PhotoHunter: dirty

At first I thought it was going to be a difficult one, but then I remembered how our house looked when we first saw it. Don't faint! The shame is that I don't have more "After" pictures to match these - I've left them on the other computer.

This was the "kitchen" from one direction.

And this was again the "kitchen" but the other end.

This was our first sight of the "dining room". The pink teamed with cobwebs and rust won the day!

And here you have one of the "living room"

which turned out like this:

In the end, after two and a half years of hard work, it did turn out more or less all right, and now, two and a half years later still, it has changed even more.

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Don't panic!

Our son and his new wife have been scurrying around looking for a larger apartment for several weeks. I've just overheard my husband speaking to him on the phone:

"There's really no need to rush into it. You do get nine months' notice you know!"

Cultural sensitivity

According to this article, the "fixation on cultural sensitivity is changing the debate around female genital mutilation, with a growing number of professors and women's rights activists becoming hesitant to condemn the practice".

My response to this has to be, would they have been, are they still, equally hesitant to condemn slavery? (it still exists, it is a well established tradition in some areas). Would they have had difficulty in condemning foot-binding in Chinese culture?

There is an interesting post on Global Voices about the tradition of over-feeding women in Mauritania where it is sexy for women to be fat. A commenter on an earlier post had said "but it is not their fault, this is how they were educated". Similar arguments apply.

Being aware of cultural issues and sensitivities cannot mean that harmful practices should be condoned. And I notice that the majority of these issues are harm caused to women.

David Pogue's online shorthand

David Pogue writes a column in the New York Times each week, about varying subjects related to technology.

This week he puts forward the idea that the standard abbreviations of LOL, IMHO and so on have become so mainstream that the younger generation of should be considering updating to a new set of acronyms. The suggestions, from some of his younger colleagues, include CMOS (call me on Skype) and GI (Google it).

What really made me smile though, was his idea of having acronyms for an older generation:

WIWYA - when I was your age
NIWYM - no idea what you mean
LODH - log off, do homework
DYMK - does your mother know?

Perfect (lol)!

Not amused

Today he was collected from his holiday stay at the cattery.

He may never speak to us agian.

Falling rates of HIV in Africa

There have been a number of reports of falling, or better than expected, HIV rates in sub-Saharan Africa, for example in South Africa, Liberia, Kenya.

On the face of it, it seems good news but a report today gives some reasons why this might not give the whole story. Factors which could distort the figures are:

• Initially, rates were obtained from testing in ante-natal clinics but, because they were naturally a young age group compared with the whole population and, since they were pregnant, clearly were having unprotected sex, these figures could have produced an inflated rate.
• More recently household surveys have been conducted, but high numbers refused to be tested and many others were absent from home, both of which could lead to apparently lowered rates of infection.
• The variety and unreliability of many survey methods, many being highly selective.
• Anti-retroviral drugs keep people infected with HIV alive and so boost the rates of HIV in the population. It could then follow that countries which do little by way of treating their infected population appear to have a declining rate.

The contributors to the report are suggesting that the story is a very complex one and that some comprehensive and long-term studies are carried out.

Home from Amsterdam

It was wonderful

When I have some time, I'll do a "proper" post of what we saw, but in the meantime

Here is

a little preview

of the lovely city

as we saw it.

Away days

We're off at the crack of dawn for a couple of days in Amsterdam to mark our anniversary, which isn't now. The trip was postponed for several weeks because of other things that were happening at the time.

No laptops allowed, I'm told!

Moving house on Notting Hill Carnival weekend

Writing that last post about Notting Hill Carnival brought back memories of 1979 when we were in the process of moving from a very rural part of the south of England to Scotland. My husband had gone on ahead to start working there, and after overseeing the loading of the removal van, I packed our two very small boys into my first, (yellow but I had mine before James Bond did), 2CV and set off into London to board the Motorail.

Nobody told me it was carnival weekend.

I wasn't used to driving anywhere other than our local country lanes, so I had very precise instructions on how to get to the station, but every time I tried to leave the motorway at the allotted place, the streets were cordoned off because of the carnival. I can't remember how I managed to find my way, but I do recall the panic that was rising with every detour I had to make. I was sure I would miss the train.

It was due to depart during the evening and travel overnight to Scotland, arriving very early in the morning. I settled the boys to sleep. We set off all right but after a few hundred yards stopped. I didn't pay much attention, assuming it was something to do with signals, but after an hour or more I realised that was unlikely.

We reversed back into the station, and there we stayed.

There were no announcements. Nobody came around to say what was happening. After a time I happened to be leaning out of the carriage window to see if I could see any sign of activity when a man cam by. He told me the carriages of cars had derailed just outside the station and they were having to wait for a special crane to arrive to put it back on track.

We were hours and hours late leaving. There were no phone boxes in sight and it was well before the days of mobile communications so I couldn't let my husband know what was going on.

The next morning found me craning out of the windows trying to see road signs as they passed, to try to work out where we were. It wasn't Scotland.

By this time my husband was frantic with worry and, finding the arrival station completely closed with no information available, had phoned everyone one in the family plus assorted friends to find out if they had heard from me. Had I missed the train and stayed with them? Had it been cancelled? Now they were all frantic too.

I'm sorry to say it, but by the time we were safely reunited, our nerves were all so frayed that we could hardly say a civil word to each other as we set about moving into the new house.

Amazingly, though I should be well aware of how much information can be found on the internet, someone has a site devoted to the motorail services, including an old timetable.

Notting Hill Carnival

This is the weekend of the Notting Hill Carnival, the largest of its kind in Europe. They are having a lovely weekend for it.

The theme of this year’s carnival, Set All Free, is in honour of the bicentenary of the abolition of the slave trade.

The official charity is The African-Carribean Leukaemia Trust which, by raising awreness awareness of the need for more people of African, African Caribbean or Mixed Parentage origin on the bone marrow register, hopes to boost their numbers and give others the chance to be free from leukaemia.

PhotoHunter: Happy

A brief entry - a busy weekend is to be followed by a busy week.

My happy pigs!

Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.

~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

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Gateau Lawrence

Someone had the bright idea that we should have a barbecue, tomorrow, to say farewell to the colleague who has taken "early retirement" (read: made redundant). A very good friend volunteered her garden, I have bought his gifts and provided some food, including the chocolate cake of which he is so fond. 
Gateau Lawrence comes from Joanne Harris' book, French Kitchen, and is very rich, moist and usually delicious. I've made it several times but never with less success than today: the sugar stayed resolutely lumpy, the egg whites wouldn't whip, it cooked too well and the icing won't set. 
I hope the day goes rather better than the baking.

[Since then I've had much more success]

I love the java jive and it loves me

After years of trying to cut down on the dreaded caffeine, it would appear that I can confidently revert ;)

A study conducted in Montpellier, Bordeaux, and Paris looked at the effect of caffeine intake on the mental abilities of 4,197 women and 2,820 men aged 65 and above. They were followed up at two years and four years.

The results show that women drinking three or more cups of coffee a day (or six cups of tea) were significantly less likely to suffer from cognitive decline than those drinking one or less. The protective effect seemed to increase with age.

There was no protective effect found for men. (Sorry chaps, but then you are less likely to suffer from dementia anyway.)

I love coffee, I love tea
I love the java jive and it loves me
Coffee and tea and the java and me
A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup (boy!)

I love java, sweet and hot
Whoops Mr. Moto, I'm a coffee pot
Shoot the pot and I'll pour me a shot
A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup

Oh slip me a slug from the wonderful mug
And I'll cut a rug just snug in a jug
A sliced up onion and a raw one
Draw one -
Waiter, waiter, percolator

I love coffee, I love tea
I love the java jive and it loves me
Coffee and tea and the java and me
A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup

Sorry, couldn't resist - I love that song! Manhattan Transfer on YouTube.

Chartres

For the sake of an easy post I'm delving into my father's collection of postcards again.

These ones are all from Chartres. I took my parents there for a visit when they were staying with us in Paris as it was within easy reach and one of my favourite places. Even the approach is lovely because you can see the cathedral from a considerable distance.

It so happens that we quite often see this view (with varying field coverage) as Chartres lies on one of our several possible routes between France and the UK. Which route we take depends on how the spirit moves us on that particular day.

Chartres is a lovely old town, twinned with Chichester in West Sussex, which also has a beautiful cathedral. Kate Mosse, the author, used used to live in Chichester and visited Chartres several times. It later became one of the settings in her book, Labyrinth.

Interior views

The stained glass windows are not done any justice by this card. In real life they are most beautiful vivid colours, apparently one of the most complete collections of mediaeval stained glass in the world.

I'm including it because of the message on the back from an aunt and uncle, both of whom were teachers and felt compelled always to write something informative (ie educational) on every card they sent. It is dated 1973 and some of it will mean more to anyone who lived in the UK during decimalisation. It says:

The stained glass in Chartres Cathedral is delicate and beautiful. A packet of Omo is 7/6d a car-wash is 6/= and a tin of insecticide is 15/=. However peaches are 3p.

It fascinates me: the seamless transition from stained glass windows to the laundry; how they were spending their time on holiday; and not least that two years after decimalisation the teachers were still mixing their ds with their ps!

La Vie en Rose

A couple of weeks ago I noticed a film called "La Vie en Rose" was showing at our local cinema here in England. I was a little surprised to see a film with a French title and wondered idly what it was.

When I eventually looked at its website and discovered it was a French film with English subtitles, I persuaded my husband he ought to come with me. As did a friend, so we all went together, in spite of some fairly feeble attempts at escape by our menfolk.

For those of you who don't know the film, it's a life story of Edith Piaf. I say "a" life story, because an awful lot was left out. The time line is far from linear and occasionally that can be quite confusing, but I believe the reason for that becomes clear in the end. On her death-bed she says that her memory is failing and that she can't remember anything at will. Memories return unbidden and it seems to me that was reflected in the way the plot darted around.

The actress, Marion Cotillard, who plays Piaf, is herself 31 but does a wonderful job of portraying her with conviction from the age of about 15 right up to her death at 47 (and looking very much older). The make-up was excellent but so too was the acting. I understand she mimed to the songs but you would never know.

I suspect I was the only one of the four of us who really enjoyed it, and the men may even have gone as far as saying they disliked it. Nevertheless, in spite of a later night than anticipated followed by a busy day at work, and having spilt coffee down my front right at the start, non, je ne regrette rien.

Coals to Newcastle?

According to the British Summer Fruits website, British raspberries are available from the end of May until mid-September.

Surely, surely, there is somewhere to source raspberries closer to the south of England than this:

I cannot believe that it's economically viable nor can I understand how Tesco considers it to be acceptable to fly raspberries from the USA, considering all that has been said about the environment. And they are, after all, grown in this country. We haven't all be under water.

Seaplanes and flying boats

In April this year there was a report that AirSea Lines were hoping to bring back seaplane services to Southampton in time for the 2012 Olympic Games. At one time the Southampton area had a number of seaplane services. I had forgotten about this until I read over the weekend in the Guardian that the first commercial seaplane service for over 50 years had started, from Glasgow to west coast towns and islands in Scotland.

I was on one of those last flights from Southampton which, according to one site, continued until 3 November 1950. My mother took my sister and myself out to Africa to join our father while he was working there.

Her account:

The Sunderland never flew at night so it was, by comparison with today’s flights, a very leisurely trip, taking four days to arrive on Lake Nyasa [now Lake Malawi]. As we took off and gathered speed on Southampton Water the body of the plane seemed to descend into the waves which lashed against the windows, quite frightening I could see, to the tiny figure in the enormous seat beside me.

Photo from Southampton Flying Boat Services site

My mother was quite an intrepid traveller. After the four days of travel, she arrived with us at Monkey Bay to find that my father was no longer there. He had been posted elsewhere and the only hotel was closed, so off she set with one six month old baby and a toddler to find him, using a variety of cars and planes, from Monkey Bay to Fort Johnston (now Mangochi) to Zomba to Mzimba to Karonga.

I'm labeling this with "memories" but actually, I don't remember any of it!

Problems with water again

On the first day of this month I posted about the fact that some places have too little while others have to much.

In the slightly less than three weeks since, there have been numerous instances.

• Families stranded after river floods in western Kenya
• NEPAL: Flood victims face disease, food shortages
• BANGLADESH: Government says flood conditions stabilising
• COTE D'IVOIRE: Floods wipe out water source for hundreds of people
• SUDAN: One million people may be affected by floods
• LIBERIA: Sea destroys homes in coastal communities

And in Mauritania, where they had been praying for rain, it started on 7 August and now we hear that the subsequent flooding has produced health and sanitation problems.

In spite of the floods in western Kenya, there are also worries about the falling levels of rivers, according to IRIN. Experts believe that the cause of it is deforestation which allows the soil to be eroded so that it can no longer hold rainwater which would seep into the rivers. Instead it just evaporates, or causes flash floods. The good news is that careful management, planting 4 kilometres of trees and monitoring usage, has started to have an effect and river levels are rising again.

There are similar concerns about deforestation in Burkina Faso where a campaign to replant started on 4 August. So far 3,500 trees have been planted. The report is in French.

Back to Kenya again, to listen to a doctor in Denver, Dr Pius Kamau, who grew up in Kenya. He gives an account of how his family's small coffee plantation has dried up and failed. Interesting the contrast he draws between Starbucks springing up on every corner while his mother couldn't make ends meet on her farm producing coffee beans. And he comes full circle when he wonders how much African wildlife or how many African tribesmen are killed by his lifestyle now.

PhotoHunter: Two

I confess I could have gone on indefintiely with this one! However you will be relieved to know that I've restricted myself quite severely.

The two gateposts above can be found in Cap Ferrat, in the south of France. I love the symmetry, though I wish the left hand gate hadn't been slightly out of line.

The second two gateposts were found in the Yucatan in Mexico. Shabby and slightly delapidated, but I like their character. They would have been symmetrical too, if they hadn't been sagging here and there, with bits and pieces missing. Just like me really!

These two stone urns were on a wall overlooking one of the Villandry gardens. They aren't identical, as you will see below. I think they are wonderful - I couldn't stop looking at them.

PhotoHunt

Postcard collection

My father was something of a magpie, but made stamp collecting and postcard collecting into "real" hobbies.

The postcards were accumulated at first by saving any he was sent, and sending himself any he bought while on holidays. He often had patients who were sailors and would visit for a check-up, and if they were going anywhere interesting, he would jokingly ask them to send him a card when they were away.

On occasion he did receive them, but one man took it to heart and for several years sent a card every few months. They were always addressed to "Doctor" and signed MG Holmes.

The earliest one I have found (there may be others in albums) is dated 17/12/79 and is from Singapore.

As you may be able to see, it shows the National Theatre and water fountain.

According to the back of the card, "The National Theatre is situated at the King George V Park of River Valley Road. Most of the states cultural shows are held in it. The water fountain built in front of it is the biggest water fountain in Singapore."

No doubt the area has changed dramatically by now, almost 30 years later.

Fish farming in Malawi

The World Fish Center, whose aim is to reduce poverty and hunger by improving fisheries and aquaculture, is based in Penang in Malaysia and has projects in over 20 countries, one of which is Malawi.

There are a number of projects in Malawi which are outlined in a downloadable pdf file, all aimed at providing better nutrition and an income for smallholders by integrating fish farming with other agriculture. The fish farmers have significantly more income than others, they consume more fresh fish and as a result have a higher protein intake than other households.

About 30% of these fish farmers are women. One project is specifically aimed at developing fish farming practices which are suited to households headed by widows or orphans. They are hoping to increase income and fish consumption for them by 25%.

Another project is looking at the suitability of fish production in urban areas. Yet another focuses on breeding and improving certain species appropriate for farming.

I found out all this from following links, originally from a Google news alert, and it has led to a huge topic that I barely knew existed, apart from one brief mention in April.

Other interesting links:

Fish for All

Water and Food

Mosquito nets again

Photo: Laudes Martial Mbon/IRIN

Following on from my previous post about the distribution of insecticide-treated nets to families with small children in Kanya, there is a report that in the Congo 300,000 nets have been distributed by train.

UNICEF and the Congolese government hired the train to reach some of the more remote areas with limited medical facilities. In the Congo, malaria is the main cause of death in children under five, is a leading cause of poor school attendance and also accounts for around 50% of hospital admissions.

The nets are to be distributed to any child under six years old or any woman attending a pre-natal clinic. An additional 200,000 nets are to be donated by the USA.

In Kenya, in the areas where they have been distributing treated nets since 2004, they have reported a 44% drop in the number of malaria related deaths. 13.4 million nets have been given out so far and the plan is to widen the distribution to everyone in a targeted area, although pregnant women and under-fives remain the priority.

These are long-lasting nets with the insecticide treatment designed to last for the lifetime of the net. Conventionally treated nets have to be regularly re-treated.

Freudian slip

I've worked with the same small business which looks after our networks for the last six years. The owner and I do know each other very well now and have a very easy and friendly relationship.

Today I had to confirm with him an order for MS Forefront Security. I couldn't remember the name and I heard myself saying "What's it called? Full Frontal Security?".

I could hear him choking. He is a very, very, umm, pleasant young man. Fortunately living hundreds of miles away.

Appraisal

My boss, who has all but ignored me for two years, sent me an email on Monday to say he would be coming down in our direction today, Wednesday, and he would do my appraisal while he was in the area.

How this is going to be achieved when I have never been given any objectives I don't know, but I feel I have to prepare in some way. I have at least given priority to his pet schemes and never (yet) complained that he has let them drop.

Yesterday I spent a lot of time setting up our new intranet, another of his pet schemes, as well as setting up spam filters on the the new email server, plus the usual IT firefighting that goes on. I started the day at 8:00 am and left at just after 6:00 pm. During the evening I was sent a message to say that our web developers, who were in the midst of a revamp of three websites and a complete rewrite of a fourth, had closed the business and ceased trading yesterday.

So here I am at 5:00 in the morning trying to put some thoughts together. If the truth be known, I have been putting thoughts together all night long, most of them unrepeatable.

Edinburgh

Once upon a time we lived in Scotland.

My very first visit was to the Edinburgh Festival just about nine months before our first was born. No, no, no! I was already pregnant but did not yet have confirmation. Honestly.

Roughly six years later we moved to Scotland and stayed there four years. That was a record that took a while to be broken.

I used to take the boys into Edinburgh occasionally, because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Once I remember we went to meet their father who was in his Edinburgh office that day. I took the boys in on the train (great excitement) and then we would return all together in Daddy's car. Except that our wires got crossed and by the time I arrived, he had left and we had to turn around and go back. By train again. When we got off the train at our station I suddenly discovered I had only one boy. I was absolutely frantic. He eventually reappeared, 92.5 years later, hand in hand with a man he had found in the car park. If you are that man, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Another time we had a picnic in Princes Street gardens. I had carefully prepared sandwiches: I made the boys their favourites, and my own was to be prawns. The younger decided he would prefer mine. When he got to the last bite he asked what those pink round things were. "Prawns," I answered honestly. "I don't like those, you can have it and I'll have the cheese ones". So that was nice: I had the crust. It was a hungry day.

The final time we went was with another family of two boys of much the same age. We did all the sorts of things we thought young boys might like to do. They whined and moaned, All. Day. Long. It was a bitterly cold and windy day, of the sort that Edinburgh does best.

If you don't have small boys, Edinburgh is a lovely place. Really it is.

The pictures are scans of postcards I have and one in particular has been marked. No doubt I could remove the marks if I had, and knew how to use, photo editing software.

Senegal, Tostan and FGM

I mentioned the organisation Tostan's work in Guinea last April. They work primarily in West Africa having started up in Senegal, but they also have programs in Sudan and Somalia.

Today they have been awarded The Hilton Prize, awarded annually to an organisation making extraordinary contributions toward alleviating human suffering anywhere in the world. It is worth $2 million (£750,000) which must be going to make a huge difference to their work.

It is especially good to hear this news because only last Friday IRIN published a report saying that female genital mutilation (FGM) was continuing in Senegal 10 years after villagers had claimed to abandon it. In fact, reading further in the article will reveal that a 2006 survey shows a 60% drop in the rate of FGM in villages which had been in the Tostan programme. That seems to be well on course for the UNFPA's aim to eliminate the practice within a generation, and for which the UN is setting up a $44 million fund.

It seems unrealistic to expect to change views which have developed over centuries in a relatively short time. They have been doing incredibly well to have achieved what they have so far but the prize money will allow them to do so much more. I would hope that the people administering the new fund will look at their successful methods.

Shameful

From the most recent copy of the Lancet:

My young daughter needed to go to the toilet during a shopping trip in London during the last school holidays. While I stood next to the hand basins waiting for her, a woman came out of one of the cubicles and as she washed her hands, looked up and admonished me in no uncertain terms for the poor job I had done in keeping the toilets clean. Speechless, I watched her storm out. I am not an indolent cleaner; but I am Black, of African descent, and an Australian national. My daughter, having overheard, asked why I had not explained that I was a professor. But why do I have to?

It makes me ashamed of my fellows.

To Pablo (yes, you)

Pablo has mentioned me on a Spanish blog, saying that I am just as likely to talk about gardening trivialities as about the pressures of life on women in Africa. (I think so, I don't speak Spanish.)

If I have it right, it's true enough :) I cannot dispute it. I was trying not to be "relentlessly depressing" as I think one commenter put it. And recently, even I was aware I had no good news, so what can you do but lighten up a bit ....

Pablo's blog, La solitude du coureur, là au fond, has a title which is a lovely play on words: a "coureur du fond" is a long distance runner but the "coureur, là au fond" is the runner, there at the back.

His blog is written in both Spanish and French, but I feel sure (if you're an adult) that no matter what language you speak, you will be able to get a grasp of this post. It's about a satirical magazine, whose cartoon picturing Prince Philip (not the British one) to illustrate a point about child allowances was banned by a judge.

Pablo, thank you for mentioning me.

Bees for Development

Einstein is reputed to have said that if bees disappeared, the earth would die within four years. It is unlikely that he did in fact say it, but the idea nevertheless does have a grain of truth.

The Bees for Development organisation helps people in poor and remote areas of developing countries and raises awareness of the value of beekeeping in alleviating poverty. They provide both training and resources. They advise on how to build hives, market the honey, manage the bees sustainably and develop a livelihood.

The benefits to people are that the bees pollinate crops, they provide food in the form of honey, and they provide income from selling honey as well as other products such as beeswax. Beekeeping offers a good way for people to create income from natural resources without harming the environment.

The other products can be made and sold locally. Beeswax is used in polish, soaps and candles. Propolis is commonly available as an ingredient in toothpaste, soaps and ointments. Many people value it for sore throats and toothache.

Beekeeping is especially empowering for women as it offers an opportunity to create an income without great expense in setting up, and there is no requirement to own land, often a major problem for women. It doesn't require constant attention and can fit in with other work.

Projects have been set up in Ethiopia, Senegal, Nigeria, Tanzania, Ghana, Malawi, as well as many other countries outside Africa. North West Bee Products in Zambia is the only Fair-trade and organic certified honey business exporting honey from Africa to the UK.

Papillon revisited

For anyone who is following Papillon's progress by a news reader, you may notice over the next few days that posts will be appearing again.

I'm taking advantage of the fact that Papillon will still be on holiday for the next week to go through all her posts updating comments and amending various typos that still glare at me.

PhotoHunter: Row

I thought about a lot of different types of rows: rows of books, rows of vegetables or other crops, but in the end as I was sorting through old photos, I came across these from Venice. Venice is especially close to my heart because my grandfather came from there.

There are rows everywhere in the architecture: arches, pillars, columns, windows.

This is a detail from the Palazzo Santa Sofia, or Ca' d'Oro, which was being renovated when we saw it, and so it was unfortunately partially covered by tarpaulins. Built in 1428, it's hardly surprising that it needs renovation.

Above are arches and columns in the Doge's Palace

From the top of the Campanile, you have a very good view, not only of the rows of columns and arches in the Piazza San Marco, but also the rows of tables set out in the square, if you want to buy a refreshment at an extortionate price!

And here's another sort of row in Venice. It's a scan of an older picture we took about 15 years ago. Two rows of gondolas, one in each direction along a fairly narrow canal. Traffic congestion, Venetian style!

PhotoHunt

Monaco 1979

Continuing down memory lane...

In 1979 we had the opportunity to go to a business conference in Monte Carlo, or rather my husband did, I just tagged along.

The Principality of Monaco is made up of five areas:
Monaco-ville
Monte Carlo
Condamine
Moneghetti
Fontvieille

We stayed in Monte Carlo itself, in what was then called the Loews Monte Carlo and is now the Monte Carlo Grand Hotel. It was wonderful.

As you can see from our picture taken at the time, it is built on stilts over the sea. The F1 Grand Prix circuit goes through the tunnel under the hotel.

The other side of the hotel in the distance and a view of part of the port. These days there is nearly always a huge cruise ship somewhere offshore, resulting in sudden and large influxes of tourists.

Old Monaco-ville above, showing the Grimaldi Palace.

A street scene, not especially fascinating except for showing some of the typical architecture, and a young man in seventies style clothes.

Again, not an especially inspiring picture in itself, and I've no idea why it was taken, unless it was some sort of premonition. That road on the left hand side leads to the place where one of our sons now works, and the other son's apartment is in the picture too.

These days of course we visit rather more often, so we rarely take any photos, but now that I have unearthed these old ones, it would be fun to take the up-to-date equivalents. There have been a lot of changes.

Claudie has lots of photos of modern Monaco, including an up-to-date version of my one overlooking the port. It looks remarkably similar after almost 30 years.

Two small boys

Twenty five years ago these two boys went out for a walk with their father and his camera. Between them they produced a wonderful series of pictures of which only this rather battered example remains. I'm still hoping some copies will turn up somewhere.

Argan oil

I hadn't heard of it before today, but thanks to this French blog which pointed me in the direction of a sustainable development site, I now know that it is very rich in Vitamin E, it consists of 80% unsaturated fatty acid (similar to olive oil) and it also smells rather like almond oil. Research has shown that it has nutritional and dietary qualities even better than those of extra virgin olive oil and is commanding extraordinary prices.

The tree that produces this wonder oil is native to the semi-desert southern region of Morocco and grows nowhere else in the world.

The trees produce fruit which are very similar to large olives and are proving to be "green gold" to the Berber women who have created a co-operative to produce the oil, very sought after in other parts of the world.

Twenty nine women have joined together to produce and sell the oil. Some of these women cannot read nor write but the oil is giving them a promise of a better life. The dried fruit is roasted, smashed to remove the pulp, then the kernel is crushed to release the oil.

According to the article, a large cool room welcomes the customer, the shelves filled with flasks of oil, with soaps and creams. The presentation is simple but the contents of the bottle are what matters.

People watching

I generally arrive early to work, well before I need to but far from being the first in. During the summer I can usually park fairly close to the building where I have my office, but at most other times I find myself in one of the far flung outer car parks, so I have to pick my way around and through other parking places.

The first set of people I watch (out of my peripheral vision so as not to be seen watching) are ones I see every morning sitting in their cars, apparently listening to the radio, occasionally reading. Today there was someone eating her breakfast. Why ever don’t they go into the office?

There are the ones who will go up and down each rank to make sure there are no empty spaces a little nearer to the path out. I dare say they think I’m odd too. If I’m expecting sunshine, I park where I know the car will be in the shade for a couple of hours before I leave, which sometimes means I’m all by myself and well away from the shortest walking distance crowd.

Then there’s the man who has a sleep every lunchtime in his car. I would find that odd enough if he parked in the midst of a large number of other cars with nobody walking past, but he chooses one of the very small number of spaces outside the library where there is a constant flow of people going past. Odd that he can’t get through the day without a sleep, more odd that he chooses such a public spot.

Today a man and a woman met and stopped to talk. Clearly there was an attraction between them. There was a little dance going on with one swaying towards the other, and back, then the other would sway. One would turn away slightly, the other would move around to be facing again. They would move a few steps in one direction, stop and resume swaying.

Then very suddenly there was a downpur, so heavy the raindrops were bouncing. Everyone started to sprint for cover, except for one security guard. He was tough. He swaggered along at his usual deliberate pace getting soaked to the skin.

I love it. It’s a good thing I have no view from my office window.