Boswell's Radiation Rag

It's not so hard. It's not so far
to get your head inside the jar
When you're asleep, it's not that bad
to do the radiation rag

I'm getting on. I'm doing fine
I'm on TV and on cloud nine
I've had my scan. I have to brag
about the radiation rag

The nurses say that I am hot
by radiation (and by blog)
And in this hotness, I am cool
No flapping radiation fool

Mark reads to me. I stand about
I'm getting well without a doubt
My nursing friends are very kind
to write me letters when inclined

So bring it on and let me be
a blogging goose, all well and free
I think this cancer's in the bag
All thanks to radiation rag

Boswell: from Gosling, to Goose, to Celebrity

Regulars who have been with me for a while will remember that, back in May 2007, I first met, and introduced to my readers, Boswell, when he was a mere cute gosling. In the months following, several poems were written to, and for him, by my good self. The Goose Engine (repeated below) was the first, and took its title from the work that Mark, Boswell's owner and IBM programmer, had been doing on a site for the music of Philip Glass, called The Glass Engine.

However, after a short time, Boswell became ill with a rare form of cancer and had to go into hospital for an operation. I kept in touch with Mark and wrote Boswell a poem of encouragement followed by a welcome home poem for after his operation. (I must admit to penning one in case things didn't turn out well but, thankfully, haven't had to use it.)

Then in November of 2007, I received a photo, from Mark, of Boswell all grown up and penned another update, followed by more news about Boswell's sister, Woglinde. Finally, in August 2008, Boswell began his own blog, over a year since I had spoken about him being a budding blogger in The Goose Engine

Now, Boswell has become quite a celebrity in his own right. He has been featured on TV, with Mark of course, so I will be posting this video tomorrow.

I hope you will forgive a swelling of pride in this old Mouton's breast, when I remind you that I had predicted, back in May 2007, that Boswell would be a very fine blogger. I have taken the liberty of reprinting it below:

The Goose Engine

Boswell is from IBM

(leaning to the left)
Trying hard his height to gain
but isn't very deft.

Wants to be a blogger
when he's tall and straight
Fears he will discover
he's developed late.

Listens now to Philip Glass
in wood and leafy glade
(But is he just inertial mass
sitting in the shade?)

The IB-MUS guys think he's cool
and never fly-by-night
He's not just anybody's fool
despite his challenged height.

So don't go goofing off outside
with old Canadian geese
Let cool programmers be your guide
where music's the set piece.

Keep growing tall and filling out
so you can blog with ease
And be the smartest goose, no doubt,
to have web expertise.

Taking my Eye off the Ball

One of my followers has been in touch with the good lady of the house to say that she thinks I've taken my eye off the ball where my blog is concerned. There may be some truth in this, I suppose, because the words 'daily', 'mouton' and 'post' haven't been appearing in the same sentence for some time.

However, although it may come as a surprise to some of you, I have a life outside blogging, you know! And what's with all this eye and ball business. All that 'keeping your eye on the ball' means, is that you are giving full attention to what you are doing. That's just my point. My eye never drifts from what I'm doing. It just isn't the blog ball at the moment.

I'm Theoremed Out

I'm theoremed out
There is no doubt
I'm x-d and y-d and z-d
For Wiles he is the real deal man
For taking Fermat's seed

It grew and grew
before he knew
And years had flown away
But elegance was what he sought
to prove it, in his way

The first attempt
was a preempt
for what was sure to come
He thrilled the world and humbly knew
he'd conquered that old sum

Fermat's Last Theorem

I like the video so much that I have kept it but put it in my sidebar under 'Other things I like'

Fermat on his Plinth and the rest.........

Watch this video, if you haven't already, and feel good about life. (The good lady of the house recommends watching it again even if you have seen it before.)

This is some plinth........

Man on a Plinth

The good lady of the house is back (after what seems to be an interminable silence) from the dark side of the Tarn and Garonne.

To celebrate this fact she has sent me this picture of a man on a plinth. He must be important because, as I am practicing talking, I would suppose that he is worth talking about. I know that one of my followers will know who he is, but he's been asked not to say, so I was wondering if the rest of you had any idea?

He looks quite scholarly and, judging by the hair, clothes and chair, must be from the 17th century, or thereabouts. (I notice with some little jealousy that the sky appears to have been very blue and sunny when this photo was taken. Not so in my neck of the woods!)

The Good Lady of the House

The good lady of the house
is as quiet as a mouse
(I suppose that is because she is away)

So I sit here on my own
in my rural village home
feeling sad because I really had to stay

She is traveling by herself
like a jolly English elf
to her sister who she'll see just everyday

Hence I sit around and wait
like a lonely garden gate
for her coming back up here so we can play

A crunch too far

I've decided to take a bit of a break from all this crunching stuff. What with the crunching clock and our skewed perception of time; the credit crunch (a lot of which is now being exacerbated by people's perceptions of things, as opposed to the things themselves). Then there's the Hadron Collider with its particles and atoms and holes and hiding boson and peoples' perception that the world will disappear into one of the holes............ It's all a bit much for a poor sheep's brain.

When I first set out on this journey of sheep-development, I had the idea that I would write a bit here and there and pen a few sentences about my house mate and it would all be a bit of a gentle breeze. However, I have been subjected to all manner of highly educated and articulate visitors talking about stuff that makes my brain fizz. Then there's been my recent researches finding Sheldon, the turtle, retrofitting himself into various guises; an artist making lampshades out of sheep's stomachs, and all the crunching posts...... This isn't sheep-development. This is a sheep on the verge of a nervous breakdown. (Good title for a film, that, don't you think?)

Said the Kettle to the Clock

You are sitting very pretty, said the kettle to the clock
And I like the way you interfere with time
We are bound by complex thinking
and some nifty engineering
And our purposes are truly quite divine

For me, I like to boil and then I turn myself straight off
And I do it in a quiet sort of way
But for you, you go a crunching
and a scraping and a graunching
through the minutes and the hours of every day

Now if I could look as scary as your chronophagic top
I would boil, then make a fuss and then a din
But my role is one of service
And my users might get nervous
Thus I couldn't bare to carry that chagrin

So I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr Corpus Crunching Clock
With your patents and your Latin turn of phrase
You are really very stunning
And I know that you'll stay running
for two hundred years, all crunched up into days

Chronophage Conspiracy: An Ovine Exploration

Those of you who have been following my pennings will remember that two of my recent posts included the Chrononphage, or Corpus Clock. The first discussed the clock itself, and the second (a poem) linked it with the credit crunch.

Now here's the thing. There may be more to this 'ere clock than meets the Eye of Horus, as they say. Just as the Eye of Horus is more than just an eye, it seems that this Chronophage Clock might have more than one story to tell. I can't say too much at the moment, because I don't know that much. What I do know, is that there is a dedicated team looking into it.

So how has it come to pass, I hear you ask, that a sheep living in France, would know anything about the Corpus Clock Conspiracy; for conspiracy it is deemed to be. How, indeed. Well, I was contacted! And No, I wasn't beamed-up into an alien spaceship. This is France and aliens can't be doing with all that bureaucracy.

I was contacted directly by the team itself, because my poem, linking the credit crunch and the chronophage, strays somewhat into the conspiracy team's area of interest. They note that the unveiling of the clock, the banning of 'short selling' in the US, and the problems with the CERN Hadron Collider were oddly concurrent. Also, they draw attention to the fact that the clock has "...strange occult symbolism in its design", mysterious "undisclosed" patents and a Latin inscription on it. (The latter, "Mundus transit et Concupiscentiaeius" must, I feel sure, be the Vitruvian Man (or Vitruvian Mouton) equivalent of the first clue to the supposed conspiracy.)

So, if you like the idea of conspiracy theories or just conspiracies, or theory, or clocks or time, or mysterious patents, (the Particle Zoo), or me: please visit Corpus Clock Conspiracy and ask yourself the following questions:

1) Do we have an extraordinarily beautiful clock which (in an ontological sense) is just that.
2) Are we looking at, like Lacus Curtius, an emerging mystery of epic proportions?
3) Should we prepare ourselves for the next big blockbuster: The Da Crunchy Code?

Retrofitting

I think I'm on a bit of a roll with my thinking and posts this week: creative juices and all that. In addition, I've come to realise that I don't always need the good lady of the house for my talking practice, either. So as I seem to be doing just fine on my own, I'll press on unhindered and unbowed, as they say.

I've selected from my 'Biological Imperatives' post, (in a kind of tag-system of subject selection) the idea of 'retrofitting'. From the many definitions that seem to be about cars and houses and plumbing and things like that, I've gone down the 'noun' route with " the act of adding a component or accessory to something that did not have it when it was manufactured."

This seems pretty straightforward. When Lisbeth mended my legs, for example, she gave me more hoof-like feet than I had had, originally. Hence, I have 'retrofitted' hooves.

If you look around Mr Google's sweety shop, you can find all kinds of interesting things to do with retrofitting. Try this on for size......... a jumper. (Ha ha...) Yes, I found a zip-up jumper (that YOU could actually knit, if you had a mind to), using the pattern entitled 'Retrofit'. It's on a site called Knitty "with purls of wisdom". (Nice touch, that.)

On this same site there is a 'featured promotion'. Although it doesn't say that this promoted site is concerned with retrofitting, I am very sure that it is. So before you go whizzing off to take a look, let me explain why I think this is the case. OK.......... Sheldon is a knitted turtle. (Stay with me on this!) Sheldon's creator likes to make accessories for him, in order to turn him into other animals or human creatures. (It's American) He doesn't actually turn into other creatures, you understand, because he is turtle-shaped (albeit a bit odd-looking) and his head (which is somewhat large) remains that of a turtle.

Now - and I'm sure you're ahead of me here - this is where we can apply the term 'retrofit'. He was created (or manufactured) a turtle. When accessories - like wings or hats or a woolly coat - are 'retrofitted', he takes on aspects of other animals or human creatures. E.G. sheep, bat, lion, policeman, cowboy etc.

If you can bear it, visit the 'featured promotion' to get the idea. Then, Ladies and Gentlemen, I have very great pleasure in presenting to you: 'Sheldon', the video...........

Calling Occasional Stirrings

I was hoping for a comment from you on my Biological Imperatives post. I suppose I just assumed you would have a take on it; you being so deft with words and certainly more knowledgeable on the subject. Not to worry, if you're busy. I hope all is well with you. I enjoyed your last stirring. Keep it real and keep it stirring.

Biological Imperative

Biological Imperatives. Now there's a thought. So what are these imperatives? Clearly they're not something that you drink before a meal, because not all those are Organic. Of course, the good lady of the house is out (again) so I am left to my own research devices.

So what have I discovered? Well, these imperative thingies are to do with living. Things like 'survival' (Dhhh! Even a sheep of small (but burgeoning) brain can see that!) 'Territorialism', 'competition', 'reproduction' and 'quality of life-seeking'. Territorialism will be about me liking it on the veranda and my not liking other sheep to come and muscle in on my 'sheep-in-residence' position. Competition. I'm reasonably competitive, so that's OK. Reproduction. If only............ Least said soon is mended, as they say. Reminds me of Emo Phillips: "People come up to me" he said "and they're worried I'll reproduce."

So where was I? Oh yes............ Quality of life(hyphen)seeking. Now that's a bit more difficult. Does that mean that if you have, or do, all the other things in the list, then you have 'quality of life'? Or is it that you have to seek QofL as a thing, separate from the other things? "Today, I are mostly seeking the quality of life"? And how would I know if I'd got it? Lisbeth (just back) has thrown in that it sounds a bit like Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs. Women!

I did find an essay by someone called Babette Francis. She wrote a whole essay entitled "Is gender a social construct OR a biological imperative?" I'm not sure about constructing things in society. Unless it is big enough for Babette to have her feast in. That's a possibility, I suppose.

Then I found a site (with a really nice background of stars, while it loads) which asks: "Is intelligence a biological imperative?" Part 4!! That means that there have bean 3 parts already. What is it with this imperative?

A real blog on blogspot, entitled Scientific Integrity (One for you, Mr Occasional Stirrings.), challenges somebody's notion that "...human sensibility can be "retro-fitted" into the biological imperative." I don't think I like the idea of this retro-fit idea. Well, only if it involves wolves in 50s sheep's clothing. You know, just for fun at a party.

So there you have it: A cornucopia of imperatives that have been created wholly biologically; and that has to be good for the environment which, in turn, enhances my quality of life. Hyphen-free, of course!

Credit Crunch and Chronophage

The credit crunch, the chronophage
Oh what is going on?

The clock is losing time
The crunch is losing money
The clock will make it up again
The other isn't funny
The credit that is crunching
and the clock that eats up time
are both from our society
and each is out of line

The credit crunch, the chronophage
Oh what is going on?

The clock is gaining time
The crunch still loses money
The clock is now a work of art
The other isn't funny
The clock that thrills the people
and the crunch that causes pain
are both from our society
and neither are mundane

The credit crunch, the chronophage
Oh what is going on?

The clock is working fine
The hedge funds drain like honey
The clock we've taken to our hearts
The other stays all runny
The crunch that kills the people
and the clock that is sublime
are both from our society
and both are of their time

Mr Chronophage

Whoaagh.............. Now this is something to write home about: a clock that eats time. It's this new clock in Cambridge which has a big grasshoppery thing tramping around the edge, apparently eating time. Lisbeth says that the word 'Cronophage' comes from Greek and actually means 'time eater' (chronos = time and phageo - eat, or phagein - to eat.)

It's a particularly weird sort of a clock because it isn't right most of the time. In fact, it only manages to be correct once every five minutes. (So you can't set you watch by it!) However, the maker says he has done it this way - with the pendulum slowing from time to time, and then speeding up - to show that time is subjective and appears to go either faster or slower, depending on what you're up to. In both cases, the maker believes that time is 'not on our side' and so wanted to show the chronophage relentlessly eating it up.

I know that when I'm on the veranda and feeling bored, time seems to go really slowly. Then when we have an interesting visitor, and they sit out here and talk with Lisbeth, time seems to fly by. I suppose, if I'm honest, I have no real sense of time at all. I'm not even aware of its passing. As to it being munched....................

Anyway, back to the clock. When the hour is reached, this crunching, munching clock doesn't even chime. It does have a mechanism, though, which does make a noise. It is a chain being dragged over a wooden coffin! Eewe!

So on that spooky note, I will leave you with the munching jaws of Mr Chronphage.

Saute mouton

Thank you, Mr Idle Writer, for pointing out that 'leapfrog', in French, is saute mouton.
Why would they go and call it 'Leap sheep'. Why isn't it saute grenouille?

While you give this curious fact your full consideration, please listen to ce Saute-Mouton-ci or watch ce Saute-Mouton-la (avec accent)

I wrote to the (Hadron) Collider

I wrote to The Collider
Asking them to stop
For fear we all would disappear
and implode with a plop

Before they could write back, here,
countering this plea
They found a problem, magnet-wise,
which filled my heart with glee

So now we have a time-out
for cooling and repair
With extra days for doing things
So don't live un-aware

Be sure you are enjoying
every single day
For this is all the now we have
(To quote an old cliche)

Rest easy with your lifestyle
Happy, you are you
And live, and love, a happy life
What else is there to do?

Chateau Brad Pitt

Continuing Lisbeth's visits for Patrimoine weekend, we have Chateau de Forge. This is a fairytale medieval chateau with turrets, an enclosed courtyard, a chapel and other buildings etc. (No photos, I'm afraid, as Madame forgot to take her camera!) There was a group of singers performing medieval music, and an opportunity to speak to an ebonist and a stone carver who use old fashioned techniques and tools in their work.

Both the stone carver and the ebonist, were French but worked in California. They explained that there is more money to be had over there and that people are more than happy to pay premium prices for hand-made craftsman pieces. The ebonist, for example, has been commissioned by one of his clients to make a copy of the map table in the Chateau de Versaille. This table is very beautiful with different veneers, marquetry, and has silver inlay.

Lisbeth went on to describe a photo that she saw in one of Mr Ebonist's display books. He was pictured standing on a ladder, sticking sheets of gold leaf onto a wall. When asked more about it, he said he was doing it for Brad Pitt: in his kitchen!!

L'Adoration des Mages sans cigarette

It was Patrimoine weekend in France this weekend, when all the chateaus and monuments open their doors for people to visit. There are spectacles and concerts and lots of things to see (most of which are free).

On Saturday afternoon, Lisbeth went to a lecture in one of the churches in her local town. It was to explain how this huge painting by Eugene Appert (1814-1867), that hangs in the church, was being restored, and to talk about the skills and techniques involved in the restoration of old paintings in general.

One of the things that Lisbeth told me about was the cigarette! Lisbeth has had this house for five years. For all of that time, the black Maggi on the left of the painting had seemed to have a half-smoked cigarette in his mouth. Lisbeth said it always looked so bizarre and out of place, but it was exactly on his lip and hung down as a real cigarette would. During the lecture, one of the restorers explained that the 'cigarette' was, in fact, pigeon shit which, she was pleased to inform everyone, had finally been cleaned away. 

The painting continues to be patched, cleaned and retouched to its former glory.

Black Hole 101

If this Hadron Cullender, or Head-on Collider thingy really can produce black holes, (when it's working again, that is) then I have something that I can't wait to vote into 'Black Hole 101' straight away.

According to Impact Lab's August 29th, 2008 article, Julia Lohmann, a UK artist has "mastered the art of transforming a sheep’s stomach into a lamp shade".

Mastered the art! MASTERED THE ART!

She seems to think that, because you can use the wool for knitting and eat all the meat, that it's OK (if you can 'master the art', of course,) to turn the stomach into a lampshade.

It takes a while to do, apparently, because you have to clean it before you give it a rounded shape by stretching it over a balloon (a balloon!) and letting it dry. Et Voila! And again.

Ye Gods...........

Wheltering Whim-whams

Thank you, Mr A Geyser, for this lovely phrase gleaned from your Sunday 7th comment.

A whim-wham, I've discovered, is a whimsical object. I like whimsical objects. According to Worldwide Words you can use 'whim-wham' when you don't really want to answer a question (that a child might ask, for example) or to create a whimsical idea: "a whim-wham for ducks to perch on, a whim-wham for a treacle mill, and a whim-wham to wind the sun up."

I am certainly somewhat whimsical, myself: a sheep having talking practice. I don't really welter in anything, though, (other than fears of disappearing down a black hole). As I've already set out my case for being eponymous, I like the idea of my being an eponymous whim-wham.

If I were in a more light-hearted mood, I might think that the Hadron Collider could sound a bit whimsical: creating black holes that might suck up the earth. We could then call it a 'whim-wham to swallow the earth'?

Ask Hubble

One of my favourite readers, Mr Andy B, has suggested that we might all be inside one of the Head-on Collider's black holes, and just not know it. That has made me think, so I have been doing some research.

According to the first piece of information I've gleaned from the Hubble site, you wouldn't know. They have a nice interactive graphic showing what happens to a clock when it falls into a black hole: The time slows down and it (the clock) turns red. It goes on to say that "...if we were falling with the clock, time would appear to behave perfectly normally. We would see no slowdown as we approached the event horizon. We would cross the horizon without any perceptible change, and our color would not appear to change. This is the principle of relativity: things can appear different depending on whether you are moving or standing still."

Now then. That all seems to be very satisfactory with nothing to worry about. NOT TRUE. We're being distracted by the flipping clock. In another interactive experiment, you can actually see what it's like to fall into a black hole yourself. And guess what. It goes badly for you. (There's a surprise!) To start with, as you enter, your body begins to stretch until it stretches apart. Ouch! Then "...in the last moments of your journey, your body [is] compressed into the central singularity of the black hole, a single point of infinite density".

So that's my mind made up, thank you Mr Interactive Hubble. Despite the nice sound-effects, I'll take my cue from the principle of relativity and NOT travel with the clock.

The Particle Zoo

I really don't think that Lisbeth is taking all this black hole stuff seriously enough. Our days might be numbered yet her casual approach to the possible ending of the world leaves much to be desired. Then there's the Higgs Boson. What if that appears?

Lisbeth says it already has. I began to shake. This could be serious. But when I looked at her for reassurance, she was laughing pretty much helplessly. She says she'll get me a Higgs Boson if I like. What is she on? If I didn't fancy a Higgs Boson, she suggested a Dark Matter or, perhaps, a 'Theoreticals 4-Pack'.

When she finally explained, I was speechless. I just don't know what the world is coming to. How can you take something as serious as what's happening at Cern and turn it into a circus. I leave my readers to form their own opinion by visiting The Particle Zoo and the SHOP tab!

Overheard in village shop. Big Bang Wednesday

Shop Assistant (serving a man): Have you heard the news?

Man (buying biscuits) : No

Shop Assistant: When they turn on the Geneva Convention, today, we might all disappear into a black hole ...

Am I an Eponym of Note?

Am I an eponym of note?
Am I not Monsieur Mouton?
With brilliant phrases you can quote
(while drinking wine from Fronton?)

Eponymous, Hieronymus
They start to blur and muddle
Although I am acuminous
things sometimes start to fuddle

But on the whole this Mouton Me
is doing very nicely
An eponymic guarantee
of words used quite concisely.

Hadron Cullender

Well, I'm here and haven't been sucked into a black hole. Can I presume because this interwebs thingy is still working, that you are all OK too? All this Hadron Cullender stuff has seriously made me think, though: you know, about life, the universe and everything. So it's back to posting regularly, if I can manage it. Or until the twelfth of never.................. and that's a long, long time.

Last Post?

I thought I had better say a tentative farewell to you all, in case I disappear down one of the black holes that might be created tomorrow in the Large Hadron Collider when scientists do their Big Bang experiment.

It seems that they have built a big tunnel on the France/Switzerland border. (That's near me, so I will be near the eye of the storm, so to speak.) Anyway.... into this tunnel, they are going to release a lot of protons. These protons will run around like headless chickens, banging into each other. (Sounds a bit like an under fives' birthday party.) The idea is exactly that: they will bang into each other (not have a party) again, and again, and again, creating "particle interactions". They'll certainly be interacting, even I can work that out.

Now we come to it: the Quatermass moment. Some scientists have expressed a concern that these interactions may create black holes which might suck up the earth!!!!!!!!!!!! That can't be right. Can it? (All that talking practice gone to waste!)

However, I'm pinning my hopes on the other scientists having it right. Their view is that any black holes would only be small ones; that they would probably be unstable, and just spin out (they don't say where) and disappear. (I was under the impression that holes were holes - you know - round gaps with nothing in them? So how a hole can disappear..............?) Still, black holes spinning out (wherever) is better than them 'sucking up the earth'.

Just in case, then, I will say a big thank you to all my regular readers, and send everyone my very best wishes for Big Bang Wednesday. Au revoir (I hope) mes amis.

Eponymous Bosch?

When Lisbeth was chatting on line, the other day, one of her friends used the word 'eponymous'. At first, I thought they were talking about Eponymous Bosch, the artist, but Lisbeth says I've got that completely round my ear and that I shouldn't just set off on posts when I don't know what I'm talking about. (So who's rattled her cage, today!)

So I looked it up. Apparently, the word eponymous comes from eponym and an eponym is the word used to describe a word that is derived from the name of a person or tribe. (I hope you're following this?) Anyway, you have things like Alexandria, from Alexander the Great (He created the place, or something), and Constantine and Constantinople.

I deduced, therefore, that I must be in an eponymous relationship with Mouton Cadet. "Since 1930, Mouton Cadet has been renowned for its exacting standards and audacity." That's me. "The fruit of generous Nature and the work of human hands..." That's me, too.

Now, before the supposed intelligentsia amongst you get on your high horses about the impossibility of this assertion, I would like to point out that things aren't always as clear cut or indisputable as one might think. A case in point is this spell-check. (Invaluable for a sheep of burgeoning brain.) This particular spell-check facility has it, in it's head, that the word 'eponym' isn't eponym at all, but some other word, misspelled. As such, it offers the following corrective options: Epsom, economy, upon, and euphonium................

Am I thinking 'ears', 'completely' and 'round' in the same sentence? Indeed I am. In fact, it's probably all a load of old bosch. (Ooo spell-check, spell-check!)

Bird: not on a wire

While we're on the subject of our feathered friends, I thought you might like to see this photo. It's a Kookaburra, sitting on the arm (not a wire) of Lisbeth's friend who's currently on holiday in Australia.

Honolulu Zoo writes "The Australian aborigines have a legend about the Kookaburra. When the sun rose for the first time, the god Bayame ordered the kookaburra to utter its loud, almost human laughter in order to wake up mankind so that they should not miss the wonderful sunrise. The aborigines also believed that any child who insulted a kookaburra would grow an extra slanting tooth."

Boswell's Daily Honk: A Blog of Note

Today is a day for celebration. Lisbeth has been in touch with her friend in the USA and discovered that my friend Boswell, the goose, finally has his own blog!

You may remember that I have been writing to, and writing about, Boswell for many months, now. It began back in May 2007 when I wrote my Meet Boswell, post. (And what a cutie he was, all fluff and a bit wobbly.) I followed up with a poem about his life with the IBM Music Programmers, entitled The Goose Engine. (This title relates to a site created by the IBM people for the music of Philip Glass, called The Glass Engine. It's fab.)

Then in June 2007, came the terrible news that Boswell had to go into hospital. He was very ill and we were all very worried. To encourage him, I wrote a Fight for your Life poem. (I will also admit to having prepared a short obituary poem - you know, just in case. - but fortunately it was not needed.) When he finally recovered and returned home, I was so overjoyed, I sent him a Welcome Home poem. (Hey, Boswell, you've certainly been an inspiration on the poetic front!)

In November, we received a photo of Boswell, all grown up, and then the news that he had a sister Woglinde to keep him company. Now, September 2008, is a Big Red Blog Letter Day , for me, because Boswell has his very own blog. Please go and say hello and catch up with his Daily Honk

Homophonic Slip?

It's been pointed out (by a kind reader) that I made a spelling mistake in my last post. Although I will admit to it, I must remind my readers that I am a sheep, so errors of spelling and/or grammar are to be expected, from time to time. Indeed, that's why this blog is called Talking Practice: I'm learning to speak human.

However, what I'm discovering is that humans have little tricks up your sleeve for unsuspecting sheep. Talking isn't the same as writing and, to me, Beatles and Beetles sound the same. So to boost my moral, I have chosen to reframe this 'spelling mistake' and think of it more as a 'homophonic slip'. Words are called 'homophones' if they sound the same when you say them, but have different meanings or derivation or different spellings. Merriam-Webster Dictionary gives the example: to, too and two. There's also bear and bare and my humble example: Beetles and Beatles.

I feel better about it now. I've also learned a new word and I like it very much. (N.B. Lisbeth says I'm to be careful about the spelling of homophonic.)

Back in the saddle

What a strange phrase that is: getting 'back in the saddle'. I like these short phrase. This one implies that you have already been in the saddle. Well, you would have had to have been to be talking about getting back in. I suppose I could get back into the posting-every-day saddle.

The Beatles, on the other hand, suggest that you could/should Get back to where you once belonged. Of course, the Beatles don't mention anything about saddles. The lyrics are just about a character called Jojo and then another character called Loretta, and that they should 'get back to where they both belonged'. Not belong, note, but belonged, implying that each had already experience 'belonging' somewhere.

This Loretta person, according to the Beatles, "...thought she was a woman but she was another man". Hmm........ a bit confusing, that. How would you not know this sort of thing? But it is only a song after all, and there probably isn't an actual Loretta or Jojo, anyway, so it's probably not as complicated as I first thought.

I can't help but wonder, though........ What would happen if Loretta were to get back in the saddle? Would she feel more like a woman or a man?

Life: we can but ponder. Ponder and post.

Mentioned in Dispatches

I know, I know. Only a dribble of posts for months and then two on the same day. What is going on! Well, I am feeling inspired, and as there are no rules or health and safety issues, here, I can post whenever............

Lisbeth was out last night with friends. It would seem from the lateness of her return and the lateness of her rising, this morning, that a good time was had by all. I gather, also, that I was one of the many subjects of conversation. I know, me! A sheep of surprisingly large intelligence. (Remember the post about research into ovine intelligence?)

I know Lisbeth is often reluctant to discuss this Talking Practice blog with other people, feeling a little embarrassed about me. Well she shouldn't. I am an experienced sheep, an experienced blogger and, being already connected to you all in a stardust kind of a way, I am happy to be connecting to you through blogging. And you must admit that it is a bit more tangible than stardust.

Mediated Moments?

I haven't been writing much lately for a number of reasons. I won't go into them now, other than to say that one of them is Facebook. Lisbeth does go on that site more than she thinks she does and when she's on there, I can't get down to any serious talking practice.

I am worried about the amount of time you humans spend on line. When you're there, you're not here, in the moment. The moment here, becomes mediated through the moment there in the virtual world.

Are you mediating your moments?

Not quite a wimple

It's not quite a wimple, is it? No. It's more a sort of pointy hat. They are performers from our Nuit Romanes. I'm not going to explain what they're doing, other than to say that they are about to take about 150 people on a walk in the woods.


I wasn't able to go, but Lisbeth was there, helping with the arrangements on the night. She's been out a lot this month, with visitors, cultural events and social engagements. Well, that's what August is about in this region. So much culture, so little time to be cultured.

Autumn

The warm summer sun is now waning quite fast
There's a change in the air and a sense of the past
The chill of the morning transforming the night
brings the feeling of Autumn to conjure the light

I like to be sheepy and think of the flock
Of hills over-wandered and good woolly stock
Of times when we felt ourselves happy and free
in the fields of remembering a you and a me.

Will the sun bring guests?

I hope the sun is here to stay after the dreadful run of wet days we've had. My snail has departed. Yeee Haaa! Lisbeth ate her lunch outside under the fig. The sun shone. The cat came to visit.

I have, therefore, given myself the gift of hope: hope that we will have a good run of visitors. Or do I mean a run of good visitors?

Last year we had great visitors. There was Bob, Mr Dancer and Mr Writer. (Or was Bob the year before?) Each brought ideas about the meaning of life, the Universe and all sorts of weird and wonderful things. The time just flew by. Mind you, after conversations with a snail, just about anything will seem like rocket science.

I'm so excited at the prospect of guests.

Lizzie Bennet Lives!

As if it weren't bad enough that I have to endure the attentions of a snail, the good lady of the house appears to be having some sort of Jane Austin seizure. She borrowed a DVD of the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice and has been all over the place mumbling stuff about 'all that suppressed passion' ever since. I can't get a sensible word out of her.

Then, yesterday, I found that she had downloaded a screen saver of Mr Darcy! AND reduced the time for it kicking in!

The place has gone mad...............................

The Snail

Now far be it for me to complain about the company I keep out here on the terrace, but when my only companion is a snail, well, you have to just wonder.

Lisbeth is busy either working in the flat or, more often, cutting and slashing in the garden. The reason there is so much to do in the garden is because, as my previous post indicated, it rains and rains and rains. Hence everything grows and grows and grows.

To me, it isn't that much of a problem. I stand about under the veranda where rain and sun are both pretty much OK with me. I was taken aback, however, when the excess damp tempted a snail to journey up my leg and then reside for several days on my back.

Don't get me wrong. Snails are very nice in their place. They don't move overly fast so don't disturb whatever reverie I may be enjoying. However, they are sadly lacking in the conversation department. And believe me, I've tried. This one preferred to track up and down my back - pretty aimlessly - as far as I can tell. Then it just left.

Life eh! Snails: they come and they go. What's the point?

The monsoon said..............

Oh how I rain, the monsoon said
I rain because I can
I rain as though a cloud had bled
Upon the head of man

The 'soon' is mine (or 'mon') in French
I'm here and here to stay
I'd go, but it would be a wrench
When I can stay and play

I know you wait upon the sun
Who, somewhere else is bound
But he is making his home run
and soon, he'll me confound

Carpet Tiles and Life

Lisbeth has been working all day laying carpet tiles. Apparently, you start in the middle and work outwards towards the walls. When you reach the edges, the tiles don't fit, so you have to cut them. This isn't as easy as you might think because you always fit a straight edge to a straight edge so you have to measure the bit you take off from the opposite side - if you see what I mean. According to Lisbeth, although it takes ages to do, it's very satisfying to cut odd shapes of carpet that then fit well into the odd-shaped spaces on the floor.

Now one could draw a parallel between carpet tiles and life. (You could!)

You are in control of your tiles of life and how you lay them. Starting in the middle, could be like putting the most important bits in first: family, work, friends, etc, moving on to fill the gaps with bits and bobs of other things that go to make up the whole floor of life. Somewhat like the 'bucket story': big things in first because you can't get them in after you've filled up with small stuff. And, by implication, the small things that are less important.

Once a room is complete, the theory is that if one or two get marked or damaged, you can replace them with others. Can we replace damaged life tiles? I'm sure you can. You just have to accept a more sort of patchwork effect, because new tiles will not necessarily blend in well with the older, more mature ones. But patchwork life is good, when you're older. That's how we get to be more interesting and have lots to talk about.

Tapping or Tupping?

Yesterday I mentioned this 'tapping' thing that Lisbeth is doing. I wasn't sure, at first, if I'd misheard? It sounded like tupping which, as far as I am aware, is about copulating (with a ewe). (I've put this last bit in brackets, because it is written like that in the dictionary definition.) Does that mean it isn't obligatory - the ewe bit?

In looking up 'tupping' I came across a 'tupping crayon'. This is a kind of big marker pen that is strapped on to the ram (in a sort of harness) for him to use when he is running around with a field full of ewes. Then, when he mates with a ewe, he marks her at the same time, so that the farmer can see where he's been. I suppose the harness saves him time as he won't have to keep stopping, asking the name of the ewe, noting it in a little black book, etc! Thank goodness you humans aren't inflicted with this same harness mechanism!

Anyway, Lisbeth says that tapping is a way of releasing negative emotions. She seems pretty good to me so I'm not sure why she thinks she needs to do it but - hey - you know the female human gender and stuff like that.

Did you know that you can't use the term female (femelle) in French to refer to a women? It is a term reserved for animals only. And while we're back to animals, I noted that the dictionary of veterinary terms added the sentence "Joining is the same thing" to their definition of 'tupping'.

Well Lisbeth has spent much of the day tupping bits of paper together with glue to make a birthday card for a friend. Ah.........bless.............

Bleating not drowning

So here I am: still alive and bleating in France. I'm sure you're all worrying about me. If you 're not, why not?

Actually, I'm fine, thank you for asking. I've just been too busy to write. And yes, a sheep can be too busy to write. There's so much going on here what with work on the flat, visitors, work on the garden, neighbour problems, social activities, making new friends.............It takes me all my time to keep up! I have started a book although, unfortunately, that's all I've managed to do: start it. It's a book of my poems.

Then there's the good lady of the house. It's hard to keep up with her as well. She's now into tapping (EFT) and The Law of Attraction. You'd think she'd be slowing down on this stuff, but not a chance. She's motoring away with her life in France and her own inner journey. Why is it that you humans are concerned with all this 'inner' stuff. I'm a sheep and that's it. Inner/outer - it's all the same: sheep and sheep.

Hello

Hi

Yet again, I've been doing more thinking than writing. It must be the winter weather coming to an end that has enthused my typing hoofs for some more posts.

Let's cut to the chase: I am thinking of revamping my blog. Why? God knows. Into what? Well that's still incubating and may never come to anything. However, as I'm not doing anything else, at the moment, I might as well write about what I might do, as not write at all. All I will say is that I am thinking of spreading a little joy around the web. ..........and what's wrong with that? We certainly need more joy in our lives.

Lisbeth is behind me on this one so, you never know, I might just feel so inspired that I do something about it. If I don't, it doesn't matter, either. It's all a big adventure.

Well, well, well.................

Oh dear, I'm sounding somewhat Irish.
Isn't life a gas?
Isn't life something of a romp that appears to have no driver?
What are we, if we're not holding the reigns of our own lives?
Will I understand everything before I die?
Is there anything to understand?
Is life just one big question?

I think, therefore I am? (Descartes)
I sheep, therefore I am a sheep. (Monsieur Mouton)

Sheep sing songs of paper

Sing a song of paper
Sheep are all around
Watching by the hillside
Standing on the ground

Knowing they are useful
Pooing here and there
Knowing that their poo will
be transformed, somewhere

Turn it into paper
Make it look real nice
Buy some now or later
at a decent price

Happiness is..............

Lisbeth thinks that happiness is hearing Big Ben (courtesy of an Internet radio), the clock of the village church (a mere fifty yards from the front door) together with her tatty old French grandfather clock, all chime the hour at the same time.

Big Ben is deep and oh so reassuringly English. The church clock is a little higher in tone but still has a sense of stability, French history and of time passing. The grandfather clock came from an old farmhouse in the country about twenty minutes from here. It has a crisp, higher, pretty quality and, like the church clock, chimes twice every hour. Anyway, Lisbeth says the chiming of the hours gives her a lot of pleasure.

A 2008 Hello

I'm still here, despite my silence.

I cannot believe it's so long since I put hoof to computer.

I don't know what to say, really. Part of me isn't sure if I want to continue with the blog. Another part thinks I could continue but write occasionally like my friend 'Occasional Stirrings'. If I did that, then my posts would probably a little more considered and better formed. I don't know, really.

Lisbeth isn't giving me much talking practice at the moment. She was ill over the holiday period and is still a bit down, having achieved very little on her 'To do before I go back to the UK' list. I'm keeping a low profile. She's also contemplating what to do with her life! Oh dear........this will almost certainly involve big stuff. That means that some serious changes are afoot, when she gets her energy back. And she'll be making a 'Things I want to do with my life' list or a 'How do I want to be living?' list. Ooo Err! I'm tired out and she hasn't started, yet.

As I've made the effort to write, I might be inspired to see if I can find any photos from Xmas Don't hold your breath, though, you know what her photos are like.