Unfurling Spring

For this region it's been a very wet winter and Spring: great for the plants and water table, a bit tedious for most sun-loving humans and other animals. I ventured out a couple of days ago during a sunny interval before a day of non-stop deluge, to snap a few plants: early poppy, lilac - which is in abundance this year, the fresh new leaves of the almond trees, this year's 'fruits' already showing, incased in pale green velvet.
If the sun comes out for a while, we should be eating cherries within a couple of weeks. I'll take a look in the shed for the cherry stoner, wipe the webs off it and it'll make its once a year appearance.

Oh, and a, Mark, chocolate cake that I loaded up by accident.

blog for a rainy Sunday afternoon

The weather forecast didn't say rain: gloomy grey blanket cloud-cover yes and sunny intervals . . . haven't seen one yet, and I've been checking the sky.
Nope - grey, varying shades of, and steady rain; 'set in for the day' as my mother always quotes her father as saying. Thinking weather, reflecting time, jobs done for the day and the house is silent without the sound of piano and bread tins rattling.
I don't think I've done a romantic-type post before, so here goes.
Before I met Mark we had both had our fair share of mess-ups: minor and spectacular and were deliriously happy to have finally stopped all that and got down to some serious stuff, so to speak.
I so clearly recall the first time I ever saw him - playing the accordion dressed in a stripy t.shirt; a trio I think it was, but I can't recall the other instruments. My mind was far too occupied forming a mental picture of him that I would then carry around with me for some time after.
Fast forward a year or two and we were living together: me, him and the accordion. It just clicked as they say. Yes we have niggles - I do wish he would put the electric toothbrush on its stand; he can get a little domineering in the kitchen - talking about cooking here, otherwise . . . err, nothing comes to mind really. He probably wishes I was a little less technology-phobic, maybe I ramble on a bit sometimes about plants or suchlike, but I can tell when he's glazing over . . . otherwise, nothing, as far as I know. Well, you can tell me dearest if there is, on your return.
Why does it work? Sense of humour: hundred percent important, same view on the world, music, art, nature, walking, the sea, our house and garden; letting things unfold without a plan as such, 'the boy' of course. I still carry that image of Mark in the stripy T.shirt and I still feel the same way.

No . . . please, not again

According to the Guardian's fashion experts, Dungarees are making a comeback. I refuse to believe this; surely things are bad enough on this planet already?
There are many fashion blunders in our history, a lot of them from the 80s: RaRa skirts, bat wing, mohair jumpers, neon plastic jewellery, etc. No doubt the dungaree, if one can use the singular, had it's place as a useful working garment, but otherwise . . . why? Ugh!
Here's a super picture from the afore-mentioned journal of Roger Daltrey. Oh dear - imagine the same body in a nice pair of black jeans and a white shirt . . .

Advertising

How I hate it.
Having been involved with it far too long, many years ago, I still spend too much time looking at ads, thinking about what budgets they must have had and what particular trip some of the ad creators were on . . .
Ezra's award for the most pathetic French ads at the moment are:
One about blue cheese . . . Saint something or other - set in what appears to be a tropical rain forest. A languid, perfect-looking male model stands on a wooden balcony overlooking a waterfall. Rather than the wooden construction collapsing from termite damage as one hopes it might, it remains annoyingly solid while he lifts a piece of bread and stinky cheese to his beautiful mouth. An equally perfect-looking woman approaches in a smouldering, 'OK, let's do it' sort of a way.
Why would you eat stinky cheese before getting it on with someone? Surely some dew-laden strawberries or a luscious dribbling mango - and where would this cheese have come from anyway? Don't suppose there'd be a small convenience store just round the corner. Honestly!
The other ad of total bollocks is another little cameo story involving two more perfect folk, or possibly the same ones.
Woman clad in Persil-white bikini is lies on Conran shop sun bed outside a California-style beach house. Regulation stubbly, beautiful man arrives on speed boat, steps out. OK, they obviously have a cheeky plan judging by the woman's expression.
He's about to kiss her when his phone goes - and again - and again. The result being that someone is informing him of a half price sale on double glazing. I have no idea which company it is as my brain is now in total disbelief mode and is accepting no further information.
Woman drives off in speed boat looking peeved, and man turns to camera to inform us of the great deal . . ?
What were they thinking? How much must it have cost? Honestly!
Here is a picture of a 'Mr Bricolage' ad. They specialise in some of the very worst 'publicity'. I just hope the poor models got paid wheelbarrow loads of cash; how cringeworthy to have a picture of yourself pretending to DJ with a BBQ grill in your portfolio.

After going in Mr B we had to go into Leclerc to buy some dog food, and I was rather surprised to see this T-shirt: destined for a five-year old or so. Again, what were they thinking? Didn't anyone cast an eye over the English - French dictionary? Probably not.

Ambassador of . . . cooking, obviously. What does Kick your Assador mean? Honestly!

Joke

I just had to put this one out - from the R.S.A journal bizarrely enough.

Q: How many ears has Captain Kirk got?

A: Three: the right ear,  the left ear and the final frontier.

Sing if you're glad to be gay

A lot of people singing in the streets of Paris yesterday, and all over France, as well as many people getting very overheated and rioting?! As I posted before, why not riot about something that needs rioting about.
My son, aged fifteen, gave me an interesting quote. I can't remember the exact words now as we were up a hill without a paper and pen, but something like: why don't these people mind their own business, and get on with their lives - it's not to do with them, it's about the people who are gay. Why indeed?
Here's a couple of pictures from the Guardian: a very touching one of the French justice minister being congratulated after the vote, and a bunch of people who should be doing something else with their time.

Building No 21

This really warrants a special outdoor dining constructions sub-section but I'll lump it in with buildings as it is a building, of sorts.
We have a mad-looking BBQ that the previous house owners fabricated but nothing to this standard.

This the fitted kitchen of outdoor noshing. The wood storage area, the beautifully constructed chimney, the roof to protect your pots in case of an annoying shower, the added pizza/bread oven. Magnificent.