Jen Black's Blog, page 14

A swanky new shower

 Have you ever had a new bathroom fitted?

That is what is happening here. The en-suite shower room may be the smallest room in the house but with it out of action it certainly makes an impact on our lives. 

While our lovely team are at work we have moved into the other bedroom, and use the family bathroom. Lucky that we can, I hear you cry. Yep, that is true. All the stuff we had tucked away in cupboards under the sink is now sitting forlorn and dusty in a cardboard box in the main bathroom. DH swears he cannot sleep in the "other" bed and this morning was awake preparing breakfast at 5.10am. I was out with Perla by 6.30 and we did not meet another soul! Pity it is raining, or we might have chosen a sunny spot to sit and listen to the birds singing.

Two more days should see us through and then we will be able to have a shower in our swanky new shower. DH has gone so far as to order new dispensers for soap, shampoo and conditioner to sit side by side in the shower recess.

Meanwhile, I'm off to move the bed we are sleeping in so that the electrician can gain access to the loft in order to fix the lights and stuff in the shower room. It is all go here.

Anyone for the Split?

For a reason I can no longer recall, I did not watch the first screening of The Split.

Series 3 ran a few weeks ago, and I watched it and got completely caught up in it. 

To the point that I went to iplayer and watched series 1 and 2 and then came back to series 3.

Up until then I had wondered who Stephen Mangan was. I'd only seen him on Would I lie to You. However, I liked his character and admired his acting. Nicola Walker is always worth watching, and the dialogue was good. Interesting. Intelligent. It would have to be, since the story is about three sisters and their mother and all but one of the four were divorce lawyers. You know, those intelligent, squeaky clean lawyers who earn such fabulous salaries. (The clothes worn by the ladies were wonderfull!)

The writer, Abi Morgan,  has not crossed my path before.

The main story concerns the lives and loves of the female Defoe family, but the internal divorce cases taken on by Hannah, were fascinating in their own right, particularly Goldie and her drunken orgy with her husband's expensive wine cellar. Disruption follows when the absent father, believed dead, turns up again one day and wants his share of the family firm. Further disruption takes shape in the character Christie, who is also a divorce lawyer and often becomes involved in their cases. To my mind, he basically stalks Hannah. She cannot leave her office but he is lounging around within sight hoping for a word from her. I became very annoyed with Christie, but Hannah is severely tempted by him.

In this drama, the conflict comes from the middle sister, Nina, who basically gets drunk and blurts out secrets that should have been confined to the sisterhood of three. As in Last Tango, if those secrets had been kept secret, much of the drama would have been lost. One begins to think that gossip rules the world and these days, of course, gossip is blasted out, whether true or not, via social media. It is a wonder we are all still friends.

Last thoughts

 We both enjoyed re-watching Last Tango on iplayer.

Now it is over, I hope there will be a series 6, 

because there were some threads and stories that were not resolved.

Gillian, for instance. Is she going to sell up or keep the farm? Will she stop telling people she murdered Eddie? Will she settle down with someone? The nice kitchen fitter? and Caroline - will she ever get back with John? She has begun to miss him, so...there is hope. I cannot see her settling down with the women from the chemist shop (spotted at the Hebden Women's disco). She needs someone with a brain and John certainly had that. I applauded his answer when Judith once asked "When did a woman ever start a war?" 

"Boadicea," he snapped after a moment. Then he thought of more, and the list just rolled on and on. And of course, Judith, now rich and a famous author but lured by the vodka - and Caroline. I could see her simply turning up at Caroline's clutching not a bottle but a case  of champagne!

Gary disappeared after Gillian's wedding and seemed to drop out of the story, yet he could support Gillian financially if she would let him. Alan is concerned about Harrison (I always hear  a silent "Ford" following that name) and Ted may not have lasted long in the story line but I cannot see any repercussions there. And Celia. What about Celia? She is the centre of most conflict in the story.

(The pic was taken yesterday from the car as we drove from Middleton-in-Teesdale to Brough. There were a few raindrops on the windscreen.)

Hot Gossip

 

I have discovered the joys of iplayer and re-watched Last Tango in Halifax this week .

It struck me much it depends on what I shall loosely call gossip. If every character kept their secrets there would be little story, but one person tells another and the knowledge ricochets around the whole group. It’s like watching a badminton match.

All the characters re-act according to their own personalities which have been set up in some detail prior to the gossip reaching them. I suppose the main spring behind it all is in the setting up, so that the shot of gossip can do exactly what the author wants it to do.

Food for thought.

Eclectic reading

 

What have I read this last year? Here is a partial list in no particular order:

Ian Rankin 

The Falls 

Jane Harper The Dry, The Survivors, Force of Nature

Diana Gabaldon Go tell the bees...

Anne McCaffrey Dragonfllight, Red Star rising, The Masterharper of Pern, The Girl who heard Dragons (All re-reads)

John Grisham The Accused

Steve Robinson In the blood

Susan Lewis I have something to tell you

Mark Edwards The Retreat

Harry Nichols Tom Fleck

Barbara Erskine The Dream Weavers

Ragnar Jonasson Night Blind, Black Out, Snow Blind

Sharon Bolton The Pact

Maggie O'Farrell Hamnet

Anthony Doerr
Cloud Cuckoo Land

Pete May Entry Island

Stacey Halls The Familiars

Alexandra Walsh The Windchimes

Some I enjoyed more than others. Some I didn’t enjoy at all. Some I never finished, but they are still on my kindle. One day, in a different mood, I may try again and enjoy those few that I rejected this year.

These are the titles I can recall. There were others, but they have slipped by very easily. One of the recent bestselling Regency stories I read in a couple of nights but now I cannot remember much about it at all. Good entertainment but not memorable. I re-read the Lady of Hay recently because at the time of publication I found it excellent. Now I found it overlong, confused and the coincidences of all those people coming together again was just too much. Just goes to show how my reading tastes have altered in the last two or three decades. I doubt anyone’s tastes stay the same throughout life.

More flowers

 

I would say this is monkshood but if I'm wrong please say!

The white bell flowers I have no idea of a name.

Below is some sort of orchid. Ideas?





All of the flowers were within a close radius of the mill. I didn't have to walk very far at all. 

Apologies for the spacing, but sometimes Blogger can be a pain.

While I was photographing flowers, I was aware that one of those huge cows was in the next field, not 100 yards away. All that stood between us was a rather frail looking strip, no more than half an inch wide, strung between posts. I suppose it was electrified, but I did not feel like pushing my chances and veered away. Next day, the cow was still there, in the same place. And the third day. On the fourth day its head had dropped and it looked rather dead. No one had been to see it, no other cattle were around. But I suppose it was a gentle death in a flowery meadow rather than being dragged off to an abbatoir.But still, a rather sad  thing for our last day.

The flower fields of France

 

One of the things that impressed me the most about France in April was the abundance of wild flowers. I have never seen so many cowslips and primroses in the lanes and verges and there were so many other flowers I began taking photographs, but soon found I am not a natural botanical photographer! 

For a start, some of them  are so small that getting down to their level is difficult.  Then there is so much other stuff obscuring the picture or getting between the camera lens and the flower. I never did get a decent pic of the cowslips because the roads are so narrow we did not dare stop to take pictures as we would have blocked the road and probably caused a car crash.

Then focus is tricky when you wear glasses and suspect that another new pair of specs is on the horizon. However, I persevered and gradually got better at it, though the knees of my jeans suffered in the process. I was really pleased with  the one that follows.....it meant I was getting somewhere! But the one beside it speaks more of the delight it gave me.

Lost dog!

Sunday 8thMay

Slow start to a sunny day with a promise of high temperatures. Bill took Perla out at 7.30 as he has done all this month and I had their breakfasts ready when they returned. Then we set off for an amble around the lake and Perla looked as if she wanted nothing more than her bed. Next time I looked round she was at the far side of the field nosing around the compost heap. I set off to persuade her away from it, and as I watched she walked around it and disappeared behind it into the woodland. Argh!

I got there as fast as I could and stood where the spring starts but could not see a splodge of white anywhere. Usually she is easy to spot in all the greenery around us, but not this morning. Bill and I searched various directions but not a trace of her. He checked the tracker we bought for her and ran for the car. “She’s up at the top of the hill near Le Granges and still moving.”

We got there, turned left and headed for the monastery at La Peyrouse and there she was - coming off the big field toward the road. I got out of the car and she came straight up to me, wagging her tail and looking surprised and pleased. “There you are!” she seemed to say.

A person, no more than a silhouette against the sun, stood 100 yards away, a small cat curling around their feet. Obviously they had either chased Perla or tried to catch her, but I don’t know which. I seem to remember that Perla hates cats, but the little cat looked happy enough, so hopefully there was not “an incident.” We bundled her into the back of the car and came home.

She had travelled more or less in a straight line up the hill through the woods, crossed the road twice – thank goodness it was Sunday morning and no white vans whizzing about – investigated the big house at the crossroads and then crossed back again. Thank goodness we found her when we did! And thank goodness for Bill’s foresight in buying the tracker to fix to her collar!

Lunch

 

Monday 2ndMay

Planted some small primroses, cowslips and something unnamed but pretty in the patch of rockery I have cleared over the last few days. I considered irises, but suspect they like somewhere damper. One has gone in. Hopefully it will flourish.

Friday 6thMay

After several days of working hard to pull out all the bramble canes, periwinkle and nettles from the area where the hazel trees edge the garden border, we had a day off on Friday to go and have lunch in Lalinde. (Thursday is market day, so we waited the extra day.) We walked by the side of the canal until we reached the Intermarche, and decided we would not shop there as we would have to carry everything back and it was hot, hot, hot.

Back in the shade in the corner of the old hall we discovered the dish of the day - the plat de jour – was fish and chips with goats cheese salad. Perfect. Beautifully cooked with a light batter, dressed salad and big, solid chips. We spent an hour there, watching the world go by. Even Perla is a people watcher, possibly because everything she sees is new to her. Big lunches in the middle of the day are not for us. I soon retired to bed and slept for a couple of hours! Woke up in time for dinner.

A la Mrs Strawbridge

 Friday 29thApril

on Friday we made our second visit to the restaurant Chez Julien at Paunat,(https://www.northofthedordogne.com/paunat.php)not far from Tremolat. There is the most imposing abbey church in the valley which was open. I lingered in the doorway, felt the chill air and did not go inside. How did people live, work and pray in such frigid temperatures? 

The village itself is worth at least an hours stroll around but it is hilly so be prepared. Many of the buildings were once attached to the abbey and are gloriously medieval in appearance. The gardens are mostly terraced and there are many curiosities to keep the interest. 

I ate a smoked saumonstarter, cabillaud and chorizo as a main course and crème bruleefor dessert. All beautifully presented and very tasty.

Streams run right through the centre of the village and this picture shows a rather more complex place than usual to do the washing in the ancient style.  The lavoir is almost Roman in appearance, but then the abbey has a hint of Roman architecture about it, too. I took lots of photographs so more might show up on Facebook in the coming days.

Sunday 1stMay (May Day Bank Holiday)

While in the shower this morning I found a small tick attached to me but soon detached it and I am afraid its destiny is life - if it has one - in the septic tank. The tiny critters are everywhere here in the long grass. I may have got it from Perla, or from ripping out the nettles in the lower patio – or even from the bedding which we line dry in the sunshine. I have known them drop from trees and wriggle down inside the collar of a shirt!

One other thing – I have begun wearing a scarf around my head a la Angela Strawbridge, though mine are not quite as crisp and stylish as hers. I wonder if her reason is the same as mine? Every morning when I wake, my hair is standing on end and refuses to lie down no matter how much I wet it. Must be the damp air pf France.