It's that time of year again

I'm in a bit of a stunned state this morning as a giant collection of plastic plant pots have just fallen on my head during my efforts to uncover some of the bigger ones. I now wish I had taken a bit more time to stack them in size order and not just hurl them on to the gardening shelves in the basement. In fact sorting out these shelves is on the todo list. Still, back to the subject in hand (daft phrase).

Today will see all the indoor plants (and we have many of them) celebrate as they are promoted to the next size plant pot, given a good feed and topped up with new soil. I even wipe all their leaves clean of the dust (what dust? aren't you a dust-free zone FF? ...). Some of these repottings are a real chore because a couple of them are vast plants and it really is a two-person job (but I prefer to struggle on alone, ah me).

Yesterday saw my birthday plant go from its original state into a cropped version for outdoors. I know it is lazy of me, but I have often talked about saving gifted plants and have never done so. I hope that this birthday azalea flowers for all my future birthdays.I bought a bag of porous granules yesterday which are meant to help with the drainage. I had to give an ironic laugh when I translated the packaging, as I read they were from volcanic sources (yes, there must be a lot of volcanic sources around atm*)


*apparently buffalo mozzarella is being given away in parts of Italy as it is unable to be flown to restaurants world-wide.

Me versus the toilet

Whilst Mr FF is spending a couple of days in Paris getting acquainted with his office and his team, ready to start there for real on 4th January, I've come up against my first hurdle. Every house has at least a couple of things that are not as straightforward as they should be. One of our little problems can be the toilets.

First of all you have to realise that I am the least handy person in the world. I can't wire a plug, change a fuse, put up a shelf - all that sort of thing is a mystery to me. I grew up in the sixties and girls were not then taught woodwork,electrical and plumbing basics or how to wield a hammer; on the other hand I am a good cook and can run a home quite well - who says gender sterotyping is a waste of time?

Back to the toilet - for the last couple of years both the upstairs and downstairs loo have developed an intermittent problem. They keep flushing and left unattended would just go on for hours and we would have the most horrendous water bill. Most times a couple of presses of the knob is all that it takes to make it stop. Occasionally this fails to work and Mr FF removes the top and fiddles about in the wet bit with all the levers and knobs - this does the job. My biggest worry about Mr FF being away is that the toilet will perform its major problem - yes, this did happen yesterday evening.

I only had a moment of mild panic before I eventually unscrewed the silver screw on top, lifted off the cistern lid and tried to scrabble around to re-attach the left side lever that had come adrift. I couldn't find what to hook it on to though - I tried all sorts of variations and the wretched thing refused to click into place. I did however press everything else that was inside and pressable and lo and behold I got the flushing to stop. So, the downstairs loo is now out of action but at least there isn't the sound of the perpetual pump in the background.

So I guess in my first household challenge I got around 6/10 - I solved part of the problem but didn't resolve it to my satisfaction.

Must do better

Odds and ends

These photos have nothing to do with my post but I just wanted to show you how an unwanted bathroom can be successfully transformed into a little library. We used to have our bookshelves up in the bedrooms because the downstairs rooms were not big enough to take them all; once we decided however that a quiet book room was more important than both being able to have a bath or shower in separate places, it was but a short step. Yes, I couldn't think of what photo to use today - you are quite right. Anyway...

I'm feeling a little better after just two sessions of physiotherapy. The first involved a back massage with lavender oil followed by a very hot pomade placed on the sorest parts of my back. It was so very hot that I thought I would not be able to bear it for long, but it grew to be comforting and I could almost feel it going through to inside my body and healing me (I know - uber-imaginative here). I could hardly wait for my next session, hoping it would be more of the same; however it turned out to be electrodes placed all around the back of my hips. They pulsed away for about 25 minutes and it felt like nothing was really going on. The next day though was the first day in about two months that I got out of bed without clutching my back and giving an old lady groan. So -with 18 more sessions to go - things are looking much more optimistic for me. I wonder what tomorrow's visit will produce.

My OU course in Creative Writing has begun and every day I am meant to do what are called Freewrites. Just as a pianist will warm up with scales, so a potential writer (although all us bloggers are writers per se but you know what I mean)will find it beneficial to sit down for ten minutes and write anything that comes into their head. Just scribble away on a sheet of paper and wait for the words to come tumbling out. It is quite astonishing what comes to mind and things buried away that have not been thought about or seemingly remembered for years suddenly emerge. It's early days for the course but my group seem like a good bunch (other expats in Europe), we have a good tutor who has written for the BBC and I'm in the zone, shall we say.

Our flea problem is in the past which doesn't mean that there are none about outside. It's very humid here at the moment and fleas are everywhere. The bichons are now on a flea prevention programme called Stronghold (remember in my earlier post where I moaned about Frontline not working any more). Judging from the number of people who have found my blog through putting something like Frontline doesn't work any more into Google, there must be lots of dog owners who have discovered the same thing - that since Frontline was relicensed to enable pet shops to sell it (it was previously only available through the vets), it has been made weaker. I found this out through extensive online searching of lab tests - and I spent a couple of hours reading the lab results for Stronghold. Those poor dogs used for testing are given 50 female and 50 male fleas who have not eaten in 24 hrs - imagine how many bites these poor lab dogs get. As someone normally opposed to animal testing, I feel very grateful that these poor beagles have suffered so that my two little bichons can be safe with the product. For anyone about to flame me re my views on testing - remember that thalidomide tested with perfect results on monkeys.

Baubles and trinkets and keepsakes

A few years ago we had a fabulous holiday in New York and one of the highlights was spending not enough time at the Metropolitan. Out of everything there - and trust me you would never see everything even in a a month (I suppose if you were on blades you could whizz by but that doesn't count) - my favourite section was dedicated to Tiffany. These super works surrounded a garden area where you could relax and be quiet and just get lost in all these beautiful panels of glass. My favourite was Oyster Bay and that is the glass tile that I then bought at the gift shop and which is now on the top shelf of our smaller display cabinet.
I've always liked collecting bits and pieces and for a while went through a phase of collecting hand-painted Victorian glass. I would go to oh so many antique fairs trying to find colours I didn't have and unusual styles and here is a memo to anyone about to break up with someone. Take the things you have bought with care and love out of the room before your other half decides to take them first (and my Dinky car collection- with boxes!) . Anyway, as you can see from this next picture there is still a fair bit left and what prompted me to write this post was Fhina's recent post about disposing of one's assets. The Limoges punchbowl and ladle (top left) and the Limoges coffee cups (bottom left) were given to me by a friend of my mother's who wanted to give her things away before she died and not have people squabble about them. This friend had an antique shop in the Lanes in Brighton and she only ever bought superb pieces. Both the Limoges items she gave me are very collectable but I would never sell them.The two pairs of vases on the top shelf in the next photo were my father's pride and joy (it's him I get this urge for buying beautiful things from; my mum's purchases of pleasure were clothes and shoes - oops, guilty again). I was never allowed to touch these special vases when I was young and the cabinet they were in (which I now have as our drinks cabinet - see photo after this one) was always locked but the key was visible but out of reach to little me. My mum used to grumble at my dad about locking things away and once, when he was out, she unlocked the cabinet and took out one of the larger vases to show me the beautiful figure on it. I don't know how it happened but it fell and the vase smashed in two and I can still remember the moment as if it had happened this morning. My dad never shouted- it wasn't his way - he would do silent anger and sulks, my mum was the shouter (as I am) , but I can remember my dad shouting and I ran away and left home (for ten minutes). He got an expert restorer to repair the vase but I learnt an important lesson that day - either keep very valuable things in the bank or lock them in a cabinet in a room and keep the key on you at all times - don't just leave it in the lock.
This next cabinet is the one the vases used to be in. My dad used to also like art deco furniture and this piece came with a matching tallboy which, unfortunately, he had to sell when he moved out of his large London flat. The cabinet is in the dining room because being brown and traditional it suits the look of the room. The previous cabinets are modern white ash ones and suit the living room.
In about 30 years time I will invite the younger family members (most of whom I hardly know) and Mr FF's family to come and choose the items they would like to have. I hate to think of people squabbling over these things that my parents and I in turn loved. Far better to give them away whilst I am still alive, to hopefully see that these lovely things will be in good hands. Of course the downside means that we will have bare shelves but in my retirement home overlooking the coastline of Brittany, will it really matter?

Three-part post

PART ONE
We went to a boat flea market (nautical puce in French) today so that Mr FF could buy some rowlocks (which he tells me are pronounced to rhyme with the slang word for testicles, but being a land lubber this is news to me). There were none to be found but it was still very nice to wander around the marina and look at all the boats we couldn't afford even if they had been for sale.

I'd set my heart on having moules frites (mussels and chips) for lunch, to try and break myself in gently and eat them at a restaurant before trying my hand at Dumdad's recent recipe, but unfortunately they did not seem to be on the menu anywhere around boat land. There were lots of places with huitres (oysters) but, just as I have never tried mussels, I have also never tried oysters. It's the look of those slimy little creatures that puts me off.

We came across two little shops each with a trompe l'oeil (literally trick of the eye) painting on them.

In this one below you would never know that the man was actually a painted figure.

PART TWO
Even though there are various places in the house I could park myself when I study or mess about on here - including a basement office with my work pc - I always end up in here, the dining room. It looks out to our lovely view and, having never really liked a traditional room with lots of brown wood, this is in fact what the dining room contains and I love it. In the corner is my dear old dad's art deco bureau and cabinet and it's not easy to see but there are stained glass tulips in the panels above - yes, your eyes probably didn't stir higher than the bottles of drink. Despite the array they are hardly ever opened - My tipple of choice is the local cheap champagne (I have a wine allergy) and Mr FF prefers a good bordeaux.

I couldn't have a miscellaneous post without a shot of the bichons and this is one in which they look like two-headed dog, albeit Poppy with her bucket on could never really pass as half of a pushmepullyou.


PART THREE
Finally, two lovely bloggers recently gave me an award - the first is from the afore-mentioned Dumdad

and the second is from marc in Canada



I can't recall if there if there is something you have to do to get these awards but, in any case, I don't tag people anymore so, if you would like to take either image then I am sure you deserve it.

Went too mad with the loppers

This was how the front garden looked in August of last year. I won't show you how it looks now. I went a bit too mad with the loppers last week and pruned everything down to almost ground level. Mr FF attacked the passion flower that covered some of the front wall and now it is barely visible. In short the front garden is almost naked except for all the little hyacinths just coming into flower and a few purple hellebores.

Lopping and chopping is very satisfying whilst you are doing it - but then you have to live with a bare garden. If only you could press a back arrow and reverse time. I then would have read one of my gardening books before such a hard-pruning session and discovered that I shouldn't have cut the shrubs so low.

Bin Love

I've blogged before about how I am not the most efficient cleaner in the world and that sometimes Mr FF just grabs all the cleaning stuff and does a blitz around the house. I keep things tidy, after all I'm not a slobby type - it's just that I don't clean in the little corners of things that I have trouble reaching or the top of picture frames. A sunny day will always make me think about cleaning the windows, but why does it have to be so often? Why don't they stay clean for longer? Well, one of the reasons that our balcony doors are smeared all the time are those pesky greedy little flying scavengers blue tits. They are so used to the fat balls being laid out for them that if I miss a day they decide to remind me by hopping up and down against the balcony doors.

Now we've established that I am quite slow in maintaining due orderliness and sparkality, what possessed me to buy a new kitchen bin that has to be cleaned every time I put something into it. It's only the pushy stainless steel bit that has to be cleaned but it does smear each and every time I actually put something against it. It now has its own dedicated cleaning cloth hanging on the door handle beside it. In fact each time I use it - about ten times daily I reckon - I feel like one of those fifties housewives, always seen with a feather duster in their hand, only mine is an e-cloth because I'm a millenium home manager.

tagged

I was very recently tagged by the lovely mama to pick the fourth photo in the fourth folder on my little notepad and talk about it.


Well the fourth folder is Our House and the fifth (reason below) picture turns out to be what we see when we look out of our living room balcony doors during the summer months. I'd taken the picture that day because the day before we had had the awning installed - we're south-facing and until that was put up high summer was really difficult in the main room. We'd have the balcony doors open and in the heat of the midday sun would sometimes be forced to shut the shutters, making it look like a blackout in there. This awning solved the problem nicely though. The morning that the photo had been taken I'd gone out to buy some cafe society furniture to complete the look and of course, being a house in Brittany, the geraniums on the balcony are standard for most houses in our region. Having said that, this photo (taken in July 2007) shows the last lot of geraniums I've ever planted sur le balcon. Last summer I went for a softer look, using lots of floaty pastel plants and I'll do so again this year.Actually we were so pleased with the look of the awning that a week later we decided to change the balcony doors to two clear glass doors that open completely flat against the wall inside the room (called portes Anglaises funnily enough, because of opening inwards), but that is the ninth photo in the stream.

Why didn't I use the fourth photo? I used the fifth because I had in fact already used the fourth about 18 months ago (but here it is again, just to keep the tag correct)


As this is a tag I've got to select four of you to do the same. So - following these rules:

Go to your 4th photo folder on your computer.
*
Post the 4th photo from that folder.
*
Explain the photo.
*
Tag 4 fellow bloggers to join in the fun -

I'm going to pick
Lulu Labonne
jenny smith
Lane
cheshire wife