Matching dreams

I had a lot of difficulty sleeping last night. A couple of years ago I had blocked salivary glands and, the doctor told me, a touch of arthritis in the jaw. When I’m stressed I lie in bed wondering if I’m holding my jaw in the right position (The opposite of grinding my teeth I suppose), then I tense up and it starts to ache which makes me worry more and the circle continues. My legs were restless too. I finally drifted off to sleep with the help of some paracetamol and started to dream. Rob was in the car and kept on getting out of the car without putting the handbrake on so the car was rolling backwards as he walked away. He did it three times even though I told him not to do it again.

This morning I was half awake when Rob told me he’d just be dreaming about me driving a bus, but I kept on leaving the handbrake off.

I wonder what that means…

Third Forth time lucky

Since Friday I’ve been trying to write a post about our visit to Tours last Thursday. I’ve finished the first sentence a couple of times only to be interrupted by major events like tea making or urgent ironing..

Anyway, we went to Tours for the viewing of an upcoming auction. This time we took an earlier train so that we could explore the historic part of the town during the morning. We weren’t disappointed. It’s lovely. We had a great lunch too, a little way from the very touristy part – which just seems to be restaurants and very crowded when we went back later. During the afternoon we went off to the viewing. Lots of good postcards and albums, it was hard to prepare a list, if only we could afford to buy all of them.

The best part came afterwards. We had a little time left before the train home and wondered through a little park. My attention was drawn by a huge cedar tree. Just like the one in Nimes. The cedar tree in Tours is just over two hundred years old and needs a bit of support, but is magnificent nonetheless. Rob called me over to see a poster on the wall. It was Fritz! I’d forgotten that I was intending to find out where Fritz was. When I finished reading the poster I turned around and there he was, on display. Fritz was big as elephants go. The link to my post about him, explaining his sad story with a picture is at the bottom.

When I’d finished admiring him it was time to get the train. It wasn’t too crowded, but we were still glad to be liberated at la Rochelle station. Just as we came out of the station my phone rang. Dom phoned to give me her news about what a lovely time she was having in Chicago. She was making useful contacts and her work has been appreciated by the right people. She’s got some pictures of some paintings by Monet which are in a gallery somewhere in Chicago, but I’ll probably have to wait until after her trip to England to see them. She remembered my copy of the Chicago Sun Times.. we talked for five minutes.

Since then she’s confirmed she got home safely on Saturday. I expect she’s dealing with the effects of jetlag as I write.

Now all I have to do is find the time to get this posted to my blog and wait to see if our bids were accepted. (It was then time to go for a walk so I had to wait yet again – hopefully I can do it now)

Cedar tree image

Cedar tree in Nimes

Fritz

Good people doing good things

I’ve recently started to read a blog about a centre for aid for handicapped young people in Hanoi; Hold The Future. The blog is a cheap way to let the world know about what is going on there and show off the website selling some of the beautiful gifts that the young people are making (Click on the Union Jack in the top right hand corner for the English version). There are still scars left by the war that finished in the mid 70’s. Children are still being born with disabilities because of the use of ‘Agent Orange’. Today I read that they have set up a Wikipedia page.

Good person number two is Peter the Worldman. I think he’s just about to retire for the third time. Will they let him go? I wonder if he will be sent to Pakistan next. Thank you Peter for all of the years of hard work you’ve put in to help people in need.

The chicks fly

As I’m writing this Dom is probably at the airport in Paris waiting to board her flight for Chicago. I hope that she hasn’t forgotten anything, her poster for example, which she’ll be presenting here. Dom is number 18 on Page 8. An old school friend of hers will be in Chicago too to keep her company and help her to explore in her free time. We’re wondering what ‘continental breakfast’ is like Chicago style and do they have croissants and are they anything like the real ones.

She came to stay for two weeks at the beginning of August, it was good to see her, especially as she is a good cook too! J-M came for a few days too and mended the gate!! Remember the episode of Sliders when they thought they were in then wrong universe because the gate didn’t squeak anymore?

At the end of August they will be driving to England so that J-M can meet the family.

Olivier will be moving into his own apartment in September. I’ve seen the pictures and it looks quite spacious. It’s very light as there are two windows plus a skylight. We’ll be taking him to Poitiers on the 2nd September. I’m looking forward to seeing where he will be living for the next year or so. It’s next to the park, I’ve seen the park on lots of old Postcards of Poitiers but never managed to see it for real.

Rob and I will be real ‘empty nesters’ next year. Once Olivier is settled I expect he won’t be home at weekends.

On Thursday Rob and I will be off to an auction viewing; This time we’re giving ourselves more time to visit the town of Tours. I always enjoy seeing our ‘expert’ he’s a human Google and Wikipedia rolled into one. Of course we’ll be seeing some beautiful postcards too…

Back to normal

I’m sorry that I haven’t been writing as much as I usually do, (real) life gets in the way sometimes. I’ve missed you all. Hopefully from now on I’ll be catching up with visits and comments. I’ve also got some great new blogs to add to my list.

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“But I am withered worn and grim”

A month ago I went off for my two yearly mammogram like the good woman I am. I was a little surprised to receive through the post shortly after, a second invitation. I opened it so that I could send the form off explaining why I was turning down their kind offer and discovered another invitation to a different party. A free test for Colon cancer – how lovely!

Last week I trundled off to the doctor’s, armed with latest blood and pee test results, for my free full medical because I am an entrepreneur and he awarded me with the necessary kit for the cancer test. Done and ready to post. In the mean time I’ve also received a leaflet on how to look after my heart because I am getting old….

The title of my post comes from a poem featured in The Queen’s Gift Book, published on aid of Queen Mary’s Convalescent Auxiliary Hospitals (World War I). The book is falling apart but I still have some of the original pictures which were pasted in – W. Heath Robinson illustrated this poem for the book

THE MAN OF WORDS
By Mrs. Henry de la Pasture
(Lady Clifford)

Paintings and Drawing,s by
W. Heath Robinson


The old lord to the goose-girl said,
" 'Tis not your beauty that I prize,
Nor raven hair that crowns your head,
Nor slender waist, nor soft grey eyes.

" I love you for your simple truth
And for the mind and soul of you.
And would the gods but grant me youth,
I straight would be your husband true.

" But I am withered, worn and grim.
And you a flower fresh and wild,
And all the world makes mock of him
Who, in his dotage, weds a child."

The old lord to the goose-girl said.
With courteous smile and silver tongue,
" I love you and I fain would wed —
But I'm too old, and you're too young,

" And yet withal I do admit,
So gentle and so grave your mien,
So low your voice, so kind your wit,
One would suppose you bred a queen.

" No high-born dame could please me more,
And would the gods but grant to me
To lose of all my years a score,
Then we might wed right faithfully.

" So we would make Old Time confess
(Who brings mankind to sure decay)
We loved each other none the less
For eyes grown dim and heads grown grey."

With blush of peach and candid eyes
The goose-girl answered straight and free,
"To be your wife I fain would rise.
For I love you as you love me."

The goose-girl said, with heart on fire,
" Oh, what is age when love is true ?
No dearer mate covild I desire,
I love the noble words of you.

" And since 'tis not my looks you prize.
And since 'tis youth for which you pine —
I've nothing else to sacrifice —
I'll pray the gods to grant you mine."

A passing cupid caught the sigh.
And bore it in a crystal dish
On his swift flight from earth to sky.
Jove, smiling, said, " I grant that wish."

The old lord dropped of years a score.
Each shrunken limb grew round and fair,
In manhood's prime he stood once more.
Back to his temples stole his hair.

The old lord's sunken jaw plumped out.
His teeth stood firm, his eyes shone clear.
He was as straight and strong and stout
As man could be at forty year.

The goose-girl took his load of years
That on her shoulders now was cast.
She knew no doubts, she knew no fears,
She kissed Love's hand that bound it fast.

Her fleeting charms of youth were lost ;
A buxom dame with comely face
And raven hair just touched with frost
Stood smiling in the goose-girl's place.

Full wistfully she looked at him,
Nor needed words his blank dismay.
Her candid eyes grew something dim,
Love shut his wings and stole away.

She stood alone — unseen, unheard — •
And pondered, wondering, o'er the change.
" I did but take him at his word.
And oh," she said, " but men are strange ! "

Then homeward trudging — on her staff
She leaned a trifle heavily —
Her wise eyes wrinkled with a laugh.
'' He was a man o' words ! " quoth she.

The moral of the poem is; careful what you wish for

Mrs Bidery’s spidery bedroom

As I was closing the shutters one night last week I noticed several small spiders on the curtains and window. Looking around they were on the walls and along the angle where the ceiling meets the wall. Not nice, but they were small enough not to panic me. I decided to vacuum them up. One or two that had tried to escape onto the ceiling dropped onto the bed. Needless to say I vacuumed the whole room, floors and walls before going to bed. The next night there were a few and the night after, just one or two.

This morning I had to vacuum around the computer, there were four or five hanging around. I wonder if they are drawn by the wifi – or perhaps they like me?

Soap nuts - part II

I’ve now done three washes with the soap nuts. The first two were at 30°c and the last was towels and tea towels which I wash at 60°c. I’m not sure that the nuts were up to a hotter wash on their third go. The strangest part is the lack of smell. I suppose that I associate the smell of scented chemical products with clean.

As I type this, I think I’ll probably save 2 or 3 euros (3euro = $3.65 = £2.42)a month on cost, but much more on the cost to the environment. The nuts came in a ziplock bag printed with the details. The bottom of the bag is badly printed, so for the moment I’ll be using an ordinary product for whites as I add a whitener. I don’t normally use a softener except for woollens, I can’t say that the washing feels softer after using the nut and I haven’ ironed anything washed with the nuts yet. I’ve yet to try a couple of drops of scented oil with the wash. As I have two men to wash for I’ll have to choose my perfume carefully.

Champagne

Just before we were married 25 years ago we were given three bottles of champagne. The bottles were already 10 years old. We drank two on our wedding day and decided to keep the 3rd for this year. I opened it last week. First of all the cork fell apart, then when I poured it, out came a very dark looking liquid, not at all bubbly – I didn’t taste it as I thought it smelt like paint stripper. We weren’t too disappointed as we half expected it to go wrong.

On Friday night Olivier worked late as there was a function at one of the towers; They asked for an extension until two in the morning and rewarded Olivier and his colleague with – a bottle of champagne. Olivier was horrified when the other person poured Olivier’s share into an empty plastic coke bottle and gave it to him (do you think that this person could have been French?). He doesn’t like champagne so he brought it home and put it into the fridge. When I first saw it, it reminded me of a pee sample. Rob and I drank it yesterday eveing and it was very good – despite the coke bottle.