A WARNING: Dear Guest! Don't gnash your teeth everytime you meet a spelling or a syntax mistake! English is not my first language! So, please, be clement and keep in mind that, beyond the form, it's the content which truly matters!
You are intrigued by my personality? My sheer sagacity? My broad, shrewd, swift mind? The pertinence of my words? And you want to know more about me? I suggest you click on the three following links:
[Sheri - A Brief History]
[Sheri's Pictures]
[Sheri's Articles]
A l'ouest, rien de nouveau !
Brinsley, back from the hairdresser
Just wanted to post a few pics of my son, taken last Friday, as he came back from the haidresser. Cute little monster, isn't he ?
Otherwise, nothing special to say, except perhaps that I downloaded a moving adaptation of Homer's tale on Troy. Three episodes, each one lasting an hour and an half, to keep my mind busy while doing some fitness training in the nearby sport club. You see, I cannot devote myself to rowing or even wheight lifting without ingesting spiritual food. I would have the oppresive feeling that I am wasting my time.
Lately I listened to the following dramas, comedies or radio adaptations: Grigorii Efimovich Rasputin, Fair Stood the Wind for France, The Ladykillers, Earthsearch (sci-fi by James Follet), Casanova in London, The Count of Montecristo, Les Misérables, Bhowani Junction, Piglaw, Goodness Gracious Me, and so on...
Quite a choice indeed! All recorded while listening to BBC Radio 7, thanks to a smart little software called Total Recorder (which cost me about 7 quid)!
I'm rather proud to say that my digital library becomes fairly substantial.
[25 comments]- Scrubbing my hands...
- Ok. Today, I declared it a personal bank holiday. I'm presently doing a road network course (voirie) and, though it is actually fascinating, I had enough of it for the week...!
My average mark remains the same, i. e. 17 (out of 20), which is more than fairly good. Cock-a-doodle-doo !
John is, I believe, snobbing my entries and so I decided to retaliate. I made a resolution NOT to read his entries until he deigns to leave a comment on my blog ! This is no longer the time for half measures.
The Jazz Festival is about to begin. It takes place in the Gallo-Roman theatre right in front of our house. We could fairly compare it with the Blitz in terms of noise nuisance. As a consequence, it was decided to send wife and kid to safety in the coutryside (that is, at my stepparents'), while I will hold my post and face bravely the storm. At least during day time.
Tonight we will receive a few guests. Two of Christelle's colleagues and their respective boyfriends. One is teaching French, the other --named Aurélie-- Italian.
Aurélie, it must be said, is rather attractive. She's gonna get married this summer (slight pang of disappointment) !
I think I will strike terror by asking whether they brought their *implements* with them: "Helloooo! Please, do enter! ............ Did you bring your tools ? .............. What ?! Didn't Christelle tell you about the orgy... ?"
Shocking! Yes, yes...! I'm scrubbing my hands...
Viennes' Roman theatre hosting the Jazz Festival
[6 comments] - A survey of the surrounding countryside
Believe it or not, lately I haven't had time to bum around as I usually do! I devote a substantial part of my time to my studies, another part to my wife and kid, and the rest of it to my passions which are books, gardening and detection. Detection, for I recently bought a metal detector. Being highly methodical, my first step is to study the surrounding countryside using satellite maps for aerial prospection. Looking from the sky, an experienced eye may spot in a bare field the layout of an ancient building which no longer exists, be it medieval, Roman or Celtic. If something arouses my curiosity, I proceed to the second step: a quick survey of the field surface. I walk accross the field, looking for datable pottery shards and fragments of tiles. Should I find such evidence indicating that the site was once occupied by --say-- Romans, I mark it on my map, get my metal detector and start the job. Now, a metal detector doesn't go deep. No enough to damage an archeological layer. Most discoveries are made between 10 and 30 cm deep. What you get is usually brought up to the surface by the farmer's plough which is much more destructive. If you find something, you share it (fifty/fifty) with the owner of the field. Of course, I wouldn't deny I'm tempted to keep it all for myself. It would be hypocritical to pretend otherwise...
Thruth is, beside the actual act of detecting, it's the walk across the field, the landscape which I mostly appreciate. It's a bit like hunting. Shooting animals, or digging holes, doesn't prevent you from enjoying the beauties of Mother Nature (see the above pictures). Moreover, I find it rather moving when I exhume an artefact which was lost, burried or thrown away centuries ago.
Apart from detection, I do a lot of gardening. I'm very proud of my kitchen garden. Upkeeping it is such a healthy job! Eating what you produce is so rewarding.
My stepparents, impressed by my sheer motivation, offered me to enlarge it. I'll do that this week.
For Father's day, my son Brinsley (and my beloved wife Christelle) offered me a bottle of Savagnin, a particular oxydized wine from the Jura region which I fancy very much, and two books about the Château de Villandry and its magnificent gardens. What more could I wish?
The picture below is for my dear friend Rob. God knows why, it makes me think of him... ;-)
[12 comments]- Who am I to judge those people?
- Yesterday we went to Remonde's 70th birthday. Remonde is the mother-in-law of my stepuncle, Robert. The party was taking place in the communal ballroom of a small country village.
It's the kind of events I used to run away from, for the guests usually are... errr... provincial, not too say boorish. You know... the type of noisy people who enjoy dancing in single line, who ignores all conventions of the so-called high society, who laugh heartily to (coarse) jokes, and so on...
Well... I have changed. With time, I came to consider the following questions: who am I to judge those people? Am I really better than them? What makes me different? ............. My precious background? My haughty manners?! My chevalière? ............. It's all bollocks, illusions. Du vent.
What matters is one's sincerity. And sincerity is a rare commodity in the circles I used to move in.
Yesterday, in that ballroom, in the midst of those true simple people who hardly refrain from showing their feelings, I was fine. I didn't get bored for a single minute. Also it's true that there was some nice 'fresh meat' to entertain me...! Two young beautiful adolescent girls in their virginal fraîcheur, who clearly waited for bees to gather their pollen and have a taste at their divine, heady nectar...
About the incident with my grandmother-in-law on the previous day, Robert, her son, and Daniel, my stepmother, told me not to worry. They were laughing when they heard the story and told me that, indeed, it's her best trick when she falls short of arguments in a dispute. That she is very good at faking and deserves credit as a dramatic actress.
No need to say I felt better.
[11 comments] - A severe argument
- Don't say anything, just let her talk, she's old! That's what they keep telling me about my grandmother-in-law.
I disagree.
My grandmother-in-law is good hearted. She can be very generous. But she is not a very learned person and our conversations never rise above trivial matters. I don't blame her for that, of course. Something, however, puts me off: she won't listen when you tell her she's wrong. It is really, really annoying. Not that she denies the obvious, she just closes her eyes and turns a deaf ear. Always.
So we had an argument. A strong one. Cose my problem is that I tend to get quickly bad-tempered, particularly when I face bad faith. At one point I 'exploded' and told her, shouting, what I thought of her. It went to such an extent that she collapsed on her sofa, pretending she had a problem with her heart. She was not well indeed, but it was only minor and involved a lot of pretence. One of her best tricks, playing the weak-hearted victim to make you feel immensely guilty.
At first, I told her to stop faking, that she was not fooling me. But when I saw her hands shaking dangerously, I turned blank, rushed by her side and immediately changed tone for a soothing one. I felt compelled to apologize.
Ten minutes later she was much better and could even answer the phone with a casual voice...
I feel dirty. I feel dirty but I think I did well. Sometimes, things ought to be said. If this argument didn't do any good to her --for I doubt she has learned anything from it--, it did to me. It's like a burden getting off your shoulders.
[3 comments] - A pleasant Mercurey.
France -> Burgundy -> Côte Chalonnaise -> Mercurey
So! For Mother's Day we opened a bottle of red Mercurey. First time I tried this appellation. I was rather pleased, I must say. It was more than a good wine. Out of ten I would grant it an well-deserved 7.
It was soft, well-balanced, with a pronounced blackcurrant flavour en bouche and, far from displeasing, a barely perceptible hint of bitterness en finale.
Red Mercurey is produced from one grape variety which makes the notoriety of Burgundy, i.e. Mister... Pinot Noir!
Together with the appellations Rully, Bouzeron, Montagny and Givry, the appellation Mercurey is a smart ambassador to anyone who whishes to publicize abroad the not well-known Côte Chalonnaise.
On the lower label you may read Terra Vitis which is an association of winegrowers willing to restrain the use of pesticides. One has to bare in mind that wine growing is a significant source of water pollution...
Need a map? Just click here below!
France and its vinyards
The vinyards of Burgundy, Côte Chalonnaise included
[2 comments]