Yorkshire meets the west coast of France

Somewhere on this blog is a sub-blog called Building-I-Like or something, or maybe it was just Building number 1,2,3,4...etc. I can't find the last entry but here is a contender, or at least the name, anyroad.

I can hear my ex's lovely Doncaster Dad saying this house's name with his warm, broad accent. 

'Home-like, aye, it's reet nice being' at home like.'

But it wasn't occupying a piece of Yorkshire land, instead, tucked away down a side street in a small seaside town not far from Nantes.

It doesn't really work in translation. 'Domicile-aime' or 'habitation-aime'. Maybe they had been residents of Doncaster or Leeds. Probably not. 

Serpent dog

I often look at our beautiful second-hand greyhounds and wonder at their sheer noble elegance and grace.
This is 'Bali' half dog-half serpent (musical instrument or snake) after leaping from the car this morning into a field of early spring flowers.
Someone who came to see us yesterday told me that the English cousins of these dogs are let out onto the moors of Yorkshire when deemed to be too old for racing to wander like ever-thinning silhouettes, muzzled so they eventually die from not being able to eat . . . I knew about the horrors of what happens to the Spanish greyhounds (which ours are) - hanged, starved, beaten etc, but I hadn't realised there was a UK equivalent cruelty.
I think we will always be accompanied by two of these marvellous, gentle and good-for-the-eye hounds. A drop in the ocean perhaps but at least we can bequeath the gifts of good food, regular walkies, the sofa, and love on a few.