Needs must art creation

So, it was edging towards 40 degrees and I was preparing our B and B room to then discover that our vintage Calor fan was making not-conducive-to-sleep grinding noises. too late to trawl the second hand sites for a more tranquil model; it would have to be a SHOP. And of course, it's a canicule (full on heat wave) and there were no fans to be had, anywhere. Friends were of course using theirs, and my tiny 1950s one is really only good for cooling the area of an elbow. 

I hunted about, thinking we had hidden away a metal cage variety but then remembered its incurable rattling sound which had finally sent it back to the recycling emporium. During a previous heatwave, our cousin had left us with, amongst many lovely presents - such is their generosity - a small fan from afore mentioned emporium. A small fan with no 'leg' to stand it on. It would be better than nothing if a support could be found. A sally forth into the furnace-garage procured a lidless metal teapot, a chisel and some rags. The teapot was a good heavy base, the chisel fitted the fan's head, and with the application of black paint, well, it works and I rather like it as a piece of desperation-art.

Somewhere, and I know I have featured this before, we have a beautiful little book of Russian desperation-art; hand crafted multi objects for domestic usage - TV ariels made of forks and coat hangers, a doormat made from beer bottle tops, and many other ingenious objects using whatever could be found. Think my fan could have had its place in the book.

Later a friend came back to me and said she had a spare fan, so our guests will have something a little more normal, and powerful, and the art-fan is now in residence on this desk where I write.

Christmas plastic madness

This blog has had its fair share of yuletide rants, not about the event itself but the tide of consumerism that submerges any notion of what this festival is actually about.

Our two great recycling emporiums have been trawled for our re-gifted gifts along with various why-would-anyone-want-to-say-goodbye-to-this shetland jumpers/cashmere scarves etc from Vinted. Lovely foodstuffs such as local honey, handmade chocolates and olive oil from someone who has an olive grove in Portugal and brings up regular supplies will make up the other presents, and although I might buy a few oddities in NOZ (a whole other blog post) I'll avoid the bigger shops.

I had to go into Action (terrifying shop full of 95% non essential goods) to look for a loo brush ( I do draw the line on second hand very occasionally) and was transfixed by the festival of festive tat on offer, the most ridiculous of all: special celebration of the the birth of Jesus dog bed, and - this stuff signals the near ending of the human race if ever there was a sign - a hefty plastic pot containing yuletide white candy floss containing flecks of gold. I've seen many of these pots and each time it's a palm to head slapping duh astonishment moment - a one-use plastic pot containing spun sugar . . . what crazies thought of this, and why, money of course, and especially at this cash-it-in time of the year. Well, time to go and wrap some stuff up in old maps of France I found at Emmaus earlier.

Joyeuse Noël.

New space, new projects

When looking around our new house, we had observed the small dusty room next to the bathroom and had thought - storage. But with a much needed new velux, and a better amount of light coming in it started to say - studio, or rather, small garret studio, which is what I like to create stuff in - a cocoon of a place full of collected, inspirational stones/postcards/books etc.

After unearthing completed paintings and works in progress I've amassed it all - or most of it as there's still stuff lurking in the garage - in the space and it's probably the best room I've had to work it - beats our bedroom at the last house . . .

Projects: I'm just finishing a commissioned painting, as ever laid on top of a recycling emporium picture, using recycled paints - I found a fantastic box full of acrylics at our local Emmaus; perfect timing as my last lot were fast reducing down to various non-inspiring browns and greens.

An idea for a novel is also stomping about in my head - the first threads of a prequel to Londonia, so I'll what it's like writing in there too. Think it'll work, especially with rain pattering on the window. Might have to install a mini wood burner to really get the feel, or perhaps just a kettle and tea apparatus.

https://kateahardy.com/

Absorbing the past

My current series of paintings are all based on sketches done from train windows on London train journeys. I've been using the timed sketch idea for some years but decided to restrict the journeys to London as it's my main inspiration place for current and future writing ideas. As well as journeys the sketches can be from a static place - café windows a favourite, or a brief standing/crouching sketch if I have been captivated on a walk by a particular cluster of buildings, trees, etc.

As I mentioned before on this blog, I stopped painting for some time as I felt disturbed at having to purchase plastic (acrylic) paint in plastic tubes, and buying wood specifically to then cover it in paint. Having now decided to only buy 'second hand' paint from online sites such as gumtree/Vinted et al, and only using found wood or old pictures bought in recycling emporiums, I feel this to be ok, or as near as ok as possible until I perhaps make a sortie into using earth pigments and fallen trees.

The picture below is an extraordinary example of 50s/60s factory paintings (I assume); where someone has been trained to dab and smear, creating a homogenised version of a landscape, in this case one I find extremely eerie. It cost four euro in the many-times-on-this-blog-mentioned Emmaus, so someone rid themselves of something rather worrying, Emmaus made a bit, and I get a large and cheap canvas to work on - with some unready interesting textures which will work well with my next sketch - that of Greenwich and the dome structure, the two minute's limitation making some interesting swoops and lines.

I hope the previous painter - or their ghost won't mind be borrowing the surface; I find it interesting to absorb someone's forgotten brushstrokes into a new image. Would they have had a cooling mug of tea on their work station as I will no doubt have? and similar worries, fantasies, music or blankness running through their mind as they had worked.

Meaningful presents

We have a huge colony of blue tits in the garden, enough that they pretty much queue up outside the one nesting box we attached to their favourite tree in the front garden. I found another box in a vide grenier (boot sale) recently but we still need more - especially as I read that the tit family are one of a few birds that actually eat processional caterpillars, therefore we need to add more homes to the pine trees in the back garden. Given more time we could make some . . .  or not . . . or I could give in and buy some from the scarily expensive local garden shop. Then our lovely friend, Louise, came back from the UK with a present for us and our bird population. 

This is an exceptional object - made by her mother's boyfriend - exclusively from old recycled bits of garden sheds and other collapsed garden edifices. How marvellous. I love the added decoration of a painted butterflies, ornamental stick, and the fact that it's a two tier logement allowing two feathered families to inhabit the box. Think he should start building tiny houses - I'd buy one. 

Pond therapy

I'm sure I've posted about this before, but, it could be a thing, I'm sure - pond therapy. Harmless, cheap, meditative, nature-encouraging . . .

I put our first pond in a couple of years ago on a dismal February day - or rather the person with a mini digger who was there doing our reed bed system put it in. It being a large plastic cattle feeding basin donated by our lovely organic veg growing friend up the road. The first year wasn't bad but this year it's really become its own tiny universe with little help from us - just a bit of water butt topping up from time to time, and purchasing of a 'mother' water lettuce which has spread into a citadelle of smaller plants. The lily pads have spread and the frog population has increased dramatically, their voices chorusing through many a warm night. There's no filtration system but the plants seem to be providing enough oxygen and the earlier algae appears to have cleared.

This year's pond - an old enamel bath - was installed by our lovely Workaway, Christopher on an equally cold and drear February day. It sat for a few months gradually filling with rainwater and later, mosquito larvae . . . the purchase of a few baby goldfish sorted that and after the one outlay of some new water plants the pond has sorted itself into a lovely, tranquil little place with birds and insects coming to drink. I've planted up the surrounding rubbly earth with stuff from the rest of the garden and a discarded corner of our land has now become a place I enjoy - feeding the fish, watching dragon flies and marvelling generally at what happens when you provide a few raw materials and then leave mostly alone.

The smallest garden or terrace has space for a pond, even a washing up bowl pond. There's just something about creating a tiny aquatic world and watching what arrives and the plants that develop. I'm hoping for newts next...

Holding back the tide

Of plastic.

Or at least a few tiny drops in the form of household objects which I had to buy to complete the itinerary of our recently-renovated annex. People expect certain things when renting - cutlery, a bed, towels, chairs, etc, and, when it's very hot - which it is here, and about to become more so - a fan. Not doing air-con. We can't afford it, and even if we could it just always seems like you get acclimatised to then have a horrible shock being anywhere outside the room/flat/house in question. And it's an environmental nightmare, something that should be used where people need it in order to actually stay alive.

So, a fan . . . and I suppose an iron might be expected. We went off to a vide grenier - (car boot sale/garage sale) and I was most gratified to be able to re-house a lovely, seemingly unused iron and nice chunky fan dating back to perhaps the 90s, both items in super working order and five euros a piece. A boring tramp around one of the hyper-elec goods stored was evaded, and we bought a beautiful pair of ancient, super sharp secateurs and baby onion and beetroot plants, carefully wrapped in newspaper bundles from an amazing elderly couple who probably never ironed anything and if they had a fan it would have dated from around 1946 and still be in excellent service.

Work in progress, and the tenacity of nature

Finally, the main work has been done on our renovation  project - which has cropped up on this blog from time to time.

Now it's down to the outside details - ponds, courtyard, rampaging garden, etc. To remind me, wonderful family, and friends who have helped so much with this ongoing project, here are a couple of before-and-afters.

Below. Remainder of dilapidated bread oven with tree firmly rooted in it, to home-made, rustic and actually very functional BBQ area.

With regard to the tenacity of nature - this hazelnut tree was cut back drastically four times, then torn out by its roots (sob, but we had no other option) from the old bread oven, then to sit on the ground for about three months while we dealt with the rest of the building. 

A while back, our lovely workaway helper (Christopher) suggested re-planting it - just in case it would re-grow, despite having no real roots left. He went ahead and a couple of weeks later the second photo demonstrates how keen the tree was to continue its life!

BBQ area

Below, back courtyard with very damp and unpainted wall to nice sitting out place - still work to do but the main stuff has been dealt with

Nearing the end of a project

A building project that occupied much of our time over the last year. Fearful moments, wonderful moments, great satisfaction, and a collective feeling that we'd probably never want to do anything like this again...

Everything used has been hunted down at recycling places, charity shops, boot sales, online junk exchange, skips and the various local dumps, only the unavoidable basics bought - insulation, plaster board, the electrician and plumber skills/materials, etc.  

It's down to the small stuff now - unearthing the tile cutter to do the one skirting tile we were short of, a couple of curtains to finish, a bit of missed grout, a touch of repainting here and there; and a few bigger items, like pointing the exterior back wall and finishing off the courtyard BBQ area. 

Thanks to our our wonderful Workaway, Christopher, said BBQ area has emerged from a huge mound of earth and rocks at the back of the building which was once the bread oven - sadly neglected and allowed to collapse over time.

A few recent photos, and top one from what now seems a very, very long time ago...

before...

after

The original door knocker from the main house.

remains of the old bread oven - with tree growing out of it...

cleared away, and wall partially pointed 

new rustic BBQ made of reclaimed bits from our local charity emporium. 

Total cost: six euros

One man's rubbish . . .

Is another woman's gold. Or in this case, two, not at all valuable but highly serviceable objects that I narrowly stopped said man hurling into the 'tout venant' - general rubbish - at the tip/dechetterie/dump a couple of days ago.

I'd swerved the car to a Starsky and Hutch style halt as I'd seen an arc of unwanted glassware glinting in the afternoon sunshine headed for the afore-mentioned container, and ran up to the man to ask -as politely as possible - if he could stop throwing useable glasses away. He'd smiled benignly and said, too late. 

You'll want to keep the basket, I'd said, assuming he would want to keep a handmade, good nick whicker basket. 

He shrugged: Non - c'est pour le poubelle aussi . . . you want it? 

Yes.

And this old wooden box?

Indeed. The old wooden box was actually a purpose made and delightful carrying container for holding new plants to be planted out. I briefly peered at his car that was full of less interesting stuff.

Ah. Shame he said, noting my surreptitious glance, I have many more things like this which will come here.

Due elsewhere I stopped myself asking for his address and a RDV in order to trawl his house, and unloaded my car of real dump garbage - unusable bits of plasterboard, broken glass, damp cardboard etc and set off again wondering why he hadn't bothered to take the useable items to our not-far-away excellent emporium of second hand everything; or at least leave the things to one side for someone else to re-home. 

Judging by the employer at the place however anything that was left would be swiftly binned anyway, unlike at the dump I had tried to go to before getting my dates mixed up, where they positively encourage folk to re-house stuff and recycle absolutely everything from china, sinks, all different types of plastic, paint, furniture and of course, perfectly serviceable whicker baskets...

You learn something every day. Note number 2,000 or so

Maybe not quite that many, but I have many-a-time blogged about the sudden acquisition of a basic and somehow overlooked piece of fundamental logic.

I was reading about trees recently - deciduous varieties - and it seems that at the point that the tree decides, through chill or lack of light or combination of both that it is time to let its summer coat go, a chemical reaction takes place and each leaf detaches from the mother ship, deprived of its usual water and nutrient supply.

Every species of tree is different of course - early budding and early shutting down such as the horse chestnut, or more cautious, like our very late-leafing apple tree which still seems to have ninety percent of all its foliage. At the moment our lawn is perpetually covered with papery yellow and brown leaves of our towering lime tree. 

Usually, we rake, perhaps dump the leaves on a tarp and drag them to various mulch piles, the tarps gradually ripping and thinning in the process, or just pick them up by hand. But this year, Dr Lockett seized with sudden wisdom, cut two pieces of old hardboard from the woodpile and started to use them like large mole hands. It's transformed the job, the leaves crushed and pinned between the wood - actually very satisfying to do too. Why did we not invent this before?

Duh.

New Year's resolutions.

None. Can't be bothered as I never keep them for more than about four hours.

I like swearing, so I'll keep on doing so, in moderation, for moments which require it. Not much to give up as we eat pretty frugally already - all previous meals surpassed however by this new year day's lunch - an ex milk carton of frozen soup; not sure what it was, possibly split pea and vegetable matter, actually rather good. And a recycling point for milk carton re-purposing rather than buying plastic food containers?

Speaking of which, it seems Macron, our leader, has decreed that there will be no cucumbers wrapped in plastic from the first of January. Some other veg and fruit too. A long way to go still but it's a start. I might invite him for lunch and point out the fields near us which are covered in meters of one time usage plastic, a new and ugly thing which must be hugely more devastating for the climate as I suspect it is burnt after being rolled up and discarded at the edge of the fields...

Secondhand tech

 Yey! new-old camera.

My old Lumix (had been consistently used for many, many years) died a few days ago and after looking at prices of new ones I wandered virtually over to 'Le bon Coin' a great source of buying just about anything second hand.

After wading through the numerous choices (obviously phones have largely taken over from small cameras) I found one which looked good, had all its bits, cables etc and sent the seller an offer - as it suggested on the site that you could. She accepted and four days later I went to pick up the very carefully wrapped package from our local grocery shop. I don't know if all countries have this system but it certainly works brilliantly in France. Much cheaper than La Poste and almost always utterly reliable.

I'm delighted with my purchase. I think it has perhaps never been used as its screen suggested I set up the clock and date which was pre-set for 2008. Date set, a few snaps taken, provided card checked and the photos are now on the computer. It works perfectly, the screen graphics a tad laughable if I was worried about such things, but happily much simpler to operate than my last, well over-complicated Lumix, and a lot better made - metal body and chunky, possible to get wrong, on and off buttons, etc.

Thirty two euros plus six postage. Happy scavenger.

 

pre-loved stuff

Following on from a previous post featuring rescued DVDs from our local, and truly excellent second hand emporiums, Emmaüs and Aspire, here is another recent batch. It has become a slight vice, but a very small and inexpensive one, and it's helping these organisations, and we take the watched-but-not-to-keep ones back, thus continuing the recycle cycle going.

Someone had obviously had a big clear out of their library as there was a whole new selection and some really excellent titles - most of which we had never heard of.

'This England' was magnificent as was 'Dirty Pretty Things'. 'Mickey Blues Eyes', a perfect and silly trip back into late 90s film with Mr Grant, and top left, a surprisingly good romantic comedy with meaningful story and good humour. 'Lucky You' was also really good, and 'Reign over Me'. 

We're halfway through watching 'There will be blood' (long film, worthy of not falling asleep in!) which is totally amazing in all ways, harrowing, and incredible, eerie and tense soundtrack. Endless Summer still to go but Mark had picked it up in Aspire with raised eyebrows and said: "Wow, classic!' so I'm hoping it'll be a winner.

There is a smaller pile of films we had started and then stopped due to just sheer awfulness, but at 50 centimes, always worth a shot... They will be heading back next week along with the bathroom sink and shower tray from a spot of demolition yesterday.

The lives of inanimate objects

If someone (a scientist, probably) suddenly announced that the objects we surround ourselves with had a conscious existence, I for one wouldn't be overly surprised. Or maybe it's just my sometimes, over sentimental character. When I had to sell my old Morris Traveller to a specialist in Bath, the guy drove me sobbing to the station... and when our old, cow-painted Citroën Visa finally failed I drove it at the speed of a milk float to the breakers and, again, made a fool of myself while oil-stained blokes looked on obviously thinking, err, right . . . okay . . . 

It's the same with certain items of furniture, well-loved shoes, coats, and yesterday, the antique cooker we have been using day in-day out, since moving to this house.

the last supper (or rather, lunch)

The day had finally arrived. A new interloper (cooker) had been on order for months and was due to turn up at 2:00 pm. The old cooker had provided us with one last bread-batch, lunch and the ultimate pot of tea. It seemed so cruel to winkle it out of its snug place between the fridge and the sink and send it on its way to landfill. I would have given it away but as it was probably made in 1973, three of the rings were failing and it was perhaps 40% composed of grease I don't think anyone else would have been too grateful to receive it. It's amazing what you get used to. On seeing the kitchen for the first time the house seller had explained that the cooker and surrounding stuff was meant to be temporary around thirty-six years ago but somehow it had all remained. 

No . . . I don't want to go . . .

I totally understand. If we hadn't have been feeling flush at the outset of being in our new abode, we probably would have never ordered the scarily expensive new cooker, (enormous justification has taken place, many times, but since Mark makes possibly the best cakes in the world, we do need a decent oven) and would have made do with all the bizarre arrangement. Anyway, it's done now and apart from the cooker, everything else will be scavenged, recycled and bought from second hand emporiums.

With some help we now have the basic kitchen structure featuring the swanky cooker, fridge that was here; weird medieval cupboard, old book shelves, budget ceramic sink, marble worktop made from a worm-eaten buffet and more marble from another old buffet we found in the garage. Shelves will be added, better lighting, a tile splash back of rather beautiful ancient metro tiles I saw on 'Le Bon Coin' if they are still for sale, and a coat of seriously needed white paint. The best thing is having somewhere to chop veg on rather than the old bit of varnished ply-wood that partially rested on the now-departed (sob) cooker. May he/she/ it rest in peace.

                                                  The interloper and work in progress

Below, an extract from my new novel, The Couch. Following on from explaining my earlier theory of inanimate object consciousness, the narrator of the story is, The Couch itself, the story starting in 1975 in a Loire chateau, and ending sometime way into the future.

This extract, East London, 2010 after a wild party.

It is perhaps fortuitous that Rosa chose to have me covered in an abstract textile as most of a bottle of burgundy now decorates my main seating area along with many crunchy snack remains – most uncomfortable in the crevices, I can assure you! However, I remain, even as an inanimate object, more vivant than the few humans left within this room. The partially veiled sun has risen, its weak rays highlighting the debris of the night before. My globular compatriot has also been assailed by beverages, and some of the smaller items of furniture now reside upside down. The television has disappeared along with the laptop computer which were purloined by, I believe the term is a gatecrasher, before daybreak.

Even by the chateau party standards this one was lurid to say the least. I was fortunate to be covered by coats for a large portion of the evening – certain noises suggested the event had navigated towards carnality . . . 

The hoot of a river vessel causes a little movement in the room, and a series of groans. 

Why do human beings poison themselves thus? Having the ability to move around, talk, sing, dance, eat, etc should surely be enough. I would give a layer of horse hair to be able to do any of these things! 

 

Less stress and less expense

We are gradually 'doing up' bits of our new (old) house, no great changes but just finishing off uncompleted projects started by the previous owner and replacing vital things such as the failing ancient cooker. 

The second floor has long been a fairly dead space waiting to be be enhanced and fully used, the shower room undecorated and with a plastic shower cubicle which I disliked and wished to replace with a simple tiled area and glass panels. We allowed this within our budget and duly visited Leroy Merlin (planet of DIY/Hell) to find the simple glass panels, inexpensive tiles, etc, and leave with all that we required, happy in the knowledge we would be improving the house and it was all worth it....

Within five minutes of staring at the mile or so of shower exhibits, gawping at prices and then actually envisaging pulling out the exsiting shower, the cost and disruption . . . suddenly the idea of reusing what we had was an interesting challenge: no landfill, and virtually no cost.

  

The floor is the original basic mulched up wood flooring - whatever this is called, a tin of blue paint, two sheets of mosaic tiles, a new wall light and a mirror which was, I think, a grandfather clock face surround. The little cupboard came from 'Aspire' ace recycling emporium for 10 euros - quick sand and a coat of the white tinted varnish I used on the floor.

I think if we'd done a complete refit the cost would have been around 2000 euros including building/plumbing help, reckoning up the cost we've spent in all is probably more like 150 euros without tip trips and took two days rather than a week.

Next thing: the kitchen...

Small gestures to save the planet

Very small, but if we all stopped going to Ikea et al, a few million acres of forest could be saved and landfill seriously slowed down...

The area we have recently moved to is blessed with a fantastic Emmaüs (recycling center par excellence providing jobs, giving people with a small budget the ability to buy pretty much anything, and fighting against wastage.) France doesn't have many high street charity shops - in fact none that I've seen but most big towns have an Emmaüs and/or a similar organisation.

On this trip I arrived ten minutes early and queued with about twenty other people (all wearing masks and chatting happily about what they were looking for). The doors opened, we were welcomed graciously and shown the way in via the hand gel area. There must be about thirty people, paid and volunteering working in that one shop and everyone I came across was helpful and friendly. I shall be back, at least once a week!

So, the findings... a tall thin cupboard with two drawers which we have taken the doors off (to use in kitchen renovation) and used as the office storage place; a lovely old fish kettle to use as a bread bin ( baguettes fit in perfectly); a 60s boat-themed table for the printer, a 30s bed-side table for a bathroom cupboard, an ancient wooden trolley which must have been part of a child's pull-along toy for a TV stand, lots of jam kilner jars, and an unused wicker shopping basket, all for under forty euros. 

Yesterday we experienced once again the usefulness of Le Bon Coin - a site rather like Gumtree on which, again, you can find just about anything secondhand. I'd been scouring the site like a total addict (which I am) for a few days looking for an old dresser to put in our very old kitchen. After giving up on one which was owned by a particularly uninterested seller - never available for us to collect - I found a really unusual piece needing a bit of TLC but a very good price. We went to see it, said yes and the much more motivated seller said they would deliver it for us the next day. It is, as he said, VERY heavy, solid oak and hand carved by someone a very long time ago - I'm still trying to identify anything like it to hazard the age of it. They duly turned up and after a lot of struggling and sweating it's now happily installed in the kitchen as if it's always been there and always will be there, unlike something made of ply and plastic...