Spoke to Andrew last night about the phone issue. He agreed the present arrangement is not good, and we have a non-smart Bonnevaux phone that can have his SIM card in it (with the current Bonnevaux number). He just needs to get another SIM for his phone, which he said he'll do.
M.Ruel inspected my work at the Lodge with Elba, but Andrew doesn't know what he said. (Andrew wanted a second opinion). Ask Elba in the morning. Lying in my bed on my nice clean sheets and pillow cases. Wish I'd had a shower this evening as I meant to before dinner (I skipped evening med because I was cooking - and thought how one of the best ways of loving people is to cook for them - I think they liked it, didn't leave much, in fact we were fighting over the scrapings from the dal, Rebecca particularly). How do we spell dal?
Dal recipe. Red / Corail lentils. Soak. Soften onion and garlic in oil, add chilly pieces, turmeric, garam masala, cumin seed, crushed cardamoms, salt. Make about litre veg stock. Big sealable oven proof pan. Drain lentils, add to onions etc and coat with oil, mix well, continue to fry for 3 or 4 minutes. Pour mixture into pan, add stock, stir well. Put on lid and put in oven on low heat.Leave in oven until desired dryness / firmness reached. I think I left it in for an hour. Very nice.
Woke up before 6. I think I'm going to try painting my caravan (leaf stencil idea). Check my to do list.
I was writing my blog last night and Andrew came up and joked about me facebooking. When I said it was my blog he started reading. I said it was private, he said why write it. Could I show it to him? He'd probably be shocked and upset, or annoyed. It is very personal, uncensored and features him and others here in an at times unflattering light (and me almost never!). It might be fun in a few years' time. Looking back and laughing.
Why doesn't Belle like / do mindfulness / meditationy (her Duck Ponderings #7)? She never comments on my meditation. But then she doesn't read my blog.
Bit worried about the vegetable garden. It's wonderful, but huge. We've planted one quadrant and it would be a full time job for me just to look after that (like, water the potatoes every night!). Our core crew is maybe 4 people, two of whom are useless (Delyth is too old and frail, can't really bend over, and we hardly see her except for singing lessons and meditation, and Andrew is very pre-occupied with meetings and admin, not very fit, and I suspect a bit lazy, physically anyway). So right now that leaves me, Rebecca until next week, Irish John for a week or two more, maybe Henriette, Jean-Christophe, and perhaps 2 or 3 volunteers. And all the other stuff e.g. rebuild Lodge roof, Fires Safety Officer duties, shopping (chaotic at the moment - random visits to the Bio), stock control on materials and tools, sorting out downstairs bathroom blah blah blah Maybe Naxos is a good option.
Upload all my pics, with options, to here and Facebook.
I'm going to make myself bacon and eggs and fried tomatoes for breakfast.
It's another beautiful morning. I'm almost pissed off that it's apparently equally nice and hot in England, but I bet it isn't as green and lovely. The cuckoos are going bonkers, as are the frogs. They were really working up to a crescendo last night, almost shouting, hard to believe thos little frogs (the biggest I've seen is maybe 3 inches body length) make this much racket.
I played Aden's music with my speakers while I was cooking. No-one seemed to mind. Then they borrowed my speakers to watch Hadjewicz on Rebecca's laptop, only they couldn't find it so they watched some music film instead while I blogged, and listened to Jordan Peterson going on about communism (he's sure Cuba is as much of a horror and a disaster as all the other communist regimes, like N Korea and Stalinist Russia, and that communism is every bit as bad as fascism, although generally, and academics in particular, don't accept that and he wonders why). Maybe Cuba is or has been that bad. I've never been, and I've really only read accounts from people who did like it, and liked what they saw, like Rosie, or that woman in Coggeshall's grand daughter who wrote for the Link. If I had time and money, I'd like to go see for myself. His basic contention is that we only just survived the 20th Century, and we're still recovering / suffering from the after effects, and that basically, western liberal democracies are / were right, and the commmunists and fascists were equally evil, and that we came this close to exterminating all life on the planet (pinch fingers together). I think it's more complex, nuanced, complicated than that. That as Jung described it the 20th Century World War, that began in 1914 and didn't truly end until 1989, if then, was a sort of global, or at least European psychotic episode. The attempt of pure materialism to take over the world. See the last of CS Lewis' SF trilogy ('That Hideous Strength' I think). Andrew was talking about it last night - he really likes it too. We wondered why it wasn't more popular.
Is Belle a bit of a slob? She does go jogging. Listening to her Duck Ponderings while writing the end of Metanoia and this blog. Must go to the loo and meditate.
If anything or anyone here could drive me to drink it would be Rebecca. Perfectly cheerful and friendly last night, and then poisonous bitch this morning, after meditation and then at breakfast. I went into the meditation room to put my Chrome and phone on charge and she'd tried to jam the door shut with a chair, so I think that pissed her off with me - I made no noise, but I had invaded 'her' space. Not quite sure why she is entitled to have half the communal living area to herself, when she has 65 hectares and god knows how many out buildings she could go and be alone in. Was then poisonous to me at the unannounced breakfast meeting (I was supposed to know they were having a meeting) because I asked Elba about M. Ruel's inspection of the Lodge, it being a meeting, but I was supposed to be sharing. So I shut up, everyone shared, Madam read us a long poem by herself that she wrote some time ago about a deer that had been shot and left to die and was then eaten by sangliers. The poem was actually quite good, if a little long, but not exactly a share. I was not invited to share after everyone else, and they then proceeded to discuss shopping. She comes back at 1.30 with several bags of shopping but no cooking oil, which I had written at the top of the shopping list in large blue ink - she said this was on the old part of the list (although not obviously ticked off and I had specifically asked that they get oil as it seems extravagant to fry in extra virgin olive oil. ho hum). And she still appears to be in a puss. I really, really want to go off on my own, buy a bottle of Scotch, and get hammered. I know it's no answer, but that's how I feel. And it makes me remember how often I felt that way with Pol, for much the same reason. And now she wins me round by offering me one of Henriette's chocolate truffles, which really are death by chocolate. I haven't had anything to eat, and not my promised fry up (including delicious looking mushrooms picked by J-C this morning - he says there are truffles in the woods too) - which may explain my miseries.
Maybe she knows she's being foul (or just that she cocked up the shopping) and wants to make amends. Or she's just mad.
I wrote a list of things to do (paint the caravan with leaf stencils, make a light from the fitting / shade I found in the Lodge, upload my photos to the blog / facebook) which then quietly turned from fun things to do on my day off, to fucking work. Perhaps I shouldn't make lists, just do things as they occur to me, or that I want to do.
I've had to throw out two of my pans - the funny little red one, which was all rusty inside, but I could actually see air through it is now so corroded, and a stainless steel one which had actually split - handle must have been bent inwards when stuffing it in to too small a space, but still. Although I found an all purpose lid in Leclerc, I still haven't found a small over proof stainless steel pot a la Laura, for anything resembling a reasonable price.
Still haven't heard from either Phoenix or Curtis Banks about my drawdown requests, or a response from Photonics about the inverter - I want to spend money for god's sake! - and of course nothing from Dennis or Laura. It's like I've been put in to Coventry for saying I'm not coming back to Brexitland (that might have pissed Laura off).
If things always, or generally, go well for us, we don't cope well with trouble (e.g. picture hooks that don't stick, gas bottles that can't be filled, traffic that won't move fast enough).
A disappointing barbeque - Andrew and I let the steaks fall through the net, boot leather resulted. Sausages were nice. Rebecca recited AA Milne's Pooh poems. We watched a presentation by Elba on the future of Bonnevaux. I found some of it faintly repellent. Apparently our man designs hotels for Ibis. Hopefully M. Ruel will save the day. But then if it was me, I'd just leave it alone.
I've stayed up to do the washing up and look for the Lyrid meteor shower. Somewhere north east of Vega, which would be helpful if I knew where Vega was. Rebecca took the car to drive home to the Lodge. So we may not be going to mass at Ligugé tomorrow morning. Desperate for a drink.
Did very few jobs. Have booked myself a bus ticket to Paris. Wrote some more Metanoia.
Word for the day - accidie.
M.Ruel inspected my work at the Lodge with Elba, but Andrew doesn't know what he said. (Andrew wanted a second opinion). Ask Elba in the morning. Lying in my bed on my nice clean sheets and pillow cases. Wish I'd had a shower this evening as I meant to before dinner (I skipped evening med because I was cooking - and thought how one of the best ways of loving people is to cook for them - I think they liked it, didn't leave much, in fact we were fighting over the scrapings from the dal, Rebecca particularly). How do we spell dal?
Dal recipe. Red / Corail lentils. Soak. Soften onion and garlic in oil, add chilly pieces, turmeric, garam masala, cumin seed, crushed cardamoms, salt. Make about litre veg stock. Big sealable oven proof pan. Drain lentils, add to onions etc and coat with oil, mix well, continue to fry for 3 or 4 minutes. Pour mixture into pan, add stock, stir well. Put on lid and put in oven on low heat.Leave in oven until desired dryness / firmness reached. I think I left it in for an hour. Very nice.
Woke up before 6. I think I'm going to try painting my caravan (leaf stencil idea). Check my to do list.
I was writing my blog last night and Andrew came up and joked about me facebooking. When I said it was my blog he started reading. I said it was private, he said why write it. Could I show it to him? He'd probably be shocked and upset, or annoyed. It is very personal, uncensored and features him and others here in an at times unflattering light (and me almost never!). It might be fun in a few years' time. Looking back and laughing.
Why doesn't Belle like / do mindfulness / meditationy (her Duck Ponderings #7)? She never comments on my meditation. But then she doesn't read my blog.
Bit worried about the vegetable garden. It's wonderful, but huge. We've planted one quadrant and it would be a full time job for me just to look after that (like, water the potatoes every night!). Our core crew is maybe 4 people, two of whom are useless (Delyth is too old and frail, can't really bend over, and we hardly see her except for singing lessons and meditation, and Andrew is very pre-occupied with meetings and admin, not very fit, and I suspect a bit lazy, physically anyway). So right now that leaves me, Rebecca until next week, Irish John for a week or two more, maybe Henriette, Jean-Christophe, and perhaps 2 or 3 volunteers. And all the other stuff e.g. rebuild Lodge roof, Fires Safety Officer duties, shopping (chaotic at the moment - random visits to the Bio), stock control on materials and tools, sorting out downstairs bathroom blah blah blah Maybe Naxos is a good option.
Upload all my pics, with options, to here and Facebook.
I'm going to make myself bacon and eggs and fried tomatoes for breakfast.
It's another beautiful morning. I'm almost pissed off that it's apparently equally nice and hot in England, but I bet it isn't as green and lovely. The cuckoos are going bonkers, as are the frogs. They were really working up to a crescendo last night, almost shouting, hard to believe thos little frogs (the biggest I've seen is maybe 3 inches body length) make this much racket.
I played Aden's music with my speakers while I was cooking. No-one seemed to mind. Then they borrowed my speakers to watch Hadjewicz on Rebecca's laptop, only they couldn't find it so they watched some music film instead while I blogged, and listened to Jordan Peterson going on about communism (he's sure Cuba is as much of a horror and a disaster as all the other communist regimes, like N Korea and Stalinist Russia, and that communism is every bit as bad as fascism, although generally, and academics in particular, don't accept that and he wonders why). Maybe Cuba is or has been that bad. I've never been, and I've really only read accounts from people who did like it, and liked what they saw, like Rosie, or that woman in Coggeshall's grand daughter who wrote for the Link. If I had time and money, I'd like to go see for myself. His basic contention is that we only just survived the 20th Century, and we're still recovering / suffering from the after effects, and that basically, western liberal democracies are / were right, and the commmunists and fascists were equally evil, and that we came this close to exterminating all life on the planet (pinch fingers together). I think it's more complex, nuanced, complicated than that. That as Jung described it the 20th Century World War, that began in 1914 and didn't truly end until 1989, if then, was a sort of global, or at least European psychotic episode. The attempt of pure materialism to take over the world. See the last of CS Lewis' SF trilogy ('That Hideous Strength' I think). Andrew was talking about it last night - he really likes it too. We wondered why it wasn't more popular.
Is Belle a bit of a slob? She does go jogging. Listening to her Duck Ponderings while writing the end of Metanoia and this blog. Must go to the loo and meditate.
If anything or anyone here could drive me to drink it would be Rebecca. Perfectly cheerful and friendly last night, and then poisonous bitch this morning, after meditation and then at breakfast. I went into the meditation room to put my Chrome and phone on charge and she'd tried to jam the door shut with a chair, so I think that pissed her off with me - I made no noise, but I had invaded 'her' space. Not quite sure why she is entitled to have half the communal living area to herself, when she has 65 hectares and god knows how many out buildings she could go and be alone in. Was then poisonous to me at the unannounced breakfast meeting (I was supposed to know they were having a meeting) because I asked Elba about M. Ruel's inspection of the Lodge, it being a meeting, but I was supposed to be sharing. So I shut up, everyone shared, Madam read us a long poem by herself that she wrote some time ago about a deer that had been shot and left to die and was then eaten by sangliers. The poem was actually quite good, if a little long, but not exactly a share. I was not invited to share after everyone else, and they then proceeded to discuss shopping. She comes back at 1.30 with several bags of shopping but no cooking oil, which I had written at the top of the shopping list in large blue ink - she said this was on the old part of the list (although not obviously ticked off and I had specifically asked that they get oil as it seems extravagant to fry in extra virgin olive oil. ho hum). And she still appears to be in a puss. I really, really want to go off on my own, buy a bottle of Scotch, and get hammered. I know it's no answer, but that's how I feel. And it makes me remember how often I felt that way with Pol, for much the same reason. And now she wins me round by offering me one of Henriette's chocolate truffles, which really are death by chocolate. I haven't had anything to eat, and not my promised fry up (including delicious looking mushrooms picked by J-C this morning - he says there are truffles in the woods too) - which may explain my miseries.
Maybe she knows she's being foul (or just that she cocked up the shopping) and wants to make amends. Or she's just mad.
I wrote a list of things to do (paint the caravan with leaf stencils, make a light from the fitting / shade I found in the Lodge, upload my photos to the blog / facebook) which then quietly turned from fun things to do on my day off, to fucking work. Perhaps I shouldn't make lists, just do things as they occur to me, or that I want to do.
I've had to throw out two of my pans - the funny little red one, which was all rusty inside, but I could actually see air through it is now so corroded, and a stainless steel one which had actually split - handle must have been bent inwards when stuffing it in to too small a space, but still. Although I found an all purpose lid in Leclerc, I still haven't found a small over proof stainless steel pot a la Laura, for anything resembling a reasonable price.
Still haven't heard from either Phoenix or Curtis Banks about my drawdown requests, or a response from Photonics about the inverter - I want to spend money for god's sake! - and of course nothing from Dennis or Laura. It's like I've been put in to Coventry for saying I'm not coming back to Brexitland (that might have pissed Laura off).
If things always, or generally, go well for us, we don't cope well with trouble (e.g. picture hooks that don't stick, gas bottles that can't be filled, traffic that won't move fast enough).
A disappointing barbeque - Andrew and I let the steaks fall through the net, boot leather resulted. Sausages were nice. Rebecca recited AA Milne's Pooh poems. We watched a presentation by Elba on the future of Bonnevaux. I found some of it faintly repellent. Apparently our man designs hotels for Ibis. Hopefully M. Ruel will save the day. But then if it was me, I'd just leave it alone.
I've stayed up to do the washing up and look for the Lyrid meteor shower. Somewhere north east of Vega, which would be helpful if I knew where Vega was. Rebecca took the car to drive home to the Lodge. So we may not be going to mass at Ligugé tomorrow morning. Desperate for a drink.
Did very few jobs. Have booked myself a bus ticket to Paris. Wrote some more Metanoia.
Word for the day - accidie.
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