Duck Ponderings #10 - small goals. I had no idea that perfectionism (e.g. fixing everything at once) was a drinker's problem. It's been killing me all my life. And when I finally gave up trying, and just did what I wanted (drinking mainly) gradually I began to see that a) I didn't need to drink and b) actually, I no longer really wanted to.
I've moved my magic LED light to over my bed. I think I'm getting a suntan. Need to connect up the old tube light (I've replaced the tube at Azur 86) above the kitchen.
I've just offered to pick someone up from Poitiers (an American visitor) and I think I'll be in Naxos. Doh. She seems to be making very heavy weather of paying us a visit. The children made it back in one piece, which was a relief as Andrew pointed out we'd just given the Bonnevaux car to three unsupervised volunteers. Possibly not a good idea, but they were desperate for a pizza and we weren't (and Andrew thinks they wanted us to buy them one - Rebecca would have done - apparently she took them all out to dinner at the Auberge du Centre Poitou in Coulombiers, where I haven't even seen the inside of, for a treat). Anyway they found a biocop pizza and came home in one piece and happy. Suzanne asked for a fag for her digestion when she got back. I may be the only one who buys tobacco round here, but so far Andrew and Delyth are the only ones who haven't bummed a fag off me. We had thin soup and a slice of stale baguette for supper. They did pay for their own concert tickets.
Maybe I should start running. I'm not bicycling. Got quite out of breath running up two stories to the loo at St Savin. And I can explore Bonnevaux. I don't like running. It's bad for me. Belle runs. She says she's no good at it either.
I've started proofreading Metanoia. Chapters 28 to 30 done. And I've hung Sal Goldsmith's picture in the kitchen, where Rebecca's art work was. The children took it down.
I am now the keeper of the car key. I wonder how long it will be before I lose it.
Funny mood in the kitchen at lunchtime, which maybe was just me. I interrogated Daniel (quite gently I thought) about what he'd been up to that morning, as he didn't appear to have done anything, but he said he'd been working on the compost bins (he's adding another one). They are going to be very expensive compost bins. I knocked up 3 out of pallets in a morning - he's been here a month. Andrew thinks they're being poisoned by Rebecca, with whom he's being very firm, who's having Skype conferences with them in the evenings. Oh well.
Suzanne made the huge basket of mushrooms that Jean Christophe brought in this morning, into a sort of fricassee, but it didn't seem to taste of mushrooms, or have that many mushrooms in. She said some were wormy - do hope she didn't throw most of them out.
I'm on to Chapter 32 - I must have been working on Metanoia in my sleep, I thought I had pages of typos to correct, but it's practically pristine, so I'm just reading it, really, and bursting in to tears from time to time. I don't imagine anyone else will, or can even understand why it makes me cry.
The inverter has arrived, safe and sound. And an email from Sean saying it would arrive on Wednesday. I feel much better - I checked the Azur 86 brochure and realised their €59 model was actually a simulated sine view inverter which would quickly fuck anything I plugged into it. Their pure sine wave models were €300 and upwards. So electric fridge and recharging Chromes and phones here I come. Not quite sure why i think this is such a big deal, but we'll see. As I said to Jean Christophe, all I need now is a water capture system and a compost toilet, and I really am off the grid, albeit only 50 yards from (comparative) civilisation - I could move a lot further away if I wanted.
Proofread Metanoia until 5.30 so under a bit of pressure cooking the dinner for 8, 4 of whom won't eat anchovies. It's either awesome or disgusting or both, I didn't really have time to taste it as I went along. A lot of cheese and onion (which Daniel came in and announced disagreed with him, after I'd put onion in practically everything). He also surpassed himself by running down to ring the bell for 6.15 meditation at precisely 7pm. He said he'd been planning it all day. He's been here 4 weeks, meditating at 6.15 every evening. Young people! doh.
Very amusing evening. We've been joined by two friends of Thomas' - Marine and Arthur, from Fontainebleu, near Versailles - so I spent the evening being rude about the French and upsetting Andrew. I don't think the French noticed. Or minded.
John Gaskin made delicious chocolate cake under Suzanne's direction, which we then fought over. He's leaving tomorrow, earlier than planned, to walk the Camino, maybe to Santiago, before he goes back to Ireland to join his monastery (Mally something, near his Ma in Cork). I asked if it was something I'd said, but he just laughed and said not. He's gone off with my copy of Zen and the Art of etc, which is a good home for it and should keep him amused on the walk for a while - he reckons 20 days to get to Santiago; he's done it before, more than once. He was bugging me for things to do this morning, so I told him the story about the king and his magic monkey and what the vizier told the king to do to keep the monkey off his back - tell him to go and run up and down the palm tree until the king told him to stop. I was worried John might have thought I was having a dig at him, but he said not, he just didn't think the story very amusing. I've had to stop proofreading Metanoia because the end bit's in a text file and not available offline. Time for bed. Another lovely day.
Just tried to boil water for another cup of tea and was thinking how well the gas was doing, and it's run out. Have to try and connect the new Primagaz bottle in the morning for my early morning cuppa. I've noticed there's a lot of cups of tea in bed in the morning in Metanoia. It's nice being on my own and being able to smoke, but I do miss morning tea in bed with the two of them. Silly baggages.
Coulda shoulda connected the inverter. Then I could have put the electric kettle on.
I've moved my magic LED light to over my bed. I think I'm getting a suntan. Need to connect up the old tube light (I've replaced the tube at Azur 86) above the kitchen.
I've just offered to pick someone up from Poitiers (an American visitor) and I think I'll be in Naxos. Doh. She seems to be making very heavy weather of paying us a visit. The children made it back in one piece, which was a relief as Andrew pointed out we'd just given the Bonnevaux car to three unsupervised volunteers. Possibly not a good idea, but they were desperate for a pizza and we weren't (and Andrew thinks they wanted us to buy them one - Rebecca would have done - apparently she took them all out to dinner at the Auberge du Centre Poitou in Coulombiers, where I haven't even seen the inside of, for a treat). Anyway they found a biocop pizza and came home in one piece and happy. Suzanne asked for a fag for her digestion when she got back. I may be the only one who buys tobacco round here, but so far Andrew and Delyth are the only ones who haven't bummed a fag off me. We had thin soup and a slice of stale baguette for supper. They did pay for their own concert tickets.
Maybe I should start running. I'm not bicycling. Got quite out of breath running up two stories to the loo at St Savin. And I can explore Bonnevaux. I don't like running. It's bad for me. Belle runs. She says she's no good at it either.
I've started proofreading Metanoia. Chapters 28 to 30 done. And I've hung Sal Goldsmith's picture in the kitchen, where Rebecca's art work was. The children took it down.
I am now the keeper of the car key. I wonder how long it will be before I lose it.
Funny mood in the kitchen at lunchtime, which maybe was just me. I interrogated Daniel (quite gently I thought) about what he'd been up to that morning, as he didn't appear to have done anything, but he said he'd been working on the compost bins (he's adding another one). They are going to be very expensive compost bins. I knocked up 3 out of pallets in a morning - he's been here a month. Andrew thinks they're being poisoned by Rebecca, with whom he's being very firm, who's having Skype conferences with them in the evenings. Oh well.
Suzanne made the huge basket of mushrooms that Jean Christophe brought in this morning, into a sort of fricassee, but it didn't seem to taste of mushrooms, or have that many mushrooms in. She said some were wormy - do hope she didn't throw most of them out.
I'm on to Chapter 32 - I must have been working on Metanoia in my sleep, I thought I had pages of typos to correct, but it's practically pristine, so I'm just reading it, really, and bursting in to tears from time to time. I don't imagine anyone else will, or can even understand why it makes me cry.
The inverter has arrived, safe and sound. And an email from Sean saying it would arrive on Wednesday. I feel much better - I checked the Azur 86 brochure and realised their €59 model was actually a simulated sine view inverter which would quickly fuck anything I plugged into it. Their pure sine wave models were €300 and upwards. So electric fridge and recharging Chromes and phones here I come. Not quite sure why i think this is such a big deal, but we'll see. As I said to Jean Christophe, all I need now is a water capture system and a compost toilet, and I really am off the grid, albeit only 50 yards from (comparative) civilisation - I could move a lot further away if I wanted.
Proofread Metanoia until 5.30 so under a bit of pressure cooking the dinner for 8, 4 of whom won't eat anchovies. It's either awesome or disgusting or both, I didn't really have time to taste it as I went along. A lot of cheese and onion (which Daniel came in and announced disagreed with him, after I'd put onion in practically everything). He also surpassed himself by running down to ring the bell for 6.15 meditation at precisely 7pm. He said he'd been planning it all day. He's been here 4 weeks, meditating at 6.15 every evening. Young people! doh.
Very amusing evening. We've been joined by two friends of Thomas' - Marine and Arthur, from Fontainebleu, near Versailles - so I spent the evening being rude about the French and upsetting Andrew. I don't think the French noticed. Or minded.
John Gaskin made delicious chocolate cake under Suzanne's direction, which we then fought over. He's leaving tomorrow, earlier than planned, to walk the Camino, maybe to Santiago, before he goes back to Ireland to join his monastery (Mally something, near his Ma in Cork). I asked if it was something I'd said, but he just laughed and said not. He's gone off with my copy of Zen and the Art of etc, which is a good home for it and should keep him amused on the walk for a while - he reckons 20 days to get to Santiago; he's done it before, more than once. He was bugging me for things to do this morning, so I told him the story about the king and his magic monkey and what the vizier told the king to do to keep the monkey off his back - tell him to go and run up and down the palm tree until the king told him to stop. I was worried John might have thought I was having a dig at him, but he said not, he just didn't think the story very amusing. I've had to stop proofreading Metanoia because the end bit's in a text file and not available offline. Time for bed. Another lovely day.
Just tried to boil water for another cup of tea and was thinking how well the gas was doing, and it's run out. Have to try and connect the new Primagaz bottle in the morning for my early morning cuppa. I've noticed there's a lot of cups of tea in bed in the morning in Metanoia. It's nice being on my own and being able to smoke, but I do miss morning tea in bed with the two of them. Silly baggages.
Coulda shoulda connected the inverter. Then I could have put the electric kettle on.
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