Should I keep or should I throw now, part 3

So, we've spent a few weeks of clearing through stuff in our house in preparation for moving. (Yes, we have too much . . .) Our next abode is 50s/60s - no one seems quite sure - and our current house, an 1830s maison de maitre. A lot of the objects and furniture gleaned from vide greniers (car boot sales) and charity emporiums made up the decor of this grander house, and now . . . the 60s/70s kitchen, and weird 'hunting lodge' styled salon of the new place suggest new trips to be made to afore-mentioned places. Great!

We've donated several car loads of items to Emmaus - probably a lot of the stuff came from there - and I've enjoyed spotting the various familiar things on display there. It struck me that it's rather like a brocante library; you buy a Victoriana tea pot, use it and when it's started gathering dust from non-use, take it back and find something else to take its place, thus leaving someone else to enjoy such delights as our naff but wonderful Napoleon and Josephine coffee set, now in the 'best china' section of Emmaus. 

I even remember which Vide Grenier it came from - a very bucolic- scened one situated in a grassy meadow on the heights above Limoux, our old town about ten years ago.

Other items are more difficult to part with, such as this hessian 'gardening bag' that Ezra made at the age of about seven for my birthday. It's never been used for gardening (wasn't sure how to) and has rather been lost at the back of a cupboard, but . . . yes, I see a new future for it -a seed packet storage bag, hanging on the new houses's garage wall. Things that should be kept.

Birthday

I have one today. I felt distinctly melancholic for about two hours - various aches and wrinkles which seemed to have joined up enthusiastically to promote the fact I am no longer forty, or fifty, or . . .

Anyway, lovely presents, messages, and counting of blessings saw off the small (pale, it must be said) grey cloud. Stepping out into the garden, I was greeted by an absurdly beautiful, and hot, early autumn day - rather hot for the beginning of October . . .

The day was quiet, even the annoying dogs next door were silent! Lunch outside was perfect; we planted the trees Mark had bought - an apple and a mandarin, had a snooze then did a quick trip to Saumur to visit favourite recycling (and much mentioned on this blog) shop - 5 DVD, jeans, a jumper, two bowls and a book all for 5 euros - gotta love Emmaüs!

Before leaving for home, we did a quick NOZ dash. (See explanation of NOZ a few posts back...) and found this unbelievably labelled wine - something seriously wrong in the marketing department.... 

I am told we will be going out for the evening and that clothing other than gardening stuff will be required . . . a challenge!

beautiful bag made for me by Ezra

oops...

Top dump

In praise of our local déchèterie or dump. Actually, it's not our nearest but its worth going there for the employees cheeriness, efficiency and organisational skills. Everything is sorted into as many categories as you could think of from past-it duvets, a whole container just for plaster board offcuts, another for those annoying boingy strips of plastic that surround tile packets and suchlike; paint, windows, kitchen sinks, furniture, etc and with an emphasis on 'if you can use it, take it away' unlike our more local dump where the workers scowl at you for asking if you might rescue something from a container.

Today we unloaded a car's worth of old plasterboard and rubbish from our nearly completed (thank the Lord of all DIY) gite project, and rescued a stack of beautiful blue and white plates which had been left along with a trailer load of perfectly good stuff which could have gone to Emmaus. The main guy had nodded at me as I had walked back to the car with the china. 'Bravo. I don't understand why people drive out here to throw away such stuff.' He had glanced back at the trailer where the china had come from where its owners were busily throwing away a serviceable false Christmas tree complete with baubles, bags of kids books, china and fabrics. 'Yeah, I don't get it."

Added to the perfection of this establishment was their red painted stuffed fox placed in the centre above the recycling bins.

Why?

Relevant to so many things at the moment - why are utter idiots in control of so much; why are humans pressing ahead with making new forms of robot hoovers, coffee makers and ever faster internet when there are clearly a few . . . slightly . . . more serious issues to be resolved.

This particular why? is about fly-tipping; why do people do it, why are they not bothered by the thought of turning a piece of unsuspecting landscape into a patch of man-made detritus that everyone else has to look at or move.

Recently along our local lanes someone has been repeatedly dumping car contents even though we have a municipal dump only a few miles away. Mark sent images to the marie and received not so much as Ah, yes, monsieur, eet is indeed, not good, until he sent another photo of a pile of beer bottles and suggested they might start a fire as the temperature was hovering around the late 30s. Everything disappeared the following morning . . .

Yesterday on a dog walk along a particularly lush (yes there is still lush amongst the parched landscape) lane. After a few minutes of admiring what nature can still push forth in late August if left alone to do so, we happened upon a cache of about seven bin and supermarket bags bulging with clothes, shoes and bags. Why? Why not take them to the clothes recycling bank which is about half a mile away rather than potentially wrecking the underside of their car on the tractor-wrecked path? Or drive it all to Emmaus in Saumur when they next have to go there.

We returned later as we did have to go to town and went through it all, Ezra taking the less wearable stuff for his recycled clothes projects, and myself a few useful items. Then we did drive it to said emporium where hopefully they should raise a couple of hundred euros by our calculations. I wonder if the tippers ever muse on what happened to those bags, placed far enough away from a road that almost no-one would come across them. Presumably not. Clothes dumped, car reversed, hands wiped, job done. Weird.

                                One of Ezra's work-in-progress coats, all made from recycled clothing

                  A finished coat. Discarded work trouser cloth, Ikea curtain fabric and napkins from Emmaus.

                  Ezra's instagram page: e.locktt

Birthday happenings.

As the family are totally bored of hearing, last year my birthday - and a big one at that - was utterly rubbish, due to neither of them being at home and us having just moved to the Loire and knowing no-one. It was however saved by lovely neighbours coming to the rescue with wine and suchlike.

This year was and still is very different; both special folk here and we've had a great day. Before breakfast I was ushered outside to see Mark's present - an amazing one in the form of an established Ginko tree - Mark is currently outside in the rainy dusk digging a hole for it. Ezra presented me with two packages, one containing a tiny handmade bag he had fabricated from a small piece of tapestry I had found at Emmaus, and the other . . . I was fairly speechless, a jacket which he had made from more Emmaus fabric complete with buttons from their excellent stock and embroidery made also by himself. I've always admired folk who can make clothes and he certainly has an interesting experimental time ahead of him with his old electric sewing machine.

Lunch was in a moroccan restaurant we have passed many times on the road to Tours - excellent tajine and pastries of the day, then, at my request we visited the tank museum in Saumur . . . yes, weird choice but we park near it every time we go to a favourite recycling place and I just thought, well, why not. There were a lot of tanks. Many, many tanks, fearfully heavy (10 - 65 tons) sparking with weaponry from simple rockets to nuclear warheads (inert!); anti-tank missile craft, amphibious craft, jeeps, hospital trucks, maps of where various wars happened and an awful lot of war game nerds playing highly complex games involving moving around small tanks, trees, cardboard explosions etc on huge sand covered boards. They also had a large croissant supply and a table laid out with wine ready to go - set in for the day and evening. So, done that . . . probably a one off, but a truly extraordinary collection, and apparently, the place to go if you happen to be shooting a war film and need tanks.

Well, the Renault was getting on a bit

We retuned home with cakes and I lit the kitchen wood burner for the first time this year as the the lashing wind and rain was announcing the true start of autumn. 

February

No one ever names their new-born, February, do they? January? - a name in a song from the 70s I seem to remember . . . in fact, I just looked it up: Pilot was the group. I didn't press play on the Youtube arrow as I can just about recall the annoying tune. If I heard it again it would seep into my mind and stay there for months, an un-wanted guest.
Anyway, yes: June, april, May, lots of elderly ladies called after these months.
March? Quite a good, male name possibility - striding out in a Heathcliff sort of a way. But I've never heard it used.
July? A tad fetid and sweaty perhaps, same for August. September, bit of a mouthful, could be shortened to Septis or something - not good, October? Getting a bit chilly, nice colours though. November: Drizzle and evenings dark at 4.00pm, Nope.
So, what was I going on about . . . oh yes. February.
It is, without doubt, the worst month: dark, cold and wet - this year anyway. Christmas and New Year long gone, new season in the seemingly distant future. I keep thinking about buying a new jumper as the mangy ones that should have become dog beds are still on me. But it's not long now, spring is waiting in the wings for winter to forget its lines . .  sun, stuff growing, birds chirping.
Or is it near? Last year all the blossom sallied forth to be annihilated by sharp frost and icy winds; the wood pile had an emergency re-fill and all bird life had to re-seek refuge in their discarded sleeping bags.
Here is a lovely picture of me in my best Feb wardrobe.
Coat from Emmaus, jeans from a clothes swap event, shoes from vide grenier, jumper . . . 'terre d'esperance', I think. Things worn for maximum warmth and not many other reasons; nice scarf from Katherine though.
Roll on spring: no coats, no jumpers, and re-emergence of that round bright thing in the sky, hopefully.
Wettest year so far on record since 833.