In case

                   You happen to be in or near Saumur during the next few days...

 

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.