Who?

Hullo ma wee blog,

Computer, coffee and one of my all time favourite songs by one of the best bands of my youth.

Sometimes, despite other offerings, original is simply best.

This brings back so many memories of my sometimes angst laden youth. How ridiculously simple it all seems now.

See you later.

G.W.R's and Formidable Pizza......

A  G.W.R. {Great Wee Road}

Hullo ma wee blog,

I'm Back!!!

Sitting here in the kitchen this cold and windy morning it's strange to think that just a few days ago we were still in France, still experiencing temperatures in the high 20's, even at height such as we were usually at { the Ubaye valley is higher than Ben Nevis, Scotland's biggest mountain}. Jausiers, the village where we stayed, is in this relatively secluded valley high in the Alps of Haute-Provence and is connected to other valleys, and indeed to Italy, by some magnificent high mountain passes. As usual we did loads of driving in our hire car and discovered some Great Wee Roads. Much of the driving was done at very high altitudes and we even drove the {allegedly} highest road in Europe, the 'Col de la Bonette' at over 2800mtrs {9,000ft} Some of the roads were in reality SWR's {Scary Wee Roads} but the difference is often negligible - a few extra heartbeats at least - so let's stick to GWR's for now. There will be lots more about GWR's in subsequent posts for sure.


                     Nice Video From A French Group I like.....

We had an early flight from a cold and wet Edinburgh at 5am and flew via Amsterdam Schiphol to Marseilles. I hadn't had much sleep the night before as I had a last minute job application to do for a job I had just found so ended up with only 2 hr's kip before the flight. {The hotel room we booked was far too hot and the a/c didn't seem to be working either so I wouldn't have slept much more anyway} On both descents I thought my head was going to explode with pressure I could not get rid of, something I have experienced only once before, so I was completely drained by the time we got to Marseilles. Getting luggage and the hire car was problem free though so we were soon on our way for the three and a half hour trip into the mountains. On the ground at last, on our way and especially back in France, I felt rejuvenated and was looking forward to the drive. I love motoring and driving a strange car in a foreign country doesn't bother me at all, odd as that may seem.  It was a scorching hot, clear-skied day and our adventure had only started.

We stopped at a motorway services station after an hour or so to get some food after the long journey - we had been up about 9hr's by this time - and we needed to stretch our legs and freshen up. Amusingly - well for me anyway as she's managed to avoid them so far on our trips - The Lovely G had her first encounter with a pissoir, that lovely and most basic of France's toilet 'facilities'. She was dumbstruck that a 'lady' could be expected to use a loo which is simply a hole in the ground with two footpads and for a moment or two went all Swiss on me. { Please don't ask me to go into Swiss lavatorial provision or I could be here all day. Just imagine white, gleaming and often luxurious. The biggest worry you have is "Jings - will someone come in and give me a wipe too!" or "Will I get a row for using this as it's clearly never been used before?" }  We sat and ate our sandwiches  at some benches laid out under the trees and I mused on why you can sit pretty close to a French motorway enjoy the sun, eat good and reasonably priced food and yet hear almost no traffic noise when you would be deafened - and spattered with rubbish - if you tried the same here.

Soon we were on our way again and left the motorway to start the climb up into the mountains properly, the road quickly getting narrower and twistier as we began to gain altitude. I could see signs that Autumn was coming in the lack of vibrancy in colour of some of the trees as they lost the summer bloom. Once in the Ubaye {OOB-aye not OO-Bah-Yay as I thought} the mountains began to close in and we could see that we were heading for some serious mountains. Town gave way to farms, farms to high pasture and to trees closing in on the roadside, hills and mountains glimpsed through the gaps. Red squirrels showed in the trees and were even brave or stupid enough to occasionally run across the road in front of us. Our hire car, a Renault Scenic as thankfully the Lovely G had gone for a bigger engine than normally chosen for a holiday jaunt in consideration of the kind of roads we expected, performed fantastically and I can't tell you how pleased I was with it's performance, ride and economy over the whole holiday. Suffice to say my next car may be a.........

A Visitor Leaves....

As we got higher we could see the temperature drop from the near 30 degrees at the coast to the mid 20's we would become accustomed to in the high valley. It took an hour or two to become used to the new vehicle and to the local ways of the road. Here the locals don't come so close to the rear end as they do elsewhere before they pull out, nor flash their lights as in some places. By the time we were well into the valley I was comfortable with both and becoming tuned in to the different road signs. 'Chaussee deformee' became an increasingly familiar sign - it would stay that way for the duration of our holiday - and road surfaces generally began to deteriorate just a wee bit. French authorities though are doing lots of work to remedy the situation and roadworks are a common sight. As we moved into the true alpine region house styles changed and now were often interspersed with the familiar wooden Alpine chalets that are found from Switzerland right down through all the mountainous regions and across the border into Italy and France. It's familiar to us from The Lovely G's Swiss heritage and made the area feel welcoming. The road style, often cut into vertical rock faces and often with huge overhangs was less familiar as strangely I've never driven in Switzerland, relying on the fantastic railways there. Soon we were approaching Barcelonette, the small town which was near our mountain hide out and as we swept past we tried to see what our new environment would really look like. It looked old, with few new building that I noticed and the center of town looked tightly packed with tall Italian style houses. It wasn't easy to get an accurate feel though with one eye on the unfamiliar road. Even this main road was substantially narrower than I'm used to here and with a log barrier on one side it was a careful squeeze by many of the trucks and logging wagons that were fairly tanking down the road towards us. Just as we got to Jausiers I realised that we were much closer to the Italian border than I'd realised and obviously this was a main route into this part of France for lorries coming through the mountains.

Our apartment was small, simple and clean, which is all you need for a short stay. It had the softer electric lights that are so common in France, seeming to give off a much paler, yellower light than the white light of our British homes. Our bedroom was on a mezzanine floor above the main room, light and airy. We unpacked quickly, freshened up and decided to head off out to explore the village. Soon it became obvious that the village was very small and we would be best to head back to Barcelonette to try and find a choice of restaurants for our first meal {even though the apartment was self catering} and a short ten minute ride took us back to town where we parked near the town center and walked into the main square. The town was quieter than I expected for 7pm on a Saturday night and some restaurants were closed which I found a bit odd.

View from the apartment.

We walked down the main shopping street past the square, stopping to read the menus for the restaurants there and trying to decide in that weary traveller kind of way just exactly what we were looking for. We looked at creperies {G, surprisingly, said no even though it's one of her favourites} and Greek, we saw tapas and raclette, fondue and Italian and eventually we settled on just a simple pizza. We still had to decide on where to go as there were a couple of potentials and eventually I pulled her in the direction of one we had passed back near the car. I'm glad we did as we had two of the best pizzas I think I've ever tasted in that small unprepossessing restaurant. My pizza of mountain cheese, ham, potatoes and olives was thin as a sheet of paper and beautifully crisp. The flavour was just out of this world and even the though potato on a pizza would normally be a no-no for me, it was absolutely on the money. The Lovely G had gone for a Goats cheese topped offering with other bits and pieces, again described as a local version and it too was just sublime, dressed with just a touch of honey which gave it a lovely sweetness and richness. Although I love goats cheese and honey as a combination, {What? You've not tried it? You've never lived!} I've never thought to combine it on a pizza but it was just sublime. I can't think of another description.

The Square, Barcalonette.

It's strange how often we go on holiday and immediately stumble upon a restaurant that becomes an instant favourite. 'The Patio' in Barcelonette was just one of those places. Beautiful and simple inside with white walls, dark wood and ancient arched ceilings, the tables were simply but tastefully laid out with red napkins and gleaming glasses just crying to be filled with some great wine. Friendly and attentive staff, smilingly and helpfully appreciative of visitors prepared to speak the language and great service made the place an instant winner for us even before we had sampled the food. The owner, who showed us to a table told us about the place; the room through the rear and the doors opening out onto a patio for outside dining. I suggested to the Lovely G that maybe we could go and sit outside but the owner smiled and said that unfortunately that was not possible, it was far too cold at this time of year. I laughed and said that to us it was very comfortable, much warmer than at home, but he just smiled in polite disbelief that anyone would want to be outside in anything short of 30 degrees. So, we had to settle for a table inside. The restaurant was quiet to start with but got busier and by the time we finished our meal there were quite a lot of customers in enjoying the food and the atmosphere. We paid a remarkably small bill considering the exchange rate and grinned as we talked enthusiastically about it on the way back to the car. We decided there and then on the first night that this wee place would be where we would come for our traditional slap-up-end-of-holiday-meal as we headed back to Jausiers for the first night of our adventure.

See you later.

Get to France...........

Hullo ma wee blog,

Get to France. Glaswegian euphemism or heartfelt appeal?


In this case it's a heart felt appeal as the Lovely G and I get our stuff together for a holiday in a place close to our hearts. Early Saturday morning will see us jet off for a week in the south of France, hopefully in some glorious sunshine but we wont mind too much if there's a bit of rain. This year we are going to be in the mountains in the Ubaye valley of the Haute de Provence region, so I'm expecting cool as well as sunny. Its not a part of France we've been to before so we're looking forward to exploring a new part of this great country. The Lovely G's brother Leen and Karen, his girlfriend and her whole family have gone to Carcassonne this last week on our recommendation and have sent texts and photo's back to say how much they have loved it so far. It's a relief it's gone that way. I would have hated them to go to one of our favourite places and not enjoyed it. It still rankles though when your pesky brother-in-law sends you photos of his beers from your most favourite bar in the heart of the old city telling you how hot it is and how cool, wonderful and refreshing the beer tastes. {grrrrrrr} I know I should be all grown up about it and all that but somewhere deep down my immature, petty, inner child wants to give him a good slap I'm so jealous. Ha! {glad you're enjoying it really}

One of our most fervent hopes is to have a house in France one day so we can spend time between France and Scotland in our retirement. It was a more likely plan before I lost my job and with that 40% impact onto my future pension and no clear view of future finances it looks much more like a pipe dream these days. Still, you have to have a dream, don't you? I can easily still be found whiling away an occasional couple of hours house hunting on the internet for likely places in south or central France. The budget has been significantly cut back these days so that it feels more realistic than just a forlorn hope of course.

Béziers

But before the flight there is the usual round of preparations to do. Washing and drying of clothes to be taken, bags to be packed and Jess to be taken to the cattery for her holiday too. We also have the gas system in the house being serviced and a new security system being fitted in the house on Friday too. I'll need to give the garden the once over before we go and try and harvest more of the apples and particularly the pears that seem to be ripening by the hour at the moment. A word with the neighbours will let them know to come and help themselves while we are away too which should help use them up.

Posting on the blog will return when I get back. Unless I manage to slip a quick one in tomorrow that is......

see you later.

listening to Mike Oldfield, 'To France'

A Bride Dances By.........

Hullo ma wee blog,

It's not that unusual a sight really. A bride dancing by that is. After all you expect to see a bride dance, especially at her wedding reception. And Lisa was the archetypal beautiful bride, slender and elegant in a stunning figure hugging white dress, her startling blue eyes and the glow of her slight tan lit equally by excitement and pleasure at being among friends and family with her husband for the first time. Lisa and Sam had recently come home from their marriage in the states where Sam's family now live and had arranged last nights celebration for family and friends who could not attend the wedding.

They make a perfect if contrasting pair. They are complete opposites. something that's often said about couples but is rarely so true as it is in this case. Sam is calm and thoughtful, his African heritage shows in an athletic build and in skin that shines from inside. Serenity beams from his face and is communicated by his bright smile, crinkling eyes and a soft spoken voice that hints at a good, and expensive, education. He is the cat who has the cream and he knows it, but he's not about to brag. Sam walks and talks with an even and considered pace as if everything should be savoured.  Lisa is bright and energetic, a petite, pale skinned Scots lass with those aforementioned startling blue eyes and a frank, inquisitive look always on her face.  She's full of the life which beams out of her every pore and shows in restless activity and a mouth which rarely stops talking. What you see is what you get. Rarely will a thought or feeling cross her mind without honest expression. If Lisa doesn't like you, you will know about it. Thankfully the reverse is also true which has brought her a band of close friends, my lovely G included. Always excited and enthusiastic, she communicates at breathtaking speed, vocally, by phone or text.. She lives in the moment, or did until Sam, and then motherhood came along, and likes to have everything organised on her terms. They make, as I said at the top of the paragraph, the perfect pair. They were joined last year by a son, Jacob,  as bright eyed and smiling a wee piece of humanity as you are ever likely to meet.

The reception started traditionally with the bride and groom greeting arriving guests until, with the hall filled, they moved to the dance floor for their first and solitary dance, cheers, clapping and whistles ringing round the room. As guests joined in the evening followed the norm and we celebrated with dancing and drinking, children running round tables, playing chase or hide and seek and young girls hauling Dad's, Uncles and even Grandad's off their chairs as they wanted to dance, dance, dance to every song the DJ blasted out from behind his light-box. People leaned into one another and shouted conversations took place about mutual friends, relations or even football. Intimate groups formed at tables or by the bar as friends and relatives sought each other to chat or catch up. Older relatives congregated together at tables to talk and to watch while the young, the energetic and the deluded stayed on the dance floor.  Time passed quickly and the lovely G and I, who had intended to stay for only a short while as we had a long drive ahead to get back home, realised that we had passed our planned departure time in good company and easy, if loud, conversation with the group of her workmates we were sitting amongst.

By the time we noticed we were an hour behind our planned departure time we had come to a break in the proceedings and, as the DJ announced a short break, the lights came up around the room. Lisa took to the floor with a microphone to make a speech of thanks to the assembled crowd. As she came to the end of this she asked Sam to step onto the floor as she had an announcement just for him. Sheepishly and not, I suspect, without some trepidation, Sam duly made his way towards his wife who began to explain that she had a secret which he had been keeping from him and that she now needed to confess. She had for some time been arranging for a special surprise to come to the reception and that it was now time to reveal her surprise. She wanted to have a performance for Sam. She wanted to find an African dance and music group and had found that just such a group was performing at the Edinburgh Festival and that she had managed to book them to come to the reception to perform for Sam.

The groups name was 'Grassroots' and this would be the first time they had played at a private function such as a wedding, normally playing only full blown concerts. I guess they experienced how determined and persuasive Lisa can be when she gets started.

As she introduced them, drums began to beat and the five performers came in with deep voices chanting, the beating of the drums marking the rocking gait as they slowly passed through the wedding party to take center stage on the dance floor. For the next thirty or so minutes the room was transformed by these imposing performers draped in lion and leopard skin, black and white ostrich plumed headdresses scraping the ceiling as they danced and jumped and cavorted to the native drums and the rhythms they created.  We were taken to sun baked village squares, to royal enclosures and to women working pounding corn or rhythmically scrubbing clothes on river stones by sun drenched riverbanks . As bare feet stamped a rhythm and gourds filled with small stones rattled you could feel the heat of the sun and the dust rising from baked earth. They shook knobkerries and small shields as they sung songs of celebration, of manhood and of rituals from a foreign land and culture. They sung and danced a blessing for a happy marriage and a joyful life. They taught us in the audience to accompany them in the song of blessing, the words echoing across the room from performers to audience and back in hypnotic repetition and as we sang and chanted and clapped to the rhythm Sam and Lisa began to dance, sometimes together and sometimes turning to move on their own, an instinctive and spontaneous reaction to the music and the emotion.

It was mesmerising and I could do nothing but watch as the bride danced by.

Lisa and Sam.

I couldn't believe I'd accidentally left my camera at home........



Listening to Ladymith Black Mambazo,  'Inkanyezi Nezazi'.

Something About This Time Of Year...........

An East Lothian Sunset

Hullo ma wee blog,

There's something special about this time of year. Lots of bloggers have mentioned it this week. Weather changes, temperature cools, light softens, days get shorter as seasons slowly turn. Summer's morphosis into Autumn is on the way and this morning leaves are being buffeted by wind and rain. The grass at the front of the house is strewn with windfall pears which the birds are gorging themselves on. At the back of the house the swallows, who have nested under the eaves for the first time this year, are efficiently feeding the second brood of the season in preparation for the all too soon departure to warmer climes.

The land around is a brown and green patchwork of fields that have been shorn or are waiting the attention of the harvesters that slow morning traffic on country roads. Fields seem full to bursting point with bales of hay. Harvested fields are industriously ploughed by farmers eager to sow the next crop. Fields of potatoes grow strongly in the red East Lothian soil and evening roads reverberate to the sound of tractors and lorries loaded with hay-bales being moved to storage. Livestock too seems to dominate areas as huge numbers of sheep and cattle graze on fields of lush grass.

For me it's a time of naive reassurance. The garden fruit trees have been groaning with the weight of the crop they have grown this year. Heavy branches bend earthwards and early windfalls have been scooped up with relish to be rushed to the kitchen. The glut of apples and pears is upon us and neighbours and family have been warned of imminent arrivals. Link this with the bounty that's evident in the harvest all around and it's easy to ignore thoughts of gobal warming and the sooth-sayers or doom and gloom merchants of agricultural and economic disaster. Surely if the land is capable of producing such huge bounty as this year there can't be too much wrong with the climate? With a summer behind us thankfully free of warnings of water shortages, it's all too easy to put thoughts like those to one side at this time of year. Mother Nature is fecund and ripe. Everything is therefore in balance. Everything's OK. Forget the worries. Time now for many to plan that holiday jetting off to sunny climes for winter sun and cheap booze. Time enough for me simply to enjoy the moment, to savour this all too short period of transition as the seasons continue to turn inexorably through their cycles.

The light in the evenings is superb and my camera is never far from my hand. You can - until today at least - comfortably wear T-shirts right through till night time and thoughts of central heating are still weeks away. Evenings can be enjoyed spent on the patio with a book and a glass of something until light forces us indoors.



It's got to be one of my favourite times of year and I know how fortunate I am to be able to spend it here in this lovely little corner of the world. 'Coastkid',  a local blogger friend who's tales of cycling in this area I follow with interest, is a talented amateur film maker and regularly posts some wonderful GWF's {great wee films} of his treks hereabouts. A couple of days ago he and his helmet camera captured much of the essence of East Lothian in these short weeks with a wee film which happily he's allowed me to post for you here. Drop by his blog or look him up on you tube to catch more of his fabulous GWF's.

See you later.

Listening to Vangelis 'conquest of Paradise'

Glasgow's Miles Better............

Hullo ma wee blog,

Glasgow has long been known as one of Europe's murder capitals. It's famous or infamous for its knife culture. Yet, it's also recognised as one of Europe's friendliest cities too.

So. What does this all mean?

Just that the man who stabs you will probably give you directions to the nearest hospital too.......

That's got to be reassuring.

see you later.

listening to U2, 'With Or Without You'

Whiskers In The Sun.......

Hullo ma wee blog,

Monday. A holiday here.

The lovely G and I are outside on the patio enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. It's been a warm day and we have just come back from a short trip down to the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne, about half an hours easy drive southward down the coast into England. There's a causeway out to the island which is often covered by the sea, but today the road was uncovered for most of the day which is good in one way as it meant we could spend as long as we liked there without keeping wary eye on the time but was unfortunate in as much as it gave hordes of others the same idea so the small island was fairly packed with tourists. Eventually we decided to shorten the trip after a short walk and some photo taking to come back here to the garden and the afternoon sun on the patio.

A Boat Shed

I'd  spent a moment or two uploading the photo's onto the laptop and getting us some drinks and a few nibbles to accompany them, just some Asti with lime, a favourite summer drink of ours and a few pretzels and crisps to add some salty tang. We both took a book out with us.  I'm reading Alexander McCall Smith's 'La's Orchestra Saves The World', a nicely paced, gentle wee tale of WWII which I'm enjoying so far.  I wiped down the glass top of the table and covered it in a washable yellow flower-print tablecloth, laid some napkins and coasters and laid out the drinks while the lovely G brought out Jess, long leash attached to her harness which we use to stop her running off as she's done in the past. Once attached to something solid she can be left to wander freely to the limit of the leash.

Earlier I'd put out fresh water and filled the bird feeders with seed and fat balls in their spots in the trees around the garden and the birds were busily occupied in taking advantage of the free buffet on offer, at least until Jess made her appearance. This led to a hasty retreat into the overgrown hedge by the gang of  young sparrows who have come to dominate the garden over the last few weeks. Once at a safe distance they began to harangue her but, not speaking the lingo, Jess wasn't too fazed by it. Eventually they calmed down and everything in the garden began to quieten. Jess sniffed around and chewed some fresh grass until, wrapping herself tightly around the chiminea, she could go no further. Once freed by the lovely G, Jess too began to take things easy and lay down on the concrete slabs of the patio which had been warmed by the sun. Soon she seemed to be fast asleep and we could turn our attention back to our books and to enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun for ourselves. Cautiously at first the young sparrows began to come back to the feeders and enjoy the afternoon feast too.

A Cocky Wee Thing.

I read and sipped and nibbled for a while before turning to watch the comings and goings in the trees at the edge of the patio, enjoying the whirr of wings and the increasing bravery of the young blades of sparrow squadron as they became more and more focused on feeding and less on the presence of a startling white cat just a few yards from them. Jess also seemed to be enjoying the scene and appeared disinclined to do anything more than watch. As she did so, laid out on her side with her head raised towards the garden, she sniffed the air, her head slowly bobbing with each inhalation. She seemed to be content just to smell the air, with its scent of grass, herbs and assorted birds. Even when she found the heat of the paving slabs too much and relocated herself over on the grass by the trees, closer to the feeding birds, she was apparently not considered to be too much of a threat by the young sparrows who continued to fly in over her to get to the feeders. It struck me that calm and harmonious as the scene might be, if it was me who was risking life and limb flying in an out over a cat or ignoring it as I concentrated on stuffing my face, I would perhaps be worried and giving her some of my attention. Jess, who seems to be much less lively when on the end of a lead, ignored the comings and goings just a few feet above her head and appeared to have passed out in the warmth of the sun, only occasionally giving a twitch of her tail or raising a white whiskered head in half hearted complaint as a brave - or foolhardy - sparrow. zoomed by.

Peace and tranquility reigned. For a while at least..........

Yum........... when's my lunch

See you later.

Listening to Cherry Ghost, 'Mathematics'