The big visit. Wonderful French farce driving to pick up Marie Dominique and Frederique from Poitiers, not Tours, Poitiers, not Poitiers, Niort and finally not Niort. Back via Coulombiers and 2.70 euros on the peage, empty carred. There was a fire in Poitiers Station (ouvriers en grevant supposedly set it) and obvs confusion in M-D's mind. If not panic - she really did not want to be late for Madame le Maire.
Meeting Mme le Maire, Sandra. And Gerard, Brigitte's other half, a sort of joke Frenchman in a beret (where's mine got to?), Asterix moustache, great big conk, and long white hair. Must go and see their farm/gite. (We're all going over on Saturday to bake bread in Gerard's bread oven).
John Horgan and Sean Boylan wandering all over the estate looking at plants. Garlic mustard. Sorrel. Peppermint. Meditation while the mayor et al arrive. Drinks and canapes, washing up with Dominique (who said I had no accent! very flattering) and then a business meeting with Laurence and everyone else (J-C getting quite biffy) - some tension as Andrew and I skirted round the personnel problem. I suspect Laurence knew exactly what we were getting at, but he seemed a bit "careful". Andrew spent a lot of time later with him. I led pm meditation and chose the barren fig tree story from Matthew for the reading. We started with Taize led by Irish John, who gets lovelier every day, and then psalms, canticle, reading, med, our father, and Magnificat led by Delyth. I felt it was OK.
I've made an appointment to talk with Laurence tomorrow after the group meeting at 9.30 - I have to take Delyth and the cat to the vet's to get her spayed at 8am. Another missed breakfast! I asked him about Felicity's christening Oscar issue and the silly priest - he said find a J, which seems like good advice. Went to bed at 10, leaving Laurence, Andrew and Marie-Dom having another meeting. Hope Andrew gets some support and a hearing. I spoke to both M-D and Frederique about personnel issues and volunteers, I think they get it. Andrew thinks Rebecca has pulled the proverbial over Laurence's eyes. Be interesting if the subject comes up tomorrow.
Looked in to getting back to England for Oscar's christening - it'll cost about £200 whichever way I do it (train, or Ryanair, or car and ferry) - train from Poitiers to Bath would be civilised. Ryanair fly from Limoges, and car is just silly if I don't need it when I'm there and am taking nothing in either direction. Unless another body needs a ride. Maybe John Manson knows of some ex-pat website where I could advertise for a passenger or a load. He's at Taize at the mo' after his pilgrimage to Santiago - not sure if he actually got there (Santiago that is).
An email from Dennis Ripley and a French phone number - so I've heard from all the people who've been "ignoring" me - i.e. not responding immediately - apart from stupid Curtis Banks. Inverter ordered and on its way.
Sober treat tomorrow - a decent, bright, non flickery, 12V light. Belle told me to - a sober treat every other day. Although mostly it seems to be sober treats from morning til night.
I didn't water the veggies, as I'd promised Suzanne I would. Pray for rain.
Daniel was upset with me that I didn't believe in my eternal soul or afterlife. I said I didn't mind if it turns out I'm wrong. He's very keen on reincarnation. Irish John, the soon to be novice monk, is much more broadminded than I first thought (and has the complete opposite of a tuneless whistle, which he was doing while preparing supper. It sounded beautiful). The frogs seem to have shut up. Perhaps the muskrats have eaten them all. Or they're all huddled in their frog burrows.
Did I mention I also have two families of bees in the caravan, as well as the wasps? I feel rather flattered. It's like living in a beehive. Maybe some lizards will move in - it is nice and warm (and jolly cold outside). Perhaps Scorpios have a natural empathy with things that sting. I never did ask Rebecca what her birthday was.
I thought, when wondering whether to use the fig tree story in evening med, should I be doing this? And I thought one of the nice things about being sober, is I do what I think is right, and say what I think is true, and I don't haver about with should I / shouldn't I's. No doubt if I'm wrong someone will point it out. Even if the likeliest candidate for that has now left, with smiles and kisses for everyone, especially me and Andrew. I was getting seriously worried she'd miss the plane this afternoon (usual pissing around before departure - John Horgan thought it was all frightfully funny. I said he was looking forward to another Lugano adventure - he and his mate did a runner from a restaurant in St Moritz where they ate when they were starving and broke, on the way to a horticultural conference in Lugano. I think those who heard the story were quite shocked, he's a respectable friend of Fr Laurence, admitting to stealing a meal, and thinking it was a hoot. Wine had been taken. And he was a great chum of Jimmy Lyons.)
Buddha's head didn't come off when I picked him up by the ears today, so I've tried fixing a jug with a broken handle. Seems to work. Hid it on top of a tall cupboard in the kitchen.
Meeting Mme le Maire, Sandra. And Gerard, Brigitte's other half, a sort of joke Frenchman in a beret (where's mine got to?), Asterix moustache, great big conk, and long white hair. Must go and see their farm/gite. (We're all going over on Saturday to bake bread in Gerard's bread oven).
John Horgan and Sean Boylan wandering all over the estate looking at plants. Garlic mustard. Sorrel. Peppermint. Meditation while the mayor et al arrive. Drinks and canapes, washing up with Dominique (who said I had no accent! very flattering) and then a business meeting with Laurence and everyone else (J-C getting quite biffy) - some tension as Andrew and I skirted round the personnel problem. I suspect Laurence knew exactly what we were getting at, but he seemed a bit "careful". Andrew spent a lot of time later with him. I led pm meditation and chose the barren fig tree story from Matthew for the reading. We started with Taize led by Irish John, who gets lovelier every day, and then psalms, canticle, reading, med, our father, and Magnificat led by Delyth. I felt it was OK.
I've made an appointment to talk with Laurence tomorrow after the group meeting at 9.30 - I have to take Delyth and the cat to the vet's to get her spayed at 8am. Another missed breakfast! I asked him about Felicity's christening Oscar issue and the silly priest - he said find a J, which seems like good advice. Went to bed at 10, leaving Laurence, Andrew and Marie-Dom having another meeting. Hope Andrew gets some support and a hearing. I spoke to both M-D and Frederique about personnel issues and volunteers, I think they get it. Andrew thinks Rebecca has pulled the proverbial over Laurence's eyes. Be interesting if the subject comes up tomorrow.
Looked in to getting back to England for Oscar's christening - it'll cost about £200 whichever way I do it (train, or Ryanair, or car and ferry) - train from Poitiers to Bath would be civilised. Ryanair fly from Limoges, and car is just silly if I don't need it when I'm there and am taking nothing in either direction. Unless another body needs a ride. Maybe John Manson knows of some ex-pat website where I could advertise for a passenger or a load. He's at Taize at the mo' after his pilgrimage to Santiago - not sure if he actually got there (Santiago that is).
An email from Dennis Ripley and a French phone number - so I've heard from all the people who've been "ignoring" me - i.e. not responding immediately - apart from stupid Curtis Banks. Inverter ordered and on its way.
Sober treat tomorrow - a decent, bright, non flickery, 12V light. Belle told me to - a sober treat every other day. Although mostly it seems to be sober treats from morning til night.
I didn't water the veggies, as I'd promised Suzanne I would. Pray for rain.
Daniel was upset with me that I didn't believe in my eternal soul or afterlife. I said I didn't mind if it turns out I'm wrong. He's very keen on reincarnation. Irish John, the soon to be novice monk, is much more broadminded than I first thought (and has the complete opposite of a tuneless whistle, which he was doing while preparing supper. It sounded beautiful). The frogs seem to have shut up. Perhaps the muskrats have eaten them all. Or they're all huddled in their frog burrows.
Did I mention I also have two families of bees in the caravan, as well as the wasps? I feel rather flattered. It's like living in a beehive. Maybe some lizards will move in - it is nice and warm (and jolly cold outside). Perhaps Scorpios have a natural empathy with things that sting. I never did ask Rebecca what her birthday was.
I thought, when wondering whether to use the fig tree story in evening med, should I be doing this? And I thought one of the nice things about being sober, is I do what I think is right, and say what I think is true, and I don't haver about with should I / shouldn't I's. No doubt if I'm wrong someone will point it out. Even if the likeliest candidate for that has now left, with smiles and kisses for everyone, especially me and Andrew. I was getting seriously worried she'd miss the plane this afternoon (usual pissing around before departure - John Horgan thought it was all frightfully funny. I said he was looking forward to another Lugano adventure - he and his mate did a runner from a restaurant in St Moritz where they ate when they were starving and broke, on the way to a horticultural conference in Lugano. I think those who heard the story were quite shocked, he's a respectable friend of Fr Laurence, admitting to stealing a meal, and thinking it was a hoot. Wine had been taken. And he was a great chum of Jimmy Lyons.)
Buddha's head didn't come off when I picked him up by the ears today, so I've tried fixing a jug with a broken handle. Seems to work. Hid it on top of a tall cupboard in the kitchen.
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