You tube wanderings

I was hunting for my son's band The FEW's version of killing in the name of, but came across this marvel. If you don't have time for all of it, wiz through to the '**** you I won't do what you tell me' bit. Hilarious.

before internet

Was there a time?
I can just remember, hazily, a time, yes - paper, pen, libraries, phones fixed to a plug in the wall, dangling boingy cable attached to a large plastic banana-shaped handset.
                                                   

My boyfriend at the time had a fax machine! I can remember the wild excitement; people queuing up to use it, and then the even more wild excitement when he purchased an Apple Mac - one of those, that in my mind's eye, resembled a beige cereal box with a tiny screen.

While clearing out a bookshelf yesterday, I came across the early version of today's Smart Phones - The Filofax.
My Filofax - how proud I was of it at the time. It was the lifeline in my job (stylist). Information stored of transport companies, prop houses, photographers, etc. But unlike a smart phone, the information stored within had virtually no order; a vague nod to someones surname, or street name where someone might have told me that Fred so and so lived - he who might be able to lend me a vintage Bentley for a photo shoot, or whatever I was sweatily tracking down at that moment in time.
When I look at this book now, I realise I had a map of it in my head; knew which thumbed page to alight on for Aardvark courriers, Harrods food hall, or Nina the makeup artist. Even without looking in the Filofax I could recall over forty telephone numbers (I checked once), now, I can call to mind about six.
How did I do that job without emails? I can't imagine now the endless phone calls, checking a re-checking dates, times, deliveries. But I did. We did. The world did function, even though you could only go to the bank between certain hours in the afternoon.
Below, a page from the afore-mentioned book, including a piranha and a phone number for Ryanair - imagine, no booking a flight on-line . . .

What to say . . .

I don't know, I re-wrote this post three times and it all sounded wrong, so I took the dogs for a walk in the hills and spent an hour listening to the wind in the poplar trees and watching the last rays of sun illuminating the few remaining autumn leaves.

             The olive tree - symbol of peace I believe; something the world is in need of . . .

Building No 53

We pass this wooden dog house on every walk up at 'Lapeyre', a tiny hamlet consisting of two houses, surrounded by vines and sheep pasture.
A very small and elderly hunting dog used to pop out from it and bark reedily until we had walked enough distance from his territory. These days the house appears to be empty - the dog presumably having moved on.
There are many sounds connected to this walk: the chickens cackling as they run freely in the hamlet's streets (street), the bleating of sheep, the crow colony that occupy the oak trees, and the friendly greeting from 'Monsieur oui, oui, oui', the white-haired inhabitant of Lapeyre. But I miss the barking, and wonder if another hound will be offered the house, or perhaps it was only constructed with that particular dog in mind.

Free stuff

I know I've gone on about this before - probably many times, but it always amazes me how much free  food never gets taken/picked or gathered, certainly where we live.
We are blessed in this region with wonderful walnut trees - the nut of which I believe has super cancer-beating properties as well as being a king of free food, and totally delicious in cake, salads, etc.
There is a tree about the size of a double-decker bus down our road, always laden in late October/early November. A few autumnal squalls and the ground is covered with walnuts - which only we seem to collect. Is it a time thing? We are busy but find ten minutes to walk down the road, or  perhaps a 'can't be bothered thing' - just get some when we're in the supermarket.
The seasons come and go and we collect many other ignored fruits: apricots, apples, plums, occasionally a rare treat of an abandoned peach tree's fruit; figs, lemons - if down on the coast, and pomegranates.

The fact that these wonders of nature are ignored, out of all the other freebies, boggles my mind immensely.
A super food, crammed with minerals, vitamins, and the most beautiful colour when made into juice/jelly . . . everywhere for the taking, in peoples gardens, on roadsides . . . ignored. People do seem to buy them in shops - I see them, delivered from Spain - the same variety. Weird.
Anyway, we've done our jam batches, and now the free food slims down over winter until wild asparagus and 'nèfle' fruits, which no one ever picks (medlar in English, I think). There's always mushrooms, but we have yet to conquer our fear of eating the wrong thing, or being shot by over-excited hunters, which does occasionally happen . . .

The cap de Creuse: wind, rock formations and fish dinners.

Captured on film, just before seeing off a terrifying white poodle, Runty dog pauses a moment to adjust his antlers (ears) - a small monarch of his own personal glen.

He was photographed on the windswept headland of 'le cap de Creuse,' on the Costa Brava; probably not dissimilar to the highlands of Scotland, but with added sun and little precipitation.
The rest of the pack (husband, son and the two big dogs) were doing the 'randonnee' - hike, from Port Lligat, near Cadaquès and were, no doubt, looking forward to something large to eat in the bizarre and wonderful restaurant situated on the very point of this otherwise uninhabited landmass. I was also looking forward to food, although hadn't earned it quite so much - just a stagger around the cliffs, gawping at the extraordinary rock features of the area, and the few brave swimmers in the coves below.

 The rocks of The Cap, wind hollowed, or formed while cooling? the latter I imagine. Viewed from a small distance they appear to consist of hundreds of wailing phantom mouths - most eerie, especially with the wind howling through the low scrubby bushes.

Reunited at the restaurant, we chose to share a large fish (a choice of the day's catch presented to us on a platter) and a couple of bowls of spaghetti. The fish was excellent, and I was so hungry, I forgot to take a picture - here is the empty tray.

The place was getting busy. Most people chatted, sipped drinks and waited for their orders to arrive, apart from a couple behind us who excelled in tutting and moaning rather than looking out over the now-silver sea or wondering how this place was actually constructed, and what it's original purpose was.

I failed to take a picture of the actual building this time, but here's a 

good one I found on the net (exterior has now been repainted)

photo by Almy

October 31st

I don't think I can remember an autumn of such colour depth as this year. No frost yet so a slow turning of leaves from their summer greens.
Photo taken on favourite walk in the hills, soaking up the last rays - I read earlier that the coldest winter for 100 years is being predicted in Europe . . . hope that's an exaggeration. Think I'll just go and check the woodpile level . . .