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2013

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The great beauty of the Fuji X10 is that it is small enough and light enough that it can simply be carried over my shoulder pretty much everywhere I go. It is also at the same time both versatile and yet simple to use. As a result I can quickly fire off shots whenever I see anything that tickles my fancy. The great step forward that digital represents, of course, is that one can execute as many such as one desires – with no cost implications and the ability to rapidly lose any results to which it is just too embarrassing to admit. Goodness knows how we managed in the days of film!

Herewith a few more snaps from our recent travels.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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For our recently (and most sadly!) concluded sojourn in the Perigord we stayed in a beautiful apartment at a wonderful old manor house not far from Périgueux. Our hosts there – Catherine and Maxence – go out of their way to make their guests feel welcome, to the extent of introducing them to – and involving them in – the delights of life in the small village that is their home.  The house is called Le Maine and I encourage anyone seeking a tranquil and delightful stay in the region to investigate. We were in ‘La Cuisine d’Alice’ and we loved it! I can’t recommend it highly enough…

Herewith some images – although those on the site above (taken by Catherine – a professional photographer!) do the house and grounds considerably greater justice than ever I could.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidIn addition to being a professional illustrator, Maxence (who teaches art and who also curated a splendid exhibition of Perigordine artists – to the opening of which we were invited) plays a mean harmonica! On our first night in the village he enticed us to the tiny but ‘happening’ local bar – Le Cube – where a completely splendid Anglo-French duo called Buckshee entertained us to a wild evening of French, Irish, Cajun, bluegrass, swing, rock and roll, calypso and soca musics. Great and sweaty fun!

The band’s website gives some idea as to their multi-instrumental capabilities. Not content simply to display their own array of talents they invited a local English lad (who is blessed with a great swing voice!) and Maxence onto the tiny ‘stage’ area to belt out a stomping version of Van Morrison’s ‘Moondance’. No photo could do this justice. This is a close as I could get…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

 

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Photo by Peter80 on Wikimedia CommonsOne of our reasons for choosing the Dordogne for this brief break from our daily grind in the UK is that the Kickass Canada Girl has an enthusiasm for pre-historic cave art. I found myself wanting to write ‘Neolithic’ then rather than ‘pre-historic’ because it just somehow felt right, but the period in question is actually the Magdalenian, of which – I must confess – I had no previous knowledge at all. This is – however – from the man who complained after sitting his physical geography ‘A’ level paper that there had been no question on glaciation – a subject on which he had particularly ‘mugged up’. Sadly that mugging up had not included the key phrase ‘Pleistocene Era’. Doh! My, how the other kids laughed!

Anyway – the Girl came to the subject through the works of the American authoress – Jean M. Auel – who wrote the ‘Earth’s Children’ series of books, of which ‘The Clan of the Cave Bear’ is the first and – possibly – the best known. Now – I must admit to not having read any of these titles but – as those who know me will be only too aware – I have always been drawn to those who have an enthusiasm for pretty much anything and in this case the Girl’s avidity was infectious. Hence, the Dordogne… hence, trips to a number of cro-magnon sites.

We have in the last few days visited cave sites at Rouffignac, Lascaux and Peche Merl. All were fascinating in equal measure, whilst all being at the same time completely different.

Rouffignac is an extensive ‘dead’ limestone cave system. In other words, though the caves were formed by the action of acid-laden water they are now completely dry. The system is sufficiently extensive that visitors travel to a depth of approximately a kilometer underground on a small electric railway that winds its way through the subterranean passageways. The caves feature both engravings – many of which are of mammoths – and drawings of horses, bison, ibexes and rhinoceroses. One of the many mysteries of this cave art is that there are no representations of the animal with which Magdalanian Man was most familiar (it comprising the better part of his diet) – the reindeer.

Several days later we paid an unexpected visit to Lascaux. The reason I say ‘unexpected’ was that all of the Girl’s research prior to our journey south suggested that getting to see any of the cave systems might prove difficult. The numbers allowed into the caves on any given day are extremely small since preservation of the fragile drawings is the imperative and they can be damaged by an excess of carbon dioxide in the air. Visits to most sites – according to the literature at least – cannot be booked before the day concerned and thus queues form very early in the morning to ensure entry.

Our hosts in the Dordogne – of whom more in a later post – advised us that this was a gross exaggeration, and indeed we arrived at the ticket office for Lascaux (in the neighbouring village of Montignac) at 10:30am and acquired tickets for an English tour at 11:00am. Not much of a wait there! A similar story could be told concerning Peche Merl. The website advised that tickets could be reserved in advance, but that to do so one had to book a week or more ahead. Ploughing ahead regardless I was able to book tickets just a couple of days in advance – and for the time of our choice. The lesson is – don’t at believe everything that you read on the InterWebNet – though I expect that you knew that already.

At Lascaux – of course – one cannot see the original cave itself, it now having been sealed safely away from heavy-breathing visitors. The clever French have – however – created a complete underground replica of the cave which they call Lascaux II. This millimetre exact copy of the original is made of concrete and is thus not prone to the decay that is endemic to the limestone equivalent. Even in copy form Lascaux was exquisite.

However beautiful it may have been, however, we had clearly saved the best until last – with Peche Merl. This cave is in the valley of the Lot, rather than that of the Dordogne, and was a two hour trip from where we are staying. It was – as you will see if you follow the link above – completely worth the trip, with fabulous and moving drawings of horses, mammoths and outlines of the human hand, but also with a dazzling display of stalactites and stalagmites. Those of you who remember the works of Roger Dean will recognise clearly the organic forms built up over the millenia in the rock formations. Perhaps the most moving details of all were the footprints of a cro-magnon adolescent which had been preserved at the bottom of a dried out pool. Really quite spooky.

There are many strange and unexplained phenomena in these eerie grottos in the limestone hills of the Perigord. I may revisit the subject in a future post – or perhaps even persuade the Girl herself so to do.

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Herewith some images captured with the trusty x10 as we made our way south through France. Just off the ferry from Newhaven to Dieppe (a crossing that I had not previously tried but which was really most easeful – not to mention being as smooth as a millpond on this occasion) we spent a night in Rouen:

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

…where we witnessed a splendid Son et Lumiere projected onto the frontage of Rouen cathedral – inspired by the works of Monet.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

On the second night we stayed in the Loire Valley at the Chateau des Arpentis. For a B + B this is one pretty cool place – and one which we loved!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

The evening was completed by a wonderful al fresco dinner at Les Closeaux near Amboise.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

The next day saw us in the Dordogne. More to follow…!

 

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidTomorrow the Kickass Canada Girl and I head for France. As mentioned previously we intend to meander slowly down to the Dordogne over a period of some three days in the Girl’s spanking new convertible (well – new to her… You know what I mean!).

Now – the boot (Canadian – trunk!) of the Mazda (Canadian – Miata!) is the cutest wee thing going. It is good to see that the Japanese made no concessions whatsoever to utility when designing the ultimate ‘British’ sports car and that they wasted no efforts either there or in the strictly two-seater cabin on such fripperies as storage. As a result packing for the trip presents an interesting challenge.

I have discoursed briefly before on the Girl’s packing habits. She has – naturally – been working on the problem already for the best part of a week. It might appear – to the uninitiated – that her method consists of emptying out her entire wardrobe and then successively dismissing items ‘not required on voyage’ until such time as she can shoehorn the remainder into whichever trunks, valises and other items of baggage have been selected for the journey. To suggest that this were indeed the case would be a scandalous calumny and a terrible mistake, which I – for one – do not intend to make. However, given that the sum total of her travelling wardrobe must fit into two small soft bags I sense that this time her skills may be tested to the limit.

Being a chap – of course – I will simply toss a couple of t-shirts into a bag at the last possible moment and call it good. Well – there have to be some advantages to chapdom!

And if – by chance – I find that I have forgotten something, then the odds are good that the Girl will have packed said item instead – and I can simply borrow it!

Good luck with that one – as they say…

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sun-43142_640The weather in the UK has been determinedly following its recent topsy-turvey course – routinely confounding expectations and continuing to be predicatably unpredictable. Last year’s dryest winter in aeons was followed rapidly by one of the wettest summers on record. This year’s arctic spring and early summer has finally given way to… yes – you’ve guessed it – a heatwave unsurpassed for more than a decade. Well – this seems to me to have provided us now with pretty much the full set!

With temperatures edging into the 30s Celsius for the last few weeks or so and with humidity high the working weekdays have been tough on those of us who have to commute, as well as for those who must work in the metropolitan connurbations. The evenings have brought little relief with the thermometer remaining stubbornly high, causing restless nights and tired and cranky mornings. Weekends – which one might expect to be a riot of joyous summer activities – see some of us at least simply trying to catch up with sleep and relaxation before we start on another hot and humid stretch at work. Those of us for whom school terms have finished can at least go to work in shorts and sandals. For this relief…

We are – gripes not withstanding – immensely grateful that after a considerable number of years of doing without we have finally been gifted a proper summer. We would – however – not be truly British were we not to complain about it. A treasured memory from my youth – in a year in which the customary hard winter was followed by a deeply disappointing spring… when the sun eventually came out for a period – and after a mere three days of pleasantly clement weather – the tabloid headline that shrieked in two inch high letters:

“73 degrees – No relief in sight!”

That’s Farenheit of course – not quite 23 degrees C!

Got to love those Brits!

 

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Photo by Lazellion on FlickrIt occurred to me – in the days leading up to my recent furlough from the world of work subsequent to the culmination of the summer term – that I might take the opportunity to conduct a small and not altogether scientific experiment. To whit – I would treat my time at home as an analogue for my eventual retirement. In this I was abetted by the fact that the Kickass Canada Girl had – somewhat to her chagrin – to go to work whilst I enjoyed my days at ‘leisure’.

I duly spent the week imagining that my time was my own – not just for the duration – but in perpetuity….

…and I have to say – I loved it!

OK – now I know that this was not a serious test and that my actual retirement – when it finally comes – will indubitably prove to be a very different experience. However, this experiment felt particularly good to me – and what I loved most was having the time to do things properly. So much of modern life seems to me these days to consist of rushing from pillar to post – squeezing ever more effort into a limited period and in return being rewarded with ever increased stress. I know that this is all about ‘efficiency’ and ‘productivity’ and that these are undeniably ‘good things’… except that as I grow older I find myself more and more doubting that they truly are so.

My one serious gripe with this leave of absence was that the days were quite simply not long enough! I have met all too many retired folks who complain that they don’t know what to do with themselves – that their lives have no structure and that they miss the motivation of having to work. I don’t get that at all! I read. I pottered about. I did some chores. I ran some errands. Sometimes I sat and thought. Sometimes I just sat!

I had time to do some work on a long-uncompleted song. The piece needed some serious thought and care lavished on it so that it could find its true form. I was able to devote such time to finding suitable sounds and to gaining a clearer picture of what it wanted – what it needed – to be. It is not yet finished, but I am already particularly pleased with the way that it is progressing.

I lunched with the Girl. Lunch at work is a rushed 10 or 15 minutes spent grabbing some sustenance before heading back to the desk. Lunch when one’s time is one’s own becomes what it really should be – the reward for a morning’s attention to detail and an opportunity to share all the delights of the day with those whom one loves.

Will I miss work when I do retire? You know – I truly don’t believe that I will.

When the time is right – it’s time to go.

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Having basked for a week in the heatwave by which the UK is currently somewhat unexpectedly engulfed (not complaining, you understand!) I have been obliged today – somewhat reluctantly – to return to work after my jolly splendid week at home.

Herewith some images of the Arcadian English countryside slumbering in the heat…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Calgary Reviews on FlickrScarcely more than twenty four hours after the British and Irish Lions’ delivered a rugby lesson to the Wallabies, recording an historic series win down under with an unexpected 16-41 drubbing – than Andy Murray completed an amazing sporting weekend by defeating the world number one – Novak Djokovic – in a hard fought but emphatic straight sets win to become the first British man to take the mens’ singles title at Wimbledon for seventy seven years!

Even to the sports-mad British it must have seemed that nothing could top last summer’s dazzling Olympic triumphs or Bradley Wiggin’s heroics to become the first ever British winner of the Tour de France… but perhaps this weekend has just done so!

Now all we need is back to back Ashes wins and we will truly be in sporting Nirvana…

Congratulations to the Lions and – of course – to the splendid Andy Murray!

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With sweet timing the weather gods have chosen to grace my brief sojourn from the rigours of work with blazing sunshine and temperatures soaring into the high 20s C. The Lions expedition to the antipodes reached an explosive climax this very morning with a thoroughly satisfying drubbing of our friends down under – Andy Murray has made it to another Wimbledon final and the first of the back to back Ashes series is about to commence.

Things are looking up!

On Friday I met the Kickass Canada Girl and one of her work colleagues for lunch in Reading. I arrived first at our chosen rendezvous – an outsized retail ‘park’ which occupies much of the centre of the town and the name of which I will refrain from mentioning since I have no desire to furnish them with more advertising than they get already.

The centre of this excressence features a large open space by the canal, and it was here that I whiled away a quarter of an hour in the sunshine looking for interesting images to snap with the Fuji X10.

As I lowered the camera – after being thus engaged for a while – I found myself face to face with a recently pubescent ‘jobsworth’ (closest Canadian equivalent might be a ‘brown-noser’ – apparently) who regarded me humourlessly.

“You’re not allowed to take pictures here”, he informed me drily.

I was so taken aback that I couldn’t think what to say, but I eventually summoned up a stunned “Why not?”

“Company policy”, he rejoindered. “Inside the stores or out”

I was amazed. “That makes no sense at all. What on earth could they object to? It’s not as though I was taking pictures of people.”

Apparently had I been so doing that would have been alright. What I wasn’t allowed to photograph was the ‘architecture’. When I expressed incredulity at this deranged policy the jobsworth muttered something about people posting things on websites, before shrugging his shoulders and shambling off to annoy someone else.

You will be unsurprised to hear that I was not impressed.

Anyway – here are a few images that I am not supposed to post here and you are not supposed to see…

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