grasping the nettle

No computer!

2005-11-20T16:15:00.000Z

Mmmm! I really appreciate how important my PC has become in my life since it has had to go to the menders! (I am writing this by courtesy of my friend Françoise who kindly lets me use her computer when the withdrawl symptoms get too much.)

I had a moment of sudden panic when I realised how much of my like is now bound to the Net...And to think how scathing I used to be about "those" people who depend on technology, blah, blah, blah! Life has a way of making you eat humble pie, don't you think?

Anyway, it isn't even as if I had a lot to say to-day...although brilliant ideas for Blog posts have come and gone -you will have to take my word for it!- since I have been laptop-less...Oh the sorry state of affairs: all these ideas, and nowhere to go!

My friends will think me snooty for not responding to their e-mails...my bank will think me casual, ...my brain will go numb without the daily dose of information it seeks on the Net...But overall, I will do more knitting and sewing, more reading, and more talking to friends for real..-although here, SKYPE is being sorely missed too! Probably the main thing I miss is access to ANY kind of music I might fancy (and that includes Paul and Dave's amazing radio show on UK-nova...booooo hoooo I can't hear it at the moment!!!)

You know what? It sounds to me like I am complaining! Sorry about that! Let's just hope the PC comes back soon, and in one fully-functionning piece...

Meanwhile, may all your computers work well, and may you be happy, also!

See you soon,

Jocelyne

Blogger and a half? Half a blogger, more like!

2005-11-05T12:48:00.000Z

Yep! That's what I am!Thanks to DIBO in Columbia (Sorry Dibo! You are in Venezuela...Please forgive this old biddy the strange lapse in memory!...Thank you in advance!!!!)for reminding me through Françoise that I exist also in this dimension!(Hi Dibo if you do read this...but I wouldn't blame you for losing interest!). I am not particularly unwell...just busy...In fact yesterday, I wrote a very witty post, -and long at that! and promptly lost it when I had a call on SKYPE which lead me to get out of Blogger too fast, without doing the necessary to save my writing... Pity 'cause it was good! Did try to recover, to no avail...

Still, let me try and recap... Mark you, a piece of writing is never quite the same thing the second time around, as I'm sure all of you know.

Anyway! I am back from Paris, more exactly from a "Gîte" in the countryside just outside Chantilly. It was idyllic: at the edge of a wood where the deer could be heard lowing (?) and the wild boars boaring (?). On the other side was a field of thyme (I know! That's weird!). The weather was so good that the night sky was exactly as it is meant to be: you could see all the stars, the moon, very large on the horizon, and lots of planes and sputniks flying around.

I often wish that I knew all about the constellations up above...But then, I never bother learning them because, if you think in 3D none of the dot-to-dot must make sense: you have just flattened infinite space and reduced it to a 2D interpretation...Is that right? The other resaon I am still reluctant to learn about the night sky is that when we lived in Zimbabwe, it was all very different... and that really freaked me out...almost as much as water swirling round the plug holes in the opposite direction! In Harare, some nights we used to lie down on some huge stone boulders which were still warm from the sun, and it was as if we could touch the sky , so clear and unpolluted was the air...Mike and I had some of our most serious discussions there, under the stars ( he was not a romantic...)

Which reminds me: my mate Charles, the pilot, aprrenticed aerobatisist (!), who also plays the piano in our three piece jazz band (hmm, hmm, a bit pretentious calling Voice+ Saxophone + Piano a band...but there you go!), anyway, Charles thought that he and I had had a "blazing" row...Now, that did surprise me, because I just don't do rows, any more...-I have enough row T-shirt to fill all the Ikea wardrobes in the world!...- I do recall making what I thought was a joky comment about his commitment to aerobatics theory over band practice (weird sentence, for sure).That must have gone pretty wrong, really. Talking about it with Paul to-day, he said that I don't do sarcasm properly...That's not surprising, because I'm not a sarcastic type, see? On the rare occasions when I venture that way, he reckons I am "deadly"...Phfooo! I don't mean to be! I'll just have to watch what I say and how I say it. No more teacherish and forceful for me, no Siree! I'll keep you posted of my progress...

Whatever the constellations above your head may be, I send you greetings of Peace, and of absolutely-no-sarcasm-whatsoever: may your nights be starlit, and your days free of rows,

Love,

Jocelyne

On a gagné!

2005-09-13T21:11:00.000+01:00

Well, what I mean is "we" won! See, I'm as English as the next French woman when it comes to supporting our cricket team.

Told you something good was going on, didn't I?

Anyway, it was heart warming to see London celebrating, for obvious reasons.

As I was going through to-day, there was something I wanted to share with you...but strangely, at this late hour, it has gone clean out of my mind. I'll replace it with one of the best pieces of advice I have ever read: "Never complain!". Ok, That doesn't mean " don't inform the waiter that there is a hair in your soup"...or "don't inform the bank that they have made a mistake"...
It means just that: do not complain.

I was talking to my friend about this, and commenting that I had never heard him complaining (which is not an exageration in this case, although I do admit to being prone to an emphatic view of reality on the odd occasion), so, yes, I had never heard him complaining, and why was that? and he had this very simple 2 part answer:
1) complaining doesn't solve problems or improve situations
2) He does like people who moan (who does?)
Simple, really...I shall leave myself open to my friend's jokes, but I don't mind, I have announced that from now on, I will not be complaining either.

(Oh, My goodness, that's hard! OOOPPPS!

Hoping you have very little not to complain about, and sending you strength and good wishes to cope with whatever it may be,

Jocelyne

Glorious cricket!

2005-09-08T14:13:00.000+01:00

I shall be eternally grateful to all those good and true English men who took the trouble to guide my decidely French woman's mind through the maze of delight of the rules of cricket. I has taken a long time: from 1969's timid beginnings with Peter Ansorge expert tuition, to the 2005 finishing touches which are as we speak, being put to my knowledge of the noble game, by his son and heir, the very erudite Paul Ansorge.

There is something majestic about the pace of cricket, and something incredibly delightful about the language of commentary: "There was something convincing about Hunting's performance"..."The bat hits the ground, that's noise one, and then it hits the ball, that's noise two"...Wonderful stuff! The dialogue of the commentators has its own star quality!

What prompted me to write to-day was in fact, a piece of commentary which cheered me up no end! To wit:

" Very few players of McGrath's age are free of the odd niggle, a little niggle here or there"...

Being, as I am, one with many "niggles" on the old body...I felt reassured that a young fit australian bowler - I can only hope I've that right!?)- is also suffering little "niggles". So: I am in good company, no?

I'm off now, with more of a spring to my step, to visit another one of my friends who suffers from little niggles because of her /our age! Champion!

I am only sorry that I will miss the rest of this afternoon's play...Still I'll be listening on Radio 4 on the way there, and may be highlights in the evening?

Have a good Fifth Test, if you are at all that way enclined!

Jocelyne

next....

2005-08-29T10:46:00.000+01:00

I did say I would tell you another story from the Welsh mountains... Well, not so much from the Welsh Mountains themselves, more something else which happened when we were on holidays there.

But first, here is the tale of my first night on UK soil...

It happened sometimes around the beginning of September 1969. I was 21 years old, and although brave enough to leave my country to take a post as a French assistant in England, I was still pretty naive and inexperienced in the ways of a traveller. (I have since made up for this in a big way!)

I arrived by ferryboat, then train to London. My destination was Biggleswade ( a wondeful name, you will agree!). Biggleswade is a small, very small town between Bedford and Cambridge. I was supposed to catch the train at 9pm or so, but missed the connection in London.

I felt like little Red Ridin Hood, Snow White and Cinderella turned into one: afraid of the Big Bad Wolf in London, terrified of the Trees in the forest and left behind by everyone else who had gone to the Ball on the Biggleswade train. I wandered around the panickey streets with traffic coming at me the wrong way...didn't know what to do.

Saw some Policemen: ask them what to do, I thought! So I told them my story: how I had no money, just a train ticket to Biggleswade, and how I had missed my train...They suggested I should repair to the Salvation Army hostel. Can you imagine the shock! There I was, a nice girl from a small provincial French town, and I was going to have to go to the Salvation Army! No way Siree! Another way must be found! and this is how I ended up as the only passenger on the "mail train"-also known in those days as the"snail train" due no doubt to its slow progress as it stopped at every single station to deliver its booty of letters, parcels and newspapers. A strange journey that was. Eerie, drizzly, cold and unfamiliar, full of the dread of missing my stop...

The train reached Biggleswade at about three in the morning. I carried a small suitcase, and an address neatly printed on a piece of paper which I held nervously in my hand all the way there. The address was :C/O MRS DOBSON, THE SPAR SHOP, NUMBER 24(or something like that) MAIN STREET, BIGGLESWADE. I asked the postal worker receiving the mail sacks where it was, and I made my uncertain way to no 24, Main Street, comforted by some lights behind curtains still shining along the way: the milkman's? Local Insomniacs? In any case I thank them all to this day for having made the place less of a ghost town!

Arriving at the Spar shop, I knocked on the shop front door...No reply...Dark and deserted...Decided I would have to sleep rough! But where? I had passed a phone box on my way, so that would do as temporary accommodation. It was well lit, away from the drizzle which was threatening to chill me to the bone and public enough that I would see danger coming... Ok! Sitting on my little suitcase, I lean against the glass panes of the phonebox. I think I might be able to doze off here, tired as I am from my 24 hour trip...Ah! But what is that noise? My phone box and I, we are under attack! Thud, thud, thud, I can't see what is making the noise...Thud, thud, Twack...Panic! In case of emergency dial 999! Ok Dial 999...Police please!

- How can I help?
- Help! I am in a phone box!
- Where are you?
- I am in ze phone box ...(remember, my English was still in its infancy!)
- Yes, but where?
- In Biggleswade.
- What are you doing in the phone box in Biggleswade?
- I am trying to sleep..
- Why are you trying to sleep in a phone box in Biggleswade?...

Etc. Hilarious now, but quite dodgy at the time, I assure you!

- Stay put, we'll come and get you...

This is how, I ended up being escorted by two lovely policemen to the alley way between the shop and the house. Mrs Dobson was drawn from her slumber by the shining of a powerful torch light onto her window (impressive!), and welcomed me in her curlers and fluffy dressing gown, with a bowl of hot soup and much comforting...

So this is how I landed in the UK.

And what of the Welsh story I hear you ask...Well, it's not much really. Mrs Ainsworth, the owner of our Welsh holiday flat, was telling us that she originally came from Huntingdon...So I explained that I had lived in Biggleswade when I first came to England (Huntingdon being a neighbouring town -I'm pretty sure the night train had in fact stopped there on that first night...).. Yes, I lived in Biggleswade, in "digs" at Mrs Dobson's Spar shop. Mister Ainsworth was called to share this amazing piece of information...There is no way to let you down gently...the punch line will be a dispappointment, I know, but it wasn't to me: the Ainsworths had bought the Spar shop in Biggleswade after Mrs Dobson -may her spirit be content- left her mortal coil..

We thus exchanged fond memories of the old place, and reflected once more, that this IS a small world indeed.

May your coincidences please and amaze you, and may the links which unite us all bring good cheer to your heart,

Jocelyne

Ps : The "thuds" and the "twacks" were caused by giant moths attracte by the light and smashing into the phone box -in case you were wondering...

OK!

2005-08-21T18:08:00.000+01:00

Paul has put a link to this blog, so I've got to write... Well, you know, it's been a fair few eventful and enjoyable weeks for me.

Do you think that
making more money
than you thought you would
on some investment
is a good enough excuse for going on a Welsh holiday?
I do!

(I vetoed the Med, and all who sail in her, because of heat, crowds, and heat and crowds, see?)

But Wales, hey? It's just wonderful. It's quite close for us to drive to, and there's nobody there...well, you know, not litterally...but yes, you can walk for a long time without encountering another soul. And then, when you do, they turn out to live round the corner form you, or as good as...(That's true: we met two people from Erdington in a ruined castle on top of a tall hill, and it gave me a warm feeling of belonging...)

Feelings is what going away is about, for me: I love feeling at home wherever I go; I love feeling grateful for the beauty of the sky, the smell of the air, the kindness of hosts, the cotton of the sheets (not polycotton stuff this time, bit of luck there). I feel gratitude for the generosity of spirit of my son, who cooked for us all; gratitude for the acceptance which these three people from the next generation (Paul, Dave and Bob-who-is-a-girl-Bob) bestowed upon me (couldn't think of the verb which might go with "acceptance"..don't matter, no-one reads this: ok prove me wrong and please make a thesauric suggestion...thanks!); gratitude for the music: Dave's a Genius, Paul and Dave know one million two thousand and eighty eight songs by heart, words, chords and harmonies!!!!); gratitude for the quiet, funny, intelligent and steady presence which Bob exudes- and she can sing too!...

I think I may have won one of the poker games?...but I'm not sure. I got bitten by a tick and I had a fever, so had to stay in a few times when the young'ens went out and about, oh, and England didn't win at cricket against Australia, but I did not care! You know why? It's because at one stage when the news were on, and there was an item about "terrorism" -albeit of the kind exercised by the police in pursuance of their "duty"...-, I realised that my brain was having a rest! (Well I was quite sorry that Mo died: I was a great admirer of her great intelligence and her humour... not to mention her political colours!)

I will leave the descriptions and the photos to Paul ( I hope he puts one of me on his blog! -hint, hint), and when my neck stops hurting I will tell you another small story of something which happened on this holiday.

Wherever you are, I hope your heart is as light as mine, and in any case, lighter that when you started reading this little biddy tale.

Love,

Jocelyne

Bird table manners, or how some birds are more equal than others.

2005-06-15T12:44:00.000+01:00

At least that's the rule in my garden. I have a bird table, which I delight in. I keep it well stocked at all times with birdy titbits (US: tidbits...)which I purchase at great expense every time I go to a certain shop. (Great expense being a huge exaggeration, but still,even bird food costs money...)

Well, you will understand, then, why I don't particularly want to feed the Big Birds round these parts: pigeons.

Pigeons of every sort used to come to eat at my table. They would inevitably leave the table bare, for pigeons have no sense of measure, or of fair play, fair share, or anything fair, I expect. They are the fat cats of the bird kingdom, and even the beautiful wood pigeons, and even the wonderful turtle doves are way over the top when it comes to table manners. They frighten the little birds and -let's not mince words- they are frankly gluttonous!

Well I had enough of that, and I wanted to watch the little birds from my kitchen window, or from my bedroom window. So I devised a cunning plan...I knitted a sort of fine netting barrier all around my bird table, out of fine green plastic covered metal wire (- the kind I used to make scoubidous, when that was all the rage...I still enjoy making them, and it is something to do with your hands when you give up smoking by the way...) Close bracket...

And then I started to have wicked fun: in order to get "into" the table, the big birds used to first land on its roof and then do a perillous sommersault onto the platform immediately below. So, true to their good old habit, they kept coming, one by one, landing on the roof, leaping overboard, and....then....hitting the wire netting, and...falling! My word, it WAS funny, even thought you may think me cruel for laughing at another creature's misfortune..it really was funny. With the tinyest bit of anthropomorphologism, you could plainly see the vain fellows strutting as if nothing had happened, while all the while thinking "what the hell was that?". When the second pigeon took a tumble, there were two of them on the ground, shaking their head as if all was fine...The scenario repeated time after time, until the whole pigeon population of my neck of the woods had taken a fall! Then they noticed that if they landed hard enough, they could still shake a bit of grain onto the lawn, and that, I will allow, as it does leave enough fodder for the others.

Some still land atop, and look, and look, and look...cocking their neck, trying to find an angle, no doubt. I know they are cross with me, the proud inventor of this fiendish Tantalesque punishment...but, frankly, my dears, I don't give a d...

Since then, I have counted up to ten small feathery things on the table. They flutter, they feed their young, they preen themselves, they relish most of the grains on offer. Theydo turn their nose up at the slightly out of date- a bit rancid-but not too disgusting-sesame seeds that I had added to the mixture, I notice.

The bird book and the binoculars have once more come into their own, and I am fast becoming an expert in not quite recognising species, and their young...but having fun in the process. It is a good life when you have time to watch the birds!

However, my triomph has been somewhat short lived, and back to the drawing board I must go , for this morning, horror of horrors: not one, but two turtle doves, head to tail were pecking at the little ones' fare...I did chase them. They were a bit slow in flying away, what with all the wiring they had to negotiate, but still, I think I must improve my design. Oh that I knew how to post photographs onto this site!!!!You would laugh at the design of my new contraption, discreet though it may be...

Is there a moral to this story? I can't really think of one, but if you do, please, do let me know!

With much love from this selective bird watcher,

Jocelyne

PS Did anyone notice that I wrote this in pigeon English?

In praise of ironing

2005-05-10T13:42:00.000+01:00

and other meditative practises! I do realise that I am swimming somewhat against the tide, for ironing is not a popular activity. But in my view, many folks are too eager to dismiss ironing as a bad thing.
Several of my friends claim they never do iron anything. I have to admit, (and in doing so am aware of repeating myself) that they look completely ok, not crumpled or anything...

However, over and above the physical activity of decrumpling, folding and generally speaking "neatening" stuff, ironing can (and ought to!) be seen as a therapeutic and spiritual activity.

Therapeutic, first of all, in my case, because of the weakness in my lungs: breathing in hot and slightly steamy air, for a period of time, wonderfully soothes the old bronchi (spelling checked on dictionary.com, by the way, thanks Paul for putting it in my favourites). Staying still also has a good effect on asthma (see above re spelling!), and so, the breathing settles down magically while I am sitting at the press, or standing at the table. For so keen am I, that I have two tools for ironing, depending on the type of garment...Can't be helped: it's genetic! Mémé Poux, my maternal grand' mother was a "lingère" for a rich Lyonnais family, in the 20's: her job consisted solely in looking after that family's linen! Not even their clothes, just the household linen. It needed to be starched, invisibly darned, and organised in impressive piles, where each item was aligned to the exact millimeter with the one above and the one below. There were regular stock takes...in case an unscrupulous or careless maid stole or damaged a valuable piece of the precious trousseau. This proud job led my grandmother to a lifetime kind of passion about linen. And to a smaller extent, I seem to have inherited it...
No bad thing, as you will see! Because....number two:

Ironing is perfect for meditating. Here is the recipe: put on some classical music (classic FM usually does the trick), or some chilling out music. Give yourself a certain time limit. This is very important, as on no account must ironing become a chore! I think 45 minutes is a good time, but sometimes even 30 minutes will be enough...and then start letting your mind go...with the aim to send good feelings (bhavna in Hindi) and good thoughts to everyone you think about during that time...
So for instance this morning, here is the list of those I sent good thoughts to:
Peter, my ex-husband, and Paul's dad, who is just about to go to Cannes to present Red Mercury, the latest film he produced.
His associates, Mike and Farouk, whom I know from the old days.
Paul, several times, as he came to mind more than once.
Dave, several times for the same reason.
Danièle, even though I had a really awful dream about her, (not her fault, obviously, but still...)
Françoise who is at work,dealing with people with very difficult problems.
Easton, who is at work dealing with people with very difficult problems.
Barbara, my lovely neighbour who helps me a lot.
Ken, my good friend who has his own challenges.
The chaps from the music group: individually and collectively (My word: we WERE good last night!)
The memory of my gran and of my mum...ever present whilst ironing.
my dad, who sent me a fascinating article about the twirling dervishes and their mystical practices.
My brother, Thomas, who has hurt his back, and whom I hope to see next week.
My Alain, who is hard at work in spite of being ill with left over 'flu.

and on it goes... Sarah, Edward, Julian...
Torfeida, all the way in Australia, serious and encouraging. A university student, now!
Nikki who phoned to ask about cooking quinoa...
Huseyfe, my new e-mail pen pal...
Can you see how many good thoughts can be generated by an ironing kind of mind?

It's a dance of love, a rainbow of kindness, a sweet jar of goodness.

Now do you understand why I love ironing?

If your name is not on the list...it could be because I don't know you...or it could be because I forgot to mention it...But it will not be because I don't wish you well. Promised!

Jocelyne

PS See! I forgot to mention my sister Annie , (who won't talk to me or to our dad, or to our brother, or to any of this side of the family...I don't really understand why). And her daughter, my niece, Julie, who has her own challenges and struggles with various mental health issues. Special Bhavna for them!

Oh Sorry!

2005-03-09T23:51:00.000Z

I forgot to write here! Well that's my story, and I'll stick to it. But I do apologise, for such absent mindedness: I almost forgot my sign in and all that. It's just that, well, I do have another two-handed blog which does take up a lot of my creativity, being at it is now the main link with one of my oldest and bestest friend in a foreign land. Some times I have written things on that blog, and then translated them in English for this one.

I have been quite well, in spite of the seasonal challenges! My life is a daily adventure of the mind. I travel, love, create, and generally AM more in my head that in the world. That's because my health isn't all that good, even though there is nothing immediately life threateneing about my condition. I just don't breathe too well in winter, and get lots of chest infections and have low (physical) energy.

Mind you, having said that, I have just returned from a jam session with a different band from the one I sing with normally...Ah! I hear you say; "she in a band?" . Well you know, it does have to be much to be a "band". My definition would be One or two players of instruments and one or more singers...who meet regularly to make music (of sorts)...and so I truly qualify as a member of a band. There are: Charles on piano, Simon on base guitar, and Tony and I on voices. We meet at Charles every other week, and practise our jazz standards and blues standards very dutifuly. But to-night, I was invited to sing with a rock group (same loose definition of group as of band, by the way!). Well! after about two hours, I had no voice left, and was rescued by a change of style. An old chap pitched up -probably no older that I am, but I AM only 18 in my head, and that's forever- and played Autumn Leaves for me to sing. Whereupon all the other members of the "rock" band decided that there was my kind of song and I should meet up with this smashing piano player ( who is really, really, good!!!!), to practise my throaty singing on a regular basis. Not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth, -literally, you do understand!- I thought I'll go for this and learn a zillions new numbers from the older One.

Seeeeee? The minute I start writing I have a trillion things to tell...

I am back and I will be keeing you posted on my mental adventures. Star dust, rub it in your eyes and you'll see how beautiful the world truly is.

Love always,

Jocelyne

Technology and I...

2005-01-15T07:20:00.000Z

Whilst changing the template I have lost the links to this blog. Apart from the courtesy aspect it doesn't matter that much, as you aren't losing much traffic by not appearing here, but I do like to mimic a "real" blog, so I'll be trying to regain the links...I can feel a "Technical?" coming on...( for the uninitiated, that's a phone call to one of the younger generation who can help with such matters, usually Paul - sorry Paul!)

I also lost the famous counter which confirmed the lone state of this production.

On another tack I am fast becoming addicted to "Google Whack". I may become famous in this crazed world yet!

Back to bed for more catching up with dreams,

Jocelyne

The scandal of the lone blogger

2005-01-13T16:19:00.000Z

It has occurred to me, while checking out other folks' blogs and seeing the number of comments they generate that I am in this community much as I have been throughout my life, and in any community, a bit of an odd one out.

At primary school, I would walk around the perimeter fence of our playground lost in thoughts, or singing the latest hits (many of these, being in France , and in the fifties, have since become great classics by the way...and not just in France...cf "je ne regrette rien", to name but one). When I wasn't singing known songs, I was composing symphonies in my head and singing them out loud. I don't remember how they went, with any degree of precision..otherwise, I would be a composer, see?...but I do know that I had an extraordinary amount of trouble ending my symphonies...I always found another crescendo, then descendo, then crescendo again...until the school mistress clapped her hands and we were lining up again, ready to go back to class in an orderly fashion.

It's not that I wasn't "popular"...just that I was mainly popular with the boys, since I preferred their playground activities to the girls'. The boys at my primary school were Supreme Thespians: during each play time they enacted some famous saga or other; from Blue beard, to Joan of Arc, from Tom Thumb to The Three Musketeers. I, as their Lady, was always given a good part by all those budding stars. I have it on good authority, having met up fairly recently with a couple of them, that those boys fought for the honour of carrying my satchel to school! This fact is all the more surprising that, as a child, I was given steroids on a permanent basis, as a result of which my appearance was less than good because of the bloating caused by the life-saving medicine ...(The girls called me all kinds of names...aaawwwH!Silly moos!...)But I was, and still am...to some extent, and please forgive this rather narcissistic outburst, plucky, funny, up for anything fun or slightly out of bounds, and the boys loved me. I loved braving the snow with them, ploughing and sliding, up to our necks in deep trenches, along the dodgy path overhanging the "waterfall", instead of walking the long way round to school; I loved scaling the walls at the back of the priest's house, instead of going to catechism, and exploring the secret gardens of the rich estate those walls were meant to protect...I loved adventure, a bit more than your average girl did! I was not a garçon manqué (Tom boy), oh no sirree! but I was one of the boys all the same.

Thus I was somewhat excluded from the various girly cliques and slightly bullied...I didn't care much, because I was always top of the form, and that shut them up, once a month when the rankings were announced: I can still hear Madame Vigier announcing softly: "Première de la classe, avec une moyenne de 9/10 (...or such like...again forgive the poetic license), Jocelyne Douvre!" That was a good sound: it meant I wasn't going to get beaten when I got home. All my dad would probably say, is "Can't you ever manage a 10, you idiot!"...aaaawwww! ( But then he also beat me when I could not stop shaking because of having contracted St Vitus dance -chorea is the proper medical term I think...more aaawwww?... Ha! No need to aaaawwwww on my behalf: everything is just as it is meant to be!)

Actually, since those faraway days, my dad and I have done such a lot of concilliatory and reconciliation work that we are now quite close, and the relationship is harmonious. He has just sent me a wonderful present: 365 Buddhist thoughts illustrated with 365 photographs of Tibet and Tibetans. It's calles "Offrandes" and is by Danielle and Olivier Follmi .It is stunning. By this I mean a: the book is stunning (awesome for Americans...?) and b: the fact that he should be able to judge so accurately the kind of thing that makes my heart sing is also stunning!

So, I have now reached a stage where I am quite gratified that so few people venture on my personal journal as to render the concept of www redundant , as it continues this life time tradition of being slightly out of synch with the norm, of not quite gelling with the rest of my community...whatever it is...of making a contribution which has the same relevance as those early performances in the playground at the Ecole communale de Flacé-les-Macon ( a village which no longer exists!). Yet writing here pleases me immensely... and the "boys" I meet in my Webb-sharing world are sweet, intelligent, polite, respectful, interesting. They'll know who they are!

The photo on my profile was taken by the Number One Boy, Paul, and put on the site by his friend Dave: my thanks to both of them!

Out of my window, all I see is a faint crescent of moon in a deep blue sky, and I feel blessed.

Love,
Jocelyne

Little boy lost

2005-01-10T08:32:00.000Z

I have just received through e-mail a very sad, and yet immensely hopeful message. The photograph of a little boy of about two, taken in a hospital in Phuket. I am sending it systematically to anyone I have a (H)e(lp)-mail address for, so if you read this, it is likely that you will either have received the picture of be receiving it as I work my way through my list of email contacts. (No you won't! see further...)
But how wonderful it would be, if the originator of the message was able, through the network, to reach this little child's grand'dad, or aunty or anyone who knows who he is. When David comes to visit me to-morrow, I will ask him to put that picture on this blog...I can't think of a better baptism for using photos (long overdue) on this site.

OH!Hang on a minute, no I won't! Because, I have been informed that these e-mails, designed for the soft hearted are malicious...

Or: how to go mad with conflicting visions of events...As I am feeling ill, this is only very garbled...more to-morrow if I feel better.

Let's all send our good wishes to a little soul, anyway, lost in the midst of chaos; let us hope for/pray for/visualise/ a better future for him and countless others like him.

Jocelyne

Millionnaire!

2005-01-04T10:20:00.000Z

It's new year's eve. Every one is out and about, visiting friends, going to the fire works, dressed up as a mythical character for their party of the year;in a word : having fun!

And here I am, alone with Ken, too ill to "do" anything. Too ill to go anywhere, too ill to have people round.

I am having a shower, always with my phone in attendance, since people may be worried if I do not reply to a call, as they know I am always in at the moment!
The phone rings! (It's a sure thing: if you want a phone call, take your phone with you when you have a shower or a bath, trust me!) From under a mountain of lather (passion fruit, this time I think, the soap a present from a friend, so not the usual coconut which smells of wet dog in-the-nicest-possible-way...), I blindly reach for the phone. "Mum! you're on loud speaker, I've got a few friends here and we're playing who wants to be a millionnaire; would you like to be a contestant over the phone?" Hey! Man! Red rag to a bull: I LOVE playing games, even quizz games where I usual don't do so well.

So after the few minutes it took to complete a quick wash and brush up, dry my hair and get dressed I was ready to win a million! On loud speaker, with Paul's friends Chris-David Tarrant et al. I was quite nervous, would you believe: thought I may look stupid and so on if I didn't know some simple stuff...WEll, after much banter, pretend scratching of brain, 1 "50/50" about a Scottish cheese and 1 "ask the audience" (Charles would kill me, I didn't know about the size of planets and wasn't sooooo sure whether Saturn was the biggest one...) I won a million! I think the master of ceremonies bucked fate somewhat by choosing a question on French litterature for my million question...No matter, I won fair and square since I knew that Voltaire wrote Candide.

Paul and his friend are working overtime to collect together the million pounds I have won, which in any case I have already donated to the Asian disaster fund. And for that reason alone, I do wish it was real.

Love to all,

Jocelyne

Resolutions?

2005-01-01T20:11:00.000Z

I think I like them!

I like the renewed optimism which new year's resolutions bring to bear on dealing with one's "issues" and/or "problem behaviours".

I have not been in the habit to make them, though! Probably because , for the last few years (let's call them the post-therapy years) I have been blessed with a profound sense of optimism and with the confidence that I can only be getting better; and because before that, I wouldn't have had a clue as to what needed to be addressed!

Awareness and faith in the self would, therefore, seem to be the linchpins of any serious resolution making.

This year, optimism abounds, faith in the self is unmarred, but I can't find a particular area to focus on. It's not that I think I am perfect, -honestly, I don't!-, it's that I am already doing a lot of the things I think I need to be doing. Does that make sense? Would you like an example?

OK, let's talk about "gossip". I have never been what you would call a galloping gossip...Nevertheless, I became aware some time ago that I do talk about others, as a means of entertaining, rather than as a monger of secrets.(Secrets ARE safe: do not worry on that score!). So there's something I have been working on for ages: not concerning myself with passing on information about others. It is very hard: especially in the close network of friends who know each other well, where it could pass for sharing news...I found myself listening to a conversation bewteen two people in my sitting room recently, in which I just could not participate, because they were "discussing" a third party...

What IS interesting, is that for ever and a day, I have been a very vocal, lively, chatty member of any gathering. I thought if I didn't make a contribution to a conversation, my grand input would be missed...Hey! Good news! It really isn't! I can sit and listen, and say nothing -those who know me will appreciate what a departure from the norm that is!!!!-, and no-one will even notice. Mind you! If they did, they'd probably think I am too ill and too tired to chat as usual! So, on the quiet, I am learning to listen...

Well I am planning to continue with this effort, can you call that a resolution? I'm not sure...

I suppose the next step would be skilfully to change the subject? So far I haven't yet mastered that. I do know some lovely people who are adept at changing the subject, when the conversational territory does not suit them. I find myself thinking: "Oh, they've changed the subject"...and going along with them, as I don't much mind what the topic of conversation is, since my friends are, after all, a bit of the creme de la creme, kindness and morality-wise, even if I say so myself...

I suppose, the one thing I AM going to work on is the area of tact. I haven't got much, and I love it when other folks do! I want some!

I'off to think about how to be more tactful!

And I dare say that's a pretty good resolution to make after all, since I hadn't started to work on that particular weakness.

The Great Adventure of Self Improvement continues! (I didn't mean to make it sound so pompous, by the way, but I am not going back on the sentiment that last phrase expresses, either!)

Now, about the disaster in Asia. I hope that the British Governement will recognise the generosity of the British public in their contribution to the disaster fund (through www.dec.org.uk/) as a true mandate for increasing its own pledge of help and relief.

So to any who venture this way, much love again, and wishes for a congruent self,

Jocelyne

2005 : HAPPY NEW YEAR !

2005-01-01T01:10:00.000Z

I WISH YOU ALL A PEACEFUL AND FULFILLING 2005.

LOVE.

JOCELYNE

Yoga for a purpose

2004-12-27T10:12:00.000Z

At the other side of the world the elements have unleashed themsleves, causing death to thousands upon thousands, and mayhem and sorrow for million upon million.

I sit in a small room in my cosy home, and I hope that my pure thoughts and the good wishes that are generated in my meditation somehow enable another human soul to bear the unbearable, to reach the deepest of their courage in the midst of despair.

I am sending thoughts of Peace to the victims of the cataclysm in Asia. I hope you can join me.

I believe our power to help goes far beyond the material. I hope you can believe it too.

Good wishes, therefore, to all, but especially to my sisters and brothers in Asia at this time,

Jocelyne

In between

2004-12-24T17:56:00.000Z

two visitors, from the one who does "do" Christmas, best wishes for a happy Christmas to you all who do it!

Jocelyne

Nothing more to say

2004-12-22T17:44:00.000Z

Good wishes

Jocelyne

the people keep a'coming and the train done gone

2004-12-20T08:49:00.000Z

That's what I woke up singing this morning. Then I open the blog, and I think: that's what happens when you don't write a post: the people keep a'coming and the train done gone.

In my case, the train done gone to bed, mostly! The train done gone dog tired and kapput, so the train done gone to bed, or watch TV and that's it!

This morning the frost which graces the grey landscape with a filter of purity cheers me no end: I AM glad to be unwell, since it confines me to the warmth of my cosy home. I lack for nothing. I crave nothing, save the company of one or two special souls, on occasion.

I shall invent some interesting meals, watch some travel programmes and some of TV5's offerings in French. I shall do bits of sewing, lots of phoning.

The room I need to sort out will wait yet another day before I feel strong enough to launch the winter offensive. (although IT does offend me!!!)

I shall have a million good thoughts for all the people I know, and for all the people I do not know.

I shall have a happy day!

May you also create a life you love.

Love,

Jocelyne

Some days,

2004-12-17T19:06:00.000Z

I just feel like giving someone else my user name and password and asking them to write for me...That's when inspiration does not hit the "on" position.

Yet, many thoughts go through the feverish brain, all day long doing nothing, waiting to get better.

Doing nothing other than: speaking on the phone, receiving well-meaning visitors in a dignified manner and watching TV at times when I would normally not be watching TV. I am glad to see that I can spend a little time with Michael Palin at almost any time I chose! Travelling, here, there or in the Himalayas: love it!

I have a very old book (1930's I think). It was a part of an illustrated encyclopedia called "Peoples of all Nations", and the Tome-VolumeVI- I have is from P(Palestine) to S (Sin Kiang). It fascinates me. Listening to ol' Michael talking about the people and places on the Himalayas treck reminds me of the captions in that book. On page 4051 (Peru and its People), one discovers that

"Cashibo Indians eat their aged relatives when they are past work: a custom due to pious desire thus to assimilate the parental virtues".

I can imagine Michael narating this to us without batting an eyelid...

The eurocentrism of the book holds me in a state of amused fascination as do its lyrical descriptions of the photographs:

"Elegant in figure and deportment this girl of Yugo-Slavia displays to advantage a simple yet richly embroidered variety of national dress" .

Now, I don't know whether one can scan pictures and then put them on a blog...Oh yes I do! cf Madeleine! Right! So here is the new challenge, the new nettle which I will graps, jsut so you can see the dubious look on the faces of the ancestor eaters and the Monty Pythonesque glance of the Yugo-Slavia Beauty...That's a promise.

Other gems, at random:

" Small sons go early into long trousers in Central Portugal, and a certain dignity attached to grown up garb is visible in these meninos"

"Jest and repartee enliven a deal in sardines. Thousands of these fish are caught each year, and are much appreciated in the island towns"

"The combined waters of the Ganges and the BrahmaPutra....Bangla Desh has 250 rivers....The "Ostrich" is both local bus and cargo ship..."

See what I mean? I just love the man.

May all your photos have entertaining captions,

Love to peoples of all nations.

Jocelyne

Feverish haze.....

2004-12-16T16:43:00.000Z

What are your favourite antibiotics?

So first it was the heart

2004-12-15T20:11:00.000Z

...and now it's the lungs! I've got pleurisy...Just as well really, because the pain in my chest was beginning to worry me a bit. I've had to relent and to start a course of antibiotics to try and stop the dreadded "lergie".

Benefits:

-I have the perfect excuse for this year's not "doing" Christmas!!!!!
-I definitely won't go out to the shops during this crazy season.
-I can feel completely as ease with doing nearly nothing all day long.
-I will finish hemming the curtains for Ken which have been sort of waiting for a few days/weeks.
-Some people will show me even more kindness than usual (Hey! I don't ask them to! But that's fine by me...)
-My doctor will know that I am not a maligering hypochondriac, since I waited a whole week to have a proper appointment before consulting (For those of you who are not in the UK that is as opposed to seeing your GP on an "emergency" appointment basis on any given day)
-I am eating chestnuts this evening to keep up my spirits...
-My music partners will be sooo impressed that I still came out to sing on Monday night.

Ah singing! Such a joy. Even the blues...(that does not make sense really, does it)

My very favorite at the moment is "Mood Indigo". Now, if I was Dave, I'd be able to put a lovely link to a perfectly suitable rendering of the tune by a very famous performer or other...But I am not Dave..so ...nothing other than a title I'm afraid.

I AM feeling tired, (truly am!), so I'll send the usual loving greetings and bow out for the day,

Cheers,

Jocelyne

One or two things I don't "do"

2004-12-14T20:36:00.000Z

I don't really "do" misery any more. Used to, don't any more!

And I don't "do" Christmas! I know what it is meant to be, meant to mean, and although I don't subscribe to a Christian faith, I would probably do Christmas more if...

And here come the most predictable comment in the whole universe: if it hadn't become a commercial free for all.

I can agree with wanting to lighten up the winter nights with jolly lights everywhere. I can agree with having a Holy-day to ease up the exhaustion of working during those cold days. I can agree with families getting together in a festive spirit. So, quite a lot I can agree with. But, there is so much else, which I think is sheer collective madness. So many unrealistic expectations which cause so much misery. And I won't "do" collective madness...any more than I "do" misery.

I don't do cards to all the neighbours whom I don't even know, even thought they send them to me. I don't do them to folk I don't care enough to write to regularly, or to folks I speak to or see all the time. I don't "do" Christmas presents except for my 2 year old niece -can't get out of that one, but found a compromise by sending her a token gift and a proper Alternative gift from World Vision's alternative gifts catalogue. And I don't require presents...All my friends, and the very few remaining members of my family are used to it and I'm sure they're secretely pleased to have one fewer thing to think about.

I may make some mince pies (inspired by Jezebel of all's well Jezebel fame http://allswelljezebel.blogspot.com/)

I may yet put last year's lights up if I can find a spare socket in amongst the spaghetti that lives behind the TV...and if the mood takes me.

I have been trying not to bore people with these views, but, well, it's getting so close, I had to come out with it!

Nevertheless, to all of you who are not under a seasonal poor health curfew, or who do enjoy the festivities, as well as to all of us to whom they just do not appeal, best wishes for a good Christmas season!

Love in all seasons,

Jocelyne

Have you ever experienced REAL temptation?

2004-12-13T15:21:00.002Z

Following on from the post regarding the unwanted package delivered to my house a couple of days ago.

I have a gardener. He is a real sweet man, who comes and mows the lawn, and trims the hedges for me, since I am no longer able to do these things myself. Over the course of the year, we have had some chats, during which I have found out a few things about him. He is about my age, and is bringing up an eleven year boy by himself, pretty well too from what I gather: teaching him about nature, playing golf with him, teaching him the value of money, of saving up for things you desire, the importance of sport, and so on.

He also does like to have a little smoke of something relaxing in the evenings, when his son has gone to bed. And, he is not very well off...And in my dustbin, there still is about £20 worth of quite good smoky-relaxy-type stuff- as I explained to you a few days ago.

So there was the temptation: should I dig out my unrequited bounty for one who would really appreciate it, or should I stick to my guns and continue with the ongoing binning action?

I imagined that lovely guy, out of his head, and may be a fire, or an emergency or some such disaster type scenario...and I stuck to my guns! It was quite easy after all.

All the same, I shall be glad when the dustmen have collected my problem rubbish!

Love of the sober kind,

Jocelyne

I can't believe it: I've just remembered and it's soooo stupid!!!

2004-12-12T13:51:00.000Z

What I was going to ask is:

Has anyone else noticed the similarity between:
a) the smell of (pure vegetable) coconut soap and
b) the smell of (clean) wet dog?

It hit me bizarely this morning...but then I do live a life of leisure and such iddle thoughts are a small price to pay!

Enjoy your day even more now that you have been made aware of THE olfactory coindence of the year!

Jocelyne

Une ou deux images (by default!)

2004-12-12T13:43:00.000Z

"Sea horses swaying back and forth, looking wise, in a world of pink bubbles...

Same sea horses riding a sky-wide rainbow, for fun."

(And NO! I haven't touched the stuff!It's just that once again I have forgotten what I set out to write: no doubt it will return to this scatter brained mind...later!)

Have an inspired Sunday!
Love,

Jocelyne

When I said nothing much happens....

2004-12-11T09:55:00.000Z

.....

Yesterday morning I received a Christmas card which was meant for my neighbours.

I also received another hand delivered mauve envelope addressed to a Ms X(name withheld). Upon opening the said missive, I discover a small package of medicinal herbs. My first reaction is one of sadness for Miss X who will be missing out on her therapeutic tisanes. I read the message accompanying the herbs, and phoned the company named on the notelet to try and return the medicine to its rightful owner as soon as possible...No John there! He left on the 1st of April! (Quite the joker, I thought!)

Then I did what I always do when life deals me an incomprehensible deal: I phoned Paul the Young and Wise.

I described the herbs:
" -They smell a bit like sage, but stronger.
-Like happiness in a bag? (Oops!)
-I wouldn't know. They look like flower and seed heads, a grey green colour, with bits of brown in it.
-A bit furry looking?
-Yep! Definitley furry looking on the leaf bits...
-What does it say on the note?"

Then I read what was on the note to Paul, and guess what? It was drug talk! Of course I didn't know! The last time I "did" drugs in this country, in any kind of illegal way was back in the early eighties, and the linguo was more transparent then, more of a throw back to the sixties!

So yep! In my letter box yesterday morning, I received a packet of supposedly, according to John, "not so good" skunk, but good enough to "sort out your lightweights"...Glad to hear it.

It is now resting in the dustbin, where it best belongs! May the vegetable peelings, used tissues and other discarded bits and bobs enjoy sorting out their lightweights.

I don't suppose John will come and claim his mis-delivered parcel...after all I may be a policewoman for all he knows!

And there I was, thinking that my life was in danger of getting dull!

No fear, man!

Have a good one!

Jocelyne

In a life where nothing much happens ...

2004-12-09T18:55:00.000Z

..every little thing becomes worthy of note.

A new gate!
Extensive draught proofing of my (rented) house!
The promise of a brand new bath in replacement to this one which leaks...

I do have very fair landlords who take their responsibility seriously, plus, an excellent rapport with the builder who does all the work on their property: a definite boon! I call him Mister Hughes, and he calls me Jocelyne...and I help him to get up again when his old legs give way after he's been kneeling for too long. I show my appreciation of a job well done, and guess what: he's not used to that! It would seem that people moan more than they praise and complain rather than delight in successful outcomes...That's news to me! (Wink, wink...)

So yesterday was a good day on account of all theses little jobs getting done around my home!

And to-day I was teaching French, for the first time in about three years. I stood in for Nicolas's tutor, my friend Carolyne, who had an "empêchement". Hey! I really enjoyed the teaching, and even more the fact that I never have to do it again unless I really want to!

The redbreast robin has been round in the back garden, reminding me to feed him and his birdy-mates in this icy season. I will!

Don't go slipping on any ice (in our climate) or on any banana skin..(elsewhere)

Love always....
Jocelyne

There was something...?

2004-12-07T20:58:00.000Z

I was upstairs, ironing away, when I thought of a brilliant idea for a post...Run downstairs to write it out, and...can't remember it at all!

Something else will no doubt occur.

Oh I remember! It was all about blogging (much as I dislike the word blogging, more on that later!)...- I was musing as to the playful aspects of the activity, the wit of comments, the easy contact with so many individuals, each of us a tiny sample of humankind. I was reminded of a French short story in which a small boy talks about the weather to the gardener tending the family estate. The moral of the story, innocuous as it is, was that no one REALLY cares that much about the weather most of the time, or about the way the marigolds are growing, but that these easy topics make for an unencumbered sharing of one's humanity...

And so it is for Paul's blogged question: which is your favourite vegetable? It does not really matter, does it? But it is fun, it is harmless, it may give rise to new shared, coded, criterial links in the inner circle of friends, and-notwithstanding the fact that a few of them are The Sorg's own replies, it has -so far-given rise to 23 comments! My goodness, 23 comments about your favourite vegetable: way to go!

My search is rather more precise. It is though, like casting a very thin line very far away, and I have little faith that it will bring in the desired bounty...But in true "grasping the nettle" fashion here it goes.

COULD WE FIND ANOTHER WORD TO REPLACE THE WORD "BLOGGING"...

or am I the only only one whose linguistic sensitivity it offends?

Mind you I also resent "Ciao", so there's no accounting for my linguistic quirks.

If you feel so moved, please to(sic) tell me your opinion on this vexed topic?

I would be as grateful as a plateful of grated carrot.

May you have many happy thoughts!

Jocelyne

More gratitude!

2004-12-04T21:59:00.000Z

Paul has installed a counter on my blog...to stop me being paranoid! Nice of him I thought....He also put a few links to a few blogs, so I can repay the compliment to those who kindly link me into theirs....(Sorry for the delay, by the way: I still haven't a clue how it is done! So any body I missed out...please let Paul know on http://isthisagoodidea.blogspot.com/Here endeth the linking knowledge)

Went to the cinema to see the biopic of Boby Darin's life with Kevin Spacey, and I understood the plot, and enjoyed the film. (May be I'll write more about it at a later date...) But then, my friend Danièle came round, and we both watched a French film called "Les Passeurs" about men and women who risked their own life helping others cross the border into Switzerland over the mountains during the 2nd world war. My grand-dad had been a "passeur" in the Jura, and Danièle's dad had escaped from PoW camp and crossed France on foot to end up in a "neutral"camp in Switzerland -which he also escaped from in order to join the Maquis.
So you would think we had enough interest in, and knowledge of, the subject matter of the film to understand the plot? Not a bit of it. Fortunately our blind spots not being the same we managed to unravel some of the major themes and fill each other in at times. We also had the luxury of being able to rewind the video to see what vital clues we both missed. So although the film was definitely not meant to be a comedy, we had a lot of fun watching it.

When you get to a certain age, mind you, you don't have anything to prove.For people like me, who don't "quite" get plots, I therefore thoroughly recommend watching films in the company of:
a)eccentric friends of a certain age who don't understand any better than you do, and don't get flustered about it,
or b)serious minded youngsters who can and will earnestly explain any plot down to the finest details.

I like films, whether I understand them or not, anyway!

Good night all,

Jocelyne

My! What a Life I have had... so far....already!

2004-12-04T11:43:00.000Z

Re-reading this last post made me aware -once more- of the truly amazing life I have led. Dysfunction served me well! I suffered, sure, but in exchange, I savoured so much, experienced so much. I have walked in circles, lost on top of Inyangani in the African mist, and I have meditated close to God in India.

I hear musics from anywhere, and they are mine, vibrating with their resonance in my heart. I meet friends from the world over and my love for them is unbounded, unimpaired by differences.

A friend was explaining to me that her courage in life has always come at times when her back was to the wall. She is quite a timid soul, yet conquered her fears and created a life for herself ,from nothing, in her early middle age years.

I am sure my zest for life comes from the beatings, the punishments, the ill-health, the abuse, the lack of understanding I endured for many many years. It is as though, the more "they" tried to repress me, the more irrepressible I became. And now, whatever the objective circumstances of my life may be, I decide that I AM happy. Adversity has been the very best training ground for excellence... That, AND three years'worth of sessions with the best therapist in the world, of course!
Ok, 'nuff said on the navel contemplating front...

Have yourselves a marvelous day: I will! Paul is "taking" his old mum to the movies; I am going to enjoy the company and the luxury of being driven in his car....

Love, Jocelyne

Here's a choice for you!

2004-12-03T13:00:00.000Z

Either:
a) go upstairs, irons bed linen (yep!), vacuum floor in bedroom (following extensive diy of putting chair together yesterday), tidy bits and pieces of every day life....

or:
b) get on the internet here and think of something to write that may be of interest to others.

Ah Ah, challenging choice, no?

For the moment I seem to have picked the "b" option...Let's see where that takes us...

Pretty much always to the same places: how marvelous flowers look, how grateful I am for the many wonderful friends I have (that includes my son, Paul)and for being a happy soul; how tricky it is to think outside one's own box, outside of one's own patterns...

Tell me! Is is even desirable to think outside one's own patterns? Reading other folks'blogs on a regular basis -definitely more regular than my writing, I feel that there is something reassuring in the affirmation of each one's personality, interests, style, expertise even. This mode of communication, over time does build an exquisitely accurate portrait of its authors. (I must have intuitively felt that, when I wrote my own introduction: "the Blog will reveal the person...") I'm even proud of the fact that my Blog can never be a candidate for the hall of technical fame...since the most thing I can do is put a link to an internet address! I think the plain, uncluttered style fits well with my own aspirations to simplicity.

I was reminded recently of a real landscape I visited once with Mike, my once husband and now close friend. He was asking me if I remembered? The facts of memory are a wonder: I did! On the south coast of England, not far from Plymouth, there is a coastal road, above the cliffs, which at one point gets separated from the coast by a large wheat field. His father had once shown him the way down to the sea from there. We parked the car and crossed the wheat field. Above us as we crossed the field, a massive bird of prey was hovering, hovering, hovering, until it swooped, right in front of us -probably after a vole or a field mouse...We watched it for what seemed ages doing its bird-of-prey-y things...Then, there was a wooded lane going steeply down to the sea.Muddy, slippery. A rickety house clinging by the skin of its stones to the slope, abandoned. I remember playing the vulnerable delicate flower woman and winging about how steep the slope was, how I was never going to be able to get back up...what a pain I was then! Anyway the point is I do remember. And the unspoiled, secret beach at the bottom of the lane. Stripping and jumping in the sea like children. A cormorant wings stretched full out on a rock, drying its feathers. Mike teaching me to use binoculars properly. A feeling of eternity...

He is coming to visit England soon, from Malawi, and will be trying to buy that house for his children, if it hasn't fallen into the sea that is! From there, they will have a clear view across a bay, over the mighty sea and the infinite skies...Good luck Mimi!

Jocelyne

Words and rivers

2004-12-02T18:38:00.000Z

I write a lot. I don't always write here. I write in French a lot. I don't think here is the place for French writing (although see what happens later here....!?)Language as a tool for thought. Thoughts molded by the language of their expression. I suppose ideally, if you wanted to be able to think all thoughts, you would have to learn all languages. and invent some. How to translate the Hindi JI...mark of respect, recognition of the value of the other person? How to juggle from baisers, to bisous, to bises, poutous with the English rigidity and harshness of the K of Kiss and of pecK? How to play the nuance between love and like in the lone aimer? Mix them all is what I say! Use what words you want, when you want, regardless of your interlocuteur...OK perhaps pas! There already exists too much difficulty in being truly understood, so let's not make matters worse. Each language does admirably what it does well and it's the job of those genius translators to provide the closest fit or feel...

Sometimes I wish I was a translator...but then again too much scrutiny does not suit my free spirit. Best to just free-flow and write my own stuff such as it is.

Here is a poem called

Labour of love: our words

Green and ochre butterflies on a background of seaspray,
Rivulets of rain on the parched earth of Summer,
Iliad and Odyssey of our love,
Precious weaving: safety net of the union of souls.

Labour of love: nos paroles

Papillons verts et ocre sur fond d'écume de mer.
Rigoles de pluie dans la terre sèche d'un été.
Illiade et Odissée de notre amour.
Tissage précieux: filet salvateur de l'union d'âmes.
----------------------------------------------
(Isn't it just soooo much better in French) (soooorryyyyy!)

Otherwise.....It was fun and frustrating to put together my new Ikea upholstered bedroom chair: complete with sprung seat..yippee! and screws that didn't quite fit!

It was fun and frustrating not to know which perfect sofa would fit my perfectly too small sitting room....

AND it is now getting too cold for me to go out: scary time! I can't breathe in sub 5 centigrade temperatures and my diesel car doesn't "do" instant heat...ah well Provence here I come. Or else stay at home and hole up for the Winter months.

Sorry if I am a bit dull to-night, I wanted to post something, just to keep in touch.

Love always,

Jocelyne

News and views

2004-11-23T20:59:00.000Z

My news is good! It's taken a long time (more than a week) to be able to take the "effort test" which was needed to find out what is wrong with my heart. Done it to-day and although I could only walk on the treadmill for 4 and half minutes, -so steep and so fast was it-, the results are sufficient to be reasonably sure that there is no lasting damage to my heart or indeed any narrowing of arteries.

Mind you, I would have been very cross to have a narrowing of the arteries, because I have not smoked a joint or a cigarette in years...not drank any alcohol for nearly four years (and not because of fighting alcoholism, but in order to be able to meditate at will...), nor eaten any meat for at least as long as that. So the risk factors are not great, really!

The funny thing is, that apart from thinking how good it would be to die in my own country,-ah! la belle France!, when I thought I might be dying...that is - thought which took me somewhat by surprise, well apart from that, I have been quite remarkably calm.

There is a mental thing I have been taught which is called "having a determined thought" and which is a cross between being a mad optimistic and acutely stubborn but which operates from a place of steely strength, a decision made irrevocably, even when one does not have control of all the factors involved, or indeed any of the controls of any of the factors, other than that will. It was like that with my determination that the test would take place within days rather than the expected weeks. And it worked! Again!

One of the first time I held out against systematic lunacy was when my car had been clamped because I had not displayed a parking slip. That car park had previously been a free car park and I had not intended to defraud anyone or to cheat the system, since I was not aware of the new requirements. When the clamping chaps immobilised my car, the only thought I had, as if printed in huge red Strongbad letters all across my brain was :I AM NOT PAYING A PENNY. The chaps argued, "impossible, got to pay, impossible to remove shoe off your tyre without payment.etc.etc."; all I heard was Blah blah blah blah. I spoke to a lady in an office informing her that I would NOT be paying and they may as well have my car but I would NOT pay etc. "Impossible, you've got to pay etc" I heard blah blah blah blah blah blah, and I thought I am NOT paying you a penny! Well, I am not so pleased with what happened next, because it is a bit embarrassing...in a small way... but I had an asthma attack. It was neither completely real, nor completely put on: I was pretty upset by then. I had only gone to that car park because of a shop where I could buy a toothbrush holder a little bit cheaper than in any other shop. (We are talking 50 pence or so!!!and the "fine" was £92 + £6 for using a Visa card if you didn't have the cash: I tell you, it was a horrible thought)

Still all I would think was I will NOT pay a penny....you can guess what happened? The lady came back on the phone -the cell phone of the chaps who had the power to unclamp my car- and told them to set my car free.

And I did NOT pay a penny!

Meanwhile, I saw three people part with the extortionist sum demanded...by the way!

Later on that day, I was regaling my friend Danièle with the story and she told me that she had in fact also been caught in the parking trap at that same place, that same day and had paid the fine. Though, I am jolly sure that if she had had the time, like I did...

Why am I telling this story? Because I intend to carry on with determined thought for all the difficult moments of my life. Because I do believe each one of us had much hidden power, much power to resist and even break unfair systems, systems which make light of our integrity, systems without logic and without compassion.

Because we all individually have an absolute right to have our integrity respected by others and by the systems which we, human beings have set up within any given society.

So, yeah! Hurray for determined thought!

They were very pleased to see me again at the Hindi evening class, and I was pleased to see that The Brain was still doing its elegant stuff when it came to languages.

I have a new ambition, now that I am 56. I plan to study music in a more systematic way, so that I know if the titles I download on Kaaza Lite are what they say they are: I have had some Beethoven which was pure Mozart and vice versa...I'm sure. I knew that, but I'm sure also that sometimes I think I'm listening to No 536 and I'm in fact listening to No 234!!!If you know what I mean: opus wise!

What a joy to think that learning CAN be infinite! I plan to learn right up to my eventual demise, with a determined thought that no senility will take place. (My maternal grand mother died completely aware and intelligent at the age of 96 and a half after saying goodbye to me on the phone and accepting the permission to leave I soft murmured to her, and my father's mother was completely sane when she went at 97! So there is much hope on that score...and much learning still to be done.

Well take care of your grey cells: avoid bombarding them with too much of the old bad stuff, and enjoy the results.

Warm, healthy-heart felt greetings of universal peace,

Jocelyne

Perhaps not!

2004-11-13T16:41:00.000Z

Perhaps it would be better if I didn't ever get "that" excited. Let me explain: I flew to Paris on Wednesday and I ended up in a hospital near Paris with a suspected heart attack...well I did feel pretty unwell, tired and so on and so forth. In the event I managed to persuade the medics to let me come back to the UK where I shall now be fighting the queuing system to undergo the necessary tests- which in St Lys would have been performed immediately, but well, I wanted to be near home in case of surgery etc...

But would it really be better, to live a passion-free life than my roller coaster of joys and gratitude, wonderment and emotional bungee jumping (at times!)?

On the way to hospital I saw very little of the landscape, just the top of a majestic forest of trees and the apex of grandiose stone houses, but on the way back,at night, I saw a tiny rabbit caught in the lights, for whom we had to stop the car dead in order to save his little paws from a fate similar to death...and....a horde of wild boars, going about their foraging business in the rusty leaves. There were five or six big ones and two or three smaller ones. We stopped, and extinguished all lights and they carried on as if we weren't there. It was a magical moment of Obelixian proportion. I was so glad that they hadn't all been eaten by the old Barbarian mob!

In the hospital, I had to explain yet again that having health issues did not render one stupid, or powerless and I insisted that no criminal act having been committed by either myself or those who were accompanying me, there should -in all fairness- not be any punishment either. Injections I don't mind, being seen as a mere carcass I do. Those of you who know me will be glad to hear that by the end even the worse case of "job's worth" had mellowed to my pleas for humane treatment and that I was allowed a) company and b) a certain measure of dignity in the performing of obligatory functions (details will not be necessary I am sure!) Not easy, but can be done if enough determination is put into play!

So now I am back home, and extremely happy not to have died -as I thought I might do-and to be in a more familiar environment where I really can speak the language.

Of course I do speak perfect French BUT I don't speak the language of the French. My body language is different, my eye contact is different, my expectation of respect is different. When I speak I do not "imply", I "say". My own feelings and impressions are not a negotiable element in the equation: I feel what I feel and I know what I am feeling. I pick up on others' "hidden agenda". Hidden agenda is freaky: skating on the wrong kind of ice. The worse part about it is that those who commonly carry a hidden agenda assume that others also practice the same methods: they then engage in a frantic though totally futile bout of decoding, for something which was not encoded in the first place. In an ordinary context, I observe that with some amusement and a few internal giggles, but on an intensive care stretcher it becomes less entertaining.

So many experiences in so few days...AH, .... all adds to the grist. I still think it is lovely to find more than 3 species of mushrooms in the supermarket and rye bread which does not weight a ton...

I'm off to cook something nice...may be quinoa and mushrooms? I have to read up on Potassium, seemingly sorely lacking in my system????

Don't worry about me: I'm sure I'll be just fine!

Cheery love,

Jocelyne

I am THAT excited!

2004-11-07T23:19:00.000Z

My voice can now be heard on the net!!! How is that for magic? please do not be blasé...

Dave, Paul's friend originally and now mine too (I'd like to think, albeit with all due "respect" to the generation gap...), Dave then has put my voice on the internet. He is incredibly patient and kind and played the piano to my singing "Ne me quitte pas", one of Brel's most poignant songs (ah! that is saying something!). I am now going to put a link to his very honest and funny blog ...wait for it....wait for it...perfectlybeastly

I hope you like my voice: I do! And singing is giving me a lot of joy. Every week I get together with two old mates of mine, Tony -who used to be my best friend's fellow, and Charles- who still is, I think, a good friend of my no longer husband Mike, and Tony and I massacre a few old jazz standards, with lots of half tones while Charles finishes them off on the piano; we laugh a lot in the process and there's always next week to get it right. None of the folks I just mentioned have a Blog, otherwise I would have been practising the link thinggamy again. (You must remember my ridiculously unsavvy approach to information technology: hence the "grasping the nettle").

Anyway, that's enough excitement for one day! So good-night and sweet blessings to all,

Jocelyne.

PS: A DISCLAIMER: Although I do love the song, I do not subscribe to the emotional dependency it expresses; people can leave me as much as they like, I ain't gone be noone's shadow ...no siree, let alone the shadow of their dog...But there you go, poetry will get you anywhere and I do love singing it as though I mean it!

I have been reminded ...

2004-11-05T09:06:00.000Z

...that it is NOT the first time that I felt so good being by myself, and that I had already written about that very feeling. Oh well! You see, what happens when you concentrate so much in the present moment is that the rest disappears, and in true short-attention-span-gold-fish-in-a-bowl mode , you rediscover stuff over and over again: never get bored, life is marvellous....

So no real apologies for repeating myself: if I have forgotten, I'm sure noone else (apart from he who remembers everything with his super brain! -a wink and a smile here, you know who you are!) would have remembered either.

Have yourself a lovely autumn day in the northen hemisphere and spring day in the south,

LOVE anyway,

Jocelyne

The joy of solitude (or: alone but not lonely)

2004-11-03T20:39:00.000Z

To-day I did something I have NEVER done: I enjoyed a walk by myself in a wood. I had an appointment in a house in the middle of the country (to do with improving my health,... again!), and there was an hour's delay before I could be seen. So I decided to go for a walk up the hill in the wood behind the house. Nothing extraordinary in this you may think. Well for me it was! I had the most thrilling feeling of being complete, of not needing to talk to anyone, not craving the presence of another human being. It was an exhilarating experience.

As I was walking up the hill in the thick of the trees, quite alone, I suddenly thought: I don't feel any fear, how nice is that?!

It reminded me of an exercise we did on a spiritual retreat once, which consisted simply in being focused, but then absolutely focused in the instant. Thus the wood revealed to me its myriad facets, thus I could just walk, up a hill, with nothing on my mind but what met my senses.

It was muggy and I could smell the organic damp of the undergrowth, the huge mushrooms, in their hundreds (oh that I knew how to tell the yummy-eaty ones from the killy-throwy ones!), the lovely rotting smells of fallen trees and moss.

A wood, left to its own devices, is incredibly untidy: fallen bits everywhere, new growth higgledy-pickeldy, tangles of brambles, and fronds of ferns, heaps of fallen chestnuts in their prickly burr.

Ha! real chestnuts, which grew there, fell there and which with an expert roll of the sole of my shoe I separated from their hedgehog covers; the little ones, a bit withered, I am sorry to say those I left for the squirrels and other small creatures of the wood, but the shiny fat round ones, I tucked safely in my coat's big pocket, and have just finished eating, just before writing this. They are probably the fuel which powers this typing...The whole house smells of roast chestnuts, and I am the Queen of my castle.

As I was searching for one perfect autumn leaf to bring away as a trophy, I realized that most of the leaves were, somehow, a bit less than pristine, and yet that the overall effect was of subtle harmony. That's why I love nature: no matter how disheveled, or imperfect the parts, the whole always blow me away by its perfection. All the colours always match. May be that's what the sheep in the field next to the wood were reflecting on as I stood there singing them a little song...(that's something I do, sing to cows and sheep...and I have it on good authority that I am not the only one...so there!)

I am off to sing to myself, the pleasure of having discovered that I am now able to enjoy my own company -whatever the sheep may have thought of my singing!

Signing off especially for Paul: "TREEEEEEZ!"

PS (and sincere apologies for this PS): Anyway it was better to do what I did than to cry about the result of the American elections, no? (Don't Americans realize how uneasy that steradent makes the rest of the world feel????? And that is even without considering his politics ) Oh well, I guess we can just all go up in a puff of smoke together...

Have a nice day! Anyway! I did....

Oh what neglect!

2004-10-19T13:00:00.000+01:00

My dear friends and global family, so to speak....,
I have been meaning to write on this here site for ages and ages. And every time I sat down to start, I was given a new pair of roller skates to try out (see previous blog for de-coding).

I recently went to London: major enterprise for one as weak in the legs and lungs as myself -although just to see me you wouldn't know it, so perky and cheerful do I look!-. I had to visit the French Consulate in South Kensington to collect my New Improved passport. It is one of those machine-readable gismos which are supposed to prove to the immigration officers that I am not a terrorist! But in order to get one of these, you have to be seen to be who you are...if that makes sense...So I met a lovely young French civil servant who did all that needed to be done. And then waited for a few hours -which I occupied at the Museum of Natural History across the road, and don't you feel sorry for dinosaurs? I do!-, before collecting my pride and joy...a brand new passport! I kept the old one for the love of the visas that were in it and the stamps I collected when I was still a great traveler; latest in date were Latvia (a trip which I had almost forgotten about...although, thinking about it again many bizarre events should have made memorable) and India (a trip to Mount Abu, to the head quarters of the Brahma Kumari World's Spiritual University, which I will NEVER forget). Well: Have Passport! Will travel!

An interesting fact about the French Civil Service: it is HUGE. In France, the Civil service covers a multitude of professions: Paris transport workers, doctors, teachers, as well as all the obvious administrative posts in town halls and in the public domain (embassies, police blah blah blah I am not a teacher any more so I don't have to know everything....) BUT there is a point to that opening. In order to join the rank of the Civil Servants, for most positions which do not depend on vocational qualifications, a person need to sit a "concours" (concours are rank related exam, where only a certain number of those with the best grades are "admitted" to a particular job/training, etc). The beauty of Concours is that they are anonymous, and so do not discriminate on the grounds of ethnicity of name. If your name is vaguely foreign, especially North African, Muslim sounding, an ordinary application for a job may well find its way to the bottom of the pile, even more so in areas where the Front National has strong support. So the way forward for clever "Magrébins" is to sit a "Concours" where they will be assessed only on their respective merit. Thus it is that my lovely lady at the French Consulate was clearly from a North African background, and that my sister-in law, in Paris has a very good job with the RATP, having been refused numerous other jobs previously in spite of being clearly a very bright (and pleasant, and well-educated) spark! Well, this ironic "justice" in the system makes my heart sing!
On the way back in the train, there was an encounter which I will tell you about later as I now need to go and do a bit of work, make a few phone calls and prepare for my singing to-night...
Meanwhile, may you feel loved and may you have jolly, entertaining thoughts!

Jocelyne

Excuses I have made: a very so-what-ish post

2004-10-10T16:30:00.000+01:00

Once when I was teaching in a very rough school in London, I told the headmistress that I was late because it had been my birthday on that day and that I had had to try on my birthday present before coming to school. For my 25th birthday present I had asked for a Snoopy dog soft toy and a pair of roller skates. I don't think I got to work until ten o'clock that day....slightly bruised and very exhilarated. I think that's because my body produces its very own happy drugs whenever I feel that I have bucked the system. I didn't even get a reprimand. I think that M'am was too flabberghasted for words!

This morning, my unremarkable excuse for not getting up in time for the meditation class was that last night's power cut disabled my alarm clock and thus I slept blissfully on until 8.30...

Well at least I wasn't trying on my roller skates!

Ok, so what?

Love anyway!

Jocelyne

Don't feel sorry for me, but.....

2004-10-08T13:09:00.000+01:00

I have just realised that I want to be one of the boys...and the chances of that in this lifetime are quite remote. It's because the boys all know what they are talking about, and here I am, stuck in the shallow end, the kid that no-one picks for the team, the kid that I was, walking aroung the playground composing symphonies in my head while the others were playing "tick" and I just wasn't fast enough...(or is it tack ? In French in any case it was called "Le Sorcier"). I don't feel sorry for myself, though, honest! These symphonies were a bit good! Just wish I could have caugh up with the other kids, occasionally!

Reading the blogs of the people I know, I have no reference point for quite a bit of what is being said.

That's probably why I find refuge in my separate, private, blog where I know what is going on!

But I suppose that never being one of a clique has meant that I have led a most interesting if slightly unusual life. Not relying on mass migrations I have visited some remote pastures, more farflung corners on the earth and off the beaten track places, from which I retain those vivid images that fill my head with beauty.

This morning, I was sitting on my own in a dry river bed, picking stones that only I had ever seen in a deserted corner of Africa. I made a pattern with the stones in the sand as an offering to Nature. It was a real place, and it is a true memory. Time there was eternal and I had enough sandwiches and drinking water not to have to worry about eternity. I even -for some very peculiar reason- has my suitcase with me...Then my friend arrived to pick me up in a 4x4 and we resumed a journey to some mine or other, looking for diamonds...How cool was that?

See! I did warn you never to feel sorry for me!

Much love,

Jocelyne

A zillion apologies...

2004-10-07T19:51:00.000+01:00

... to anyone who actually enjoys reading what this unreliable blogger has to offer.

Anyway I may just have a little treat for you to-day:

A sky in the blue of India's skies.
A building, ornate and oriental, blindingly white under the sun.
A patchwork of large square pieces of printed cloth drying directly on the parched earth beneath.
A small lawn of greenest grass next to a fountain, with a pale green awning to shield us from the heat, and where we can sit and have a little chat or a dreamy moment.
There is a sacred cow ambling about, looking slightly inspired. Further along, a stubborn camel refuses to move, pulled by a little girl in bright clothes and long black plats which nearly touch the ground.
The air smells of French marigold and jasmin...

It's so good to travel thus from the comfort of my home!

See you later...

Back in the land of the blogging

2004-09-21T11:49:00.000+01:00

Hey! Isn't it cool to have me back in the land of the blogging?

If you ask me, I have NOOO idea why I have not written for over a week, but no matter, since boom boom... : here I am!

Ideas I have had since then? Many! The most recent one concerns possessions. Yesterday I gave away 3 skirts, and 3 blouses: all very decent classics, all good quality. The point is, they weren't "me" anymore, and hadn't been "me" for a great many months...and yet... I was so loathe to part from them! Then I remembered a film I once saw, set in the eastern bloc, where the main female character wore the same dress over the whole length of the film, which overlapped several years. Then I also remembered my paternal grand mother's wardrobe (if one must call it that!) which was so very sparse- one on, one in the wash, one to dry type of thing!- When did we start needing so much? How can I to revert back to the "necessary"? How to decide, nowadays, what is necessary?

Things are even more awkward: for while I most certainly have yearnings for the ascetic life style, I also possess a fairly hedonistic temperament. Tough one or what? I console myself by gingerly engaging in that most fashionable pastime of the TV classes: decluttering! However, the line is firmly drawn at my collection of Le Journal de Mickey & Mickey Parade and Asterix: I am keeping those for rainy days. I did tell you there was something not quite right about me. Still, I did eventually stop sucking my thumb, three years ago, at the age of fifty-three, so there IS hope!

Now, where was I? Oh, the mystery one forlorn highway shoes! Just how naive can one get? It hadn't occurred to me that alcohol would have been involved, since I do not indulge, and never have -save on one very dangerous occasion (where I might even have lost a shoe myself) which cured me for ever more!!!

A Zen garden now:

Stone boulders, just the right size, just the right number, in just the right place.
Very,very fine pale yellow sand raked into geometric, concentric, symmetrical patterns by monks - as a contemplation.
Sitting cross legged.
A silence which is no longer the absence of sound, but an entity of its own with a perceptible existence.
Totally alert and totally peaceful,
Not even aware of the privilege, so natural is it thus to be,
Just now, just here.
Oh, I forgot! some speckled bamboos, too.

Ain't life a hoot?
Love and good wishes,
Jocelyne

A few things I wish I knew

2004-09-12T13:02:00.000+01:00

So, where to begin? That's the first thing I wish I knew: I made myself smile, here!

Yesterday,at the Birmingham's Arts Fest, there were plenty of people milling around, and I didn't feel in any way distracted by them or resentful (cf The Garden Show of last Saturday). Live music was being played, may be that's why I didn't feel bad? 1st tentative answer, ok!

This morning, on my way to meditation class, there was a slither crescent moon in the sky. Why should that be so moving? ...Don't know!
Why should dawn be such a truly magical time. (Please notice that, due to general abuse, the word magical must now be qualified by an absolute in order to "register" properly...)... Don't know!
Why, when you know that soon light will break and that you will be in full daylight again do you always miss the time when it's just about to...Every time. ... Really can't work that one out!

But mainly, has anyone else noticed the ubiquity of that most disconcerting of objects, namely ONE perfectly good shoe, -or boot, or trainer- found discarded along the highway. I have been trying to avoid thinking about it, but the 5.30am pale green leather,rather pretty,high heeled,right foot,sling back finally got to me. I now imagine the most ridiculous scenario: woman with wooden leg walking home, gets fed up with the noise made by the high heels on the tarmac and kicks that one shoe off, so as to reduce the nuisance by half , -since the wooden leg has an antislip rubber coating on the bottom. ( I am trying to chase away the thoughts of an attack on that poor now one-shoed woman, and as you can see, not making a very job of it!)
And then, what about the smart grey trainer...Couldn't stand the bad smell of the left foot of its owner? I wish I knew if a person's two feet can have different smells!, or perhaps, he was just the more daring of the two trainers, the one that got away so to speak?...

Seriously though, I AM telling you the truth when I say that I see single (GOOD) shoes of every type discarded on the highway almost every day... That can't be right!

If anyone knows what this is about, pray do tell!

I'm off to count my collection of footwear two by two! (just in case...)

Have yourselves a worry-free Sunday,

Jocelyne

P.S. It's on days like this that I wish I had a digital camera: Moon crescent on Birmingham skyscape; Pretty shoe, forlorn on tarmac; Bewildered yours truly, wide eyes and quizzical...(Photos I would have posted if I had a camera. As it is I must trust your imagination)

P.P.S. Wonderful exhibition, look at www.earthfromtheair.com and tell me what you think -if you want to, of course.

Voilà, j'arrive!

2004-09-10T10:47:00.001+01:00

There is a serious mood at this time of year, at THIS time. World events beyond our direct individual control conspire to create a sombre background to any month, but to September in particular. Was it ever thus? Was there ever a time of innocence, of global sanity? We can argue, debate beliefs, delve into history, or scriptures here and everywhere.

Yet a fact remains: we, residents of the 2004 world have to cope. But how? This is what I would like to debate, just now. As I may have mentioned before, I have had to stop work because of poor health, therefore, my time is all mine. The result of this is an availability to others which would previously have been curtailed by my professional activities. So it is that many of my friends and acquaintances find their way to my door or to my telephone line and confide their fears and anxieties to me. (That's how I come to know that folks are so worried about the world, see?)

Now! Me, I watch very little TV, making an absolute point of avoiding the voyeuristic reporting of ongoing dramas. I reckon if something important is going on, I'll be informed soon enough (either on news bulletin on the car radio, or by the communal agenda which emerges when "big" stuff is going on).

And I do, indeed, get to know about all the latest craziness in the world: civil war and famine for refugees in Sudan, massacre in Russia, Australian Embassy bombing, French hostages in Iraq and on and on....

But I have a very strict mental policy which is a two pronged affair, and which I always share with those who ask- and as, you can see, sometimes share with those who don't ask!-

a) Send thoughts of support and love to those caught up in the current crisis- victims and perpetrators alike..by the way...however controversial this may sound.

b) Centre myself in my present. Where am I? What am I doing? Controlling my thoughts so that they do not wander in the danger zone of panic creating, disaster making, heart breaking, sorrow causing stuff.

This, contrary to first appearances, is not an avoidance strategy, an ostrich's head in the sand policy. It is a clearly thought out decision, based on the belief of the power of our thoughts, of the collective unconscious' capacity to generate more havoc from existing havoc. It is my way of taking responsibility for not adding to existing evil. Not judging (because all the information which would be needed to make a valid, informed, judgment on most global issues is not available) means not perpetrating the vicious circle of retribution, Mafia style, and not contributing thoughts of anger and revenge which probably account for a good half of all conflicts...

I know this is not a main stream way or opinion, but one of the remaining moral "pluses" of this part of the world is that I am allowed to hold and express these views.

And for that, as well as for the red of the Hawthorne berries in the lane at the back of my house, the green of the leaves and, yes, the blue of the sky, I am profoundly grateful.

OM SHANTI,

Jocelyne

just checking something, bear with me, please

2004-09-08T13:37:00.001+01:00

I started a post and got distracted by an email

2004-09-07T20:53:00.000+01:00

Sorry about that!

To-night, I was reallly going to write some good stuff, and then I had an email which triggered a long response, and I'm all written out.

So I'll just say Hi, from this here Birmingham sunshine land until such time as I have gathered some more words to make stories, which I will then share with you.

Until such time then,warmest greetings to all,

Jocelyne

The garden show

2004-09-04T18:56:00.000+01:00

I knew it: I am not as others are!
http://www.birmingham.gov.uk/gardenersweekend.bcc
I got waylaid today into going with two of my same-age-same-gender friends to a garden show in our locality. First of all I resented having to pay £4.50 to walk about looking at great big produce and great big marvellous flowers with no1, no2 or no3 rosettes (for 1st, 2nd and 3rd "in show"...Reminds you of anything you've experienced recently?)

The ground was a bit soggy and there was a definite risk of muddying one's shoes!Alright, that link isn't where I meanto be, but, you know what, it is a link, still! (and you will see why I didn't enjoy myself after all).

The thing is there were crowds of people, and crowds just ain't my thing...I have always had a profound dislike of milling around together with hundreds of others. For me, there is something humiliating as well as irritating in being in a crowd. I want to see all the beautiful things alone, or alone with one or two choice persons.

At THE Picasso exhibition in Paris a few years ago I had that very same feeling. For this I blame TV: where you can -and do- see the most wonderful sights on your own or with your close companions. At the cinema ,which I love in spite of crowds, there is the advantage of darkness which fairly obliterates the other-ness of others. There, apart from the fact that I find myself laughing at odd places and that I am aware of having to rein in my undisciplined laughter mental muscles, I can almost forget the proximity of so many...But in a park, in full sunlight, that is quite impossible. I end up observing the faces, the clothes, the expressions, the purchases rather that the plants.

That is not to say that there is not something perfectly sweet in an amateur garden show, or that the displays are not well laid out and impressive.

No, but what I want, is to be alone, to be able to pick anything I like and take it home and to be allowed to eat the displays.

When colours are so beautiful that your eyes hurt and when you know that such intense reality can only be appreciated: there, then and for that split moment, a great big frustration wells up. I need to be a painter, a photographer, a botanist. I want to capture that beauty in more than a memory. I want to dance among the flowers in a fire dress that matches them, with music that will make them forget that they were cut and that they will now fade and die. I want to juggle with big pompom dalhias, I want to take away the scent of the best rose. I am a doer, a participant, an extrovert and looking just isn't enough when I can't improvise and let go.

Someone in my neighbourhood gave me the name and 2 telephone numbers of a gardener who might be free to do some work for me. I phoned the first number, and it was a totally unrelated office number, and I phoned the second number and spoke to Robert, who obviously is not the Steve who can rescue my garden...Is there a lesson to be learnt there? Must I do my own gardening? In that case, I am back to square one, because I did not bother to buy any plants at the show.

Oh well, too bad...

I left my friends there, came back home to the comfort of my solitude, and had myself a good old cup of tea just for the form.

To-morrow I will go and see a funny film instead!

With hundreds of flowers and the most massive cabbages-ever- crowding my thoughts for no good reasons, I am glad I am neither a vegetable, a plant or a flower.

Love and apologetic greeting to all gardeners everywhere,

Jocelyne.

Kick-started by Cuppojoe (see comment no 3 on last post)

2004-09-03T21:21:00.000+01:00

Ah ah! So I CAN tell it the way it is after all!

I am moved beyond reason by the praise of my peers. My acceptance speech for the latest accolade I thus received runs as follows, spoken in a slightly Brummyfied French accent (tears of joy optional: I look marginally better when not crying, really!):

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!
This stupendous and totally unexpected award would not have been possible without the contribution of the following people whom I would like to thank from the bloggom of my heart:

-The doctors at my local hospital who said it was ok for me to stop lecturing and to take retirement due to ill-health (for while I was working, computers were the bane and tripple bane of my life: no time to catch up on all that technological guff, you see)

-The lovely people who gave me loads of money in exchange for my big old house, thereby providing the ready cash to afford a lovely little laptop (which is neither too scary, nor too imposing in a room, and very,very, old user friendly)

- Super Paul, my son, for teaching me with the magical patience of an elder most of what I needed to know to be getting on with this (and of course for introducing me to the secret world of the blogs!)

-All the athletes, commentators, cameramen and so on ... who made it all possible....."

By now my voice is breaking up a bit and I am being dragged from the stage by two burly chaps in toxedoes to be unceremoniously bundled into a taxi and sent back to my little cul-de-sac, from where I can continue to write in peace the charming nonsense that you, my lovely and patient readers have come to expect and to appreciate!

I did have some more to say about the Olympics, but it was really more about the opening and closing ceremonies, and my love of the diversity of cultures.

The Chinese thrilled me to bits with their exhuberant and delicate dancing. Accrobatics seem to be the norm for them. I liked the rich reds of the costumes, in contrast to the beautiful blues of Athens. I loved the faces of the Bejing Opera performers, which reminded me of a book my dad had brought back for me from Paris, when I was seven years old. It was the story of a little girl whose dad brings her dolls from all the five continents of the world. This must have been my first glimpse, -bearing in mind that the year was 1955, that we had no TV and that I had never yet been to the cinema -, my first glimpse then of the wonderful differences between the peoples of the world. And there was a Chinese doll, all red pursed lips, eyes in a line and very black pigtails on top of her head.

The Greeks bored me with the singing (sorry, I should be more tolerant...but I like to understand what is being said, and I didn't) BUT... I loved the fact that there was more than a sprinkling of wrinklies on the front line. The strutting was phenomenally ridiculous and highly entertaining, and soooo unsexy, I felt. My heart bled for the chap that tripped up in front of the whole world...How does one in show biz recover from that???

It all seems very long ago already. On the plus side, I have been outside several times since the end of the Games; I have done a walk in a pine forest, seen some friends. The house looks tidy once more, there is food in the fridge, and my clothes are ironed. Order is restored.

I'm off to bed now, with a new set of easy peasy reading books : The no.1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith. Set in AFRICA, see!!! and funny and touching and easy to read. Just like that book about dolls of the five continents.

Good night. I hope I haven't bored you! Good feelings of belonging to One World to everyone,

Jocelyne

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

2004-08-26T19:20:00.000+01:00

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!

2004-08-15T10:59:00.001+01:00

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!

2004-08-15T10:59:00.000+01:00

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

2004-08-07T09:14:00.000+01:00

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....

2004-08-05T08:01:00.000+01:00

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?

2004-08-01T17:33:00.000+01:00

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

The poem from yesterday:

2004-07-30T11:25:00.000+01:00

Old love, new love

I look at you with eyes full of our years.

Like endangered species, cleverly hiding:

The bush over our heads, protecting

A bright secret: the end of all fears.

It took some effort, some fight, some heart,

To own up to weakness, to failure, to doubt,

But now over the mist, from a faraway past

Certainty arises.

You and I both in a place of confidence,

A place of honour, a place of dignity,

Where no harm can be done:

After the falls, the rising.

no more complaining!

2004-07-29T18:55:00.000+01:00

That's it! I am pleased to announce that, as of to-day, there will be no more complaining on this blog. I am going to be happy with whatever happens, comments or not, and adverts for cheap appliances or not! In fact I would go even further and apologise humbly and profusely for my most recent case of the grumbles...I think it's when I don't feel too good and the world seems to recede as I stay put at home for days on end, that the moaning grabs me. Well it ain't gonna get me no more!

Better things to do I think!

Although at this precise moment I have little to say, save to reflect on the evocative power of words once more. It goes like this for me:
1) have a feeling, a "touching", an "inkling" about something.
2) ask brain what words or images might evoke that feeling in others.
3) write down what brain says to share with others.

That's because I am blessed with an oversize language center up top. As a little girl I would invent dozens of words which everyone around recognised because of the logic of their construction but which didn't exist...Since this greatly amused the young adults who brought me up (when my mum and dad were Paul's age, I was 9 years old already), I suppose this linguistic playfulness got reinforced and became a habitual behaviour. Also as a child, I chose to be a devout catholic, confessing to things that I didn't even know existed , lovely words like adultery and covetedness*, which I reeled out from the back of the "missel" to a rather splendid priest who encouraged my interest in the Latin of the liturgy (this point being the other link with linguistics).

At school I studied English and Italian, which I continued at university. Depending on the journey at hand and the friends I made, I have variously dabbled in: Greek, Portuguese, Spanish, Turkish, Latvian, Japanese, Shona in Zimbabwe and now Hindi. But I regret to say that, blessed up top or not, it all disappears when you don't use it, only to come back from retirement if severely pressed. At the wedding of our Zimbabwean friends I found myself understanding the speeches, of which there were very many!, after about the fifth one, when the aunt with the serious religious bias started quoting the scriptures. Nothing like a bit of background to fill in the memory gaps!

Well, this is most interesting for me, but I'm not so sure about anyone else....and so a further helping of apologies is presently dished out, just before I go and have a lovely cup of tea, with Djellabis(SP?) given to me by our meditation teacher this morning to make me feel better about being unwell, I think, and having had to miss so many classes recently.

So until the poem I was going to write here comes back to my mind,

Love, Regards and Namaste,

Jocelyne

humour me, please ( experiment continued...)

2004-07-28T17:52:00.000+01:00

Fashion accessories, catwalk, Paris couture scene, topmodels, prêt à porter collection, Autumn collection, Chanel, défilé de mode, designer clothes, off the peg.....

Angels, cherubs, fairies, archangels, pixies, elves.....

Chess, Chinese checkers, Drafts, Ludo, Monopoly, Pictionary, Diplomacy, that game I don't know how to play and I can't remember the name of (where is your thesaurus when you need it?), Ma-jon (SP????),

Any suggestions welcome: trying to change that advert which makes me feel like a "quincaillère"(hardware store owner?)

See ya!

Jocelyne

Not controversial enough?

2004-07-27T21:33:00.000+01:00

I think that my blog is not controversial /trendy enough. For me, the fun of being involved in a Blog lies not only in the writing, which I could just as well do on my own on a pretty organic-banana-paper journal with purple ink from a dainty fountain pen.(..mmm...appealing!....), but in sharing ideas with a wider and, for the most part, undefined group of people.

I make a point of reacting to the blogs I read, and I have grown quite fond of two or three individuals, almost as much for the exchanges through comments than for the logs themselves. It's like finding the proverbial needle in the hay stack, finding folks with like minds, like humour, like values and so on.. I did get excellent guidance from Paul ("is this a good idea?" Paul, who most of you will know is my excellent son).

And although he does keep telling me that comments aren't "the point"... and so did one of his friends, who said she always reads "grasping the nettle", but doesn't comment(....a wink to you, you know who you are), still I wonder if the dearth of comments on my efforts is due to the fact that I am supremely inoffensive, do not write on controversial topics, and can be accused, at worse of being whimsical.

So, I now think that every one who reads this SHOULD comment on:
A) how well I write English, given that it is not my mother tongue
B) how funny my ideas are and/or
C) how lovely the landscapes I write make them feel .
The delicate nature of my intellect should also have been taken note of , even though I do berate it occasionally.

If not, I might start swearing, ranting on about politics, pretend that I take drugs or drink too much coffee, listen to modern music, believe in corporal punishment, am a racist .... wait a minute....I most absolutely draw the line there!

The real truth is: I have become a "has been"! I have done a lot of controversial and also a lot of brave things in my life, but now, it's kind of "curtains" for most of them. The plot of my life has changed drastically with my choosing a spiritual path,- a choice which coincides very conveniently with the onset of old(er) age and the physical limitations this and my poor state of health brings . Like "good" people, and older people everywhere, I have become a bit boring.

Although, of course, it is a paradox that the life of the spirit is a million times more interesting that that of "gross matter"...but perhaps only so for those who actively pursue it.

So, no aerobies in the park for me:-) , no new jobs to delight in;-), no trips for big adventurous holidays:-), no touching family snapshots of my babies;-) no wonder ! :-(

And yet a wonder of every moment! I am pleased that I have travelled much , loved a lot, climbed some serious mountains, swam rivers (only litttle ones, swimming, not my thing...), thrown the best parties ever(yeah!), learnt to play a few songs on the guitar, sung endlessly. Pleased that althoughI am no longer doing these things, I know how to dig a garden, shape a privet hedge, count my money, sew, dance, paint. I can embroider and I can ride a bicycle great distances. I have the gift of friendship, the gift of joy, the gift of empathy and of compassion.

See? Not controversial at all...

More controversial might be that I seem to Blog-connect mainly with young men...In my head, and in spite of my "ordinary" woman-ness, I have always BEEN a young man. Go figure! And I promise you I am not even a bit schizophrenic ( I have had to look the word up in the dictionnary, which goes to prove!).

Well if this does not get you commenting, it should at least be confusing enough to change that blasted advert for drainers and various other sink related objects.... I live in hope!

Love, regardless,

Jocelyne

Inviting you to play a game:

2004-07-27T11:52:00.000+01:00

In the space next to the blue blogspot, there always appear some advert vaguely related to the latest post. I propose trying to "manifest" certain adverts by writing trigger words as part of your blog. Now for starters let's try and manifest an advert relating to travelling in Egypt, say!

We may want to talk about the Great Pyramids, the Valley of the Kings, sandy deserts, a trip on the Nile, Cairo and so on.... See if you can do it? I am going to post this just to see what happens to the adverts. (Two posts ago, I got offers of sink drainers... I wonder why?)

See the way an idle mind uses any opportunity to remain idle!

Off to Egypt I go,

Smiles and benevolent thoughts from your favorite traveller,

Jocelyne

PS Just checked: it's still the drainers; drat!

This time...

2004-07-26T20:45:00.000+01:00

This time I know I have flipped my lid, blown my brain, gone gaga, lost the plot...(you get the picture?) : I checked MY blog to see if there was some thing new since those "two small domestic considerations"....I always suspected logic wasn't my forte.... I was mildly surprised to see that "she" hadn't written any thing recently.... shame really, "she" is such a lovely ol'girl!

I suppose this brain confusion was due to the fact that I couldn't think of what to write, and I had been browsing here and there from blog to blog.

Anyway, I have now remembered something I wanted to share earlier on: when I went to the concert the other night, and again to the open air theatre, I was struck by something new which is happening to me. I have spent my whole life feeling very self conscious, a fate no doubt caused by my grandmother's obsession with presenting me to the world as the best dressed and most neatly coiffed child in Cluny, all this in cheerful disregard to my youthful aspirations as a Tom boy , my absolute dislike of wringlets and my despair at the small torture I was subjected to in the creation and elaboration of said wringlets.

And now that my gran has died, I am no longer self conscious. At the concert, I suddendly felt free of my usual worries: I did not engage in comparing my clothes to that of others, or think that, really, I ought to dye my hair a bit...I was at ease with me.

At the open air theatre, while some others were in short sleeves and light dresses, I wore a winter coat AND a blanket AND I didn't care, so long as I was warm!

Now the Test to this newly acquired freedom is fast approaching as I am planning to visit my dad and family in ....Paris. Nothing like the look of a Parisian relative to kill a fragile sartorial ego. I know, I've been there! So, we'll see how I fare next week. I'll tell you, in case you should care, that is.

Meanwhile, I am wondering what I should be wearing to go to Paris. Oops!!!

Tired and off to bed,

Love,

Jocelyne

Two small domestic considerations

2004-07-23T09:09:00.000+01:00

1) I have just realised that I am a champion at stacking the freshly done washing up (I don't use a dishwasher, see...). The kitchen in my little rented house is tiny, space is at a premium; it's more like a caravan's cooking space than that of a "proper" house. For over a year and a half I have been adjusting to narrower rooms, tighter corners and a feeling of lilliput, and certain coping strategies have emerged, evolving into some quite skilled space management: of which the stacking of clean crokery, saucepans etc is a salient* example. Everest hasn't a thing over my mountain. On a single drainer, I manage to store and safely stack -for draining- almost all the contents of my cooking and eating tools cupboard. It's artistic, really! When I have my digital camera, I promise you a picture of this extra-ordinary stainless steel and porcelain erection; it's stunning in its equillibrium and it always needs drying... Ah and , please, don't tell me about those contraptions which are meant to make stacking up easier; I just don't get on with them: I remain a free spirit.

Which is probably why:

2) Although without a doubt my late mother made the best mashed potatoes in the universe- starting with growing her own favorite mashing brand of the aforesaid tubers- , and I follow not too far on her traces, I now favour a purely chemical version of that dish (could be related to the vagaries** of the previous item, as you do need quite a few implements to make the best mashed potatoes in the world ; but this is a trade secret, and shall remain so, sorry!). For the chemical version, all you need is a boiling mixture of milk and water and the little flakes of chemicals and puff! in a wink of an eye you have your comforting meal at the ready...Did I mention I was feeling lazy?...I'll probably get fat as well what with all this mashed potatoe and inactivity. Oh, I know, I could always climb the washed up hill in the kitchen....

Off to have some breakfast. Love, and winks of the naughty elf kind a'plenty,

Jocelyne

*health warning: this is a pun!
** I used that word, then I had to look it up to see what it meant in my bilingual dictionary.
vagary= "caprice"
...so, just right in fact! good brain!(pat, pat)

A very lazy time

2004-07-23T07:50:00.000+01:00

Not like me at all, this laziness which is taking me over. I am not doing much, and what I am doing isn't much....

I think, quite a bit, not a bad way to pass the time.

It could be because of the weather, or because I have spent so many years as a teacher relaxing at this time of year that the habit has become ingrained. Good job I was never a ballet dancer, or else I would probably still be going around in a tutu....perish the thought!

Last night Paul, Dave and I went to the Botanical Gardens, here in Birmingham, to watch an open air performance of Midsummer Night's Dream, by an amateur theatre group. Regardless of the finished product- which in this case was , like the vicar's egg(?????) ,"good in places", I have unlimited respect for those who are prepared to give up so much of their time and to make so much effort to keep alive this English tradition of theatre in the green. But much more importantly, there is such a magic about the writing of the Bard that the words themselves grab you, even when all else fails. I found myself remembering all the many magical performances I have seen of this particular play, not only Peter Brook's definitive version, with The King and Queen of the fairies on precarious trapezes and Puck with a wiry curly fishing thingamygiby, and Frances de La Tour running amock oh and everything else just about perfect! It was a long time ago (1970? 71? someone's bound to put me right), but also many others in less glamorous venues and the film with "Allie McBeal" as Helena.... But most of all I get lost in the eternal beauty and the easy wit of the words.

Just like fireworks, they are!With you for a few brief seconds and then pushed out as others come. And then there is silence. A few evenings ago I woke up to the sound of some terrific bangs. There was a firework fantasia in the public park not very far from my little cul-de-sac ( any excuse to use a French word, sorry!). I was too tired to get up, get dressed and get closer, but from my bedroom window, I managed a reasonable view of the bigger sky splashes. It is just bliss to sit on a comfortable chair and to see the sky come alive, unpredictably and yet with a great degree of symetry. When it was all over, I waited quite some time before I realised that , yes, in fact, the latest burst had been most spectacular and must be the last one of the night.

I love them, fire works. But not on TV. On TV they don't feel right, because their very essence is their transience, their here now, gone now nature. Fireworks fit in well with a certain human sense of insecurity, they are a befitting image for a species so acutely aware of its own physical impermanence and ever possibly imminent demise.

But I don't care see, 'cause I am a soul travelling through time watching firework upon firework to my heart's content.

Love , and a myriad sparks scattering....

Jocelyne

Summer?

2004-07-19T09:19:00.000+01:00

I miss Summer: it should be sunny and warm, but it rains and the central heating has to come on most days.

See? How English I have become: I am talking about the weather. But then may be someone would like to know what the weather is like here? Well, ok, may be not. May be it's an easy way to get back into communication with you.

On Friday night I went to hear Hugh Masekela in concert at Symphony Hall, here in Birmingham. He is a bit older than the last time I saw him, which was in Zimbabwe - 1988, I think. With him were the 21 piece big band Jazz Jamaica All Stars. In spite of some quite casual mixing, the sound was very big, the performers generous, and the audience just the right mix, quite typical of Birmingham's mutli-cultural tradition.
Looking at the small man on the stage, I was trying to fathom the kind of extraordinary life map which can lead one from Soweto townships to prestigious venues of the world. What struggles, what efforts, what dedication to music and what self belief. I am sorry I missed his desert island discs choices on radio 4.
The exhilaration of hearing live music never wanes for me. The only drawback is : I want to be on the stage with them and sing or dance or something, if even clapping hands...but so far, and thank goodness too- I have always managed to rein in that impulse.

A landscape has slowly been emerging from my mind, but I am not sure if you will like it as it starts a bit more somber than my usual images:

Dark, deep waters, running fast in the middle, green , and white with foam here and there. The fury of the elements is implicit in the relentless flow. The sound echoes as loud as motorway traffic, rendered even louder by steep mountains at both sides, with frothy cascades feeding the stream with more water. The tops of the mountains are lost in mist. We are in the middle of the stream on a fast and sharp edged wooden small craft. Whoever is steering has the confidence of a God. In the midst of all the awe, he laughs and jokes and wields a precarious looking oar with the dexterity and the poise of a Geisha eating rice with chop sticks. Familiarity is giving him the faith to navigate the rapids. And up, ...and down,... and fast to starboard and ...over the big wave we go, holding on for dear life, while he, as if glued to the bottom of his ship, stands steadier than the rocks that shake our craft...
(Thus it is that we do at times trust one who knows better, all ego gone, back to the oblivious faith of very young childhood. The only input that is needed form us then is a calm mind and good wishes for the one taking responsibility for our safety and wellbeing).
After the storm of the white water, the lull comes, and the mist lifts, revealing once more the majesty of the summits and the brilliance of the sun. Then we jump into these warm waters and splash about with not a care in the world. Drying out on a little sandbank, I'm sure someone will even bring in a big salady lunch with some of the best crisps and a mug of chai tea...some toast?

......................the end.....................

I haven't had my breakfast yet, you see!

Ideas have bubbled up while I have been blog-idle, so I'll be attempting to order them as time goes on. But for now, breakfast does beckon, irresistible.

Many good thoughts for any who managed to read thus far!

Jocelyne

MY BLOG has been reprieved !!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-)

2004-07-15T08:31:00.000+01:00

Well, I really scared myself: I deleted my blog. (I even told a couple of people about it...)

Then I was asked to re-instate it, because it WAS after all giving pleasure and food for thought to others...

Blog support have responded magnificently, and retrieved the whole ka-boggle.

I am not doing a big post just now, because I need to have breakfast, but I wanted to reconnect as soon as possible and celebrate the return of the prodigal.

Soon come back,

Jocelyne

Saving someone's life

2004-07-10T10:06:00.000+01:00

Sounds dramatic? Well it's true.

I remember the concept of diffused responsibility from having studied social psychology.

There's the scene:
-my friend gone to China to give a talk at a conference,
-her 13 year old son staying with different families while she is away,
-his broken arm with bits of wires sticking out and his BCG injection fresh from the hospital,
-my promise to check up on his well-being throughout her absence...

He is a tough boy, used to hiding his feelings of discomfort and pain. I had to really draw out of him that the pain in his arm wasn't just "par for the course", but a bit more than that!

Three hours later, the plaster removed, the antibiotic drip installed and the boy in the hospital bed, I am in shock: I very nearly didn't make the call to him, thinking he was in good hands with the families. Clearly, each of the families felt the same and so no-one was taking responsibility for really checking the arm situation, only giving their young guest a bit more pain killing tablets when he told them he was in pain...

This made me realise in a very big way how much each of us is responsible for doing what is right, without reference to what others may or may not do in their own right.

I am so grateful for being secure in my thinking and being oblivious to the fear of what others may think about my interfering!

I also decided that "my" patient was not fit to travel to China himself on Sunday, and asked his mother to come back to the UK...Knowing how much they had looked forward to the trip, that was quite hard, but again the right decision, as now the doctors have had to operate on the arm again, and Nick is being kept in hospital until Monday morning at least...

I am telling this story as a bit of a cautionary tale, and releasing the spirit of personal responsibility into the ether...May those who can, capture it and make it theirs!

A strange sense of duty

2004-07-07T15:02:00.000+01:00

A strange sense of duty brings me back to this blog. A slight sense of unease, verging on guilt and bordering on the other side on the fear of failure, too, as the last couple of posting were dull, even for me!

But what can I do: the things that really matter to me, my deepest beliefs are private and I can't spread them out openly for all to read.

I do have opinions about politics, war, society, and all that, but now I feel it is futile for me to express them, as it don't amount to a can of beans as the saying goes.

I can always fall back on my love of words and the joy I have at making them work for me. So many, ready slaves to my will.

And then sometimes, you just feel like being quiet, don't you?

On a path in a pine tree wood, with tall but delicate spruce. The pine cones are crunching under foot. I love pine cones, with their absolute spiral form, and their "I am made of wood, but it doesn't show attitude". I use them as decorations in my house: a childish trait? The light is perfect: it clings to the lower branches at an exact diagonal, and hits the ground like a spotlight on a stage. The incline is soft and further up, a rocky plateau bathes in the sweet sunlight of the evening. The path is shown by little piles of stones to which each adds his own. We might decide to unlace the heavy boots and to wriggle the toes in the stream that runs alongside the path. Then we might stretch out for a good old day dream on a bit of grass. It's not going to rain to-night: let's make the best of it!

The flight of a swallow just below,
A ridge of climbing rock,
A crooked tree sticking out, within reach,
No fear: breathing in life as I rise,
Agile, alert, greedy for the experience of conquest.
If I start to shake I'm not going to tell!

And that's the way I want to be.....

Regards to any who happence stray this way, and a curly bow with my feathered hat!

Delights

2004-07-03T22:01:00.000+01:00

It's raining on Birmingham, but not crying in my heart...and the violins are laughing rather than sobbing...Blame the French poet Verlaine for these allusions.

9 am: the food shopping is all done. The day will be one of these 'there is nothing I have to do' days, a delight. A bit of Will & Grace, a bit of lunch, a bit of rummaging through the big wicker basket I call my filing system, quite a bit of meditation.

Saved myself £90 by phoning around for quotes for my car insurance. Everyone I spoke to was charming and responsive.

.....A day passes....

Since it is now past my bedtime, I will be very brief and leave you with a "aahhh!" story. (This works both as "aahhh" or as "aahhh", by the way...)

An infant of my acquaintance was inordinately fond of looking up at leaves moving about in the wind, from the bottom of his pram. No problem in Birmingham - which is green and windy! But on a visit to the gran'parents in St. Claude, France, small logistics problems occurred : number one, the town's traditional walks were not very green, and what trees there were, were all very tall, and did nor fit the bill. Mémé (then 81 years old) and pépé (about the same) set about finding the right kind of bushes for the emperor granchild. When they did, the bushes were fine, but totally motionless, so the enterprising grandparents set about shaking the bushes in a convincing way until they triggered the desired peals of joy from the innocent one... Touching or what? (L'amour, toujours l'amour!)

Good night all.

Harming animals at lunch time

2004-07-02T17:30:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, when animals are used in a film, there is a disclaimer at the end of the film which states: "No animals were harmed in the making of this film".

This is meant to give us, the audience, a warm glow of innocence, and to reassure us as to the responsible nature of those involved in making such a film. The collective "feel-good" created may even last a fleeting few instants, and then off we all go to have a bite of chicken, fish casserole, pork chops, barbecue sausages or lambstew.

I have been planning to produce some laminated statements to use as place mats for my dinner guests that would read: "No animals were harmed in the making of this meal".

(Not wishing to rant, just thinking out loud.) In any case, for me, the feelgood factor of being absolutely respectful of other creatures'lives is unmatched.

About deadlines: I was pondering about deadlines after faithfully reading that lovely torfeida.blogspot.com/. Does anyone ever miss deadlines? Or do they get a state funeral just before you ever get to them? I don't think I have ever missed one in my studies or teaching career. When reports were due, reports were done! When marks had to be in, marks were in...no matter what it took. How can that be? You know something is absolutely un-do-able and you still do it??? A price is paid, most times: I don't think I took any notice of my 10 year old son Paul for days, while writing a final year dissertation, BUT the dissertation was handed in on time. Looking back...should I have said "blow the deadline, my son needs me"??? I think so! There you go: the minute you retire, a huge paradigm shift occurs and what seemed sooooo important fades into proverbial insignificance.

I vaguely remember a seminal book which described how, of old, role and personality were kept very separate: i.e. you may be the Prime Minister,(role) but your private life was seen as irrelevant to the carrying out of that role, and therefore did not come under scrutiny . Similarly your personality was not seen as relevant. Transfer that mentality to any work situation, and reverse the angle of view, and you have perfect freedom to be who you are whilst performing the tasks required by the role you play.

Don't remember why I am writing this now...ah well, no matter...I'm off to cook some lovely green bean soup.

The glide down

2004-07-01T21:17:00.000+01:00

By special request from Jane, my lovely Bowen therapy practitionner.

So I have to think about the glide down now:

First of all we are holding hand, all of us who chose this adventure ...The paraglider is made for two, three, four, anynumber...The laws of physics do not apply in this dimension, except for those of the vibrations of music. Would you allow me to let Bocelli sing? or Callas? Ah! Once again freedom has been granted and each can hear their own music, to order. We decide to share the same sounds, solemn, grand, cheerful still.

How long the drop? Just as long as it takes for your flying lust to be assuaged. The descent is slow and floaty. It holds no regrets for the summit. The joy of it is profound. How wonderful to observe without greed, knowing that each scene which unfolds is instantly replayable in slow motion. Rocking and bobbing, the canopy looks reassuring taut above all our laughter.

If I tell you that there is a gentle breeze, you may well cry out: " cliché! cliché!". Well! I am not responsible for the existence of this gentle breeze up above the valleys. (If you ask me, much better than a raging wind which might take us off course, anyway, physics or no physics.) So, drifting down thus we get to pass through the colours that were ordered on the summit...it is our reality, and we created it. I am delighted with my chosen palette. The feelings are serenity and wonder (émerveillement!).

All the animals below us glance up just for a few seconds checking this strange drifting craft, knowing we pose no threat. The harmony of nature is palpable, you can taste it on the wind, you can hear it in the majestic cry of the eagle riding on the thermals alongside us for a bit of fun.

We each come down to earth like a small feather, a tear of gratitude falling into a diamond. The ground welcomes our tipsy frames with a firm security. Fragrance of jasmine and mimosas, or... roses and lavender, or peaches and orange blossom..., or...

I'm going back up again,...comin'?

On a promontory

2004-06-27T11:14:00.000+01:00

We are sitting on a big rock boulder on a promontory, way, way up from the valleys. Below us, an expanse of sensible green, cool river meandering, bushes, hillocks and hollows; some ostriches galloping as if on a mission float across the landscape; a group of lighfooted elephants, easy on the rocky ground, amble on a mountain further on - I never thought of elephants as creatures of the heights,...Ah but, yes, Hannibal...I remember now!-

A feast for the eyes, as far as the eyes can see.

And then, a great gift from the sky: permission to paint your own colours onto its immensity.

I choose pale grey and more beautiful mauve, pink and sweetie blue with plenty of bobbing white. You, perhaps, would favour yellow, and orange reds, and red with a green ray. The evening is magnificent, beneficial. There is absolute peace, absolute love. Hope exudes, radiates.

We are now reaping the reward of honesty, of authenticity. We, who kept Love alive amongst the misery and hatred, are being recompensed for our courage.

How do you fancy a little paraglide down to the river? OK? Together, after three....

a big change!

2004-06-25T13:20:00.000+01:00

Did you notice, I have completely changed my "DESCRIPTION" of this log. Does that mean that I have changed? Yes: as every experience changes you. No: as fundamentally I am still as naive as ever, just don' real-ly (sic) want to be seen as such.

The learning curve has been steep: I now know that there are hundreds of things to learn in the world of blogging...and I will learn them.

The people I have connected to so far have been helpful, kind, cooperative and respectful. Most of them are very funny too! All in all so far, in MY review, the experience of blogging gets a 5. (Only draw back, the time aspect: I think I spend too much time on this, to the detriment of the study of meditation ...I'll soon sort this out though).

As ever some warm feelings of planetary companionship.

PS I'm sure something funny will be written here soon...the last few posts are mainly quite serious, no? (I have however, written quite a few witty comments here, there and everywhere you know!)

How long is 28 days?....

2004-06-24T14:48:00.000+01:00

On the first day of this month I started a Detox diet for health reasons, while secretly hoping I might just shed a few lbs in the process (Tiens je ne suis plus "metric"? Next thing you know I'll be supporting the English football team...don't think so, somehow!)

This diet has been an experience! Full of surprises: delicious meals that I would never have eaten before; my capacity for going beyond the need for biscuits which has been shere [SI:own brain spelling check inconclusive, could be sheer?] amazement to all that know me and even more to myself; a complete lack of craving for chocolate; and, best of all the realisation that what I really like is chips. By this I mean, not the cellophane packed wafer thin potato crisps, but the chunky covered/drizzled in oil and fried/baked in the oven variety. I have 4 days to go before I make myself some chips to reward myself for a diet well adhered to.

It is most pleasing to discover that you can do things which you thought you couldn't!

If I haven't lost weight, I have at least had a lot more energy. I've been out and about a lot more. It's great to feel well, and I wholeheartedly recomment to any of you reading this, who do feel well, to take a moment to acknowledge that enviable state of being, to relish it, and to get in gratitude mode, if only for a few seconds...
Appreciation is one of my favorite modes.

Talking of appreciation, my ex husband -the one in Malawi- does not like my blog...Well, I couldn't quite work out if it was the idea of blog or this particular one. I don't really mind though, I thought he might have liked to print his own most original thoughts onto the ether, but no problem. I like the idea of a shared log more and more, and I AM definitely going to learn some new tricks to improve the appearance of mine. I might even invest in a digital camera. I just love seeing all those photos of places and people and things.

Next is a most embarassing admission: I find myself wanting to post corrections to spelling mistakes in my comments to other people's blogs. I don 't mean typos, these I can handle, but it's your old true "faute d'orthographe" that I find so hard to abide. I know this to be a BAD thing... and yet, a lifetime of marking has left its own mark and all I can do is sit on my hands and shut down the computer( not in that order) in order to refrain from the habit. What can I do???? You see in French a spelling "mistake", it is "une faute", a word used both for error and for sin; it begs you to correct it...I think I should "get a life", is what I think. Because my hands are very sore from being sat on, and I can't do anything else when I'm stuck in that position. I did warn you it was an embarassing sort of a thing!

Well for the moment I must go and eat whatever the book says I have to eat, even though it is a bit late for lunch. Ah well! Better cannot be done (Hey, watch your syntax, you casual old teacher!!!)

Bon appétit, et à bientôt les amis!

PS I have been told how to do accents: how delightful for me!

Trust

2004-06-22T07:48:00.000+01:00

I was reflecting yesterday about the notion of Trust: how precious it is to be able to trust another person and what it means. I am very privileged that there are several, almost many, people I do trust. That means they are respectful of confidential information, sure, but much, much more than that. It also means they don't judge (see previous blog), they don't interfere, they accept you as you are, eccentricities and all, they wish you well regardless of circumstances, they behave like a guardian angel would.

When someone comes on the horizon that I feel I can't trust, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And it is a pity for them: they miss out on a wonderful feeling: isn't it just lovely to be able to drop your guard and just BE...?

For me, each time it's like revisiting the innocence of childhood , so I thank all those wonderful souls out there with whom I can share a little of my journey without carrying the clanging armour of distrust. I don't know why I chose to write this as it's hardly entertaining stuff...but there you go.

About BIG-BLOTHER, Tor tells me that you opt for a feed back review, you don't have it thrust upon you as it were. Ah good! That feels better, doesn't it?

A REQUEST:

If anyone out there can tell me how to write French accents in a blog I would be most grateful, I have asked blog support, but they are no doubt immensely busy and I await an answer.( I am using the universal coding thingy).

No stories come to mind to-day, how strange!

Sorry, I'm sure Mind will bubble up again soon. Meanwhile I'll be good....promised!

Big Blog-ther

2004-06-20T12:26:00.000+01:00

I just found out from reading one of my favourite blogs that there exists a blog review panel who rate blogs...(Well done Torfeida)

All of a sudden some of the joy has gone out of writing the log, because I was doing it without an expectation of judgment, just as a way of connecting with many near and far, many who know better than I about this medium, and in the hope of finding like minded folks.

I'm sure mine will not draw attention, not yet surely, but dear oh dear how would I feel if I got a 1 or even a 2...I would be sooOOO discouraged. And it would be very unfair, as not all are equal in the face of technology. I, for instance have as yet no idea how you put photos on a blog. (That's why there aren't any on mine by the way). I also use far too many "... ...."s, and I am very uphazard in my choice of topics... (see what I mean?...)

But,I'm not going to be discouraged and I will blog on regardless, but really! Is nowhere free from judgment? Ah Ah Ah, I AM one who judges a lot, so in my case rating is retribution.

Most grovelling apologies if my moans offend those who judge: I didn't mean it, honest gov'! I won't do it again, I promise! Let me off this one time, comme on! Please!

I bow backwards to all those whose sensitivity I may have offended and withdraw discreetly to go rethink my strategy (ok, and to make my bed and to do some more ironing, and to cook a meal too).

Whatever else, you have a good day!

Not very inspired,but I want to say hello!

2004-06-20T09:59:00.000+01:00

All day long I sit here singing songs for everyone...

That's what came to my mind as I started to write (Beatles,Mother Nature's son- if I got that right!)

I've been on the Blogger site for just over an hour now, I've posted comments to perfect strangers. I am trying to find out how you do accents on a blog text- because I also write in French, see!-

So all day long, yesterday I was having deep philosophical thoughts that would have made perfect blogging material, but this morning they have flown off like my flowers in the Zimbabwean bush.

I don't like writing when I have little time and now I have little time because I spent too much of it visiting you all.

So a very bland, but all the same loving, log.

Just in case that's not enough:

On this morning's journeys, I came across a quote that someone wanted explained. It went something like this: "no matter how many zillions of years a star may shine, it will never be able to wipe out the darkness at the heart of man"...or words to that effect. The meaning of this seemed eerily clear to me, and in a comment I think I may have posted (but didn't manage to see, as I'd lost the link and can't remember anything about it and don't know how to find it again...BOO to me for lack of attention and expertise!) I took the liberty to share my view on that quote: that our mission as human beings IS to become light and to eradicate all the darkness in ourselves; this we do from the day we are born through all relationships, language, thoughts and actions. There is truth in that quote, but we don't need to be sad about it as the joy is in the journey. When we are perfect beings, we won't be in a body any more...

Looking forward to an angelic state...(check the book by Bernard Werber: l'Empire des Anges if you can)

The time I failed....(letter to Torfeida)

2004-06-16T08:05:00.000+01:00

I think it was my first year at University. I was reading for a degree in English at the Faculte des Lettres of Lyon. When the day for the exams results came, I took a train for the 50 mile journey from my home town of Macon to the university, to go and read the boards where the names of those who passed were posted. There I met all my class mates, the results were pretty much as predicted by past performance except that my name was not on that board. No matter how hard I looked I couldn't find it. So, in a profound state of chock, since I had always been an A student and felt totally bewildered as to what must have been expected of us, I got back on the train to face my immediate family, who in any case were very scathing about my ambition to study, and my neighbours, who weren't too favorably disposed towards our dysfunctional family unit and would no doubt rejoice at my failure. What would my grandmothers, who had such faith in me, be thinking now? And my kid sister, for whom I was meant to be an example? And the friends from the youth club, who all thought I was a bit of a genius.

The shame was intense!

Every jerk of the train hammered home that terrible reality: you've failed, you've failed...

I cried and cried and cried, without restraint, in darkest despair. And then I knew the only solution was to fling myself out of the train's door and die. I went to open that door a dozen times during the hour long journey. I was determined to end it all. Somehow, I didn't- as you can see-. But for sure that was the closest I ever got to suicide, ever...

All that summer, I revised for the re-sits, not quite knowing what it was that I was meant to have done better, but working like a Troyan, still. While others were sunning themselves by the municipal pool, I was up in the weeping willow tree, revising, While others went to the 14th of July people's dance, I was revising in my bedroom, while others went camping, hiking, folk dancing, cycling in the woods, climbing at Solutre, I was revising.

Then, towards the end of September, I became worried that I hadn't' heard anything from the University and rang the secretary to find out when the re-sits would be. Well, -heart to the bottom of my feet, straightaway-: the re-sits had been and gone, and I hadn't been told. But wait, she said, -heart back up to about hip level-, you didn't have to do re-sits, I'm sure you passed. Much checking ensued, and yep, you've guessed it I had passed with a commendation and a clerical error had been the cause of this nightmare summer.

What lessons did I draw from that?

Many! But all of them have been instrumental in my becoming a better teacher, probably, understanding the importance of constant monitoring of progress and feedback, and the terrible effect of the pressure of the phantom of failure on a young mind.

So:

First of all: chase that phantom!

Then: do study well, steadily, with application, with determination, with confidence that you are well able to pass and to achieve your aim and objective.

Stay in your self-esteem at all times: even a failure at an exam would not detract from who YOU really are.

Have confidence that those who truly love you will love you unconditionally and would not judge in any event. (God first of all, as you rightly say!)

Is this a little boring to read for all of you who have no exams? Don't worry, we all do face exams, of a different sort, results to be announced in a perhaps more distant future.

(Post totally inspired by Torfeida 's latest log)

Love and Peace.

The best birthday..... ever.....

2004-06-15T08:26:00.000+01:00

First of all thank you to Phil for his good wishes. It's pretty good when folks you don't know wish you well!(Well Phil is a friend of Paul, so not completely unknown, but, still, we have never met, let alone been formally introduced.)

When you have no expectations, and you look after your own needs, -emotional and cake wise-, the birthday is bound to exceed your expectations and the cake is bound to be one you like.

I am now 56 and will have to adjust the heading of the blog when I feel up to it - investigating how it is done I mean, not worrying about owning up to an extra year in this lifetime. For this birthday, I had no plans, other than to make myself a cake and watch the France-England match with Paul.

Now by a strange coincidence, I, like David
(blog title perfectly beastly- I must learn to do "links"),
am abstaining from sugar, as for health reasons I am currently following a "detox eating plan", and so had to find a cake with no sugar + no wheat: bake it yourself Jocelyne, with honey and potato and rice flour....I can't remember what I was trying to say...Concentrate, woman!
see Graham's blog "you should have one" - must learn to link- apologies for resistance to new learning).

Well, everyone and his friend wished me a happy birthday (bar one absent-minded pal)...One ex husband who phoned from Malawi and sent an e-card, sister-who wasn't speaking to me at the time (!? * much scratching of my head in a I don't understand people fashion), father very grumpy but loving, and so on and so on.... Then Ken visited, Tony brought me a CD, and Paul kept me the best company for the evening. The sun shone throughout, the day's menus were great, Francoise's little grandson made me a fabulous card with bits of torn pictures -he's only 4, so that's promising- I got roses, roses, roses, roses and more roses, plus some other flowers, and then...... Allons Zenfants de la Patri-i-e, there was ze match, the footie.

I did not know before hand which team I would support, but as soon as England scored, I knew I was supporting FRANCE, and then Zizou gave me a last birthday present for the day: two lovely French goals in extra time.

The moral of the story is clear. Can you draw it yourself please, as I keep coming up with cliches* which even I can't bring myself to write down.

Anyway, it's all good.

By the way, I don't rejoice about France's victory in public places, in case some fan decides to sock me one, so don't you worry about my safety...

I had several stories in mind for this blog, but I have overrun my time on the computer (the back, you know, still hurting a bit....) so, to-morrow will do.

Keep well! Love.

*the lack of accent hurts my eyes...

wasting a post?

2004-06-11T08:47:00.000+01:00

I love the phrase "Enough said,- or, better still- 'nough said", which is ironic because I always have so much to say....

Back from morning meditation, a bit of waffling, then to-day's story: The red flowers' breakfast

2004-06-10T08:19:00.000+01:00

Just got back from morning meditation. On the days when I am well enough to go, I feel really, truly, madly, blessed. I know that after an hour or so of concentring deeply on the beautiful truth of human existence, I WILL have a good day. The mood is set to permanent smile, little botherations don't bother, big burdenages become light with the deepening awareness of who I am.

'Nough said about this. To report, little new. Good weather encourages much washing of clothes, followed by rainy weather to foster the ironing of said clothes...but so many for one person alone...

I have a friend - well I have several friends in fact-, but this friend never EVER wields an iron and always looks impeccable.She is a Professor, she gives talks at conferences, she has met the Pope AND Bill Clinton (in no particular order) and so she needs to look very presentable. But I just don't get it. I have tried not to iron my own clothes and... I end up looking crumpled Well, now, there's something to ponder about isn't it? ( Just in case you have asuspiscious mind, I know for sure that she wouldn't cheat and have a quick press in the middle of the night...)

A little story for to-day?

Ok, Let's begin:

It's my beloved Africa again. It's Harare, after all the nastiness and before the madness, in 1987 or so.

I am driving the oldest, most battered, dangerous car ever. It has holes where the floor should be and if you are prepared to risk it while driving, you can watch the road unfolding under you as you go; a rare privilege when you're not on a bike! Once I pondered what "those bits" were dangling from the back wheel, and I was reliably informed that these were the brake pads shoes...There were no brakes on the rear back wheel, but then the old dear went so slowly that you almost didn't need to break, ever, you could just glide her to a halt in most cases. I digress. If you want more stories of my driving adventures in Africa, do ask...I will oblige.

So in the car with me is my 11 year old son, Paul, and we are driving to his maths teacher. Harare is not like a city here: great big swathes of it are just like the bush and I make a point of going through those wild back roads for the joy of looking at the long grasses, the flame lillies, the wild chewing gum trees, may be seeing a snake or two basking on the dirt road etc. For the education and edification of the young one, and for the joy of it all, I am ever on the lookout for those experiences.

This morning, beautiful blue, the balancing rock at Epworth profiling ochre in the backgroung, we, singing at the top of our little voices, pass a new patch of some truly fantastic flowers,several dozen, coral red, each the size of a small pompon. They weren't there yesterday, I'm sure,- but then things are so magical here that flowers can and do appear from one day to the next, you know...So, In a puff of dust from the 3 wheels' braking I am slowly reversing the car, ready to make erudite notes of what type of flower these are for our endlessly improved brain filing/filling. How many sepals, petals, how long the stems, how shaped the leaves?? But when we get there, the mirage has gone. A small distance away, instead, a flock of little red birds is dipping and swirling. Old Banger disturbed the flowers's breakfast.

So back to the reference book satchel: put away The Flowers of Zimbabwe, and get out The birds of Africa. They are, I gather, red cardinals and very fonds of grass seeds too. Boy, can these babies fly!

Love and Peace to all Birds, Flowers and Peoples.

comments (0)

2004-06-07T09:25:00.000+01:00

Because I am new to the world of Blog, and because my two first posts atracted a couple of comments and the latest ones didn't, I am now thinking I am doing this all wrong and I haven't understood what is required here....It does feel brrrr to write into the void, like shooting arrows blindfolded.

My back's a bit better, laptop still not set up properly, so short/ short/ short post to-day, just a small Japoneezy song really.

Three green leaves on a stem opposite oneanother,
a bit of string white, not very long, to tie,
a straw hat (I wonder why?)
for a day of introspective pleasure.

Greetings of Peace and of Joy.

(PS & NB: I am NOT a born-again-christian)

a chameleon

2004-06-06T17:18:00.000+01:00

I have a confession to make - this is a blog by proxy, a "dictatoblog" because my back is hurting. I should have heeded the advice of those who said my laptop was badly set up! I now will. And another thing...I sat in some chewing gum. Now, how could I have done that? Never mind, I'll put my dress in the freezer and break the offending matter off later. *Sigh* Now you know, on with blog

You know what it's like when you want to be like everyone else? There is a very strong pull towards being accepted, recognised as one of the pack, understood and loved. With this blogging thing, I find my poor brain being torn in all directions, a chameleon going potty as it goes over a kaleidoscope picture.

Subject change: maybe I am very weak, but the violence in an otherwise brilliantly filmed and acted "Read my lips" ("Sur mes levres", or actually may be "Sur tes levres") unnerved me. But what unnerved me most is that the friend who recommended it and knows my non-violent preferences did not notice the violence; her 13 yer old son watched it too and no eyelid was batted...What?!
Am I the last one on the planet not to be desentisized to blood and gore? Do tell me!

Come with me: for now, let's go down a steep path in a tropical wood, well a jungle really. I am holding on to the vines like they were dangling handles on the Paris Metro so as not to lose my footing. It is very hot but no one minds. There is a toucan flirting with us just above where we are. They really are the way they're meant to be - so colourful that you have to do a double take. You wonder how they fly with that huge beak. Maybe it's made of balsa wood. In any case it's probably extrememly light. It's probably a honeycomb structure. (How clever am I?)The sounds all around us - the birds, the leaves, the creaking, the distant water: a soundscape like no other.

Look down now. The butterflies are there in their dozens - they are not scared at all - they bask in the glory of their designer wings. The path turns sharply and reveals a waterfall. Perfect height - not too powerful, not too small. I'll go and cool off in the spray. You can get behind the water and there's a lovely cave there. Very mossy, very cosy, very secrety. I am the first one ever to have gone in. Stay here a while, reflect, marvel, connect with the peace.

Later, it is picnic time on the rocks that border the stream that trickles away from the base of the waterfall in the filtered sun of this magical clearing. I haven't got a spoon to eat my yoghurt (a bet you didn't expect a yoghurt there, but trust me, I brought one.) What I do have is a knife and plenty of wood. So, whittle, whittle - a spoon I have made and a vanilla yoghurt I have eaten. Do you want some, I've got another?

Something magical has to happen. And here it is. The sun has now curved its rays and hits the spray of the waterfall to release a million rainbows; they were there all along.

Guess what! Someone came to visit to-day...

2004-06-03T16:51:00.000+01:00

Someone came to visit to-day. And he cut the lawn, and took me to the bank .OK, OK, I do know I said I would'nt bore you with trivia. All the same I was, and am, jolly grateful to have such a lovely son!

So for to-day's story.

"Picture this" (obscure reference to The Golden Girls, which I call the Goldies and which I love to snigger to -never identifying, of course not, either with the stupid dum one, or the teachery one or God forbid, the lecherous one....even less with the old crazy Italian mother, but I digress...):

For this little time with you, I fancy a hideout in a barn, dry and cosy, the sweet scent of straw everywhere. The thought of getting caught here gives us the giggles. On the stone wall opposite, through a small dusty window we can see the rows of the vineyard, -each luscious vine laden with its harvest of grapes-, and the folks who are going about their business, so unaware of being watched. That's fine, our eyes hold no malice. Just above our heads, through the skylight, elongated clouds etch their whiteness on the blue. I hold onto your hand. We burst out laughing at the screeching of an owl. We are ten years old, and we have skipped school...

That's all folks, for to-day anyway. Greetings and love.

someone is coming at 1.30.....

2004-06-02T11:51:00.000+01:00

just like yesterday, someone is coming... many visitors= little time!

Some of the thoughts I had since yesterday, regarding blogging:

1) I am quite old to be a blogger and most of the folks that links up with me on the clicky thing are very young. That's good. The older ones are a bit boring for me... who wants to know who I had lunch with -unless it's a BIG celeb, of course!-, or if I played Mah-jong with Mrs Dubceck (obscure reference to Third Rock from the Sun). So although I AM older, I am not going to bore you with that kind of stuff.

2) There is a great deal of talent and beauty out there; I realise, the WWW is also host to good, righteous folk who pursue their lives in an innocent way, perhaps revealing through their chosen links a hidden elite, a family of thinkers, artists, amazing writers and musicians- not to mention photographers. A new society, defying boundaries of geography, class and so on (although I am aware that access to internet is still, globally a huge privilege, and I am very grateful to have been granted this privilege now)

3) I really want to share my imaginary landscapes, BUT there's a bit of the critical me which is barring it for now...so hold your breath ; it will come and when the dam of magical images opens up, there will be no stopping it.

A bientot (see you soon)

The personal profile:you what???

2004-06-01T14:09:00.000+01:00

Hi and hello everyone again. A dull day in Brum...

The kitchen beckons with the untidy remnants of breakfast to clear-why does food start to look disgusting the minute you move the plate from the eating place to the washing up place...a question that may well be asked in "random question"... You will see that I am very clever at answering trick questions with trick answers.ahhhh!

This profile thing, I was happily writing my life story, explaining in details why and how this or that thing was the case, I forgot about the templates.Story of my life, what ho! I wanted to explain to you all that I am not the kind of person that has favorite films, books and so on. In any case I am not particularly interested -but please do not feel offended by this if you happen to share my taste in any of the categories offered by my new friend "the blog"-, not particularly interested I was saying to share "interests" with anyone. I like what I like and I like people whatever they like (within the legal and moral norms of course!!!).

So...many things I had written didn't "come out right" in the profile (heavily edited, that's ok I do understand the need for templates in this magical world). For instance, I wrote that having to chose my ten favorite pieces for desert island disc would probably overtax my nervous system and I would spontaneously self destroy in a puff of jumbled music notes...well I didn't quite write that, but then, do you ever write something exactly the same twice? exactly the same twice? See? I AM funny!

Someone is coming at 3 so I will go and clear up the dishes (nicer than washing up don't you think? ) I can't wait to start creating a landscape for my next blog and relating all the secrets which got edited in my personal profile manoeuvers(spelling inconclusive says my on board-in brain-robot spellcheck ...hence forward this will be expressed as "S.I.", well in keeping with the endless creation of protocols, no?)

I am letting my head work itself around the elections issues. A lifetime without the vote here (as a French citizen), has left me with a little bit of a craving for this civic right, even though logic states categorically that democracy in the way it is applied nowadays is no democracy... But all you clever bloggers who may read this already knew this! So the head is merrily working out what to do and it will let me know when it's good and ready... that's the revolutionary new Scarlet O'Hara inspired kind of "thinking". I love it, even though I know it to be profoundly wrong by mocern standards...bli bla bla bla bli bli bli blo AU REVOIR... A la vaisselle (to the washing up)! maintenant(now)! chere ame(Dear soul): j'arrive(I'm coming), j'arrive(I'm coming)! Soon come back.

Jump in both feet first (the spider's web)

2004-05-29T14:03:00.000+01:00

Hello out there!

This is my first ever B L O G and stupidly I am shivering in my bare feet. I called my blog "grasping the nettle" as it forms part of my personal efforts to come to terms with a technology which I find immensely scary because I can't grasp (here goes again with grasping!) its extent, whichever way I turn it around. Like the concept of infinity, the Net leaves me gasping for breath (that, and the usual asthma of course...)and wondering why my brain does not manage to get round it like it did simple algebra or the rules of French grammar. I didn't even understand the plot of the Matrix or that of the Matrix reloaded and I have fairly given up on that. I like things I understand, and things that are predictable...

Anyway I will regale you with a tiny piece of writing I did for Alain.

"This morning I am a small spider, with very fine and delicate legs who has lost the thread of its web.

What was I trying to catch? A great big mosquitoe which would sting me and drink my blood? An innocent and sweet fruit fly who never did me any harm? A huge horse fly, which hurts like mad if you rub against it?

I am not too sure..

Let's get back to the thread of our thoughts, then.

Ah! Right! I was only weaving a web for show: it would sooner break than emprison any being. My net only catches jewelled dew drops which land there to better define its geometry. It's a web made to rock dreams, to fill with delight the anxious angles of a life; transparent, elegant, light as a flegling's breath, floaty, diaphanous and strong.

You see: already the spider has created in my head the thoughts that must be had. Thoughts that are where they are meant to be!"

Translated from the French it's not quite the same, but may be that's right too?

I am very, very proud of myself for doing this. More another day when I have recovered from the shock...