I did tell you I would be quiet for a bit, and twice, by the looks of things!

Well it's been a nice long holiday, just on the edge of the blogging world.
I have dipped in and out of others'lives, without feeling too pulled by the writing bug on my own account. Not many things have happened to me, and yet, of course a zillion things have been happening.

The most peculiar of these, is the notion that I have become an athlete over the past few days....When I get up, my stride reminds me of the hyped getting going, rocking of the long jumpers....
When I go up the stairs I am on the diving boards...In the supermarkets, I am walking for England.
Since I also have been practising archery and shooting, my eyes have become that little bit sharper, and I have developed a knowing look, gazing in the distance. As I am not too keen on watersports, for myself, I haven't done too much by way of beating the waters, but , under the shower, I have had the odd feeling that I had just accomplished a marvelous 1 1/2 spike, somersault twisted froppy....(I know, that's not the proper name, but you will get my drift, I am sure!), and I need to get my little bit of cloth nicely rinsed before the next dive...not to mention my hair (flick, flick; flick of wet hair away from eyes)
I have been up and down podiums (should it be podia?????), while attempting to cut the top of my garden hedge on a step ladder. I have waved at crowds, sobbed with winners and losers in equal measure.

Altogether, I am having a GRAND olympics. "She is looking like the favorite" ; "That might be the end of his career" ;"He flew in"; "It's a personal best, you can't ask for more than that": you take your pick.

I have NOT managed to go interactive, even though I think I should be able to, as I have a little remote with all coloured buttons...but who cares, I get plenty enough of the action as you can see!

Things I like the least:
The way female gymnasts throw their torsos upward and back and look all disjointed. I have tried to do it, and trust me it cannot be done with this particular body of mine. Mind you I can't even clasp my hands behind my back at this time, so there....

Things I like best:
-the blue and white logo with the olive branch.
-the costumes of the medals bearers
-the laurel crowns for the winners
-the explanations before each obscure event
-the wonderful shoes they've all got
-the language of superlatives....I just love it!
I also love it when Sally Gunnell (is that the name?) interviews folk who have just missed getting a medal and congratulates them on having done really well...

I love the smiles of delight, the frowns, the determination, the dramas, the hairdos, the sagas.

But best of all I love all the athletes' names: Chehibi...Gabreselasie...Huang, Pickeltof, Soos, Kipketer...aaahh...you couldn't make them up (I just did, two of them!)

I'll probably write a bit more about the Olympics and me, when I have bagged my third medal. But Have I Got What It Takes????...Marvellous, isn't it?

Jumpy, throwy, runny, swimmy, gymny kind of greetings

Back soon (if I can find my performance form),

Jocelyne

PS "Massive personal best", "his best", "one and two", "united states on the inside", "qualify for the finals" blah blah...on and on it goes..."7/100th of a second off the record" etc, ect...I think I am addicted to the language..."Great tradition in the long jump", "just over the qualification line" Help!

That Saturday bliss lasted well!

The whole week has been good.

And now, I feel like taking a little holiday from blogging.

I will be back when I have something interesting to say.

Meanwhile, good wishes & keep well.

Jocelyne.

That Saturday bliss lasted well!

The whole week has been good.

And now, I feel like taking a little holiday from blogging.

I will be back when I have something interesting to say.

Meanwhile, good wishes & keep well.

Jocelyne.

Saturday morning bliss

I want to tell you the bliss of this Saturday morning. My house smells of toast and coffee (strange, since I made neither toast nor coffee...still a good imagination will take you everywhere!). It really does smell good!

I have just been for a little tour of the garden under a sky fit for an African Queen. Barefoot in the dew...cool feet! hhhaaahhh...memories of camps everywhere...

This morning when I drew the curtain, I swear each blade of grass was nodding good morning and shining its dew drops at me.

In the corner of the garden, where the food growing experiment takes place, I am greeted by yet more tomatoes and runner beans: the only two foods which took part in the experiment. Seriously, I have never seen such a profuse crop on just one tomato plant; it must be a record, and the scientist in me says "you should not have gobbled them up without weighing them first"..."too late! too bad...!" says the greedy one. "Nothing like eating food straight from the plant I say!"

Talking of which: isn't it a great pity about the worms in blackberries? One has to be so careful not to let greed and hedonism have the upper hand! You see, in the lane at the back of my home, there are millions of blackberry bushes and the fruit there are just coming into their ripeness. Many pots of jam will be made.

How indredible, in the middle of a huge concrete city like Birmingham to have been blessed with a little patch of countryside, just for me!

I know why that is though! It's genetic: my young brother has told me of our family tree, on our father's side. It has been traced back to the 15th century and...they are all peasants! I knew it, I just knew it! No adventurers, no merchants, no dignitaries, no erudites....just illiterate peasants. And all and always in the same 20 square miles on the East of the river at Macon, in the Bresse region. The only remotely unusual thing is that the women of this line have names which are latinised, often ending in "a"...I have since found out the the Moores had invaded that region...so may be...we are all a little bit Moorish after all.

Talking of which : you will have guessed, breakfast awaits, no coffee and toast, but "ricore" and "rice cakes" (with jam... it goes without saying)

Have yourself a good day, wherever you are, and tap into the joy of existence...There's nothing like it, honest!

Jocelyne

PS and may be I'll get a letter from a friend in the post, as well...

Been to Paris....

and got back in one piece. It was HOT....38 degrees....

The new trousers were nice and cool & looked the biz. I felt the biz, too!

The best thing about going to Paris, apart from seeing my old dad and meeting Clara,the 18 months old daughter of my brother and Dounia, her very wonderful mum, was the opportunity to go to the 6 a.m. meditation at one of the three Raj Yoga meditation centres in the French capital!

The taxi driver who took me from my hotel to the Rue d'Orfila was an impeccably dressed French man; he spoke very softly and was kind enough to act as a bit of a tour guide.

The early morning hours always have something magical about then, a subtle renaissance of the hopes which the previous day might have dashed, a shaking of the cobwebs which the night's dreams may have woven: the freshness of the new dawn. But in Paris, those feelings are more intense, more focussed, more perceptible. There is a famous song "Il est 5 heures, Paris s'éveille, Il est 5 heures et je n'ai pas sommeil" , by the song writer/singer/actor Jacques Dutronc, which epitomizes and crystallises that shared experience...

We drove past the Cimetière du Père Lachaise, famous for being the final resting place of many illustrious persons (Karl Marx- no, wait a second, he is in London's Highgate cemitary- oops, but yes: Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Yves Montand, Simone Signoret, Isadora Duncan, Marcel Proust. Modigliani are the ones I know about).

We also went past several "squares":there are so many "squares" in Paris, their greenery valliantly fighting a losing battle against pollution, their benches always home to some unself conscious flopping or prim and proper posing. Then the Boulevards with their big plane trees, their trunks girdled in the famous metal bars, their bit of ground now concreted over as protection against the ever present menace of the parisian pet dog poo (has to be seen to be believed!!!)

The shops reflect the hedonism and ambition of the citizens: beauty parlours and hairdressers galore, health food stores, wine merchants, boutiques, pressings, cafes...don't even ask: every where, restaurants. It's all just as it's meant to be, really.

By contrast, with its inner courtyard away from the heat and the bustle, the meditation centre is a haven of calm and cleanliness, of sobriety and simplicity, a space both respectful and convivial. I had a great feeling of belonging (all the more since I know a lot of the folks who attend, having met them at Oxford's Global Retreat Centre).(try quick links, then photos for a quick overview of the place).
I was then treated to breakfast, and thus kick-started was able to withstand the heat and the emotions of the day.

Speaking of breakfast... you can guess: it's early morning now and breakfast beckons...
More later,

Love,

Jocelyne

Sunday, hey? and August, yeah?

I don't know! One minute you're making new year resolutions and the next the cashier in the supermarket is asking you if you would like to buy saving stamps for ...I can't even bring myself to write the word at this time of year! By the way, the shop will give you the equivallent of a magnificent 2% over 5 months and in exchange you will agree to spend your money there! It's what my late first mother in law -who was German- called "eine Grosse Betruge" I think!

On another tack, my new year resolution was that I would not make any promises. No promises at all, to anyone, for a whole year. Do you think that this is possible? In my experience, it is not. That's because a sense of responsibility and commitment are perceived by others as promises and I, for one respond to others'expectations as if they were legitimate.

However, every time you do something for someone a new set of expectations is created . If you chose not to fulfil that expectation, it's just like breaking a promise. I get asked for help a lot, (that's because I am a helpful sort); and I do find it difficult to say no, (that's because I want to be liked); but I am working on learning to say no...It's a daunting task, and still I find that assumptions made about my willingness to do this or that as imperative to me as if I HAD made a promise. HOLD ON! I say, you do remember my new year resolution! Others must not hold me accountable for their designs on my time.

This is not addressed to anyone who is likely to read this blog, the above ramblings are by way of confirming in my own mind, my own decisions about my own actions. In that same vein, I have developped a new strategy:

A- You know your friend the plumber?
me- Yes, I do!
A- Can you ask him if.....a,b,and c....blah, blah, blah...?
me- you have his number, why don't you explain this to him directly?

Plumbers are in such demand, you wouldn't believe it (plumbers, cleaners and gardeners, too!). I carefuly foster my singing relationship with my friend the plumber. His voice and mine go very well together and we both like singing impossible jazz tunes with more change of keys than the tower of London.
"Our" piano player would like to be able to play them!

Change of toppic: my mother died a year ago. I am still expecting her phone call every Sunday at 12: I suppose that's one way to keep connecting with her. I found some paper with her hand writing on, yesterday, bang on cue for the 1 year anniversary. When she died, I also knew to the exact second: I interrupted my shower to phone the hospital and I was told she had just left this world. It's ok though. She wasn't a happy person and she couldn't see a way forward in that life of hers. When thoughts of her come to me, I ask myself if they are helpful or detrimental to my well being, and that's why I just put the little piece of paper in the nearest bin and did not indulge in any more thinking about it.

To continue this mixed bag of a post: I'm off to Paris to-morrow: sorry to say I succombed to my own internal pressure and bought a new pair of trousers for the occasion! I think they are smart enough to silence the family's criticisms...but you never know. I shall be angelic and kind and pretend I don't hear! I am also delighted that i shall be able to visit one of our meditation centers on Tuesday morning!

But nough of nothing much to say for to-day, much love and soon come back,

Jocelyne