...and I'm 40 and the wind is blowing rain across the fields. No, I'm not avoiding the point, because actually there isn't one. Except that, if you consider 40 to be one of those milestones where you need to pause and assess the path already trodden and the path ahead, well, hey, I've come this far, I might as well keep going ;) I might just pace myself a bit better and take a few more lunch stops from now on.
Actually, the 40s promise to be the best decade yet. No more childbirth and nappies, and the hope of the last few years' of work bearing fruition.
The last ten days were taken up with the local Fêtes Vocales, concerts, tellings and all sorts, a little challenging, what with the rest of life to balance alongside, but great to take part.
And so, if I could just hear back from the wonderful publisher who requested a full, and if her next answer could be as thrilling as her first... well my next post might be about cloud-walking.
Vive la quarantaine !
mardi 1 juin 2010
jeudi 29 avril 2010
Too good to believe
Yeh, well, like I knew already I couldn't handle the triangle - Writing - Telling - Translation. But I thought I'd just give it a go one more time, bad conscience from lack of money. And it was just about feasible, but then one of the other "thangs" kicked in - the vomit-exploding four-year-old element of the equation. So what can you do?
We had a good time setting up different play areas & sleeping quarters in my office, but when the novelty wore off (5 mins later), well, we read Green Eggs and Ham... and now my image of the forthcoming weekend is dissolving into hours of deadly translation, cooped up in the office...
Sick is an amazing thing. I should add it to my "Thangs" list. You'd think it would just project itself in a fairly linear arc, but no, a four-year-old's vomit hits walls, lamps, tables, as well as finding its way down the back of their PJs and onto the soles of your (my) feet. My daughter sleepwalks - my son sleepvomits. And I sleep when I can ;)
We had a good time setting up different play areas & sleeping quarters in my office, but when the novelty wore off (5 mins later), well, we read Green Eggs and Ham... and now my image of the forthcoming weekend is dissolving into hours of deadly translation, cooped up in the office...
Sick is an amazing thing. I should add it to my "Thangs" list. You'd think it would just project itself in a fairly linear arc, but no, a four-year-old's vomit hits walls, lamps, tables, as well as finding its way down the back of their PJs and onto the soles of your (my) feet. My daughter sleepwalks - my son sleepvomits. And I sleep when I can ;)
mercredi 28 avril 2010
Back in France
Life in Frogland is hardish to come back to this time. A week in springing England with quiet skies, packed full of visits to places rather than people made me almost, almost, want to go back to Blighty.
Hubs and I were taking my in-laws on their first (and last?) visit to England, so, after deciding that No, I couldn't take them to the Lakes, Cambridge and London in 6 days as well as dropping off the kids in Berkshire and turning up at my Nan's 100th in Hastings (yes 100th... it runs in the family), I slimmed down the tour to Henley, London, the Cotswolds, Warwick Castle and Oxford, which was pretty good going anyway.
What I loved this time round, apart from Steak 'n Ale pies, mash and peas and real pints of ale, was that the people we met everywhere were just so, well, nice. Friendly, smiling. Of course the weather was fantastic. And there were no planes, so there was a kind of sense of pulling together emergency about the place. My Nan always said the English were at their best together during war time... Anyway, even the policemen opposite Buckingham Palace ask people to get down from their vantage points on the statue nicely "Sorry, you going to have to get down from there. Sorry, you can't stay up there."
And people use their indicators in their cars to show where they want to go. And then, if they're indicating right, they actually TURN RIGHT... Well, if you live in France, you'll know what I mean. And then there are all those beautiful trees around in the south of England and the magnolias were simply divine. The only down side was having to speak French most of the time and not being able to fit in my usual tour of the charity shops for second hand books. Oh well, next time.
This may sound like a moan. And of course it shouldn't be, because here I am, in my beautiful wooden house in sunny Brittany, looking out over a freshly ploughed field with the birds singing in the orchard, the apple blossom peeping through the leaves. But where are the ancient oaks? Where are the mixed forests and the hedgerows? Gone, is the answer, removed for farming purposes. Stop moaning, woman. Go back to England if it's that bad.
Well, no, I couldn't possibly do that. Because before I left England the planes started, we got caught in traffic jams, and, well, we simply couldn't afford it!
Hubs and I were taking my in-laws on their first (and last?) visit to England, so, after deciding that No, I couldn't take them to the Lakes, Cambridge and London in 6 days as well as dropping off the kids in Berkshire and turning up at my Nan's 100th in Hastings (yes 100th... it runs in the family), I slimmed down the tour to Henley, London, the Cotswolds, Warwick Castle and Oxford, which was pretty good going anyway.
What I loved this time round, apart from Steak 'n Ale pies, mash and peas and real pints of ale, was that the people we met everywhere were just so, well, nice. Friendly, smiling. Of course the weather was fantastic. And there were no planes, so there was a kind of sense of pulling together emergency about the place. My Nan always said the English were at their best together during war time... Anyway, even the policemen opposite Buckingham Palace ask people to get down from their vantage points on the statue nicely "Sorry, you going to have to get down from there. Sorry, you can't stay up there."
And people use their indicators in their cars to show where they want to go. And then, if they're indicating right, they actually TURN RIGHT... Well, if you live in France, you'll know what I mean. And then there are all those beautiful trees around in the south of England and the magnolias were simply divine. The only down side was having to speak French most of the time and not being able to fit in my usual tour of the charity shops for second hand books. Oh well, next time.
This may sound like a moan. And of course it shouldn't be, because here I am, in my beautiful wooden house in sunny Brittany, looking out over a freshly ploughed field with the birds singing in the orchard, the apple blossom peeping through the leaves. But where are the ancient oaks? Where are the mixed forests and the hedgerows? Gone, is the answer, removed for farming purposes. Stop moaning, woman. Go back to England if it's that bad.
Well, no, I couldn't possibly do that. Because before I left England the planes started, we got caught in traffic jams, and, well, we simply couldn't afford it!
Inscription à :
Articles (Atom)