Clear Blue Flame.....

Twenty-six degrees today, with full sun and clear blue skies set for at least a couple of weeks to come: most welcome; seems like Summer is about to catch us all out here. I'm just back from a short visit to Sussex and London, visiting friends, one of whom has terminal lung cancer and only a few days, weeks at most, left. All very difficult and distressing. As I flew back home, J flew out to see her old friend, from University days about 40 years ago, for what will be the last time. She flew out on the same plane I came in on, so our paths didn't cross as she was in departure lounge as I arrived.  She simply left the car in the car-park for me to collect. I return to collect her again tomorrow.

Old Jack is now having problems. He's been deaf for many years, lost his hearing while we were still in Sweden, and has been blind in one eye for over twelve months; now, he's beginning to lose the sight in the other eye. In addition, he's partially incontinent, though this is sporadic. As he is otherwise seemingly fine for now, we're managing to cope with plenty of clean-up operations. However, it can be but a matter of time before he must go, too.  He's over fourteen years old now, so has outlived the average span for the breed and still has reasonable mobility. So, all in all, he's had a fair innings, as is euphemistically often said:

Last month we attended a lovely, small blues festival in a nearby town: Terri'Thouars Blues Fest is held annually in Thouars. The 2014 gig was the tenth annual event and was excellent. We both had a blast. I was covering it for a UK blues magazine and so had full all access passes for us both. In addition, an old sort of guitarist buddy from New Jersey was booked for it, so we spent much of the time eating too much, drinking way too much and shooting the breeze together. J got roped in to doing some translation work for the local press when they came to interview a couple of US bluesmen who spoke no Froggo at all:

One of my own favourite US bands, Delta Moon, from Atlanta Georgia, also played, with a great set, much as I'd expect from an outfit of their calibre:

This shot was taken at a small venue where the amplification/sound system was sadly wanting, but they did their best in the circumstances

Toby Walker had the packed hall eating out of his hand with some great acoustic picking and a few words in local lingo scribbled in felt-tip on his inner arm phonetically. This was taken as he came off stage still pouring sweat visibly:

Other than that, we've been working - or rather, J has been working - in the garden trying to create a veggie plot where there was none and some shrubbery and fruit trees etc. A kind neighbour who runs an organic farm in the village came on a small tractor to help clear the initial plot for us, a greatly appreciated gesture:

The cats are all doing well, and have resettled into their Froggo-life happily, catching countless shrews and mice with the odd lizard and rabbit thrown in for good measure. At least they eat the rabbits though, sadly, the poor lizards are simply slaughtered and discarded for me to dispose of. I've taken to throwing them to the Hens, who of course, as always, will eat virtually anything presented to them. And they say Pigs are the most voracious; having kept both Pigs and Hens over many years, the Hens win hands down:

Ginger, who was the smallest kitten a year ago, is now a mature though incredibly affectionate and clingy sort of cat nowadays. Here he is trying to pretend he cannot be seen, hiding from both us and the sun, I expect:

Ironically today, the temps are much the same, if not higher, up in our old stomping ground in Sweden. It can be like that sometimes in Summer, as our old friend and neighbour, Hakan, might have said. We both miss Sweden a lot. It's an odd society but very beautiful and in Summer the colours etc.., are at times little short of breathtaking.

In truth, I miss it more than J; indeed, I'd sell up here and return to the North at the drop of a hat, or beret, maybe; J, on the other hand, misses it but is not so sure about returning to Scandawegia. Frankly, and I'd never have thought I'd say this, I miss it most in winter. The extra low temps, the snow , the Aurora etc., were all simply incredible. At least we have the memories, if nothing else. And.....who knows.....

For now, it may not be moonshine time but it sure is red plonk time for me. A bientot!:

Delta Moon in good form.

Springjoy.....

Weather here continues to be great, with plus-20 temps most days, and clear blue skies and sunshine. We manage to eat al fresco most days and, if eating early, the odd evening too. It's definitely the precursor to Summer, I'd say. It makes a welcome change from Winter, and being back home also a welcome change from sad old Blighty.

J spends most of her days in the garden, trying to change the overgrown field into something resembling a garden plot. Our local farmer has offered to come over and plough a potager/veg plot for us but he is waiting till the ground is harder so the tractor tyres do not rut too much. In the meantime, we will plant seedlings - yet to be bought, but abundant everywhere - in large pots and go from there.

This is the garden in its current state:

An improvement on its condition when we snuck out for a week or so in October last year. Then, we were faced with this:

Fortunately a couple of kind Brit neighbours came over to help tame the beast, so it was more like this by the time we returned to Blighty:

You just can't leave gardens alone over here. The growth is phenomenal! And the effort needed to clear it all, equally enormous.

Our Hens have settled back in nicely, producing three eggs a day; remarkable really given I was sure one of them - rescued from drowning at our above Brit neighbours place a few weeks ago - was a Cock!:

The cats are also relaxed, clearly happy to be back where the mice are plentiful:

I'm clearly getting known/accepted by the blues-press peeps and the bluesers' press and promo peeps. Most days I receive CDs in the mail, sometimes a fair number of them. All of which is fine by me. It gives me a variety to listen to and I've come across some stuff that I'd otherwise have entirely missed! So can't be bad, although Lord knows what our mail-lady/facteuse must think of it!  The stuff has a variety of start points from all over UK and Europe and the USA. Similarly, the magazine copies I receive come from far and wide. It's keeping her on her toes and in work, so the Froggo system will be pleased with my endeavours.

Sad to learn of the passing - as the old bluesmen are wont euphimistically to say - of Tony Benn today. He was a man of principle. A rare thing these days in politics!

An apt little number now from a guy from my hometown, Glasgow: the great Jim Mullen, an ex-journalist, I believe:

http://youtu.be/khsqNhzxRlo

Travellin' Man.....

Well.......a very long time since I've been here, the better part of a year.  We spent the past summer and Autumn, until January, in a tiny cottage on the banks of the River Wye in Herefordshire, our old stomping ground and an area we both know and love. However, with the rain and high water, it was a tad challenging at times, though thankfully we were high enough to avoid actual flooding:

The summer was splendid, of course, with long hot days. But, sadly, we had no garden or outside space to speak of, so found it less than desirable. Our daughter LVP's child access case has now been largely resolved, save for some tweaking which should happen soon. As a result, she has reasonable staying contact and joint residence and we also saw the grandsprog, Hamish, on numerous occasions, including Xmas, which they both spent with us. Now, however, we're back home in France, where it has also been wet, with regular rain and strong blustery winds sweeping in from the Vendeen coast.

The past few days have been decidedly Springlike here, with clear blue skies, full sun and agreeable outdoor temps. We've spent our time out in the garden trying to get some sense into it; our local farmer from whom we get organic milk straight from les vaches, has offered to come over and plough a big veggie plot for us and also to then bring over a load of organic manure. So it's all looking promising right now.

I've been writing for most of the UK blues press for the past six months or more and  I am now also involved with a French blues magazine, 'Autrement Blues/Blues&Co' that is published nearby - by fortunate chance. I'm doing mostly CD reviews for them at present and will certainly contribute other stuff in the near future. In addition, they run a small blues festival in April and a couple of very good players (Toby Walker & Delta Moon) from the USA will be there, so I've already arranged to meet up with them while they're in France. Indeed JVP had to help sort out the visa for one of them who didn't understand a word of Froggospeak.

One of the nice things about doing this is, of course, the free entry to gigs/press access etc., and loads of free CDs etc. I also met up with one of my favourite US bluesmen, whom I last met in Sweden. I had a message to pass on to him from an old friend of his in Stockholm, so it was a nice reunion;

Eric Bibb:

I also had the good fortune to cover a gig in Oxford of a band from Alabama as they passed through the UK following a festival in Spain. By chance, both JVP and I had been at university with Debbie Bond and her partner, harp/keyboards-man Rick Asherson. Debbie was guitarist in the late Johnnie Shines band until his death and then followed this up by playing backing with the late Willie King until he, too, passed on. Willie was a great laugh and a guy I also knew, admired and was invited to Alabama to play with, prior to his demise.

Debbie Bond:

I also caught up with one of the finest slide pickers on the circuit today. Iowa-based, Catfish Keith, when he played in Wales, in Abertillery:

Catfish, doing what he does best:

From Catfish to cats: the cats are all well, and happy to be home, I'd say. Jack had a fair bit of surgery back in Wales towards the end of last year but despite his age - 14 - is seemingly fairly good. We have our Hens back from the Brits who looked after them for us while we were in the UK and they, too, are fine, giving us a couple of eggs a day, which is all we really need!:

Cats in the Wye Valley, keeping out of the rain:

Well I think that covers most things, and brings it up to date. I started doing this a few years ago following a minor TIA. It gave me a sort of focus. As I'm now a bit better, I might just carry on. I'm waiting to hear if I've got the job of Editor of the main Swedish Blues Magazine. Ironically, it might mean a move back to Sweden, a place we both pine for at times, and certainly miss in many respects. Though, it must be said, not for the expensive wine! Here we buy en vrac from the local Cave which stocks mostly Loire wines in bilk, at about 2.5 Euros a litre for a very acceptable Rouge D'Anjou or a Chinon. Can't be bad - except for the liver, of course, that organ of French mystery!

I'll leave with Toby, who is playing nearby in April and has promised to show me a raggy thing he learnt from an old Delta-blues man, Eugene Powell, many years ago, a piece I particularly like. This one, however, may be more apposite:

Toby Walker plays Travellin' Riverside Blues:

Lovin' In My Baby's Eyes......

It's been ages since I was on here, partly due to BT internet problems and partly to lethargy.  We've now been here in Blighty, on the Herefordshire/Wales border for a few months. The animals have all adjusted to life on the banks of the river Wye and spend much of their time chasing, catching and crunchily eating rabbits - well the cats do. Jack naps and eats and drifts along the riverside meadows in my wake from time to time.

Sally has had a litter of four kittens, two of which have been homed and two of which returned to her only yesterday having spent the past three weeks at a friend's place in Abergavenny whilst we were off on holiday to the West Coast of USA. She has immediately resumed her role as mother and watchful mentor on their return home:

The USA was great, as usual, with the usual terminally boring flight -esp to the Pacific side. We went via Vancouver.  I had arranged to cover a bues festival in Portland, Oregon, for a couple of magazines, so had press passes etc. And as we have old friends in the town, it made for a pleasant stay.

The festival was enjoyable, set on the riverside of central Portland, with an old friend, Mary Flower, playing. It was good to catch up with her again:

Taj Mahal did a great set. The first time I've caught him live. I thought maybe he'd be a bit past his best by date. I was mistaken. A powerful presence, with a great voice:

This guy, Joe Louis Walker, was a revelation and gave a spirited set:

John Hiatt also performed well, with a new CD as his main focus, despite my dodgy photography!:

Robert Plant was also there, but far too precious to allow media/photographic access. His set was a mix of current Americana stuff and Led Zep favourites. Whether it was blues, is a moot point.

The now aging former girlfriend of Bob Dylan and last surviving family member of the Staples Family, Mavis Staples, also did a pretty good set, pausing to rest on a speaker under the relentless sun:

Old Animal, Eric Burden also gave a great performance, though my camera battery was down, so no piccies were possible. At 71, he can still belt it out and was clearly a great favourite with the crowds.

This guy should have been onstage but was just a member of the audience:

We also spent a few days in Idaho, where the temps were way too high for comfort and we stayed on a ranch belonging to our friend, Jerry's mother:

Fortunately, for my money anyway, we found a decentish curry-house in Boise. I can recommend it to any visitor in search of curry and now have a range of useful restaurants spread across the globe which I consider worth eating in.

On the return trip to Oregon, we stopped at a cowboy town, Pendleton, where everything from Winchester Rifles to lassoes and saddles could be had in the local stores, including these remarkable boots, but a few of the hundreds on offer:

J's old schoolfriend, Heather, has this valuable Beatles album, dedicated to her by John Lennon and signed by the rest of the band:

Her late mother was a Rank starlet in the late 1950s/early 1960s and met the band in their fairly early days, before she was killed in an aircrash.

We also visited another old friend of J's, who now lives near Seattle and the small town of `Port Townsend, where she has a house and cabin on the shores of `Puget Sound.

Port Townsend harbour and downtown:

Our mode of travel with 

Jerry and Heather was typically OTT American-sized. Here's a piccy with J alongside it for scale:

Portland itself is a pleasant town and known for its many downtown bridges:

Downtown Portland:

Later this week we're off to Pembrokeshire to visit LVP. Her case is now taking shape and looking promising. Indeed, if progress is made, as I expect, at the next hearing, it may well be time for us to return home to France, where an old friend, formerly living in Spain but now about 50 miles from us, is in hospital awaiting a heart bypass operation that's scheduled for tomorrow. Our thoughts are with him and his wife.

Shoulder to Shoulder......

Don't know about you but the weather here is still awful; rain, wind and more and more rain. Though they claim it's just about to change over the weekend with mid-twenties temps forecast for Sunday, sadly a day when I'll once more be travelling North to catch a ferry from Caen to Portsmouth. I only got back from Blighty, following my brother's funeral and wake, on Wednesday!  Still feeling pretty zapped, in fact.

The funeral went as well as these things do. The wake, however, was a nicely pitched, laid-back affair. Held at his old golf-club, Wentworth, it was a clear indication of how the other half live; opulent and posh to the Nth degree, in truth. Certainly not my normal stomping ground. He was a member there for over 30 years and his son, my nephew, trained as a golf pro there under Bernie Gallagher some years ago. So he was quite at home there.

Over100 people attended and most laughed and joked about their time with him, which was nice. Jimmy Greaves said his time working with him on ITV's Saint & Greavsie programme had been 'the summer' of his life. Jim Rosenthal, an ITV sports presenter was effusive in his tributes to Bob and Mick Channon was also extremely touching in his memories.  Another few TV - Sky, ITV, and Channels 4 & 5 people  - wittered for a bit, with Sir Alex Ferguson of Man United also remembering his times with my brother.  Wee Alex, as he always called him, came down specially from Manchester in a chauffeur-driven limo but was extremely down to earth, warm, friendly and chatty. I got his autograph - personalised - for an old mate in Kent who is a lifelong, rabid MU supporter. Even J chatted with him, and she's no footy fan, and our daughter, LVP, got his autograph.  He was extremely easy-going and more than happy to oblige on that front, despite the situation and circumstances.

I personally found him to be particularly friendly and chatty, not at all like his image or the way he appears on the box at times:

This is him sharing a joke with me, the scruff in crumpled linen jacket in the forefront with the coffee cup, and my sister-in-law.

At one point a guy breezed in. Obviously a Telly-type, bronzed, immaculate hair, suit, shirt etc, who I half recognised but couldn't place. Our daughter, LVP, immediately knew it to be Eamon Holmes, made a beeline for him and spent about thirty minutes chatting with him and her cousin, my niece. He, too, was apparently a nice guy.

I find it strange to think that I won't be seeing my brother ever again. I'm finding it all a bit upsetting though ironically I've no doubt he'd have loved his send-off!

There were loads of professional golfers also in attendance, some of whom made the error of assuming that I was a good player, as had been my father, brother and, now, nephew. I had to correct them on that one. 

His oldest friend from Glasgow also managed to get down and, as I remembered him well, we spent a lot of time reminiscing together, which was a delight. Some cousins from Scotland, one the recently retired Acting Chief Constable of Lothian & Borders Police, also made it to the funeral.  They, too, were impressed by Alex Ferguson's easy manner and the way that he turned to them and chatted away in a friendly way.

Now however it's back to Blighty for a while, where we've found a place near Goodrich, Ross-On Wye, and will be settled for six months or so. We'll try getting out here to France as often as possible in the interim, of course, to keep the place ticking over and to stock up on plonk at realistic and reasonable cost.  I only hope we can get internet etc sorted out over there asap! 

Death Don't Have No Mercy.....

Not been here for a long time. No internet till a few days ago when Orange - formerly France Telecom - finally decided to reconnect us after a switch of providers from useless SFR.  It took me a tortured half hour on the end of a Froggo mobile with a geeky Froggo techy guy to sort it out. Not for the feint-hearted.

J is over in Blighty, in Gloucester, while I am back here with les animeaux - Jack, Rocky, Ginge and Sal. They have now all settled together and established what seems to be a working pecking order of sorts. Jack, as oldest and noisiest top-dog, appears to be at the bottom of the list. The cats, Ginge especially, pinch his basket regularly and ignore his whinnying attempts to uproot them.  Indeed, so pissed-off with them has he become that he will even tolerate Ginge sharing his space at times. Something Charlie, still sadly missing, constantly tried for but never achieved!

Not sure that Sal is particularly impressed with the sleeping arrangements here:

Or here:

Today we had a cold start, around zero, but now bright and sunny. Positively printemps!  Yesterday we had freezing rain and the day before I woke to snow covered landscape! Certainly not normal for here at this time of year!  Last week, however, we had two crackers with temps of 17 one day followed by 18 the next! More like it, I say.

I'm off back to Engerland on Wednesday by ferry from Dieppe to Newhaven.  Jack's off to a local kennel while the cats, with a catflapper and loads of food/water etc., left out for them should be able to fend for themselves for the few days I'll be over.  Though I have a horrible feeling Sal is coming into season, so maybe I'll take her to the cattery too. I don't have time to have her spayed before I go and, anyway, I won't be around to look after her recovery adequately. So it'll have to wait till I return on the ninth or thereabouts.

Sadly, I'm going over for a family funeral: my brother has just died - the usual Glasgow disease de la couer having done for him.  He was 70 though and had a fine life, enjoying his tucker:

He was a respected telly sports producer, responsible for the Saint & Greavsie etc.,  the Big Match etc, while at LWT in the seventies and eighties. Latterly he ran Chelsea FC's telly thingy on a part-time, semi-retired basis.  The wake is being held at Wentworth Golf Club, where he was a member for over thirty years.  I know there will be loads of telly punters and pundits there and many ex-footy people.  I was at school, same class, as Kenny Dalglish and I know my bro kept in touch with him, so I'm hoping he might show up as I haven't really seen or talked to him since his late Celtic days. If not, I'll send him my best through Ian St John who still lives up in the Wirral and obviously knows him well.

I've been asked to say a few words but think I'll pass on that opportunity. I'd be a bit upset and tongue-tied, I fear - despite having been a lawyer/advocate for many years. I'll leave it to the professionals, I think. An old chronie of his, Russell Galbraith,  from his days as Sports Editor with STV, is doing the main waffle anyway.

It's been a bit usettling, his passing, as my American friends are wont to call it;  we always got on well and it feels strange to think I'll never see him again, the only person I've truly and literally known for all of my life:

I'm in the kilt. They were once all the rage, I believe. Certainly back then, in the early 1950s, I surely cut a dash in St Andrews where this shot was taken, or should I suggest, composed!

I was watching the live footy, England v San Marino last week on ITV - seldom do I watch England play but I thought there'd be goals aplenty and 'tis always a pleasure (as a Scot) to see Rooney ballsing a penalty for his national side -  when at the interval they flashed up his piccy and the commentator began wittering about his death and career with ITVsport.  It was most touching and kind of them, I felt. I know it pleased his family, widow, son and daughter. So thanks, ITV sports punters and pundits. Never thought I'd say that!

Anyway, enough of that. I've got a few gigs to attend in the UK on my return, later in April. The plan is tat I'll 'do' the funeral then return here to France, for a week or so, then once more journey oer land and sea to England for, maybe, six months, bringing the animals with me, of course. We almost bought a narrowboat for accommodation but hesitated at the very last minute. Thanks go to Carol and George on NB Rock&Roll for their help on this interesting and enviable possibility: nbrocknroll.blogspot

I've arranged tickets to catch a mad Jock steel-guitarist called Dave Acari - someone I've been hoping to catch for a while now; Show of Hands; Steve Tilston; Paul Brady. Not a bad set of artistes. I might also squeeze in the coming tour of Feast of Fiddles, as I know one of the fiddlers, Ian Cutler. He appeared in the cult film, The Wickerman, playing his fiddle for the most part.

Hardly the most subtle of players but entertaining, I'm sure. And that's what it's really all about!