More French numbers

If you've been following my posts on the arrival of house numbers chez nous, then you won't be surprised that Lizzie has been paying attention to both the style, and colour of numbers in different regions.

The numbers in the village where she is staying, in the south, are maroon on cream. Unlike ours, the surrounding border-line is cut at the corners. Lizzie thinks this is nice but doesn't like the two screws. She thinks it would look better with four, as we can see in the one on the right. (They come ready drilled so you can't choose.)

Wondering about house No 3098? It is the number of meters the house is from a fixed point in the village.

Lizzie in Toulouse

Lizzie's in Toulouse and I'm left here all alone
I don't know what her plans are for wending her way home
Lizzie isn't talking so I don't know what to do
I'm just trying to be hopeful as I try to make it through

The house is getting colder and my heart is full of woe
I'd get myself together but I don't know where to go
I hope she's coming back soon with a lot of lovely things
Then the house will be a fun place and my heart will have it's wings

Left behind (and sulking)

Lizzie has taken her sister back to Toulouse and I am left behind! I don't usually sulk when she goes away on her own but this time I feel particularly aggrieved because she has taken Mr Kombucha. Mr Kombucha! I really don't know why he gets to go and I get to stay.

Thursday

Well, it's Thursday and I just don't know where the time has gone. It's been all go here. Lizzie and her sister have been either working in the apartment or eating out. (I detect a little thickening around the girth but haven't said anything!) The temperature has plummeted so there's been a bit of a panic on the heating front. The wood burner, that had been temporarily taken out and stored in the back room so that Lizzie could have an open fire (more 'romantique' ) has been returned (with some difficulty, as it's extremely heavy) to the fireplace.

Later, and without a by your leave, I was suddenly picked up and unceremoniously dumped in the small garden room as Lizzie is going to Toulouse and she thinks I might get cold. There has been no discussion, just more 'it's getting cold' panic.......................

It's all in the number 8: 2

Continuing my interest in Lizzie's new house number, I found that this painting by Jackson Pollock is called Number 8.

Why it's called Number 8 beats me as it looks like a muddy field after a lot of sheep have been hanging around in the same spot. . Anyway, number 8 it is.

Lizzie's sister

The temperature has plummeted and it's all systems go with the fire. Lizzie says there's nothing quite like an open fire.

I'm still on the veranda, of course, and am getting somewhat chilly. My winter spot under the stairs is still being taken up with Mr Dancer's wine from his summer visit, so I will be raising it as a point of order next week. I will also be commenting upon Lizzie's poor photographic technique as this picture of her sister really does leave something to be desired. (The fire looks good, though!)

It's all in the number 8: 1

This is our new house number.

Did you know that the number 8 is a Fibonacci number: 3+5?

The composer, Iannis Xenakis, wrote Metastasis for orchestra using the fibonacci series.

This piece of music then became the starting point for the Philips Pavilion constructed for the World Fair of 1958 in Brussels. This collaboration, with the architect Le Corbusier, was the first electronic/spacial performance to combine music, sound, images and architecture. The music for the pavilion was by Edgard Varèse. It, and the pavilion, was called Poème électronique.

I only know this because Lizzie wrote her dissertation on the Philips Pavilion for some degree or other and she says she has lots of photos and things in England. Apparently the actual experience inside the pavilion was found to be quite shocking at the time so, after the Fair had finished, the pavilion was pulled down.

Postman Pat earns his keep

This morning Postman Pat collected a load of oak planks from a wood yard in Lussac-les-Chateau and delivered them to Lizzie's friend's barn where they will become an oak floor.

In the afternoon, Postman Pat set off again, but this time he went to a stone quarry near Chauvigny to collect some stone lintels for another friend who is doing up a 14th century maison forte.

Well done Postman Pat!

Get your finger out

Get your finger out and start to do something worth while
Like turning off the standby thing and helping the earth smile
Think how you all can contribute and be eco aware
And change a small part of your life to help the earth repair.

Use eco bulbs and eco goods. Get eco on your brain
Turn some things down and some things off and travel less by plane
Think how you can economise with all your worldly goods
Recycle everything you can, we're not out of the woods

Start being eco friendly and make compost in a bin
Put it on the garden where your veggies can go in
Ride upon a bicycle instead of in your car
For if we work together, the earth won't be just a star

Sheep for the environment

I'm a sheep, and a sheep through and through
And I'm worried that it might be true
that the planet is sick
and there isn't a trick
that can conjure it all to renew

So just do something small, if you can
Dim a light, plant a tree, make a plan
to switch off that standby
and reduce the supply
Be an eco monsieur and woman

Bugatti at breakfast

Lizzie and her family were still slopping about in their night things at 11 am this morning when a very beautiful Bugatti pulled in to park opposite the house. It was two of Lizzie's friends, off on a rally for the day, who had decided to drop in for a cup of coffee on the way.

Imagine, no make up, hair all over the place, all of them looking like rejects from a gypsy encampment. The upper crust encounters the dregs! You've got to laugh............

More visitors

More visitors mean more talking practice.

More talking practice means I'm happy.

Today, Lizzie's sister and brother-in-law are on their way up to see her. Her brother-in-law will go home after a few days but her sister will stay for a couple of weeks at least, then Lizzie will take her back. The photo is of Lizzie and her sister when they were younger and Lizzie is on the right.

Ah.........bless!

Winter Quarters

I'm starting to think about moving into my winter quarters. Last year I went under the stairs in the hall so that I could keep au courant with the coming and goings of the house. However, as I write, my spot is filled up with Lizzie's wine rack and a whole pile of Mr Dancer's wine, packed ready for transportation to England for Xmas.

As the temperature is falling quite severely at night, now, I am really not sure what to do. I'm still on fig duty, but that will end soon, so leaving the veranda is something that we must discuss, sooner rather than later.

October Sunrise

Lizzie took this
from her front door
this morning.

Isn't Autumn
just brilliant!

Drowning by numbers

It has been decided that every house in the commune shall have a number and all the roads will have new names or, will have a name, if they didn't have one before. Now for you in the UK, this will not seem a strange thing to be happening, nor anything that would deserve a mention in my blog. However, in this area, houses in villages have tended not to have numbers. It all works out very well, though, because once the post person knows you, and where you live, they will bring your post to you; not to the house, to you.

Anyway, there have been rumblings about new street names and numbers for some time. This weekend, the numbers have started arriving, being delivered in person, by the mayor's assistant. Again, unlike England, you don't go out and buy your own number. Everyone in the commune is given an enameled numberplate, with two screws and plastic bits to go into the stone. The chosen colour for this commune is deep maroon (to match the shutters on the Mairie), with the number and a border in white. Lizzie's number is 8 and the road will be Rue des Artisanes.

So we're OK so far. However, they have opted to designate individual houses to whichever road their main front door opens on to. What's the problem there? Well, according to the post person, this morning, it has suddenly got more complicated. Take Lizzie's road: Route de Montmorillon. This is the main road that runs through the village and before the number thingy, all the houses along the roadside were on the Route de Montmorillon. Now, the same houses are spread over four roads, even though they are all in a line next to each other. Also, in the hamlet of Villesallem (still part of this commune), where there are just ten houses, there are now four different road names.

It is the talk of the village. Lots are moaning about it and many are refusing to use the new numbers and addresses. People keep saying "C'est ridicule".

Wood for the winter

Today I've been supervising the arrival of the winter wood, or at least some of it. Lizzie will need about three times as much if she is going to be here for most of the winter. You buy it in metre cubes and this is part of it. Space has been cleared on the veranda for quite a lot of it so that Lizzie doesn't have to go out in the rain to bring it in. There is only room for so much, though, so the rest has to be stacked outside under cover.

These logs are 50 cms in length and will just fit in the Gaudin wood burner that was left in the house.

The Accompanist

Now before you say anything............ I know that this doesn't seem like a promising start to a singing career but you have to start where, and with whom, you can. He's keen, at least, although his arms don't exactly inspire confidence!

We're working on the song I wrote about yesterday: April is in My Mistress' face by Thomas Morley. I'm learning the tenor part so I will need to get in some other sheep to sing soprano, alto and bass. It's all very exciting, despite the weird words. This is what I'm aiming for.

I did find this somewhat bizarre version, as well!

A song about 'months' being in a woman.......or something!

Oh, Lizzie says it isn't a song. It's a madrigal. It's in one of Lizzie's music books. (Well, you've got to think positive and assume my singing will improve!) The one that I found, is called April is in my mistress' face. It's by Thomas Morley and he wrote it in 1594 so that means it's really, really old.

The first thing that I was told, when I remarked about it, was that you can't sing 'mistress's face' which I feel sure is better grammar. Lizzie says that's because there are just two notes for the word in the tune: pom pom. Hence mis-tress' (with an apostrophe) fits, but mis-tres-s's doesn't. Phew, it's complicated this singing stuff!

Anyway, the song goes on to say that ...July in her eyes hath place. (Why can't they say 'has'?) Then we move to this mistress's bosom. In there, apparently, is September. I'm not really following this, but I'm trying! The last bit of the madrigal says; But in her heart a cold December. What on earth is that about? It doesn't make any sense to me, at all. 'A cold December' does what, exactly?

I can't see how singing is going to be helping my talking practice in any way at all!

Singing with Leaves

I see my last post was on Monday. I can't believe that the time has gone that quickly.

First of all I'm on fig duty: keeping an eye on the figs that are ripening for Lizzie. Second, I've been helping her with Facebook as her web skills aren't as good as mine. Third, I've been busy with singing practice.

Now before you start wondering what a sheep is doing singing, let me tell you that it is all the rage here. It's early days, of course, so I have been practicing breathing. That's really important if you want to sing well. You have to get a lot of air into your lungs by depressing the diaphragm and getting good 'rib swing'.

Watching figs ripen and doing breathing practice is a good combination. I breathe in as one leaf falls, then make a round baa-ing sound for the duration of a further 2 leaf falls; then three, then four, and so on. Or, to exercise my diaphragm, I hold my breath for one leaf, two leaves, three leaves etc. Of course I give myself permission to breathe if there is a lull in leaf fall, or I might die. Well you've got to be practical about these things.

The title of this post: Singing with Leaves, is a bit like Dancing with Wolves. It's a funny old world!

Recycle the babies

While we're on the subject of fruit/food, the smell of chutney making was wafting, unappetizingly, out onto the veranda, today. Lizzie has been making her annual batch of Green Baby Chutney. It's not a nice smell as it's cooking, because all you can smell is the vinegar and that smells horrible.

Anyway, although it takes ages to make and stinks the place out, I am reliably informed that it tastes pretty brilliant. It's called green baby chutney because it is made from marrows that are the size of a baby and vaguely baby-shaped (except they don't have legs) or arms, of course! I like the name because of the recycling tinge to it and that is very a la mode at the moment. And we like to be a la mode ici en France.