Living and Gardening in Brittany

Sometimes I think about going back to UK. The main reason I stay is because of my garden which was a field when I arrived seven year ago. And the view of course. Where in England could I afford to buy a place like this (see photo above). Yesterday I worked in the garden until I could hardly stand. I often do. Sometimes because I need to get certain jobs done before the rain. Sarah says once it starts it doesn't know when to stop. Sometimes because I can't stop. Gardening has become my number one reason for living. Seriously. When I am out there nothing is too difficult although I have to admit it is getting harder as I get older. But that is what I mean about energy being funny stuff. I can barely walk up stairs and I detest housework with a fervor but when I am in the garden I move from job to job and want to stay out there all day everyday. When I come into the house I can barely stand. The thought of cooking a meal is abhorrent (I hate cooking too) yet I would happily...

I can't remember whether I have written about Jubbil in this blog. If not then it is a foolish oversight which I must correct. Jumelage Breton Bilangue is an organisation of which I am the English secretary. MEMO write more later. The aim is for English and French people to share cultures and language.  Briefly I wanted to resign but the president wants to meet me next weekend to persuade me to continue and to plan the future of the association. I have set up the first meeting on November 11th 2010 for a Writing Group. I am really looking forward to it. I forgot to mention that I attended a writing workshop a couple of weeks ago. There had been a book launch by a woman who had just self-published a book called 'The Eight of Cups'. Unfortunately I missed it because I was in UK. But I managed the workshop. It was interesting (See other blog Wise Wild Women Write) . This gave me a platform from which to launch a new writing group.

I spent a full day in the garden on Saturday which gave me great satisfaction. On Sunday I went with friends to Collinée to a superb concert. The first half was an opera singer with pianist. We sat two rows from the front so found it amazing. The first few arias made me cry.  I have the programme and will enter it at a later date because I want to remember it. The second half was advertised as an 80 strong Harmonie which was in fact a Concert Band. It reminded me of when I played in the West End Concert Band in Crewe. That was one of the happiest and saddest times of my life.

So now I have mixed up these two blogs. This one is supposed to be about my life in Brittany and the other one is about writing. AND whyI am messing about with blogs when I really want to get to writing my novel?

I have just found out how to access an old blog from this one. I have more old blogs than I can  remember. I lost most of them when I threw my laptop through the attic window. But just by accident I clicked on the words old blog and there it was. So how can I link it clearly and easily. May be on my profile?

Old Blog The following is an exercise from Vanda Inman's website.Are any of us really free? What is freedom? What do we mean when we talk about freedom? Do we mean freedom from hunger or violence or poverty or work or worry or even ----Years ago I escaped from a violent marriage and I worked for years to free myself from poverty in old age. Now the question is what do I do with this so called freedom?I even have time to choose how to spend my time each day. But am I happy? What do you think?I agonise about my comfort. I look at the rest of the war-torn world and feel guilty. Then I agonise about what I can do about it. Do I send money to good causes, do I offer to help in a charity shop, do I offer my services as a volunteer in an old peoples home, am I too old for voluntary work overseas? Haven't I earned a peaceful retirement? Too many questions and no answers.Then reality strikes and my past catches up with me. I get a phone call from the adoption organisation who have news...

I said that there was no free lunch and for me the fee is small. The meal lasts for five or more hours. This is difficult for an Englishwoman who is more comfortable in an armchair than on a dining room chair.  My neighbours never seem to sit in an easy chair. Whenever I am invited for aperitifs (it's never drinks without food even if only nibbles) we sit at the table. We may begin at the kitchen table. I am often asked to move to 'the other room' which is furnished with a dining room table. I have noticed armchairs, but they all appear to be unused. Even the T.V. is wall mounted near the table. I assume it is watched while sitting at the table. So here 'c'est normal' to sit at table for five hours. When I first moved to Brittany, I went to the village meals to meet local people, to be part of the community and to practice my French. I tried to avoid getting into a ghetto of English people. I found it was too easy to spend all my time speaking English. Now I ...

So they say that there's no such thing as a free lunch. Every year here in Mérillac the council organise a meal for the over 60's on the electoral roll. Other people are invited but they have to pay. It follows the format of all the village meals with a few exceptions. The council sit at the top table rather like the bride and groom with the best man and bridesmaids at a wedding. Claud Ogier is the village animateur. President of the 'Old folks Club' and deputy Mayor gives him ample opportunities to perform this roll. He officiates at most 'do's. He wears a hand mike like an extention of his arm. We are all welcomed of course. Then the 80 year olds are invited to stand to receive our congratultions and applause. Claud relinquishes the mike for the mayor to deliver his round up of the year. We stand for a minutes silence for the deceased members and then the newcomers are invited to join him on the stage. A micro-mini history of each one is delivered - place...

I love the subtle colours of this aquilegia Pink Poppies Abundance  The Princess and the Frog Poppies worth Painting

On my return from UK I rushed out to plant new trees and bushes and flowers and to cut the very long grass. Too long in fact.  It was also very wet so the mower stopped and refused to struggle on. I took it to be repaired, returned home and got out my electric strimmer. It too went on strike. I went back to the shop and bought a petrol strimmer. I cut as much as I physically could of the longest grass and planted some of my new additions. I couldn't wait to get the repaired mower back. I was delighted to find that it was still under guarantee. I was so excited. I was happier than if I'd bought a new car. What is it about gardening?  For years I rejoiced in the fact that I had no garden and now it has become my life. I have now cut the whole field and the three lawns and planted everything I brought back from England. I worked until I could hardly stand and had to forgo the Fest Noz and was almost too tired to eat.  But tomorrow there is a meal in ...

After spending some time in UK dealing with problems I returned to Brittany on the overnight ferry. It is always a pleasure watching the sunrise as the boat moves into the port. As I drive home on the empty roads, bliss, after the nightmare of the UKs traffic jams I play the game - spot the telltale signs of being in France. 1) Man peeing at roadside. (score 10 points) 2) Boy on bike with baguette under arm. (5 points) 3) Woman with pram/pushchair with 2 baguettes. (5 points) 4) Group of old men leaning on walking sticks outside bar all with baguettes under arms. (10 points) 5) Very large tractor with trailer moving at dead slow for miles on narrow road with endless bends.  But it is so good to be home.

10:13 AM Music and Dance in Brittany 　 The first time I experienced Breton dance was before I came to live here and I was staying in the Auberge de Jeunesse (Youth Hostel) in Rennes. There was a celebration by the side of the canal. A stage had been erected for the musicians and there was a bonfire waiting to be light at sunset with a firework display planned on the far side of the canal. I enjoyed the first group playing for the dancers and then as they left the stage and two young women took their place I felt disappointed as I thought that the dancing had ended. Then the two young women put their arms around each other and began to sing and the dancers recommenced. Since then I have learnt that instrumental players are not necessary for Breton dancing. Often even at large events singers are used to provide the music. Sometimes a pair of singers, and sometimes a group of 5/6/7 make exciting music for the dancers. There is a group called Les Chanteurs de Loudia who have collected o...