184. Après moi, le déluge

2nd May 2012. It looks like the weather has finally turned warm and dry again here. In common with much of the rest of western Europe we've been deluged with water here for the last hundred years / well, since Christmas anyway / last month (delete as applicable) and, with the sun up and running, the garden has belatedly started a growth frenzy.

The map (right) shows the average annual precipitation across France. The isolines on this map are called isohyets. Each isohyet connects places that receive equal average annual precipitation. Each band of color indicates places that fall into a range of 100 millimeters of precipitation. Red areas on this map, such as Chamonix and Biarritz, receive more than 1,300 millimeters of precipitation each year. Purple areas, such as Marseilles and the southern tip of Corsica, receive between 400 and 500 millimeters of precipitation each year.. 

I have to mention the lawn here - I know I'm going to regret saying this but at last it's starting to look reasonable with no bare patches. We've tried a number of different types of grass seed before landing on the one that seems to be working best - Gazon Rustique Sud. This is a coarser bladed grass of the type that seems to flourish in the US - hopefully it will resist the baking summer heat better than its predecessors.. And if anyone else out there has been plagued with birds pecking the life out of their garden then I can highly recommend dangling some old CDs in strategic places. I was slightly sceptical about this old trick but since I hung about half a dozen up a week or two ago, the garden has been bird-free - which is a pity as I like having birds around - but, for some unknown reason, they'd been pecking the bejasus out of the lawn.. Tip: Des O'Connor CDs seems to work best!

This cartoon reminded me of the frustration I felt 6 months ago after my PC had a major meltdown due to a virus that I inadvertently let in.. PCs have become such a necessary part of our daily lives as we turn to them more and more - accessing news from all parts of the globe, managing our finances online, linking up with friends via a webcam on Skype and a thousand other things we never dreamed of. Consequently when our PCs have a hiccough, the impact is felt immediately and across a whole range of our activities. This cartoon sums up the feelings I had the last time it happened.  

It's a long time since I've featured a slide guitar here so here goes - it's from that underrated little film "Crossroads":

6th May 2012. Yesterday evening at ~5pm the new SNCF bridge being built to replace the 152 year old structure in the background - built by Gustave Eiffel (yes, him!) - collapsed into the Adour. Full story here. (English  translation here) (Slideshow here)

Bridge in Troubled Water

The Sous-Préfet of Bayonne has been quick to act - for safety reasons, he has closed the river to traffic. That means, for the immediate future, that my former club - Société Nautique de Bayonne - will not be able to row upstream from their position just a few metres downstream of the two bridges and, secondly, rail traffic has been forbidden to cross the old Eiffel bridge just a few metres away.

The two rowing clubs in Bayonne (Société Nautique de Bayonne and Aviron Bayonnais) have co-existed in an uncomfortable relationship since Aviron Bayonnais (my club) was formed in 1904 by a breakaway faction of members from the Société Nautique following the expulsion of an individual for irregular Ugandan discussions (ahem!), perhaps more befitting the former head of the IMF! As the more turbulent waters of the Adour downstream from the Société Nautique don't consistently lend themselves to rowing, the Société Nautique might elect instead to row on 'our' river, the Nive. Who knows, it could even lead to a thawing of the relationship and perhaps a rapprochement between the two clubs. 

99. Wet wet wet

22nd November 2010. More rain today. There's a tale of living in Italy in the paper today.. This classic anecdote caught my eye:

"Daniela and I were reporting the theft of her handbag at the local police station when the officer hunched over his old Olivetti asked if he could change the time of the crime to 10.40 pm rather than 10.30 because the number three key wasn’t working on his typewriter."

23rd November 2010. Yet more rain. Went to the local hairdressers where I combine a 6 weekly haircut with the opportunity to mangle the French language with A****y! Still raining when I came out..

24th November 2010. And yet more wet stuff.

I'm not much interested in pop music but every now and again I hear something on the radio that I realise has been haunting me for a decade (or three) and after a spot of inspired Googling, I usually find it. This 1980 track by the Korgis is a prime example:

 I once read that our musical tastes are set to whatever was a hit when we were 17.  So think back to what was around musically when you were 17 and tell me I'm wrong.  Early Beatles do it for me - that's all I'm saying!

     

25th November 2010. Thunder & shivering pooch & more rain during the night..

Lunch or dinner (or both!) at the Tour d'Argent in Paris with its unsurpassable views has long been an ambition for us. Duck is the speciality there and they have a legendary wine cellar. I spotted the following clip in today's Guardian to give you a taste.. (might be the closest I'll ever get!)

More information about La Tour d'Argent here.. but the description of how the famous caneton is prepared might/will put you off. It refers to the method of killing as strangulation - which implies a slow death - as opposed to the traditional wringing its neck method which I believe to be instantaneous.

Not somewhere I'd have chosen to dine alone either.. but I suppose that comes with the territory when you're a food critic (and your expenses will only cover a solo dinner). Also, I'm sufficiently 'Old School' to have worn a tie. I'm no fuddy-duddy but out of respect for my environment I would have worn one. I'm surprised that the maitre d' didn't lend him one - but then, we're talking about a Guardian journalist ..!

I'd not heard of Dehillerin, the kitchen supplier that he mentions early in the clip.. when in Paris, we normally come here to look at kitchen paraphernalia.  

(PS. I'll be glad when someone can make a film about Paris/France without an accordion in the background..)

Another deluge as we speak.. torrential rain audible through the double glazing. And I can't believe Christmas is only one month away. Happy Thanksgiving to any American readers..!

26th November 2010. Last night was enlivened by the sound of rain again.. at one point it sounded as if the house was moving slowly through a car wash.. (I know - "Good for the garden") It's crystal clear why lawns flourish in the UK - it has a mild climate, free from excessively scorching summers or seasonal deluges of rain that respectively burn the grass and then drown it. Just a gentle summer heat and a constant sprinkling of rain throughout the year to encourage its steady growth. I'm reminded of the apocryphal story of a visitor at Hampton Court who asked the gardener there the secret of the velvet lawns. He replied, "Roll it and cut it... roll it and cut it. For 400 years."

I've been able to get out of the house with the dawg in between rain showers but while the sky's black I look at a few other blogs (confessions of a sad owld git!) and there's a phrase that repeats itself across several of them.. namely "How to survive in France" - as though living in a Western European country equates somehow to living in the Mato Grosso or a time-share in Somalia, North Yemen or Baghdad. A day's travel from the nearest Waitrose.. eek! 

27th November 2010. No prizes for guessing what the weather is doing this morning.. yes, it's another downpour. That means no rowing for me. If it starts to rain during an outing - OK - but to go out in a deluge means a couple of hours of rowing soaking wet which, believe me, is less than fun.

Today sees the last of all but one of the autumn rugby internationals. If, as seems likely, they're played in wet conditions, we aren't going to see much in the way of running rugby with ball in hand. It starts this afternoon with Italy v Fiji, followed by England's heavyweight clash with the Springboks, then Scotland will be looking to continue their winning form against Samoa, then a huge game for a struggling Wales v the seemingly unstoppable All Blacks before finishing up this evening with France v Australia - a game in which Australia will definitely want to re-discover their form. Ireland face Argentina tomorrow.

Now I'm off to coat my undersides with some anti-rust compound..

28. It never rains but it..

5th November 2009. I’ve been confined to barracks for a couple of days – last Tuesday the rhumatologue administered the final injection (last of three) of 'gunge' into my knees to act as a cushion in the joints. After my knees have stabilised, I’ll then have to see a physio for some “re-education” as they call it (sounds a bit Maoist). Rowing looks to be ‘off’ for the foreseeable future – it will probably be around Christmas before I can start again.

The Indian summer we’ve been enjoying up last weekend has suddenly segued into a week of most un-English rain. Fortunately, window shutters here in the South West are solid wood – they’re not the effete louvred jobbies beloved of impressionist painters – and, as always, there’s a very good reason why.

The Vieux Port, Biarritz taking a pounding.

Here, rain doesn’t manifest itself as a gentle drizzle that lasts most of the day, or as dancing showers that spatter the windows for a few minutes and puts a short-lived shine on the pavements. No, rain “à la Pays Basque” sweeps in directly from Ye Famouf Olde Baye of Bifcay (Purveyor of Torrential Downpourf to SW France fince Time Immemorial). Rain that, if it were any heavier, would be solid water. Rain that seems malevolent and blows in visible sheets that hit the ground and bounce back up again. Rain that drums in rising crescendos against the roof, walls and shutters, swept in by wailing winds that buffet and swirl around the house, rattling the tightly fastened shutters as if searching for the weak point.

Approaching storm at Anglet

Last night was a particularly bad night I’m told. While I was deep in my usual 3am coma-like oblivion, apparently the world as we know it was ending just the other side of our shutters and Madame feared for the house. This phenomenon probably explains why hanging baskets are rarely if ever seen here.. they'd be blown away in one of these storms.

Here's a clip of the breakers smashing in to the rocks at Biarritz..

I've come to realise that France is greatly more politicised than England. French politics exert a huge influence on daily life here. The complete politicisation of French society surprised me when I first noticed it and it continues to surprise me. Politics are everywhere and just about everything on the radar seems to have a political dimension.

In England, the Royal Family is available to act as a distraction for the media but here in France, with no Royal family, the media in all its forms has the government of the day's actions under permanent microscopic daily scrutiny. Every argument has 2 opposing elements – Left & Right – and the airwaves are awash with programmes with political journalists arguing and chewing over every action by the government. Journalists of the Left and Right try to tease an anti- or a pro-government spin respectively from daily events. The apparatus of the State is visibly politicised to a degree unknown in England – although maybe in England it is there but it’s less intrusive. The power of the State cascades down through a formal system of Prefets, sous-Prefets and mayors - all the way down to idle wasters.. like me.

And so we sign off on this rain-sodden dank grey day with this uplifting reminder of the 1950s:

And if I'm not mistaken, I reckon the chicken giving its all for Pathe News is a poulet de Bresse - ze Rolls-Royce of chickens, at least here in France.