POLES APART: A ramble about life in the frozen northern fringe of Europe, the warm, wine-soaked West of France and the soft southern hills of Andalucia.
Weather remains firmly Spring-like here. Thankfully. Mostly dry, sunny but with decidedly cold blasts of wind from the West coastal Vendee/La Rochelle region. La Rochelle itself is a delightful town, very Froggo, with lovely harbours, typical Froggo buildings and a generally pleasant ambience. It can be pretty crowded at times in hot, steamy summer days and is popular as a holiday place with both the French and the Brits, who flock there to the endless caravan/camp sites that proliferate around the Vendeean coast. It also has an EasyJet/Ryanair Summer-only airport nearby which pulls in the punters in Spring and Summer.
Our village is itself a very quiet affair with no passing or through traffic and only about 50 residents. There is a positive feeling of timelessness about it, I find, particularly in early evenings as I wander from home to farm and back for milk as the sun sets. This is centrum:
The typical spaghetti of French village power lines etc., have now been removed and channeled underground. Currently, we have had over six-months of continual roadworks through the place with cables underground, new drainage and water pipes followed by the present tarting up of the place with new fancy kerbstones and surfacing everywhere. No doubt it will be a huge improvement when completed. Theoretically this is due on March 20th but I have my doubts.
J is off to UK this afternoon flying out of Poitiers airport to Stansted, a few days in London then on to Pembrokeshire to see the daughter, LVP etc. She has about ten days over in Blighty before her return and we have a guest list press pass (for both - a friend will go in my stead) to catch a Nashvillian musician who has a gig in London. J will go along, collect a Promo/ CD from her, take some piccies and I'll get some stuff out and about about her in due course. Hannah Aldridge - no relation to Brian, Jennifer or Kate - is one of the upcoming Nashville, modern-country/Americana turks. She sure has a great voice:
Now I must be off, to get J to the airport in plenty of time. A bien tot!
Another week done gone by. Today is positively Spring-like; bright blue skies, sunshine - with warmth in it - and birds fluttering around. I took Golly for a long walk just after noon and disturbed a pair of Ravens busily renovating an old nest high in an ancient Oak tree. And so, even if I might be optimistic, the darn birds are unlikely to get it wrong.
I've listened out in the hope of hearing our old feathered friends The Common Crane passing overhead en-route to Scandinavia on their Spring migration, but have heard nothing. We are quite close to their normal overhead migratory channels, so remain hopeful. In addition, there's a significant lake site nearby which I'd think is perfect for a resting/refuelling overnight spot. I know they have Avocet, Spoonbill and many other species there, so would expect the Cranes, or Grues, as they're known here - Trana, in Sweden - to possibly benefit from the site. It's a nature reserve with hides etc provided, so almost perfect. They used to arrive in numbers, with an incredible cacophony, (genuinely extraordinary noise) in Sweden around us in lateish March/April for the nesting season.
Cranes in field below house, Sweden. (Not a good piccy)
As it's almost March, I'd also expect the old Hoopoe/Hups (here in Froggoland) to arrive in the near future. We have a pair that nest in woodland surrounding the house/garden. Always a pleasure to hear their call and see them pecking in the garden:
A few evenings ago we were invited out to the local FM Radio station for a pre-blues festival show that was going out live/en direct. The show ran for five hours. We turned up, as suggested, within minutes of it kicking off and were ushered into the studio with a mic in front of us. Everyone was already pretty pissed. A good bottle of Glenmorangie was almost empty and the wine was flowing freely. What could we do? We had to help out with a fair few glasses from a local, Loire Chateau and polish off the Scotch. I found myself suddenly, and for no discernible reason, being asked for my thoughts on a variety of subjects including the previous blues festival of 2014 and to explain the meaning of guitar finger-picking - in French. I managed to largely avoid the questions where possible and restricted myself to single-word responses, even using English on occasion. By the time we left the gang were pretty well smashed and still had hours of live broadcasting ahead of them. We drove home and listened to the show for much of the evening as it steadily became increasingly riotous and raucous.
I started this blogging lark shortly after having a, fortunately minor, stroke. It gave me a routine back then, in Sweden, and J was able to see what was going on as she was working at the time in Midwifery in St Mary's, Paddington, working - as an NHS employee - on the private unit, The Lindo, much favoured by stars/celebs/ royalty: Diana gave birth to he two Princes there and the trend continues with the latest crop from William & whatsername. Having moved around a fair bit, Spain, Sweden and now France, I find things rather staid and pedestrian (almost normal if you get my drift) here, after Sweden with its extremes. But we have pitched up in a remarkably welcoming and friendly village. With only about 50 souls, there is a genuine warmth to the locals who have been incredibly warm and welcoming to us. Of course, it helps that J is fluent in the lingo, but they try to include me too.
Just before Xmas I was rushed off into a local hospital as an emergency surgical admission. The villagers rallied around J with offers of help etc. Very heartening, to say the least. And when I was discharged after about two weeks as an inpatient, they again were astonishingly considerate etc, calling to visit me and enquiring after my health. Indeed, they still do from time to time. It would be difficult to single out any one person but without doubt our near neighbours, the farming couple who run a large organic farm on the village edge, were and always have been exceptionally warm and friendly. I trundle down to the farm every few days to buy our 'raw'/unpasturised organic milk by the litre as the cows are literally being milked. The charge is a mere 60 centimes a litre. Which can't be bad.
The village from one of the many farm tracks where we walk ourselves and the dogs.
J spent most of today working out in the garden, prepping things for the next round of planting. She had a good day but as the temp is dropping has decided to call it a day. As will I. It is now wine o'clock, after all.
The garden in full bloom - if that's the word - last summer. The bottom wall is festooned with plums, blackberries - always a pest to contain - and vines.
Easily the better part of a year since I posted anything on here. Time whizzes by, it seems. Old Jack, our much loved cocker, passed a few days before the end of 2014. He was almost fifteen, near blind, deaf and was having problems generally. We had him to the local vet a fair few times and he'd survived surgery but never fully seemed to recover. No real surprise, I guess. Each time at the vet, we expected he'd reached the end and she'd say 'Non'! And he teetered on. He slipped away lying asleep in front of a roaring open log fire. A fine end, I reckon and one that saved us all the trauma and distress of a veterinary end! We miss him. He was a wonderful old fella.
A few weeks before his end, we collected another young (18 months) cocker anglais from a Froggo refuge. He had been bred by an elevage/breeder as a stud dog but didn't take to the work, it seems. As a result he was left in an outdoor cage for over six months before being released by the refuge. He's still very nervous at times but is steadily improving on a daily basis. His Froggo name was 'Goliath' - a less appropriate moniker would be hard to find. Initially he refused to walk and had to be carried in and out for pees etc. To overcome this problem, we took on yet another similar cocker from another refuge, an eight year old dog known as Benito. Benny soon got Golly (as we've renamed the pair) off his butt and out and about. So things are improving for both dogs.
Charlie, my all-time favourite cat from Sweden has never returned or been found. Although we now have three others, including his old Spanish buddy, Rocky' - and two from another refuge, Sally and Ginge - I still miss him. He was virtually impossible at times but for me he just had something special about him that I loved.
The veg garden/potager proved to be immensely successful last year. We had huge crops of cucumber; melons; peppers; strawberries; broccoli; onions; pots; toms; lettuce; aubergines; courgettes; beans (French and Runner); Cauli; Garlic etc. Over winter we've had, and still have, Sprouts; Cabbage; Brocc; Cauli; Leeks. It's mostly under manure now, and as Spring seems to have just about arrived, will need turned in and prepped for another season. A job for J. I do only grass-cutting. Our freezers are still groaning under the amounts of stuff from last year, but it's all very handy. We have mountains of plums in the bushes/trees surrounding the garden, both Victorias and Greengages, always a favourite, so have loads of jam. The Pear, Apple and Cherry trees planted seem to have survived and in a few years should literally be fruitful. Ditto the Black & Red currants and Rasps. I plan to plant a Peach tree in a few weeks time, when the ground has warmed up a bit more. They grow prolifically hereabouts.
It's an odd thought but having listed this crop I can't help recalling the limits of what could be produced in Sweden: Carrots; Peas; Cucs & Toms ( both of the latter Greenhoused); Apples and Berries of all kinds. Here we seem to have difficulties with Peas - of all things - and have yet to try Carrots, a project for this year perhaps.
Our daughter, LVP, is still having problems over contact etc with her son/the grandsprog, despite the conclusion of proceedings last year. His father remains a total A**hole and is constantly obstructive. J is going over to UK and Wales to see her in early May and hopefully some progress will again be possible. We've suggested Hamish comes out here for a holiday at our expense this summer during school hols but the father is far from supportive of the idea, although Hamish has had many hols with us in Sweden, France and Spain over the years without issue. We will see what can be arranged!
I'm now writing reviews/features etc., for countless music titles across the English speaking areas of three continents from USA; Canada; UK; and some in other tongues) France; Germany; Netherlands; Sweden (of course!); and Australia. I receive literally hundreds of CDs for review and Passes for events all over the place. I was in Glasgow recently covering a great music festival, Celtic Connections for a couple of titles. A great fest, I hooked up with both friends and family while also meeting-up with a number of performers including a couple of my personal favourites from the Nashville country/Americana machine, Rodney Crowell and Tim O'Brien, the latter always a genuinely lovely, decent, friendly sort of guy. Nest month is a Froggo fest nearby which should also be great followed by another in Denmark, at Tonder, that I've fancied for many years. With Passes arranged for these, and others, it should keep me occupied for a bit.
Well, that's enough for now. Time to get the mutts out for a walk in the sunshine. A bientot.
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!:
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:
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:
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.
