Essential viewing/listening

I think this is one of Nate's finest.

Please listen to this calm and helpful analysis of where we are now at this complicated time, and what we can all do moving forward, even if the steps are small. Please share too.

Summer holiday

With the lad, and the dog . . . the whole pack back together for a few days. Wonderful.

As the weather had been stifling - as in most places - I had sought out somewhere coastal, but as it was rather a late investigation, and we had the mutt too there wasn't much choice. But, as things often turn out if you go with the available option and hope for the best, we ended up in an utterly non-touristy and very interesting - to us anyway - spot on the Loire sea estuary. I'd noticed the name before when studying a map of the region - Paimboeuf, something-beef, weird but playful, quickly becoming known, within the family unit, as Bread-Beef. 

The town website shows the clutch of colourful harbour houses but fails to show the full splendour of the petrol refineries of 'Donges' on the opposite river banks; a surreal collection shapes and chimneys that could grace a sci-fi film storyboard. 

We immediately loved the place: the faded grandeur of the more once-prestigious residences, the abandoned and semi-derelict other buildings; the calm, no nicknacks, the history to soak up. Paimboeuf was saved from the war bombs as far as I could see but the residents would have witnessed the mass bombardments on St Nazaire just beyond Donges. Now you can just make out the vast cruise ships being manufactured in the city's docks and the elegant suspension bridge linking the land on both sides of the Loire's sea-arrival.

Sadly, long-gone station - closed in the 90s

Our lodgement was characterful and comfortable; the dog didn't eat the host's cats, and the house was perfectly placed in a quiet street (although I'd imagine, everything is fairly quiet there) very near the quayside - a short walk in the cooler morning to the boulangerie, or a beer at the quirky and marvellous 'café de la Loire' at sundown to admire the distant refineries under the evening's last rays. 

                                      Café de la Loire where we did a little improv concert

Two days of exploring, swimming (not in the estuary, although I might have tried if everyone else hadn't said that it was a stupid idea) - at the nearest beaches, sitting around reading, sketching, cooking, enjoying a little local cuisine and admiring Christian Champin's wry humoured and brilliant sculptures which were displayed on the quays.

As ever, these precious short term jaunts seem to morph into longer time expanses, packed with experiences to be recalled and savoured. Think we'll be going back to Bread-Beef, possibly to experience the out-of-season version as well.

                                                                  V tired but happy dog

Childhood brain imprints

I have hundreds: the kitchen of our Muswell Hill flat and its old green enamel gas stove, the purple bathroom walls, the interior of the local greengrocer's, the walk to school; garden marigolds and hollyhocks, Mum's ancient piano covered with piles of music, her hoards of newspapers and books, amongst which were her small volumes of Gerard Hoffnung's wonderful musical cartoons.

   

 

I must have thumbed through these hundreds of time, my gaze resting on a few of my very favourites, such as the ones above. I was always drawing but mainly animals, objects and fantastical creations, but I think the essence of Hoffnung must have sunk in as in more recent years I've started sketching people, not very accurately but rapidly, trying to catch within a few lines a character, a facial expression, crossed legs, hunched or attentively upright. 

Often the drawings don't really capture what I am witnessing but occasionally they do. I was pleased with this one of three musician friends in Mark's gamelan group. It was only about a minute and a half but I think it borrowed that moment in time - their distinctive respective hair cuts - or not - beards; the bell like musical sounds, and the intense heat of that afternoon under shady trees in the garden of the Max Ernst museum a few kilometres from where we live.

Assumptions and lessons to learn

Yep, you learn something each day, and probably lots of things.

I was listening to a Nate Hagens 'Frankly' episode (No 147) on Youtube recently titled, It's not what you think, mainly about assumptions we construct, and choices we make without leaving space to actually observe and consider. It, as with most of his work, really made me think, and made me set up a few resolutions about not jumping to conclusions based on what I think I know, or what I might assume.

Case in point: at the weekend we had a couple of B and B guests arrive from the site, Greengo. I'm keen to use Greengo more as their mission is to encourage ecological actions - as far as going on holiday can be ecological. 

I welcomed the couple in and the guy said where shall I park the car? I glanced through the gate at a monster car about three times the size of ours and with bronze alloy wheels, smoked glass, and . . . a sticker above the exhaust pipe reading 'Fuck you Greta'. For a second I thought he must have an evil aunt or other relative and then it dawned on me that it meant Greta Thunberg. And there was a second sticker on the back window of flipping the middle finger. Ok... French drivers can really hug one's boot so maybe fair enough but the F Y Greta sticker . . .

                                                           It wasn't quite this absurd . . .

So my mind went into assumption overdrive - he'll hate the B and B full of old recycled furniture and our carefully considered, friendly notices about going easy on the water for the environments sake (and our water bill which going to be scary this year), there's no air conditioning - they must be used to that with such a vehicle; what about the breakfast they'd ordered? Will they like the home made bread with bits in it, the odd but tasty plums I'd picked on the morning dog walk, the weird reclaimed tiles in the kitchenette, the old but clean shower, the strange flower containers made out of old baths, etc etc . . .

So, I showed them around and left them to have a rest before setting out again to the local rose festival in their massive car. I told Mark who was absent for a couple of days about the car and sticker, and he immediately thought all the same stuff. By the end of the day I'd even worked out my artistically ironic reply to the review that would be left by them on the site after their departure.

The next day I carefully laid out the breakfast (first time in our new B and B) to which they appeared delighted, commenting on how nice it was to have real home made bread and jams. Things seemed to be going well; I paced about a bit wondering if the lodgings would be left in a mess; they probably had cleaners, having a car like that . . .

So they left, polite and friendly as anything, said how much they'd enjoyed the stay and what a lovely place it was. I waved them off, suddenly glad I hadn't removed the sticker or scrawled Trump over Greta. 

But, the review. Maybe the truth would come out - pictures of the strange tap and sink arrangement, the spider and its family I'd forgotten to remove, the tasteless coffee, the dog next door that had barked once in the night, the heat . . .

Greengo site informed me there was a review waiting, once I had done mine - I hate this bit; it's all too much like that Black Mirror where everyone but everyone reviews each other constantly - err, bit like now really. I did my polite review of 5 stars, as they had merited it - quiet, respectful, tidy, and there was no  'absurd, pretentious car' category. I refreshed the page and there was my review: 5 star, glowing, friendly. They'd really loved our place, and me as a host.

                                                               Black mirror - Nosedive

I put the sticker to the back of my mind and thought about how different we all are, the experiences that shape us, our likes and dislikes, those of our parents and the sort of educations we have had. They were friendly and appreciative, just a little different to me in their opinions. And that's really ok.

 . . . Maybe they'd borrowed the car and actually drive a small electric Ford Fiesta. Probably not. 

                                Our B and B kitchenette with strange tap and sink arrangement.

                                        B and B https://lapenichesurlacolline.blogspot.com/

Impossible

to imagine . . .

-1 or so on a February day when all you can think about is not falling over on black ice, getting indoors to make a cup of hand-thawing tea and wondering how early one could light the wood stove.

I think this was the day I walked to the hospital -which only about a two minute normal walk - for a RDV which I didn't want to postpone. Think it took about twenty minutes with nordic walking poles, and many thoughts about what would get damaged if I did slip.

Today, 10/07/2026, I am sitting indoors with all the shutters closed having done the 5:30am dog walk/watering, bird baths sorted etc, and having walked into town for a meeting and catching an air-conditioned bus back. I'd like to go and sort the garage out but it's about 38 degrees in there. So, afternoon of painting, reading and B and B prep.

                              The reasonably cool kitchen/ temporary music/art studio

Free food, and adaptation

Many trees are struggling here this year with high temperatures and dry conditions but give a fig tree a shady wall to grow behind . . . and the results are incredible. Our neighbours ignore these gems but me, the starlings and blackbirds are delighted that they do. 

Just back from a dog walk and I've added to my mental fruit map a line of plum trees, pears and blackberries but I think the latter will not be very productive this year apart from the ones with their feet down into a source somewhere. 

Having lived here for a year and almost a half now I'm beginning to note what will grow and where, or rather what won't grow in places we assumed they would. So, next year, more hardy herbs such as rosemary, thyme, and sage. More apricot, peach trees, and olives; less apples! Rampent 'trumpet' vines, fruit vines, anything with greyish leaves, ornamental grasses - used to dislike these but they are sturdy as hell and will be featuring more in the top garden.

The 'bath' beds work very well, even in very sun-exposed spots, with their wooden box surrounds the heat stays out and water stays in. Someone donated us a super ugly white plastic one recently with odd raised areas but we'll make it work with some recycled bamboo cane or planks, and I'm on the lookout for more as chillies and, oddly, cucumbers seem to like the bath environment even in full sun.

Ok, off to water the strawberries, which I forgot last night.

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.