men killing other men women and children. And somehow, we've managed to persuade some women to put on uniforms. That is something else I learned early on. It's OK to murder if you are wearing a uniform as long as you stick to the rules and if
'we' make a 'mistake' (euphemism for killing civilians) all's fair in love and war. What it really means is: Those with the biggest far reaching deadliest weapons of mass destruction can use the worlds resources. You (the other) can have just enough to keep you working to ensure that we benefit from your country's natural resources. If we can invent machines to take you place watch out 'cos, then we won't need you at all.
I spent 20 years fighting a personal battle. I spent 20 years anti-war campaigning in the wider sense. Now every day in my little paradise I hear jets fly over and wonder why, why, why, does it have to be like this? And how did so many people get conned into believing it's a religious battle? and will it ever stop? and is there anything I can do about it?

I should mention that many of my neighbours are farmers. Some go

od some bad and some I wouldn't describe as farmers at all really just manufacturers of meat. Being a political vegetarian here is difficult. I am surrounded by avid meat eaters. I have no objection to eating lamb, pork, chicken and turkey if it is produced in a humane manner but not only is factory farming cruel to animals it is also cruel to humans. When I see these items on the menu in restaurants the memory of the young women, I have met with deformed hands who have worked in the meat preparation factories. Also, the young mothers I sat next in French class who couldn't stay awake because they had been working since 4 AM packing same meat.
I choose not to eat beef until the third world is allowed to grow crops which they can eat instead of growing crops to feed our beef. Coffee and tea are also a problem. I wonder how many Brazilians, Indians and Africans own plantations? And don't even mention gold. Who works in the gold mines for peanuts and who wears the gold?

Environmentally Friendly

Most of my neighbours are practically self-sufficient. They grow their own veg, salad and fruit. they keep hens for eggs and to eat. They fish in their own ponds and rivers and eat the fish. They bottle, freeze and preserve like there's going to be a seven-year famine. When I say that I have been gardening they ask me what I have plant or picked and look puzzled when my answer is flowers, shrubs and trees. No matter what the weather scorching sun, freezing frost, biting wind, every day I see old people bent double hoeing, weeding and picking. It's their way of life and they just get on with it.
There is no public transport here so many people have to walk to their local destinations. Some have those tiny cars which only go 40 miles an hour; I don't know what they are called.
I inherited two very old apple trees and the first autumn they produced so many apples that the branches broke with the weight and there lay a carpet of apples beneath the two trees. This bumper harvest taught me the meaning of the word abundance and gave me the title of a painting. They are cider apples, so not edible. Oh yes and my neighbours make their own cider too. Also, a much more potent potion called Eau de Vie/ water of life which is considered to be a digestive and is consumed at the very end of all the communal meals.
When I first arrived, I decided that I would have to choose between produce gardening and painting and writing. I chose to paint and write seriously and to dabble in the garden. Last year a neighbour gave me some strawberry runners which I planted and tenderly cared for. They produced a bountiful crop which the birds promptly ate before I had even tasted one. Last year also I planted just two courgettes in my compost heap. I couldn't eat all they produced but discovered if left the courgettes grew into whopping great marrows. I'm no chef but when something has grown in your own garden you just have to cook it. This year I have been given in total at least a dozen tomato plants by three different people. Two of them have a bumper crop already (plants not people) but are still green. Will I get to eat them before some other resident in my garden beats me to it? There are huge wild brambles growing along the top hedge which produce enormous juicy berries. I ate the last of the ones I froze last year yesterday.
However, I don't really need to grow anything. Monique provides me with enough leeks to freeze. Ron keeps me in runner beans. Sue brings cucumbers. Yannick gives me tomatoes. (I may have my own this year). Yesterday Janice brought a basket which looked as though she had stolen it from a Monet painting, just brimming over with lettuce, spinach, beetroot, courgettes and cucumbers. I shall have to do a lot of blackberry picking to return their generosity.

The industrial revolution by passed Brittany and the peasants were not moved from the land at gun point to work in factories as in other parts. Unfortunately, outside capitalism is beckoning to the young who are no longer satisfied with peasant life, and they are leaving to chase who knows
what? But fortunately, an unexpected trend is taking place. The old properties which have been left standing or more often falling (mine was empty for ten years) are being bought and renovated. This is stimulating trade and providing work for local people with traditional skills.
Perhaps some of the young will return to learn the valuable metiers of their fathers' and grandfather's before it's too late for them to be passed on.
Two basic fundamentals we all need and will always need are food and shelter.

What's in a name?

Quite a lot, I think. I have been playing about with names partly because I was wondering if male authors are published more often than female authors and also because I am trying to choose names for the characters in my book. I can't keep on calling them he/him and she/her. Or maybe I'm just having another identity crisis. I usually move the furniture around it's not so drastic.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Blogs Work

Thank you, D-L Nelson, for putting me onto blogs. I have no time to blog now as I am up at six most mornings writing and editing. It's as though a log jam has been released.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Breton Culture

I am always surprised and delighted whenever I attended a local gathering. We had the event which was postponed last week because of the weather and football last night. We met by the church in the village and some of us walked and some of us drove the two miles to Helen's house.
The tables and chairs were waiting for us in the garden but only Pierre sat down. He immediately took out his melodion and started to play. The rest of us joined little fingers to dance the first An Dro.
It is always the first dance. Every Fest Noz (evening folk event) and Fest Diez (day-time folk event) begins with an AnDro. It is the easiest of all the Breton dances but deceptively simple as are all Breton dances. I have watched many people, as I did when I first arrived, join in the circle thinking, this is easy, and becoming more and more puzzled as they found themselves out of step.
To the uninitiated it looks as though the circle is just shuffling around clockwise but one soon discovers that the tiny steps are quite complex. Of course, there are dances which are very dramatic, like the one where the men leap up in the air and kick their legs out sideways to shoulder height defying gravity, but these are now only performed at the festivals by the well-rehearsed teams who perform in the traditional costumes. But the majority of the dances are subtly and gently complex like the polite affectionate characters of the Breton people.

We finish the dancing with our party piece which is very fast and involves much jumping and fancy footwork and requires lots of energy. We sit down at last, breathless, to the greatly appreciated drinks of cider (home-made of course). We eat crêpes, also homemade, with a variety of fillings. It is also someone's birthday so next comes the champagne and we give a birthday toast (it's always someone's birthday)

As it is the last meeting of the season, we have presentations for the musicians. To my surprise I am asked to choose a length of ribbon from three. I thought it was a game but am delighted to find that as I chose red, I am presented with a large potted plant with red flowers. I only play my clarinet occasionally and even then, just one or two tunes. I am astonished. 'It's for encouragement', says Sylvie making the presentation. I am very moved and encouraged.
I love the ambience of these gatherings just twenty or so people dancing, playing and singing together. You have to experience dancing and singing in a circle to know it's power.