French + Vintage….yes please

The bleak skies, strong winds and intermittent rain had me perplexed when Mr. R, ensuring that I was warmly clothed with a brolly in hand, unexpectedly bundled me into the car one Saturday morning. Destination unknown.

As we navigated our way past beachside cafes and through the vibrant inner city precincts, the favourite haunts of this weekend flâneur were being rapidly eliminated as possible places for our journey’s end.

My mental guessing game stopped abruptly while crossing the Westgate bridge. I was flummoxed. The mystery further deepened when the car halted at the water's edge in Williamstown and Mr. R produced my camera, which he had carefully hidden.

A short walk and le voilà - a vintage French car show staged in a shipping yard. .…. shear ecstasy for a husband who loves tinkering with motors and bliss for this lover of French vintage - well almost bliss. The crowds proved to be a definite challenge for taking 'that perfect shot'! Despite this test of my patience, I was one very happy francofilly.

For more black and white photography please top by The Weekend in Black and White,  and if you appreciate images of reflections  reflections you may wish to visit Weekend Reflections. 

Making Connections & Harleys

Not only does blogging enable connections to be made between similar spirited people from around the globe, it also enables established friends to connect in new and different ways. 

Debbie is a close friend whom I often see during the week. She is a botanical artist who shares my passion for photography and the creative arts. Despite the hours spent together and our many conversations, Debbie was unaware of my love for taking pictures of bikes, (people powered, or motorised, but especially Harleys), until she read one of my recent blog posts.

Apparently her brother-in-law, a privately educated fellow who works in the

business end of town, swaps his suit for his Harley leathers to ride to and from work (Harley fanatic meets Clark Kent mode) and lives to go cruising on his beast in the weekends. 

Uncannily, I've snapped one of his Harleys when I spotted a closet of bikers parked outside a pub …..it was parked nearby this very mean machine.   

Life is full of co-incidences ………..

Bon week-end.

Man on the Ground = A Rat up a Drain Pipe

Before local friends came to our rescue.

Thank you to those of you who have contacted me for an update about the situation with our house in France. 

The renovations to My French Folly have been a farce. My Man on the Ground, an Englishman, and his "company" resemble something from a slap stick Laurel and Hardy movie, instead of the slick professional crew that they claim to be. Unfortunately I'm not laughing.

It appears that this husband and wife team exploit the fact that many overseas buyers of property in France aren't on site, can't effectively speak the language or don't understand the French building rules and regulations. Their ability to look clients in the eye and repeatedly lie without flinching, is deserving of an Academy Award. 

Embarrassingly, I am one of many people who have been taken for a ride.  After the damage was done to My French Folly at the hands of this charlatan and his wife, I read that he was taken to court, but suffered no loss for his wrong doings, as the rogue had arranged his finances so he was penniless.  Despite the court proceedings, inexplicably in a country renowned for its officialdom, this English couple are still running the same business,  flouting the law and managing to scramble up the proverbial drainpipe with well orchestrated, emotive excuses when their clients become suspicious. 

Work is now in progress. Mr R is making our 

shutters and a French stonemason (one of our 

local guardian angels) has commenced 

repairing the stone work. The new external 

stairs were a welcomed surprise when we 

arrived last summer. 

Since our renovation debacle, I have learnt a lot about siret numbers, the French building system and French law -   and my language skills relating to renovation and legal matters have improved quickly.

Stairs being rebuilt last year by one of our friends - a true French artisan.

With generous support  from the local community, we are now working with talented French artisans to rectify the myriad of problems à ma maison,  albeit slowly. 
There has been a temporary lull in my quest to make this couple of scoundrels accountable for their actions due to the unfortunate events of 2013, but the chase is not over………..

Weekend Reflections - Lac de Charmes, France

I always say that the times in my life when I've been happiest are the times when I've seen, like, a sunset. Chris Evans

SUNSET, LAC DE CHARMES, Haute Marne, France

When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator. Mahatma Gandhi

SUNSET, LAC DE CHARMES

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky. Rabindranath Tagore 

ONSET OF SUNSET LAC DE CHARMES

Lost yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, 2 golden hours, each with 60 diamond minutes. No reward is offered because they are gone forever. Horace Mann

Another weekend when I'm joining  Weekend Reflections. Drop by Jame's blog  for some visual treats.

Reflections: Chateau d'Azay - le - Rideau

Do not worry if you have built castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. David Henry Thoreau

Once again, I am joining Weekend Reflections. Click here to see the reflections of others.

CHATEAU D’AZAY-LE-RIDEAU - Loire Valley, France

While meandering through the grounds of Chateau Azay-le-Rideau, absorbing the tranquil beauty of its gardens, a reflection of this charming renaissance castle framed by foliage, came into view. 

Built between 1521 and 1523, during the reign of Francoise 1, Chateau Azay-le-Rideau is considered to be the "jewel of the French Renaissance". Its interior  is dominated by the ornately  embellished grand staircase on which the influence of Italian architecture is clearly evident. Chateau Azay-le-Rideau may be a comparatively small chateau on the Loire valley landscape, but it is definitely worth a visit.

                         Click here to view all participants of Weekend Reflections. 

Panama-mania in Provence …….Weekend Reflections

Panama-mania at my favourite provençal market.

Our Panama hats, purchased at this market hat stall in Provence, have finally gone into hibernation until our winter solstice, when they will be retrieved and whisked off to France to enjoy the summer sun. 

Although renown for creating and exporting distinctive, refined fashion since the the seventeenth century, the French also have "an eye" for spotting items of elegance, style and superb craftsmanship  from other cultures.  Fashion that is now entrenched in the French culture, such as Panama hats and bright provençal fabrics, have their origins far from the azure seas of France. 

The exhibition of the toquilla hat at the 1855 World Fair in Paris by the Frenchman Philippe Raimond, a resident of Panama, is credited for making this finely woven Ecuadorian hat - "the Panama", a chic, obligatory fashion accessory of the rich and famous. 

Click here to view all participants of Weekend Reflections. 

P.S. This is not my elbows in the mirror, but that of a person trying on a hat.  I have used a zoom and I am way off to the left of this image.

Harley-Davidson……..Weekend Reflections.

This week I'm again joining Weekend Reflections.

Weekends often see the bad-boy bikies being out numbered on our roads by the man-next-door, indulging in his Harley fantasy. Shy executives, compliant partners, responsible fathers and conservative neighbours will carefully preen then mount their dream-machines to zip along the highways and bank down winding roads, accompanied by the distinctive roar of the Harley's engine: a sound that screams "freedom", evokes envy and causes the inner rebel to surface.

Lazy Sunday afternoon on the Loire river, France

Strolling along the Loire river are some of my most treasured memories of France ….… a highly recommended past time.

Currently I'm finding it difficult to put "pen to paper"  and fingers to the keyboard. The inspiration for my post this week came from Virginia - thank you Virginia.  Please visit Virginia's addictive Paris Through My Lens  and also James' beautiful Weekend Reflections for some visual treats.

Happy Valentine's

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.     

Oscar Wilde

The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.

Blaise Pascal

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting 2 bodies.

Aristotle

My florist's thought for the week

Happy Valentine's

It's Time

A view from the terrace at My French Folly

My mind is swimming. Celebrating a significant birthday, returning to work from the summer vacation and enduring a week of searing temperatures in the early to mid forties has taken its toll. I resemble the limp, heat scorched, and now rather tatty, plants in my beloved garden. No matter the nourishment and care I self-administer to rectify the situation, my body doesn't respond.

Mr R and Sue sitting on our terrace in France
after having just arrived for our 2013 sojourn.

In spirit, I am sipping rosé on our terrace in France.

In reality I'm half a world away at my desk, swamped by paper work and daunted by my rapidly growing "must do or else" list. In 2013 my daily routine was broken and I'm finding it jolly hard to re establish - the aftermath of a difficult year.

My head is struggling to rein in my heart. My heart is urging me to change my employment profile - more time to rekindle my neglected passions. I have yet to resolve the conflict between my financial security and emotional wellbeing; however, regardless of my state flux, it has become obvious that it is time to prioritise and simplify my life ………… and improve my French. 

Looking across the village roof tops from the terrace. Absolute peace descends over the village each evening at sunset.

A francophile's dream

A francophile's dream: living on a barge moored in the heart of Paris, (in this case the 1 arrondissement), with a bicycle, on which to discover the charms of The City of Light, parked at the front door.

Inexplicably, I fell so very French when I'm in Paris ambling along the the banks of the Seine, or riding my bicycle through the verdant green hills that engulf our village.

Where is Rêve?

Like subscribers, I too have been asking this question, as has my fellow contributor, Laura. For those of you who are wondering about what has happened to Reve, Laura has now received the answer, which can be found on her inspiring blog.

Shopping in 7ar. Paris 2013

My days appear to be getting more complicated -  dealing with the escalating issues with our French house and my father's unexpected death at the hands of a drink driver (as well as working full time).  Unfortunately I fell that I can no longer be involved with Reve and I am temporarily scaling-back my presence on line until my life is back on an even keel. Watch this space...............

A bientôt.

Joie de Vivre Lost?

Searching for some French joie de vivre? Apparently so are the French according to Claudia Senick, a professor at the Paris School of Economics and the University Paris-Sorbonne. In a land renowned for its rich culture, refinement, wine and food, that also manages to provide its citizens with free education and healthcare, a 35 hour work week and a retirement of 60, it appears that all is not well......

“It has now become common knowledge that the French are much less happy and optimistic than their standard of living would predict,” says Senik, "...there seems to be something about life in France that makes people more anxious and less cheery than those in other places". 

Foreigners who manage to turn their dream of pottering around in their own quintessential French maison or chateau into a reality, are not immune from this French malaise. The longer expats live in France, apparently the more miserable they become too. 

Predictably, Senick’s research findings have been  inflammatory, sparking much debate.  Despite the statistics, omnipresent gloom hasn’t been our experience in France. One of the  reasons we instantly fell in love with this country was because of the warmth, good humour and generosity of the French. 

On a perfect Provençal summer’s morning - the air thick with the drumming of cicadas, we chanced upon this group of antique dealers who were having a jolly time, oblivious to their national malaise. After agreeing to us taking their photograph, they beckoned us to join their train……. There was a lot of French joie de vivre to be had on this day………

Senik’s data has been interpreted differently by Orion Jones. Jones suggests "It may be the language of happiness that eludes the French rather than the underlying condition. Unhappiness, after all, often implies the desire for change—in circumstances, or even in oneself—and so dissatisfaction with life despite its material benefits suggests a kind of idealism—of intellectual vision of possibilities beyond the actual..."  

So have the French lost their joie de vivre?  I’ll let you be the judge...........