Washing up brushes and more

Used and abused
 

We have a serious problem with the Manly Washing up Brush.  The change in him is terrible.   When he first entered our house he was bright and cheerful. A few sessions in warm soapy water eradicated most of his face, and now his head has fallen off.  I think maybe he had a spiritual connection with a decapitated French revolutionary; he bore a slight resemblance to Camille Desmoulins.  Mike is going to attempt to glue him back together again but I am not hopeful.  Mike said he was not efficient at washing up, anyway, having rather soft bristles, but I had no quarrel with poor Camille.

As he was

 



Camille Desmoulins

I have slandered my husband.  Some time ago, I lost a knitting needle.  This was annoying as it was one of a pair that I was knitting something with.  I searched all around the area I had been knitting, fruitlessly.    I then saw Mike attempting to work on a small lawn mower trailer, which was ordered over the internet and arrived in bits as a put it together yourself project.   He was using a knitting needle to line up three metal bits through three central holes.   It was the same size as my missing needle and was also made of bamboo. I demanded return of it straightway and, though he handed it over, he insisted that it was not my needle but one he had had in a tool drawer for some time.   I suggested he pull the other one.  Now, this morning, I pulled out the settee to hoover behind it and there, in a very unexpected corner, was my missing needle.  My pulling out the settee to hoover behind it doesn’t happen very often, though.   I have returned the other needle to the tool drawer and will apologise.

 As anyone reading this may gather, not a great deal has happened this week.  We have been out to lunch twice, once with the Book Club and once with the Lunch Club and I have, as usual,  done a lot of dog walking.  Paula Taylor Moore and I managed 10 kilometres with three dogs round Tourtoirac on Thursday and felt very virtuous and tired by the end of it. 

Lunch Club - Hautefort

The weather is very mixed – one sunny day rapidly followed by a chilly, cloudy one and lots of rain.  This is very good for the crops, though not much fun for the humans.

 

 

 

 

 

We have a new lawn mower which, thankfully, arrived in one piece. 
 

 

Edward Snowden is still accused of espionage.  40 years ago, when Nixon had to resign as US president, when it was found that he had had the Democrat Headquarters bugged.  Those that did the bugging were convicted of crimes and Bernstein and Woodward, who broke the story, were hailed as heroes.  Nowadays it’s the opposite way round.  There’s no question of Obama resigning and Snowden is under threat of jail.  I do hope he gets to safe haven.   

Chaos

We have managed to do some slight furniture shifting this morning.  The blanket box is no longer serving as Mike’s bedside table and is now downstairs.  This means that I can now get at covers, blankets, tablecloths and the like without having to first remove radios, lights, biscuit boxes, breathing machines, inhalers, pills, clocks and all the other things necessary for a gentleman’s overnight comfort.  I’m not that much better but most of my bedside stuff stays on the floor. It currently consists of a pile of books, a kindle, a notebook, a pen and a box of paper handkerchiefs.  Mike scorns the paper kind and keeps cotton handkerchiefs under his pillow.   In a bedside cabinet I also have some useful items - manicure scissors, a thing for doing head massage and a kaleidoscope.  I’m very fond of the kaleidoscope – it’s so cheering, and the head massage thingy is very soothing.

I needed cheering and soothing this morning.  I fell asleep thinking about Edward Snowden, the young American who has just told the world that the USA has been grabbing everyone’s on-line correspondence, tweets, twitters and twitches.  They haven’t denied it but started by saying that, of course, they haven’t read anything produced by Americans.   This is now stretched to embrace people living in the UK.  I don’t believe them and I’m not reassured by such xenophobia.  What they are doing is illegal.  Presumably, any illegal act can be legitimised if someone who is ruling at the time says it’s alright.   Naively I used to think that the rulers of the west had their citizens’ best interests at heart.  I don’t now.   In fact it's possible that every country in the world is currently being ruled by criminals - and where does that leave the citizens?  The majority of us don’t want to riot, rob banks, blow things up or spy on each other.  Most of us just want a peaceful life, enough to eat and pay bills and to walk the dog.   Meanwhile, the rulers of the USA are charging Edward Snowden, and not themselves, with espionage.        

So last night I dreamt I was living in chaos.  Everything around me was strewn into unworkable heaps – I couldn’t find anything – I had no bed – no clean clothes – no coat – no bag – no money.  Bedclothes were laid in piles in corners and scattered across chairs, along with items of dirty clothing and heaps of goodness knows what.   And I was due at work.  I knew I was going to be late but I couldn’t think what to say.  “I’m sorry I can’t come in yet, I’m in chaos,” doesn’t work.  So I stood in the middle of this upheaval thinking “What shall I say? What shall I say?” And I couldn’t even find the phone to say it. 

I was so relieved when I woke up and remembered I was a retired woman and don’t have to go to work anymore.  That is, as long as the UK Pension authorities can still pay me, which may not be forever.    We are all going to look fine, hobbling out in our extreme dotage to earn our keep.    People complain enough these days about banks, building societies and other large organisations muddling things up.  Wait until the 80 and 90 years olds are forced to return to work!                

Snips and Snaps

Our friend, Mr Walling, has upbraided me from England (by telephone).  He says I am being lazy with this blog, or at least he hinted it if he did not say it outright.  But he is quite correct.  Looking at it, I have only posted two entries this month.  And we have done quite a number of things this month, though none of them seemed to merit a post to itself.  So here are some snips and snaps.

Mike often talks in his sleep – or at least says things which he denies all knowledge of in the light of day.  Yesterday morning when I climbed back into bed after going to the bathroom he suddenly said, “Do not bounce on the bed.  It is like being on a trampoline”.  This was clearly not true as I doubt if even his smallest toe had been disturbed by my re-entering the bed – had I been able to bounce him towards the ceiling it would have been a good laugh, though cruel.   But I didn’t and he doesn’t remember anything about it. 

Last week we went to the celebration dinner for 80 years of CACC.  Anyone who has read this blog previously will know that is the village athletic club and nothing more sinister.   

Many of us sat at tables in the village hall and had drinks and ate paella.  There was also a disco and a space cleared for dancing and lots of people danced.    At one point most of the teenagers sat lined up behind each other on the floor whilst the younger children were passed from hand to hand over their heads.

I really like these village dos.  There is a proper sense of friendship and community.   I find I am getting less inhibited with my French speaking, though probably not more accurate. I now gabble away with all kinds of “cack”.

Along with the ladies of NEDWA (North East Dordogne Women’s Association – primarily ex-pat) and some of their husbands, I went to Brantome earlier this week for lunch with the Brantome Police Horses.  Roland and Alison Phillips run a large centre with paddocks and stables for retired police horses, mainly from London but also from Avon and Somerset.  The centre is run with donations in addition to the Phillips’ entire income from pensions, holiday lets, lunches etc.  Apparently working police horses are very well cared for but there is no provision for their retirement.   Those that can no longer be ridden and cannot be sold on or homed with charities such as this one are put down.   I have mixed feelings about police horses – over the years my friends have been far more likely to wave a banner than sit on a police horse, but any hard working horse deserves respect, particularly when its working life is over.  And these horses are beautiful.          

 

The acrobats who were parked in our Salle des fetes earlier this month are performing at Coulares next Tuesday.  I haven’t had a chance to see them yet, so shall probably go.  Having met them at the salle, I now know that they are a French family troupe. Due to their name, Les Tony, I previously suspected them of being a duo or even a single acrobat, from Chelmsford or, perhaps, Basildon.   

    

 

  

Hedgehogging

I have upset the dog.  When she first came to live with us last September, somebody bought her a squeaky hedgehog.  This is a toy – it is not real – it is deep pink and made of plastic.  Dolly, however, does not play with it.  She does not squeak it or throw it but occasionally lays it on our bed when we have gone out.   If either Mike or I give it the odd pinch to make it squeak she hurries to our side looking shocked.  We suspect she thinks the hedgehog is a very small stupid animal whom we occasionally torture.  

This morning I accidentally squeaked the hedgehog whilst I was trying to do something to the settee Dolly hurried to the rescue.  Thinking to settle this squeaky toy business once and for all, I made it squeak a lot.  Dolly stared at me, appalled, then threw up all her breakfast on the carpet.  She hasn’t done that before.    I think we must give up on any idea of squeaking or getting plastic appliances to squeak for us.  She really doesn’t like it.

However, what I was trying to do to the settee when I squeaked the hedgehog was to clean it very comprehensively.  It is a settee bed and hasn’t been used as such in years.  I thought I would open it up completely and remove any bits of grunge or dust lurking in its cavities.   Removing the cushions I found quite a few bits of fluff, a darning needle, a sewing needle and a button.    But when I pulled out the bed part of it, I discovered that a small hole had been chewed in the mattress and, in the inner layers were eight unshelled walnuts laid out in two neat rows.  They were clearly some little creature’s winter store and I have cruelly removed them.  We’ll have to buy a new mattress for the settee as people may not sleep on one used by mice – friends being picky like that.  I could be quite wrong about the mice though, and Dolly may know much more than I do about the secret life of the deep pink hedgehog.   

 

 

Acrobats and other problems

For the last few days the weather has been stunning – blue skies and hot sun.  Due to all the rainy days in May there are huge quantities of giant wild flowers everywhere - swathes of shoulder high buttercups and meadows full of dog daisies.   There are also large clumps of purple flowers everywhere which I think are wild orchids as well as clover and small daisies and many other flowers.  It won’t last as the farmers will be cutting and baling soon but, for the moment, it all looks wonderful.    

 

 

Dolly and I have managed our walk every day but it has been a rather fraught week catering for a Thursday quiz. 

 

On Wednesday a man came to mend the central heating boiler.  We were expecting him but he arrived early whilst Mike and I were still wearing pyjamas – which caused Mike to have to screech and run round looking for his trousers.    However, the boiler is now mended.  We don’t need it at the moment but it is nice to know that it works. 

 

An hour or so later, the cooker blew up.  As I was supposed to be cooking dinner for 40 for the Thursday quiz night this was a distinct blow.   We phoned for the electrician and I carried on with a little camping hob from the barn.     The electrician arrived early afternoon and sourced the problem to one of the back rings.  I'm told that as long as I don’t use the left hand hob at the back, the cooker will work again.

 

Whilst waiting for the cooker to rekindle, I made dips.  The food processor sadly broke its little body on a carrot it was supposed to be grating the other week, and I haven’t replaced it yet, so I was using the hand blender.  I was just finishing the beetroot and walnut dip when the hand blender got over excited and started supplying my blending hand with mild electric shocks.   I disconnected it with great caution and that’s now also on the scrap heap.

 

Wednesday afternoon we had been promised the keys to the salle des fetes (village hall) where we were going to hold the quiz.  Brenda was bringing some wonderful men who were willing to put heavy tables up.   The lady at the Mairie said she hadn’t got the keys, she didn’t know where they were,  and that we couldn’t put tables up, anyway, as the school children wanted the hall to dance in on Thursday afternoon.   When we got down to the sale to meet Brenda and the wonderful men, we found it inhabited by acrobats who had performed there the night before and had stayed over.  They had filled the small car park with their caravans and were running extension cables from the hall for electricity.   They also had the keys.   “We could leave the wine here,” suggested Mike, “I don’t suppose the school children would want it tomorrow afternoon”.   “No,” I said, “But the acrobats might, tonight”.    I don't have a suspicious nature, but I did think it might be pushing it a bit.  The acrobats promised to give the keys back on Thursday morning.  Mike said he would go down and unload the wine then. 

 

He phoned me from the Salle the next morning.  I thought he said, “The men of cack are here”.  I didn’t expect it.  Not after the cooker and the blender and the acrobats.  It was all a bit too much.  But it seems he meant men from the Club Athletique du Cherveix Cubas and, as nobody seems to talk to anybody else down at the Mairie, the men of CACC didn’t know we had booked the hall for Thursday night, nor that the little children were dancing there on Thursday afternoon, so they had put all the tables up and were busy arranging chairs for a Saturday night function.  It's a grand anniversary celebration - 80 ans du CACC.  They had also hung some gaily coloured paper flowers on the walls.

 

It was really a blessing.  Mike spoke to the Mairie who spoke to the school who said that the little children could manage to dance if all the tables were pushed up against the walls.  So we didn’t have to arrange to put the tables up as the men of CACC had done it and we didn’t have to take them down again after the quiz as the men of CACC wanted them leaving for the Saturday do. 

 

I must say I would prefer not to have to try and organise a hall a couple of hours before a function starts but Brenda Durham was splendid at laying tables and Anne Ingham was splendid at posting quiz pictures around the hall and Mike was splendid at carting things down to the hall.   The quiz participants arrived,  Anne gave the quiz, Mike ran the bar, Brenda and I dished up food and did a mountain of washing up.  I didn’t take any photos.  I was too busy.  But people said they enjoyed themselves and  the gaily coloured paper flowers looked lovely.