The English Armchair Abroad

A Midsummer Night's Dream

What a joy.  We were given two tickets for the Footsbarn Production of A Midsummer Night's Dream and it was fantastic.  It was part of the Festival d'Anjou which takes place annually during June and early July.  Footsbarn is a small English theatre company that travels around Europe and they have a base in the Auvergne.  However, the actors are from all over the place:  English, French, South African, Japanese and probably others.  You can find out more about them here (Apologies - the Click for Full Details on the picture doesn't have a link)

 

I haven't seen Midsummer Night's Dream for years.  I remember we had to do it at school when I was 11 and I was Oberon - my best friend was very upset because she was the Wall!  So not the best introduction then!  But on Wednesday it was wonderful.  Donkey's head was HUGE.  Lots of bawdiness - but not making enough to make it unsuitable for the youngsters in the audience - and just a tiny amount in French which added enormously to the humour of the play within the play.

 

Buzzing Brits

When we first came to France my sister lived an hour north of us and as the road to the ferry port when directly past her front door I used to see her quite regularly.  Sadly, she and her family moved to Ireland and thanks to a new motorway we no longer had any need to take the "old" road.  Which is a shame because driving through La Sarthe is particularly beautiful at this time of year.

Last night I received a telephone call from someone who had a problem with a swarm of bees that had decided his attic was the most perfect des res for bees.  Or more particularly between the roof and the plaster board.  Could I try and help?  Well, of course I'll do anything to get more honey bees and off I went this morning all prepared.  I knew they would be inaccessible and I was going to leave a bait hive in his garden.  This is a small nucleus hive with frames inside but also a little closed tube of pheromone - dead sexy and irresistible to bees!

 Long story short - they weren't honey bees at all but (I think) carpenter bees and of no use to me.  It's always a risk that people mix up different types of bees;  sometimes (as in this case) they just don't know or realise there's a difference...a bee's a bee's a bee;  and sometimes they just hope you'll get rid of whatever it is for them anyway (which I won't!) as it saves them the cost of calling out the pompiers.  He asked me what a honey bee looked like and as I find it very difficult to put that sort of thing into words I suggested we look around his garden as they would be sure to be out collecting nector - except in his lovely big garden he only had about three plants and they weren't the bees' favourites.  Oh well;  I can't live without flowers in the garden but I guess it takes all sorts.

But I wasn't too miffed at the wasted journey.  He lived just off the road which I used to take to my sister and just passed the most beautiful part - a sort of wooded valley.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing and all was good with the world!

Out of the mouths of (19 year old) babes...

My son is currently taking a Gap Year before going to Exeter University in September.  He's a bright lad - he won a scholarship at 13 so we could almost say gifted.  But that's in maths.

At the moment he's earning some money for his next lot of travels by working for a Silver Service Agency in London and taking the opportunity to stay with his Grandmother.  The other day the agency called him to say he had a job in Hyde Park on Friday night and to be there at whatever time.  They told him fairly precisely what the job was but, being H and being young, he didn't really take it all in.

Before he went out Granny asked him where the job was and what it was for.  This, with a little (but not much) license was his reply:

"Some bloke from South Africa is celebrating his 90th birthday in Hyde Park.  There's a pop concert too - wish I could do that for my birthday."

  

Well, of course, Granny, being 81 and slightly more worldly wise, realised immediately what the occasion was and although time was short thought a quick lesson on the history of Nelson Mandela would be appropriate!

Beautiful Cards from Polly

A little while ago my friend Polly from Polly's Peri-wrinkles & Piercings ran a competition which I won!  The prize was some of her home-made cards and yesterday they arrived.  They are beautiful.

I will get my camera organised and try and take some photos of the ones she sent me but in the meantime have a look at her Etsy Shop (Vinca) where she sells them.  My favourite happens to be on sale there right now and I've taken the liberty of using the photo from the shop:

This is not the best photo but you can just see the embossed dogs.  I love it!

Incidentally, all the cards came with envelopes and individually wrapped in plastic see-through envelopes.  They really are lovelly - take a look!

The HAJ

Please don't think that I've been idle during the month of June.  Certainly my mind has been on tennis and with so many matches last week I decided to work mornings only - what a  luxury!  It was a good week to do this as the weather has been just gorgeous and a quick siesta in the haj is a wonderful way to pass 20 minutes!

The haj is a bonus for me.  I have a skin condition with a wonderful spelling test of a name (Porokeratosis) which basically means that I  should not expose my skin to the sun except under  a minimum of factor 50.  I don't know how many of you wear F50 but it leaves a horrible stickly feeling on your skin - oh and it's greasy so playing tennis with this stuff is a slippery affair!  Anyway, I'm used to the horrible blotches on my arms and legs - I'm frequently asked if I've been attacked by mosquitoes - but all the same F50 is applied even if I go out in the car,  If you want to read more about it, click the link above.  My advice to anyone with fair skin - wear the suncream to excess! 

This is not ours but is a good picture of a haj.  I don't sell them but if you are interested, contact me and I'll send you the supplier's information.  And for scrabble fans it's a REALLY useful word!

Top British Seed Out of Tennis Tournament!

Oh well!  That's life.  I had "my" week last week and this time I was forced to hand over to my team captain.  We had a good match and I wasn't ashamed of my 5-7, 3-6 defeat although I would have liked a third set.   I couldn't have lost to a nicer person and I hope she goes on to retain her title.  She certainly deserves to.

I make no excuses for being out played.  She's better than me.  We both suffered from the heat (28 degrees and NO shade) and it was a relief when the match was over from that point of view. 

It's interesting though.  When I play someone I usually find something to dislike about them and that gives me an additional reason to really need to beat them.  But when I play against Muriel it's very difficult - no, impossible - to find anything to dislike.  She's just too nice!  However, the gloves are off for our next match (we are both hoping to enter another locallish tournament) as she admitted afterwards that she was fighting for France and therefore up against, not me, but England!   So now I know.  Before we face each other again I will have to get her round for a "friendly" supper where she is quietly fed the history of Waterloo, Ypres, Agincourt and Trafalgar!  Beef Wellington will be on the menu!

Now, back to Wimbledon.

Forget Wimbledon: English Tennis is alive and well in Pays de la Loire!

On Sunday I won a tennis tournament!!!  Admittedly, this was the final of the 4eme serie which is about as low down the scale as you can get but - and this is the bit that I like! - I played against six people who all have a ranking MUCH higher than mine (although my ranking will go up as a result).  The tournament organisers have now decided that it is an international event as there were four English players (me, my husband, my son and a friend of ours so not that diverse really!).

The point of this isn't only that I want to blow my own trumpet but that tennis in France is so much more accessible than in England.  In 1980 Yannick Noah (remember him with the hair??) won the Roland Garros (French Open) and as a result tennis was democratised here.  It was no longer a sport reserved for the rich but open to everyone.  Tennis courts were built in villages all over the country, paid for by the commune.  My village has less than 2,000 inhabitants, but we have two good outdoor courts as well as access to the sports hall which we share with the basketball, the badminton and also the firemen who use it for fitness training on Friday nights.  Access to the courts is free if you are a member of the club or three euros if you are not.

Not all villages with a court have a tennis club but obviously those that do are more dynamic than those that don't.  Joining is not expensive (less than 100 euros for a couple) and your membership means that you have a tennis license from the FFT (Federation Francaise de Tennis) that allows you to enter competitions all over France and indeed Europe if you so wish.  Once you've played in a couple of tournaments you are given an official FFT ranking which starts at 30/5 and moves up in the 4eme serie to 30/1.  If you are good enough you move up into the 3eme serie where the rankings start at 15/5 and go up to 15/1.  After that I'm not sure but I don't think I'll ever need to know! 

Our village has a tournament (we are just entering the second week) and during the fortnight there are BBQ's on the two Sundays and the "club house" is allowed to sell wine and beer as well as soft drinks so people come along each evening to watch the matches and socialise.

Does all this have an effect on French tennis generally?  It must do.  Not everyone wants to play obviously and children (boys especially) still seem to prefer football but the point is tennis courts are available to all and children do start young.  The winner of the 3eme serie last week was only 13 years old!  She beat a (very cross) woman of 45ish as well as plenty of younger women on the way.  In the Roland Garros  this year there were about ten French players who were still playing in the second week - how many English players will be left at Wimbledon in the second week?  Do we have ten British players at Wimbledon?

In the meantime, please wish me luck.  My next match in the Morannes tournament is on Thursday evening when I will be playing my team captain for a place in the semi-finals.  I'll let you know  how I get on.

Petrol vapour explodes

About five years ago a friend of ours was nearly killed.  He had gone to the local supermarket to buy fuel for his garden tractor and put the jerry can of petrol in the passenger well of the car instead of the boot.  On the way home he lit a cigarette.  BOOM!  BIG time BOOM! 

He survived the initial boom but the fire was so severe that within seconds it had melted the seat belt and he was unable to undo this to escape the car.  He had to wait, with one side of his clothes on fire, until the belt had melted through and he was finally able to get out of the car.  He was found within minutes and an ambulance was called. 

In brief, he survived but with multiple appalling burns all down one side of his body, although mercifully the scars on his face are only visible if you know they are there.  However, his was badly affected psychologically, his business closed, he had to sell his home and it is only now that he is gradually getting his life back together, thanks in large part to the wonderful support of his wife and his children.  I should add that the accident took place two days after his daughter's wedding.

And the point of this?  I don't smoke and I'm not a chemistry expert but even I know that petrol vapour is one of the most dangerous things to have around a naked flame.  Most people have something that requires them to store petrol in a jerry can (lawn mower, tractor, strimmer, hedge cutter, tractor) and this means buying it at the pump and transporting it home. 

The other day I was waiting in line for fuel and the man in front of me was filling a jerry can with petrol.  He then very solemnly took it around to the front of the car and put it in the passenger well before driving off.  I couldn't believe it.

So please, whether you smoke or not, PLEASE put your jerry can in the boot of your car.  It won't necessarily stop it exploding but it will give you an extra second or two to escape the inferno.

Lecture over.  Have a great day!

Is this our OWL?

In a previous post back in May I showed you a photo of some owls that had been born in our attic.  Yesterday morning we went out of the kitchen and suddenly noticed this looking down at us from the Mirabelle tree:

The photo is not brilliant as I had to progress very slowly!  I really did not want to scare him/her off - although actually the owl stayed and seemed quite unbothered even when I was almost underneath it.  It flew off a bit later, happily leaving the mirabelles which are just turning ripe.  S/he would have been less of a friend if those had gone!

Ants - the world beneath our feet

My youngest son has been fascinated by insects of all sorts since a young age but in the past two years this has become more specific.  He is becoming a veritable ant specialist.  He can quote the latin names of ants in the same way as the rest of us do our multiplication tables.

Since I started blogging I've been teased ruthlessly about all things blog:  the blog itself (who's going to read it?);  my posts (boooring); attempts to make money blogging (pay YOU to blog?  Der).  I think that is about to change though as youngest son himself has just discovered the world of blogging!

You are invited - encouraged even - to take a look at A Small World
If you were to leave a comment he'd be delighted!

The annoying thing is he set this up all on his own (I, of course, needed endless help from oldest son!) and it looks a whole load better than mine!