PhotoHunt: book(s)

I've posted about books so many times before.  I can't avoid it - they are part of my life and a large part.  I've been trying hard to think of a different way of illustrating what books mean to me.

So I started off by an attempt to show that it was the content of the books that was so important - the pages rather than the spine.

But that made me think.  Dangerous, I know.  It isn't only the content of a book that is important to me, otherwise I'd invest in an e-book reader and at the moment I can't think of anything worse.

Who wouldn't like to run their hands over some beautiful books like that?  Looking along a shelf full of old friends?

Who doesn't enjoy riffling through pages until some beautiful words catch the attention?

I love all those things and can't imagine a time when an electronic device will take precedence over the sheer joy of owning books.

Disclaimer:  some people's opinions may differ.  My sister has always been even more possessive of her books than I am, and has been totally won over by an e-book reader.

Join in and find other other players at TNchick's site.

Moissac - somewhere to stop

On the way to and from a holiday, we never want to spend to long driving in any one day, so we look for somewhere to stop, roughly half way.  This last journey home was no exception and map examining combined with hotel availability led us to a place called Moissac.

I had a vague inkling I might have heard of the place, but so vague that I had no idea why that could be.  The only thing I could say for certain was that it must be old because place names in France ending in "ac" date back to pre-Roman times, so I've been told.  Apparently it denotes possession as in Aurillac meaning Aurelius' place.

We arrived over the bridge, le Pont Napoléon, built in the early 19th century, and could immediately see there would be no problem finding the hotel, the Moulin de Moissac.  I don't know about anyone else, but I always imagine a mill to be rather romantic and attractive.

This looked a little industrial for my taste, almost straight out of a Lowry painting.  Exploring further didn't improve things.  The town looked unloved and uncared for.

These building must have been striking at one time, though I don't suppose having the traffic of a main national road going past continuously would help with appearances.  Several buildings appeared to be owned by religious organisations.

But then, looking down a side-street, something more interesting.

Something worth investigation, especially as there was a convenient café/bar right outside.  As I approached I could see that the abbey (I discovered it was Saint Pierre Abbey later) had a beautifully carved portal, not entirely unlike the ones at Bourges.

Inside it was less magnificent but it did remind me somehow of St Savin which I visited a few weeks ago.

I read an article that described the interior as something left over from a wallpaper suppliers' convention.  Harsh.

So, satisfied that I had found something of worth in Moissac, it was time to return to the hotel for what turned out to be an excellent meal, and to look up more information on the abbey.  And I found out two things: one, that I'd missed one of the more outstanding features of the abbey, and two, that we weren't the only people to use Moissac as a place to stop.

I'd missed the cloister dating from 1100 AD, one of the best preserved examples of its kind.

There are 76 of these alternating single and double pillars, and each has a different carving on the capital (the top part), most of them illustrating a bible story.

There is one flaw, though, in this beautiful abbey.  In the enthusiasm to have a railway from Bordeaux to Sète , it was proposed that the line should go through the cloister.  A compromise was reached and "only" the refectory was demolished.  A large portion of the abbey complex was cut off from the rest by the railway and remains separate to this day.  It seems incredible now.

We aren't the only people to ever to have found Moissac a good stopping off point, because it lies on one of the great pilgrim routes, the route of Santiago de Compostela, also called the Way of St James.  The pilgrimage has been in existence for over 1000 years, and the main routes and stopping points declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

PhotoHunt: plastic

This theme came up just over 18 months ago when I complained about plastic bags. I'm starting to win the battle of plastic bags but plastic as a whole remains a problem.

It seems to be everywhere you turn. Where we live in the UK, very little plastic is accepted for recycling, and we hear too that the economic situation has made recycling no longer cost effective. When you think that all plastic ever created is still in existence unless it's been incinerated, has any progress been made, I wonder?

Join in and find other other players at TNchick's site.

Summer time

The rose is red, the violet's blue, 

The honey's sweet, and so are you. 

1784 version

She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew, 

And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew. 

1590 ~ The Faerie Queene, Sir Edmund Spenser

Les bleuets sont bleus, les roses sont roses, 

Les bleuets sont bleus, j'aime mes amours. 

1862 ~ Les Misérables, Victor Hugo

“Happiness is having a scratch for every itch.”

Alternative title:  air pollution, or do academics like fart jokes?

Almost two years ago I wrote a post about the Château d'Ussé which I had at the time recently visited, and was very disappointed to find how shabby it was.  I have been intending to revise the post and that led me to thinking about the problems of maintaining historical sites such as this.

One thing led to another, and I found something called the Noah's Ark project which is hoping to produce guidelines and strategies to minimise the impact of changing climate on cultural heritage sites.  As part of this project, University College London is investigating the likely effects of climate change on wood, brick and stone buildings, to predict changes that are significant for conversation.

So, a good academic project.  Because there was little information - at first glance - on the site, I looked at the image gallery.  This is the picture chosen to illustrate the effect of air pollution on the Tower of London.

You may need to click the picture to enlarge it.  Just what sort of air pollution are we talking about here?

PhotoHunt: painted

"I dream of painting, then I paint my dreams" ~ Vincent van Gogh.

Still playing catch-up, so these are pictures taken from approximately this time last year, at the same place in Brittany that featured in PhotoHunt: blue.

Join in and find other other players at TNchick's site.

Monte Carlo or bust

I first saw Monaco in 1979.  I've been back a number of times but never really paid a great deal of attention to my surroundings.  During my recent holiday I had the opportunity to visit again, so I looked with fresh eyes -  and took some photographs.  This post, I'm afraid, will be very picture-heavy.  If you click on any of them, you will be able to see a larger version.

 

A classic shot of the area, La Condamine, and the harbour which has recently been enlarged to allow cruise liners to dock.  They used to have to anchor out in the bay.

A view back over Monte Carlo residential area and up the cloud covered mountains behind.  Monaco's border doesn't extend far so many of the buildings you can see will be in France.  Beausoleil is directly behind Monaco.

This area of Monaco is Fontvieille, a new area completely reclaimed from the sea.  The football stadium at the upper right marks the border with France.  You can see the roof-top gardens on many of the buildings.  Not visible here, but one or two even have a separate house or cabin on top.

The three pictures above were taken from the old town, Monaco-ville, which is probably the most interesting part of all.

This is the cathedral, built on the site of the first parish church which dated from 1252.  The church was demolished in 1874 to allow the construction of the cathedral, using stone from La Turbie, which cleans itself and whitens in the rain.

The Oceanographic Museum, which used to be directed by Jacques Cousteau, currently running an exhibition about the polar regions and their vulnerability.  Inside the rooms are ornate and beautiful.  The aquarium was visually stunning but some of the tanks seemed small.  There was one tank, a featureless column, filled with silver sea bass, all swimming in the same direction.  I suppose it's no worse than fish-farming but I felt uncomfortable that it was there for effect and entertainment.

The Saint Martin Gardens surround the Oceanographic Museum.  There are sculptures everywhere in all the gardens I saw, all beautiful.

The Casino, everyone knows the Casino.  Taken close up because the view from further away was restricted.  You'll see why later.

The Café de Paris entrance to the Casino.  The Brasserie is next door.

A fountain, with a reflective disc showing the casino, in the Boulingrins Gardens.  Apparently "boulingrins" is a distortion of "bowling green", one of those bits of trivia that appeal to me for some reason.  And here you see the reason many of my photos are from odd angles.  In the background are the stands for the upcoming Grand Prix.  Barriers, cranes, stands and scaffolding were everywhere.  Something of a contrast, I thought, with the concern for the environment expressed in the Oceanographic Museum.  Money talks.

Another sculpture in the gardens, another odd angle.

Boulevard d'Italie - the older style buildings with the modern in the background.

The beach, recently reclaimed land, with the Sporting Club in the background.

A fountain near the beach.

Two ships, one a cruise ship, the other privately owned, anchored in the bay at night to leave room in the harbour for a large cruise liner.  The blue lights allow for night-time swimming.  To me they seem to illustrate the romance of a different lifestyle.

If you're here for Canucklehead's Scavenger Hunt, I'm saying nothing.

Elaine

I found out today that my long-standing blogging friend, Elaine, has died at the far-too-young age of 67.

She has had poor health for quite some time and reading through her entire blog as I did today, I realise just how much she deteriorated over the two years she blogged. But I don't want to dwell on the sadness, but rather on how much she had to offer all of us who knew her.

She was a great cook, an avid reader (we shared the same taste in books), a Francophile, great fun, and best of all, a loyal friend. She must have been my commenter-in-chief, sticking by me through thick and thin, and there have been many thins. Through her comments and her blog I felt I came to know her and her family, so I will miss her good cheer and good sense very much.

Goodbye, my friend. I wish you knew how many lives you touched.

Friends

Tow lovely awards from two lovely people.  The first comes to me from an old friend, Ettarose of Sanity on Edge, the second from a new friend, Elizabeth of Little Bytes of Life.

I'd like to thank you both very much and say how that I appreciate them more than you know.  I'm sure you will understand that rather than passing them on to anyone I would like to dedicate them both to Elaine of Old Age is a Bitch who hasn't been at all well recently.  Elaine has been a long-standing reader of my blog so we are old friends in blogging terms.  I was dismayed to read her sister's post on the blog to say that Elaine is now in intensive care.  Please take good care of yourself, Elaine, and get well very soon.  I'm thinking of you and sending all my very best wishes.

Updated 14 May 2009 to add that I've just had the worst possible news. Elaine passed away peacefully in hospital yesterday, 13th May 2009, aged only 67.

“One cannot go on holiday if one is already on holiday”

Guest post by Relax Max (yes, another)


As many of you know, A. is on holiday now. While she’s away, she has authorized a few guest posts. This one may not be as “authorized” as she would like.

What I mean by that is this post is more or less a private story, and A. is not too keen on talking about her private life on her blog, save a few tidbits here and there and some wonderful pictures of her surroundings and travels.

Ah, well. Too bad.

Not long before she and her man were getting ready to leave on their holiday, a problem with the heating in the house developed, which she had to take time out to get repaired before she could leave.

Those of you who follow A. and this blog are aware that, though she now lives in the south of England, she spends a good part of each year in France, where they have a second home. Right now is one of those periods when she is in France, so the heating problem I mentioned is with the house in France.

One more necessary piece of background for this little story (and, despite my rambling on here, it IS a short story) is the fact that A. has it buried in the back of her mind, for some reason, that her French is not adequate to converse with slick-talking tradesmen. I don’t know why she has that little doubt. After all, she has visited and lived in France, off and on at least, all of her adult life. Until recently, she made her living translating French writings into English. She prefers to live in and frequent smaller French villages where one cannot always count on people to speak English. What I am getting at is OBVIOUSLY the woman speaks fluent French.

But she has this little insecurity with fast-talking French salesmen and tradesmen, and that’s what made me think this little story was funny.

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The heating repairman was from a town of some distance from where A. lives, there not being a suitable repairman existing in the the small town where she lives. Accordingly, there was an initial mixup when he tried to find her address, but went to the wrong town. Here, I must confess, as an American, I thought even THAT was funny; being, I thought, a good example of the laid-back way the French do business. But A. took that part in stride as being normal for the first try.

Well, anyway, the French heating repairman finally arrives, and A.’s fears are fully realized. He quickly notes that she is a native English-speaker, but pays that fact no mind, rambling on faster and faster and faster about everything in the world EXCEPT the heating issue at hand.

Now, A. understands him of course. After all, she only THINKS she doesn’t understand French well enough. She continues to listen as he rambles on, as some people have a need to do, about everything under the sun EXCEPT getting her heating problem repaired. Meanwhile time is of the essence and A. has plenty to do to get ready for her holiday but (a) needs her heating repaired before she leaves and (b) is much too polite anyway to do anything except sit there with a fixed little smile on her faces as he rambles on about his job and where he lives and where he used to live and how he has relatives where A. is going on holiday, or at least USED to have - pehaps they are now dead. All the time speaking 19 words to the dozen (as Enid Blyton might have described it) and nothing really getting done on the heating problem.

But then the part I thought was funniest of all happened. Noting that A. lives in England and is only in France as a sort of get-away in her semi-retirement (although, in truth, she is in France almost as much as she is in England anymore) it occurs to him that it is a puzzlement that she is going on holiday... because she is ALREADY on holiday, is she not?

You see, if one lives in England, and one is now in France... voila!... one is therefore on holiday. Okay, perhaps this peculiar mindset of a contented French tradesman is only funny to an American. But the way A. related the incident had me rolling on the floor. Which is to give away another of her secrets:

A. is MUCH funnier than most of you realize. This blog is no indication of the depth of her humor. Trust me.

PhotoHunt: in memory

Still away this weekend so more pictures from my archives, but I'll soon be back.

In memory.  There are so many ways to look at this theme but I've chosen to look at the contrast between how British and French people mark graves in memory of their loved ones.

 

 

It's probably not an entirely fair comparison, because the top picture is of a local community cemetery while the second is a church graveyard.  Nevertheless, the styles of the graves are remarkably different.  I have often thought it might make an interesting project to compare graveyards throughout the world, possibly not appealing to everyone, but it would fascinate me. :)

Join in and find other other players at TNchick's site.

"I made about 56 movies, I think. Not that many. Here I am, I still go on, you know, like the tides."

Here is another guest post, this time from my good friend, Relax Max of Clarity 2009. Thank you, Max, for helping me out here.

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One of the most loved and enduring actresses of American stage, screen, and television, is not American at all.

She made her first film at age 17, received an academy award nomination for that picture at age 18, and never looked back: she has won four Tony Awards and six Golden Globes. She has been nominated for no less than eighteen Emmys. The latter is the record for most Emmy nominations -- without a single win.

Born in London in 1925, her mother moved the children to Montreal during WWII and then to New York and eventually California. She currently resides in Montana. She was married to her second husband for 54 years until his death in 2003.

In addition to her performance awards and nominations, she was named a Disney Legend in 1995; a recipient of the Screen Actors Guild Lifetime Achievement Award in 1997; and of the Kennedy Center Honors, in 2003.

A resident of the USA almost all her life, she remains proudly British. Queen Elizabeth has appointed Angela Lansbury a Commander of the Order of the British Empire.

In spite of all her other lifetime achievements, she is probably most famous for her long-running starring role in an American television series called “Murder, She Wrote.”




"A sitcom. I hate that word."

Did we need rain?

 

  

 

We have enough now, thank you.

Internet Security

A guest post from Mike of My Thai Friend. I appreciate your helping me with this, Mike.

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Like all journeys a visit to the Internet can be a pleasant and rewarding experience. It can also provide you with some unwanted travelling companions. Adware, spyware, trojans and malware, are not characters from a science fiction plot, but are in fact some of the parasites that await you on your journey, uninvited guests only too happy to make themselves a new home inside your computer.

Unfortunately, just like some of our real life travelling companions, who we don’t always get to choose, these nosey and annoying little files love to share your private information and enjoy telling others about it. Just like with the village gossip, the actual damage that they cause, can vary, from mildly annoying, to a complete breakdown of communication.

Although many ISP’s have sophisticated filters fitted to their web server, protection from viruses and malware really needs to start at your computer, whatever type of connection you are using. Just as you protect your home and family from burglars and other undesirable characters, so there is a need to protect your computer and the information it contains from cyber criminals.

Ask yourself would you leave sensitive information about your banking and personal preferences lying on the kitchen table for all to see, lying there like an open book?

Well an unprotected computer is like that open book.

Effective up to date anti-virus software with a quality firewall will stop most intruders, add to this an adware scanner and you can feel reasonable safe. However don’t be complacent as hackers are continually thinking up new ways to defeat security systems. Change passwords regularly, use alpha numeric symbol combinations and don’t use the same password for accessing different accounts.

At the end of the day the choice is yours but just be aware that there are people out there, who if given the opportunity will rob the unwary, just like the highwaymen of old.

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Now I suggest you visit Mike on My Thai Friend where you will find out all about Thailand and what it's like to live there. Or even one of his other blogs, equally interesting.

PhotoHunt: walking

I am away from home as you read this.  I'm hoping to have a decent internet connection while I'm away, so all being well, I'll be visiting.

My entry this week, clearly from my archives, is of people walking in the snow.  It was taken in January.

They are walking along an old disused railway line which has been converted into a cycle and walking route.  As you can see by the footprints in the snow, plenty of people do enjoy walking through the countryside.  At first I was dubious about walking along a dead straight route, then having to turn around and come back the same way.  However there are enough places where the old line crosses a road so that you can take an alternative route back.

Join in and find other other players at TNchick's site.