Thursday 29 October 2009

R.A.F ear

Full alert chaps — there's news coming in of a possible opening of the food cupboard.
Reinforcements of a shopping bag nature detected earlier today, could result in the uncovering of crunchies, and some recently abandoned food supplies by Captain Cat, aka Ginger.
Over and out.

Monday 26 October 2009

Being on the planet.

I read a fascinating blog yesterday called The Hermitage - talented art/music couple roaming the British roads in a wheely wooden caravan/truck.
It got me wondering and wandering a bit about being stationary (most of the time) on the earth. I suddenly had an urge to throw away all collected detritus, buy a donkey or two and stumble off into the unknown. Not realistic with boy at school, piano, 20,000 books, thing I am writing on etc, etc.
After a moment's reflection I remembered that I would not be happy without our base, somewhere to put plants in the ground, somewhere to be able to watch Star Trek DVDs whenever one felt like it.
So, what is it that makes us attached to one place, or, are most of us attached to several places. I certainly have a few bits of the world that I feel an affinity with, the coast around Cerbère, Areas of London and Dorset. Although I lived in Brum for many years and Derbyshire before that, I don't hold any real nostalgic memories about those places, except a few little lanes in Wirksworth, our back garden in Birmingham and the nearby 'reservoir cafe'.
Sometimes it's small details that make me feel connected with where I am. This road outside our house, the trees as they change with the seasons, the cherries and the walnuts, the hills and shadows.
On seeing a fragment of floor tile on the way back from a dog walk, I suddenly remembered an exhibition I had seen in London when I was very young. It must have made a well-embedded memory as I have recalled it often in the past.
It featured several works by the Boyle family - the series where they pinpointed, through a series of stages, a tiny fragment of the Earth's surface, and then copied its minute detail through resin and paint. The one I recall most strongly was a rectangle of pathway from somewhere in London. The cracked surface of black and cream tile, the earth and weeds: the very essence of so many of the city's front gardens.

Tuesday 20 October 2009

Ear of fear

This is an ear position of angst. Cold morning, talk of 'walkies', possible huge dogs of death, security of snuggling-zone temporarily lost.
According to a book I was reading about brains in general, the dog's brain cannot project forward (no great surprise) therefore dog is in a state of perpetual 'presentness'. When the pack go out, leaving the lone dog, they think (or as far as we know) — that's it . . . I've been left for ever. That's why they are so pleased to see you on your return, not because you are the best thing since marrow bone.
More ear soon.

Monday 19 October 2009


It's the new 'rock on'
The onset of winter. The fetid jumper cupboard must be re-investigated. The kitchen will once again be drenched in condensation. Washing will never quite get dry, and mould will appear in the most unexpected places. ENJOY!

Photo of lovely boat in Port La Nouvelle yesterday.

Wednesday 14 October 2009

Mr Rothko's holiday home

Didn't know he had one near Limoux, did you?

I love these paint try-outs. I keep seeing them on grey crepie (French artex-like substance) walls. Sometimes they stay as testers for years — an idea people must have had, for when they get round to it, bit like our shutters.
I think this a particularly good example. A slight difference between the acid drop yellow and the wine stain red . . . Maybe it was each member of the family putting forward their own idea, or whatever was left in the garage.
If I could remember where it was, I would go back and see what they had decided. I think the deep ochre would be the least offensive?

Sunday 11 October 2009


is good for you.
Well it certainly is for me. Preferably somewhere beautiful, and if possible with some personal attachment to the place.
This is one of my favourite walks, above Limoux, into the 'woolly' hills that the rise above the town.
There are circling ravens, curving stripes of vine fields and a very friendly old man who inhabits the 'hameau' (hamlet) with his son and wife.
The last time I visited, we traded jam ideas and he told me that where he lives is the real paradise and that he has no wish to see the other one . . .
If I arrive here in a confused mood, I am always 'unravelled' by the time we arrive back at the car. If Ezra has whinged about the prospect, afterwards he is always refreshed and carrying spoils of the outing; today, part of an abandoned wasps nest with its intricate paper thin layers.

Wednesday 7 October 2009

Ear hat head

I offer apologies to those who don't like dogs, but most people would probably agree this is worth at least . . . a laugh.
As the start of my book, or possibly PhD on the ear positions of the Italian greyhound this is a good'n - the parasol position adopted by Satie in full sunshine, (ear hat head). Possibly used to cool the brain, shade the eyes, or it could be the full alert ear position, the length of ear in this particular runty dog causing a 'flopping' characteristic.
I can't remember if he adopts the same method in the rain — more umbrella rather than parasol, it's so long since we saw any of the afore-mentioned wet substance — would actually be rather good to have a good downpour . . . 

Monday 5 October 2009

the last notes from the hothouse art day.

Good day. Much cake made and eaten, tea drunk, work bought, and music made. This is the last few minutes, Patrick on Guitar, Stan on cello, Claire on small wooden scratchy frog instrument, Mark on ? and Debs singing the blues.
Could be the start of many more music/art events here. Watch this space . . .