Being 'in loco Andrensis'
Giovanni the Svengali like eminence grise. Did he find Bonnevaux? He and his partner have a house not far away. Didn't know yoga paid so well. Maybe his partner's a banker? How my view has changed over the years (on very little evidence). Monte Oliveto. How thick he seemed with Laurence, but I've often noticed that about Laurence with others too.
A mentor for my postulancy. Liz. Kim. Janet (is she an oblate?). David Wood would have been great. Laurence suggested Henriette. Talking to Jacques yesterday. He seems to have two, or even three. Mainly an Englishwoman, Imogen, lives in Paris, whom he talks to on the phone for about an hour every month.
I suddenly thought, did my remark to Linda about only speaking French from now on (that crashed and burned over supper - Suzanne in a complete strop - she left the table early and went upstairs and talked to a friend and came back down later seeming much more cheerful and we talked until after 10 and everyone else had gone off to bed - and Linda being agonising trying to speak French) set her off - was she really trying to only talk French, because of what I'd said? And maybe she was just painfully shy, or sensed a kind of passive hostility in us, she was the outsider, the awkward American, so tried too hard. I think Andrew would have handled it much better, been OTT kind. And being 'in loco Andrensis', I couldn't just get up and leave, which was a very odd feeling. In fact being in loco has been a surprisingly odd feeling - that I'm representing Bonnevaux and the WCCM, that I need to stick to the structure, say the Psalms, feel bad about not saying the little prayer at the end of meditation (cos I don't know it) that finishes with 'our absent brothers and sisters'. I've said my version of the Our Father a couple of times, but I don't think Suzanne or Thomas have noticed, and I felt that was almost disloyal, or me not playing the role properly. It's that thing of the office taking over, which I haven't experienced for a long time (being a dad was sometimes a bit like that - I need to behave in this particular way, because that's what dad's do, or Sukie wanted me to do, but feeling uncomfortable about it. I don't feel uncomfortable about it. It's rather nice feeling responsible, in a silly little way.)
Suzanne said something nice (I think she meant that) - I was talking about my freedom, and lack of money / status, not caring about stuff/things, and said something self deprecating about people looking at me and seeing a loser, and she said 'do you really think people see you like that?' I didn't push her but I think she meant they/she don't see me like that, but I didn't ask her how she saw me (that would have felt like fishing for compliments) but it would have been interesting to hear.
I wonder if all this role play is behind my wanting a drink, that I find it more of a strain than I am consciously aware of; I want, literally, to get out of it. I never really felt like that at Top Trucks - Nick was always the boss, however much I wanted (did I really?) to shove him out of the way. Occasionally I played the game with the lads - I sort of wanted them to acknowledge me, but I think the whole situation confused them, and ultimately I just fucked off anyway, so they were right to be wary.
Looks like another nice day. Mass at Ligugé at 10. Thomas was going to come, but then said he wanted to work on the gatehouse (and get out of the madhouse!). Linda and Jacques are coming. We have mass at Maray on Wednesday.
Super-U's premium Florida pink grapefruit is not as nice as their UHT variety.
I hate the feeling of being under pressure - of time, responsibility, having to do jobs because I promised I would, or that I'm expected to do. So I often, without that pressure, piss about and don't achieve anything, just waiting for the urge to do something wholeheartedly, because I want to, and enjoy whatever it is - fiddling with the power station, or making something. As soon as it becomes a job, like finishing Metanoia, it becomes a nightmare. As this place is starting to become. Why me in my caravan on a hill on Naxos, under no obligation to anyone at all, is so attractive (and also why I fear it might be a complete disaster, because all my projects would immediately become jobs, and I'd just do nothing - that conflict / division is a big driver for drinking, for me). Why I envy Pol her get up and go-ness - she just does stuff. Ingrid the same. At least she does stuff and drinks. I just drink. Belle is quite good on this - just fucking do it, you'll start to enjoy it once you're on the road, and she's right, mostly.
Nice mass at Ligugé with Linda, Jacques (who's best buddies with les moines and did a reading, and Thomas, who liked it in bits but said it was too 'spiritual', not earthy or grounded enough. He has a point. Hardly any sex at all.)
Suzanne and I meditated alone. A good reading from John Main - I should have paid more attention a few years ago. Meditation is not about getting anything or anywhere. And a lovely canticle. I rang Pol from outside the church after mass, 5 bars. She's fine and didn't mind my edits of her poem. Her eye is bad, she's having more tests. She said she'd got Metanoia and would read it.
mail to Belle:
My day today. Saturday we have a lie in, so meditation at 8.15, breakfast at 9, morning share and meeting at 9.30 (en Francais parce que Jacques de Bretagne ne parle pas Anglais). Cleaning up loos and living room, hanging up someone's laundry, writing my blog. Meditation at 12. Jacques made us a delicious lunch which we ate outside en plein soleil (too fucking hot, really). Going to Emmaus this afternoon to see if I can find a nice summer jacket for my holiday in Greece, and then to buy a big box of wine for les autres. We have a new guest tonight, Linda from the USA, whom I'm hoping to meet off the train at 5.30. Meditation at 6, then supper, cooked by Swiss Susanne . I should be finishing off the bathroom downstairs today (shower rail and curtain, light shades, shave bottom off door and lay carpet) but I've not been finishing the bathroom all week, so why break a habit now.
It sounds very boring - it really isn't. It would be if I was spending all day waiting to start drinking, or getting over the effects of drinking last night. I have choc ices in my now very cold solar powered fridge. And plenty of cold delicious drinks. My new cocktail - 1 squeezed whole lime, lemongrass and ginger cordial, tonic water, ice if you have it, Angostura bitters.
x Da
missed lunch
Sophie Moone
shower
Harriet rang, sounded a bit slurry. pissed? or just tired? didn't ask, she didn't say. She's read Metanoia and said it was moving.
Jacques ratty with me at dinner (he said looking cross that I talk too much, and too loud, and smoke too much - was it something I said?!)
Andrew and Delyth back at 7pm, Delyth poisoned by fish
lovely supper cooked by Jacques. crumble and custard. stuffed tomatoes from Brigitte
talked to Suzanne after supper. She said the smiley stone was like a caeserean section opening, which I get. I mansplained Desmond Morris' theory to her about buttocks etc. I don't think she liked it.
Andrew closeted with Linda in the salon (not sure why, maybe she's something official in WCCM USA). I offered her a lift home, so he was able to go to bed, and then I drove into Poitiers Gare to meet Giovanni. Lurked in a station bar, drinking a coffee with the drunks and low lifes of Poitiers and a very pretty punky girl drinking fanta. Got some more tabac - good tip for the future - tabac/bar open late on Sunday, if I'm desperate. Same sort of vibe as the routier stop south of Vivonne - a bit (very) sleazy. A few working girls out on the streets, otherwise quite empty. Giovanni's train was late and we missed each other, so he'd texted Andrew despite Andrew and my emails with phone numbers. Got him home and off to bed by 00:30. Glad I didn't succumb to a whisky. Fine now. As Belle says, it will pass. Giovanni likes Sal's picture. It was 20℃ when I went to fetch G. Feels cooler now. Very clear. Owls and frogs and crickets. All my windows open. G was lovely, recognised me which is pretty good after a week 10 years ago in Monte Oliveto, and gave me a great big hug. Very easy to talk to, and told me all about the search for Bonnevaux. He and his partner Luke bought a ruined farm (he described it as a 'hamlet') seven years ago somewhere near Chauvigny / Chateauraullt and have been doing it up ever since, so knew the area. Laurence was looking with others down south (Toulouse, Marseilles) so started looking round here. Marie Dominique's office in Paris is opposite a v flash estate agent who was selling B'vaux, so they got interested and finally got to look at it. They weren't sure at first (the N10 and TGV were an issue) but Peter (Ng?) saw it and said 'it would do' so they decided to go ahead.
Giovanni the Svengali like eminence grise. Did he find Bonnevaux? He and his partner have a house not far away. Didn't know yoga paid so well. Maybe his partner's a banker? How my view has changed over the years (on very little evidence). Monte Oliveto. How thick he seemed with Laurence, but I've often noticed that about Laurence with others too.
A mentor for my postulancy. Liz. Kim. Janet (is she an oblate?). David Wood would have been great. Laurence suggested Henriette. Talking to Jacques yesterday. He seems to have two, or even three. Mainly an Englishwoman, Imogen, lives in Paris, whom he talks to on the phone for about an hour every month.
I suddenly thought, did my remark to Linda about only speaking French from now on (that crashed and burned over supper - Suzanne in a complete strop - she left the table early and went upstairs and talked to a friend and came back down later seeming much more cheerful and we talked until after 10 and everyone else had gone off to bed - and Linda being agonising trying to speak French) set her off - was she really trying to only talk French, because of what I'd said? And maybe she was just painfully shy, or sensed a kind of passive hostility in us, she was the outsider, the awkward American, so tried too hard. I think Andrew would have handled it much better, been OTT kind. And being 'in loco Andrensis', I couldn't just get up and leave, which was a very odd feeling. In fact being in loco has been a surprisingly odd feeling - that I'm representing Bonnevaux and the WCCM, that I need to stick to the structure, say the Psalms, feel bad about not saying the little prayer at the end of meditation (cos I don't know it) that finishes with 'our absent brothers and sisters'. I've said my version of the Our Father a couple of times, but I don't think Suzanne or Thomas have noticed, and I felt that was almost disloyal, or me not playing the role properly. It's that thing of the office taking over, which I haven't experienced for a long time (being a dad was sometimes a bit like that - I need to behave in this particular way, because that's what dad's do, or Sukie wanted me to do, but feeling uncomfortable about it. I don't feel uncomfortable about it. It's rather nice feeling responsible, in a silly little way.)
Suzanne said something nice (I think she meant that) - I was talking about my freedom, and lack of money / status, not caring about stuff/things, and said something self deprecating about people looking at me and seeing a loser, and she said 'do you really think people see you like that?' I didn't push her but I think she meant they/she don't see me like that, but I didn't ask her how she saw me (that would have felt like fishing for compliments) but it would have been interesting to hear.
I wonder if all this role play is behind my wanting a drink, that I find it more of a strain than I am consciously aware of; I want, literally, to get out of it. I never really felt like that at Top Trucks - Nick was always the boss, however much I wanted (did I really?) to shove him out of the way. Occasionally I played the game with the lads - I sort of wanted them to acknowledge me, but I think the whole situation confused them, and ultimately I just fucked off anyway, so they were right to be wary.
Looks like another nice day. Mass at Ligugé at 10. Thomas was going to come, but then said he wanted to work on the gatehouse (and get out of the madhouse!). Linda and Jacques are coming. We have mass at Maray on Wednesday.
Super-U's premium Florida pink grapefruit is not as nice as their UHT variety.
I hate the feeling of being under pressure - of time, responsibility, having to do jobs because I promised I would, or that I'm expected to do. So I often, without that pressure, piss about and don't achieve anything, just waiting for the urge to do something wholeheartedly, because I want to, and enjoy whatever it is - fiddling with the power station, or making something. As soon as it becomes a job, like finishing Metanoia, it becomes a nightmare. As this place is starting to become. Why me in my caravan on a hill on Naxos, under no obligation to anyone at all, is so attractive (and also why I fear it might be a complete disaster, because all my projects would immediately become jobs, and I'd just do nothing - that conflict / division is a big driver for drinking, for me). Why I envy Pol her get up and go-ness - she just does stuff. Ingrid the same. At least she does stuff and drinks. I just drink. Belle is quite good on this - just fucking do it, you'll start to enjoy it once you're on the road, and she's right, mostly.
Nice mass at Ligugé with Linda, Jacques (who's best buddies with les moines and did a reading, and Thomas, who liked it in bits but said it was too 'spiritual', not earthy or grounded enough. He has a point. Hardly any sex at all.)
Suzanne and I meditated alone. A good reading from John Main - I should have paid more attention a few years ago. Meditation is not about getting anything or anywhere. And a lovely canticle. I rang Pol from outside the church after mass, 5 bars. She's fine and didn't mind my edits of her poem. Her eye is bad, she's having more tests. She said she'd got Metanoia and would read it.
mail to Belle:
My day today. Saturday we have a lie in, so meditation at 8.15, breakfast at 9, morning share and meeting at 9.30 (en Francais parce que Jacques de Bretagne ne parle pas Anglais). Cleaning up loos and living room, hanging up someone's laundry, writing my blog. Meditation at 12. Jacques made us a delicious lunch which we ate outside en plein soleil (too fucking hot, really). Going to Emmaus this afternoon to see if I can find a nice summer jacket for my holiday in Greece, and then to buy a big box of wine for les autres. We have a new guest tonight, Linda from the USA, whom I'm hoping to meet off the train at 5.30. Meditation at 6, then supper, cooked by Swiss Susanne . I should be finishing off the bathroom downstairs today (shower rail and curtain, light shades, shave bottom off door and lay carpet) but I've not been finishing the bathroom all week, so why break a habit now.
It sounds very boring - it really isn't. It would be if I was spending all day waiting to start drinking, or getting over the effects of drinking last night. I have choc ices in my now very cold solar powered fridge. And plenty of cold delicious drinks. My new cocktail - 1 squeezed whole lime, lemongrass and ginger cordial, tonic water, ice if you have it, Angostura bitters.
x Da
missed lunch
Sophie Moone
shower
Harriet rang, sounded a bit slurry. pissed? or just tired? didn't ask, she didn't say. She's read Metanoia and said it was moving.
Jacques ratty with me at dinner (he said looking cross that I talk too much, and too loud, and smoke too much - was it something I said?!)
Andrew and Delyth back at 7pm, Delyth poisoned by fish
lovely supper cooked by Jacques. crumble and custard. stuffed tomatoes from Brigitte
talked to Suzanne after supper. She said the smiley stone was like a caeserean section opening, which I get. I mansplained Desmond Morris' theory to her about buttocks etc. I don't think she liked it.
Andrew closeted with Linda in the salon (not sure why, maybe she's something official in WCCM USA). I offered her a lift home, so he was able to go to bed, and then I drove into Poitiers Gare to meet Giovanni. Lurked in a station bar, drinking a coffee with the drunks and low lifes of Poitiers and a very pretty punky girl drinking fanta. Got some more tabac - good tip for the future - tabac/bar open late on Sunday, if I'm desperate. Same sort of vibe as the routier stop south of Vivonne - a bit (very) sleazy. A few working girls out on the streets, otherwise quite empty. Giovanni's train was late and we missed each other, so he'd texted Andrew despite Andrew and my emails with phone numbers. Got him home and off to bed by 00:30. Glad I didn't succumb to a whisky. Fine now. As Belle says, it will pass. Giovanni likes Sal's picture. It was 20℃ when I went to fetch G. Feels cooler now. Very clear. Owls and frogs and crickets. All my windows open. G was lovely, recognised me which is pretty good after a week 10 years ago in Monte Oliveto, and gave me a great big hug. Very easy to talk to, and told me all about the search for Bonnevaux. He and his partner Luke bought a ruined farm (he described it as a 'hamlet') seven years ago somewhere near Chauvigny / Chateauraullt and have been doing it up ever since, so knew the area. Laurence was looking with others down south (Toulouse, Marseilles) so started looking round here. Marie Dominique's office in Paris is opposite a v flash estate agent who was selling B'vaux, so they got interested and finally got to look at it. They weren't sure at first (the N10 and TGV were an issue) but Peter (Ng?) saw it and said 'it would do' so they decided to go ahead.
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