Friday, 14 May 2010

Oh really . . .

This is a bit much now.
We paid our tax fonciere, we ticked the box agreeing to pay for how much sun we required in 2010; it's just not honest.
I was eyeing up a hot water bottle this morning and thinking about returning to bed to slouch in fetid old pyjama-warmth, but  have managed to overcome this sad idea and am now making toast with lashings of butter while piddling around on the internet looking at pictures of Crete. Equally sad.
To do: cleaning, market, take Mother to look at art in dank (art trail event) buildings, make a fire, watch film, eat chocolate.
We did do a bit of the 'Trail' yesterday.
Garth's place was as inventive and beautiful as ever — nice tea and cake too, thanks Garth, and Sarah. I also liked friend Jamie's recycled wood sculptures that I nearly dashed to the floor in scary domino fashion.
I must recommend the 'Opus 09' red wine from Mr Berieu's (can't remember the spelling) cave just round the corner from Garth's — organic, dark and rich as crushed blackberries in a velvet box.
Also saw some excellent land photography in a little chapel — man trying to govern nature, the effects of weather on landscape etc, but it was SO cold that we were glad to remove ourselves back to Garth's tea room.
What has this picture of a glass bowl of water and vegetation got to do with anything I hear you say, or not if you have moved onto ebay by now.
It's a lovely concoction of elderflowers, orange, lemon and something else that I can't ask Mark about as he has gone to Avignon with Ezra to dance on the bridge in the drizzle. One of the very good things about this long spring, possibly the only thing, unless you like cooking snails, are the elder flowers - big as dinner plates with a glorious Victorian parlour smell: big bowl, water, oranges, lemons, sugar, and the other small ingredient, whatever it is; wait a day and bottle it.