Finally it's happening.

Patience is the ability to idle your motor, when you feel like stripping your gears. Barbara Jones

As many of you realise, my patience has been sorely tested since purchasing My French Folly in 2010.

Beware of him that is slow to anger; for when it is long coming, it is the stronger when it comes, and the longer kept. Abused patience turns to fury.   Frances Quarles

And I have certainly expressed my fury to my Man on the Ground during the last 6 months. But at long-last, it's finally happening - work has begun in earnest on our house in France. The dirt floor is no more, plumbing pipes can be seen and the plastering of some of the walls has commenced. 
Unfortunately the the old clos lit and adjoining cupboard are no longer - the base of each support and panel were severley rotted so they collapsed when the fragments of the remaining floor were taken up.


The placiste remarked on what a great house this once was.  He  found several points of interest that belie its current condition.  Some excellent sections of wallpaper have been retrieved as well as parts of a 1920's newspaper. I requested that any salvageable materials from the house be recycled in order to maintain the character of the building and contain the costs. So and I was relieved, and some what surprised, to receive a photo of one of the doors in the house that has been rehung in the kitchen as the door to the pantry. 

More to come.................... I hope. Not thrilled at the thought of camping in the garden when we arrive in France!

Historical or Hysterical?

A quick dash into the city by train, to one of my absolute favourite shops, Il Papiro, was undertaken last weekend to purchase some gifts for a friend’s significant birthday. 

On the return journey, just as the train was about to depart from the CBD, a quietly spoken family (father, mother and 2 young children) joined the empty carriage in 

Brighton Bathing boxes

which I was seated. The map in the mother’s hand and snippets of conversation suggested that they were country residents en route to see the Brighton bathing boxes. As the train made its way out of the CBD, the father confidently pointed out the city’s landmarks to his children. 

Along the train line, one can occasionally catch a glimpse of graffiti-art juxtaposed with what can only be described as ugly acts of vandalism executed with spray cans. “ Some of that graffiti is historical now”, proclaimed the father. “What’s historical? inquired his young son. “Well, it’s like when the Romans invaded bits of Europe”, explained the father in a less self-assured tone.

A 5 second silence followed, then a little voice said, “So when did the Romans come here?”  No reply. The conversation was skilfully diverted to the previous evening’s football game. As the train approached my station I stood at the door to hear a child inquiring, “Do we still have another holiday to go this year or is this the only one?”  The train door closed behind me. 

Next stop - Brighton Beach. 

Foreground: Brighton Beach bathing boxes. Background: Melbourne CBD

Autumn or Spring?

Autumn in the garden always has me busy pruning and fertilising in preparation for the colder months and the growth bursts of the following Spring. Our garden rakes and broom are frequently in hand, removing the bright tapestry of leaves that regularly blankets our front path - courtesy of a rampant Boston ivy.  

Withered brown autumnal cast-offs from the deciduous trees that have survived the prolonged droughts of summers past, form decaying mounds that become dangerously slippery if they’re not removed regularly. 

In the rear garden the vegetable plots lay fallow while being replenished by manure and recycled kitchen scraps that have been turned into nutrient-rich brews – a product of the frenetically active our composting worms. 

Despite the cold and wet conditions which now dominate our weather patterns, my mind frequently turns to visions of spring as I read about the gardening activities of northern hemisphere friends........

garden beds in bloom, 

plant nurseries  full of seedlings and potted plants in various stages of development, patiently waiting for a new home.

And what is happening growing and blooming in our garden in France this spring?  If only I knew....................

I'm Not Alone!

A reassuring cartoon appeared in the  Sunday magazine yesterday, 29 April, which mirrored my sentiments  in my most recent blog - I'm not alone. It seems from the supportive emails and comments which I've received last week, that my temporary malaise is not uncommon - a consequence of being over-committed .........with just a touch of middle- age thrown in! Just need to get a balance between what I have to do and what I want to do..........easier said than done. 

Bonne semaine.

Ignorance is Bliss?

It is said that “ignorance is bliss”, to which I can attest. From a person who, since aged 9, used to religiously devour the daily newspaper from front to back, I’ve become a selective reader of the arts, epicure, travel and occasionally the financial sections only. Being confronted daily by reports of grim events over which I have no control is emotionally demanding. And then there’ s the question of where the truth lies. As a firm believer in the multiplicative effect of the power of one, I feel that I’m shirking my civic responsibilities by adopting the ostrich principle when it comes to the news and current affairs, but I feel much happier and more content for it.


However, ignorance has definitely not resulted in a state of bliss when I overlooked the faint tick, ticking of my constant companion, M. Laptop. Unfortunately he ceased to function – permanently – last week; hard drive full and body parts, worn out from overwork. I first noticed his malaise when he was slow to boot up, but it was too late.  Tick…… tick…… gone.

Currently there appears to be some parallels between my life and that of my laptop. My hard-drive is jam-packed – full of facts, useless information, names and faces. I’m certain that its functional storage capacity has been trimmed over the years by intermittent bursts of cortisol. Mid-conversation a word can temporarily take flight . Names, once my forte, are now my “Achilles heel”.

An aching back, clicking joints, an impaired knee, (a skiing injury), and the odd problem with my gastrointestinal tract suggest to me that my body parts are tiring too. Is my dysfunction a temporary condition of modern day living or am I heading the way of my laptop? Better listen carefully for some tick….. tick …… ticking.

When I took this image I was in a state of utter bliss.
I experience the same emotions each time I visit this magical location in Switzerland.

Undergarments

Currently, I seem to have the choice of one of only 2 undergarments.

Time to take stock and prioritize as the demands on my time compound. My French Folly has been an exercise in faith - some may even say stupidity - which has morphed into a nightmare. It's time to turn my back on "my corner of France" and get on with the more pressing demands that command my attention at work and on the family and friends front. I am reducing my time at the computer over the next few months, hoping that my chums in the blog world will understand my temporary blogging hiatus. I love to read your wonderful posts and get enormous pleasure from receiving your comments so please be patient and stay tuned.

Symbols .........

New life kindles feelings of expectation, hope and often forgiveness. A time to "wipe the slate clean" and start anew. Rabbits, hares and eggs, are fertility symbols from antiquity, which herald the coming of new life - for obvious reasons.

“Symbols influence the nature and development of social organization and the growth of culture.”  This is certainly evident at this time of year.

For over 2500 years painted eggs have been given to celebrate the arrival of Spring......and in my case, an expanding waistline during this Period of Chocolate Temptation. For many, religious or not,  eggs have become a symbol of Easter. 

Courtesy Zimbo

In France, the gift of chocolate bells signifies the return of their ringing in churches on Easter Sunday, after having been silenced on the day before Easter Friday in acknowledgement of Christ's death. Children believe that the bells temporarily exit France to visit the Pope. 
The significance of The Cross and The Star of David are universally understood.

Courtesy, Cats and Quilts

The bible has about 15 references to lilies - the Lily of the Valley is seen by many as a symbol Christ.

The sending of “coded messages” through flowers and specific floral arrangements (Tussie-Mussies) were often used in the Victorian era.


In contemporary times, there is a whole industry devoted to logos, because of the power these symbols have assumed.


So keeping with this theme her are some Easter wishes for you ........................

Water Lily flower is symbolic of rebirth, but in addition to its religious meaning, the lotus is also a symbol of all that is true, good and beautiful, representing good fortune, peace and enlightenment. A lotus represents life in general. 

Lavender: Devotion

Camellia: admiration, perfection, good luck gift to a man. 

Dark pink rose: appreciation........ gratitude........ thank you.

Poppy (red): pleasure....... consolation

Sunflowers: warmth......happiness......adoration......longevity.

A whole tree of olive branches to wish you peace.

May the true spirit of Easter touch us all.

House in France: cortisol levels - dangerously high.

Emotions are like a piece of elastic, if they're repetitively over stretched they become fatigued and break. No dramatic "snap", just one tired, limp piece of useless material. Replacement of the spent elastic takes time - if one can be bothered.

 A cottage of the Dordogne (our first trip to France) 

My emotional elastic needs replacement - not due to circumstance beyond my control but circumstance of my making, so please, no sympathy. 

As many already know a renovation company, with offices in France and England, have had the keys to My French Folly for over 14 months, and despite repeated promises and payment, the house remains untouched. But hope finally appeared on the horizon during January this year, when Man of Action was employed by the aforementioned company to work on notre maison. Quotes were received, the budget range provided by the company was grossly exceeded, new quotes were in the process of being negotiated then silence from France -  yet again. Emails went unanswered.

Suspicions were aroused as this was the behaviour of the renovation company owners, not of their employee, Man of Action. After some sleuthing, I unearthed Man of Action's private email, only to learn that he was no longer working for the company  on a part time basis as he had accepted full time employment elsewhere..................

Back to square one. Cortisol levels - dangerously high! Je pense que je suis dans le caca! Time to get out my photographs and employ some positive visualization meditation techniques..............The trouble is that it is difficult to banish two specific pictures which repeatedly creep into my head...........me  drawing water from our well and perched on top of a commode.  Merde!

Currently there is not enough "industrie" happening at My French Folly.

Liquid Gold

Google*

In our parched continent, water is gold.

Despite the calendar advancing to autumn in the southern hemisphere, the garden has been so dry this week that the soil became hydrophobic. 

In one drop of water are found all the secrets of all the oceans. ~ Kahil Gibran

Water is life's mater and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water.

~ Albert Szent-Gyorgyi

Last Wednesday, I surrendered to the unseasonal heat and watered the plants, mesmerized by the jeweled water droplets - clinging to the grass; rolling over the desiccated earth; finding a place to nestle in the leaves of  hardy succulents ……… The simple things in life can give so much pleasure while infusing us with gratitude.

Our bodies are moulded rivers. ~  Novalis   

Google* If you are the owner of this image, please contact me so I can acknowledge your work.

My Mobile Secret Garden

My niece and I share this secret.

This secret garden travels with me.  So old, that the house has long since abandoned it. So quite, that I can hear my heart beat. In summer it exudes a unique, sweet fragrance that placates the nostrils. A vision that defines tranquility. 

Across the adjacent field of bright Derwent greens lies a deserted, weather-beaten shepherd's hut that continues to be serenaded by the discordant sounds of cowbells.

My piece of paradise lays hidden in the Swiss Alps. It's exact location? .........That's my secret

A Secret Garden

If there were a secret garden,

What would it comprise?

Fragrant flowers, a babbling brook, butterflies?

Dragonflies, birds, and bees, there would be all of these.

But most of all, within ‘that place’,

Tranquil peace and serenity await;

Ever there for me and you to relax and renew.

So every morning before you start,

Visit the ‘secret garden’ of your heart.

 By Linda Wall Hall

It is really this green!

Ma Vie Française

We spent an idyllic few
weeks one summer at this 
home in Provence.

My French Life continues to be manic - like an amusement park ride that you willingly take, with great excitement and anticipation only to realise that despite all the promise that it offered before you strapped yourself into the seat, it is not quite what you imagined. 

After a few circuits of the course your emotions are stretched to the point that just you want to stop the ride, but of course you can't until the whole unpleasant journey ends….. in its own time. The more exciting sections of the voyage are eclipsed by its treacherous twists and turns. Your stomach becomes knotted.  Berating yourself for electing to take and pay for this unpleasant experience, silent words are said in hope that the journey instantly halts and you survive it with your dignity intact.

After seemingly forever,  the ride is over.  You walk away grateful for being “in one piece” ………. then a little voice in your head  declares.......... "that wasn't so terrible after all, I think I’ll do it again next year"!

The view from the pool house across to Bonnieux.

When it comes to renovating My French Folly, I'm at the stage of rebuking my myself, with knots in my stomach, wishing for the journey to finish tout de suite ……… with ma maison française et moi, intact and functional. I can confidently say that I won't be  taking this ride again.

My vision has morphed into a French farce in the hands of the U.K. company which is supposedly managing the project. 

Reports from France  last week spoke of action and promise. This week - nothing.

Breakfasts were eaten on the terrace.......... very slowly.

Today is the first of March and I depart for France in June.  My man on the ground in Burgundy has had the house keys for 14 months, and the house still resembles those of its birth date – 1750. Living like an 18^th century woman is just not me.

It's at times like this that I seek solace perusing my photos of France ..........dreaming of places at which I have stayed ..........  imagining the scents of summer filling my nostrils and the fruits of le terroir satiating my appetite. Thank goodness for dreams…..

A few months after we left this beautiful home it was used as a film set.

Eliza Interiors & Design: Giveaway - Vintage Ribbons & Sparkle

Jo from  Eliza Interiors & Design is celebrating her 500th hit on her Eliza Interiors & Design business page by offering generous Giveaways...........creative items made with love from vintage materials. 


Visit Eliza Interiors & Design: Giveaway: Vintage Ribbons & Sparkle:  for details.

Work, Life and My French Folly....update

Courtsey of Warrenski, flikr

I've started the day by eating a box of Lindt linor chocolate truffles - not an auspicious pastime. My visions of regaining my svelte figure are rapidly fading as the pressures of work increase and my work-life balance starts to resemble the letter "L". All work (professional and domestic), no life - the lot of a working mother and wife. I am trying to redress this imbalance, but with little success.
My professional commitments demand that I complete of work during the weekend and on weeknights. And dealing with the public always has unexpected hazards.

I go through phases of employing cleaners who initially manage to impress, but invariably start to take short cuts after gaining my confidence.

The local ironing lady - who will probably be sainted by the ladies of Brighton - insists on using spray starch, which causes members of my family to develop rashes - quite antisocial en masse.

My Scottish heritage prevents me from paying $40 plus per hour for a gardener. Besides, I love getting my hands in the dirt and psychologically don't want to relinquish this task - my green meditation. But it does add to my "to do" list.

A ceiling in My French Folly.

Then there're the renovations of My French Folly to attend to - a self-imposed pressure that has been amplified beyond my expectations by employing (and paying) a project manager who confuses fiction with fact and has a propensity to "go to ground" for months on end. I am constantly amazed by his creative excuses and absolute gall. However, for the first time since purchasing the house in France there is a glimmer of hope that we may be able to be in residence this June, albeit with the work unfinished. I am no longer dealing with the project manager but his newly appointed offsider - a man of action! Within 2 weeks an army of artisans has produced quotes for the renovation work. When they can actually start to put their skills into action has yet to be determined, but at least something is happening at our much neglected maison française.

This unexpected, but long awaited activity has me dreaming of France - with eyes closed and open - decorating rooms that I have yet to see, with copper pots, exquisite pieces of furniture and other authentic French items that I've picked up - for pittance - from brocantes in quaint villages and antique shops that I happen to chance upon while roaming the French countryside. If only dreams (shamefully, quite  selfish) came true............