Dancing till the end of fete

These old guys have far more stamina than me.

encore en fete

Bit knackered after all this...
here is Maggie being twirled by Marco last night.
Several friends took shelter from the rather loud music
and drank digestives to excess.

Today its too hot and the market and Vide Grenier
crowded - Tilling is charming and all I want to do is
sleep.

Tilling en fete # 2

After a terrific dinner with Pete and Annie,
Angus and Mary, we headed off to the square...
immediately caught by the Fecos who did the thing
with the confetti and the bra without which I feel
less of a woman. But they were on form: the band did their
melancholic tugging dirge with the doomed overtones
of glimmering joy, aaaaah; and the dancers were in some
cases doubly masked, causing my already befuddled brain
some further perplexity. I so regret forgetting the camera.

In competition with les Fécos were the remarkable band,
Calysta - I can hear their impressive bass line as I write -
frighteningly professional.

And battling with both were the noises and lights of the
fairground. Angus won a stuffed thing, possibly a cute rat,
which Mary rejected and gave to Annie who is taking it home
for the kitten Hades. Hopefully it shall be named Persephone.

Annie also sorted out why I have no electricity by hammering
at the EDF phone, long after I had given up - thank you thank
you Annie - and Lo! It seems I have not paid the bill. How to pay it,
aye, thats the next trick... I've never had a bill from them.
In the meantime the wind-up torch will light me to bed.

Tilling en fete

Tilling is under the patronage of St Micheal,
erstwhile slayer of demons.

Because his feast day is on Monday,
the weekend is given over to celebration.

Tonight in the square there is a Grand Bal with
Calysta (www.calystamusic.com) starting at
22.30.

Tomorrow, after the spectacle at 18h in the square
(ooh what will be??) there is another Grand Bal with a band
variously billed as Mister Jones or Mister John.

On Sunday the Grand Bal is with Orchestre Gerard Rouanet
and if you aren't knackered before hand you can danse from
17h the Tango, Valse, Paso and Rock.

This event is taken seriously and generally worth watching,
though it should be remembered that it always rains for St
Micheals day.

More importantly, there is a vide grenier on Sunday -


Here is a picture of St Micheal in a miniskirt absent mindedly
spearing a demon who looks uncomfortably like my dear dog.
Tillings church, which the saint graces, is named for him.

And the steps of the Mairée has the towns emblem which features
TWO St Micheals, just to be on the safe side. Possibly rowing
a little snake boat.
I've no idea what we have done to gain his protection.
Does anyone else know?

Kats first dinner

So, dear Kat; welcome to your new home and many more happy
evenings like tonight.

happy birthday Claudine

Marcel took me and Claudine to the Casino at Alet
to celebrate the birthday - Weds night they do moule frites,
beer and pud for a sum that is clearly intended to attract the
punters. And it did. Excellent.

Advance warning...

"Les Cailloux" are playing at Bistrot Au Fil de l'Eau, Fa,
on Friday 26 September. That's Stan Adler bass,
Deb Swallow vocals, Eddie Castellan rhythm guitar,
Rod Roach lead guitar. An evening of rock and soul starts 9pm.

(Thanks for the info, Eddie via Marcus - in competition with
Tillings town fete but maybe we can do everything - Actually
I can't do either, I don't think; bad planning)

Iains news...

Good news from Iain:

Just a quick note to say that I am coming to Esperaza
on 15th October but have to be back by 28th which is
a bit of a pain. I was hoping my next hospital appointment
would be at the beginning of October and I could have a
month but it is not until 13th. They are doing tests then to
see what improvement there has been after they inserted
the stent to my main artery which was apparently completely
closed. Praise be for the clever little subsidiary arteries
which took the strain. The surgeon was a bit disappointed
with the flow of blood after the insertion and doubted whether
I would feel much better, however I actually feel brilliant.
I am up and down the hills like a mountain goat.

The thought of Iain as a mountain goat is strangely
alarming: dunno why, perhaps there is the fear that he
might start playing panpipes and grow horns.

Anyway, you have been warned. Fix a date with him soon
or he'll be too busy to see you.




In the absence of a relevant picture of Iain,
here is my toothbrush. (It is part of a series
about my dressing table, all seeable at
www.frenchvanillabeer.com)

welcome to Hades

Gus got a kitten at the market yesterday morning and its name
is Hades, though debate about his choice of name is still raging.

Here he is, variously clawing Gus, posing on Marks pianists' hand,
gracefully sitting on my knee and being dangled.

Dinner to introduce him was wonderful fun and he wasn't the main
course or even pudding - that was Debs renowned crumble.

A lovely end to a lovely weekend... not done of stroke of work since
I've been back to Tilling.

spirit of place

Aint he amazing???
If you turn your head sideways you can see
where Ali and Martin took me swimming this
afternoon. Astonishing place.

great to be here in Tilling...

Got woken at 6.00 by the Redstart on my windowsill
which propelled me up the hill to catch the sunrise over the mist.

A miracle therefore that I managed to party until after 1.00
especially after a whole day in the gallery stocktaking
and vowing to retrain as someone who doesn't make things.

Marcus had ordained a show in Rennes les Bains where
artists were invited to bring a favorite piece of work or
one that had influenced them. Corella was hanging the work
as it arrived, skilled as ever, and it was still going up as I left
but I want to see the totality - its on till 7.00 Sunday night,
after which the gallery closes for the winter.
Some people - no names -bought their own work -
with perfectly legitimate reasons, natch.
('Nothing else in the house')

After that to Carmens gallery at Arts et Cardes,
Campagne-sur-Aude

(and here is Carmen, adorable comme d'hab) for
Victoria Milroy's expo - which looks marvellous.
Here she is, working the room -

Congratulations on the show, Victoria!

And finally to the reason why I'm a tad wrecked
this morning - Peters birthday party.



Clearly, Peter is a survivor. It was a great dinner.
All the usual suspects and one gatecrasher.
Bon courage, Peter, you are still a kid. In the scale of cosmic
evolution, anyway.

Harrods and the docks

Engaging sign by the old docks near Greenwich,
now not even a play area...

Harrods, however, wence
I ventured after getting fitted for proper underwear,
seemed the playground of persons beyond sanity.





Innocent victims??? Perhaps the sculptor is
being referred to, someone who had been told that
Dodi was a foot taller than Diana and that surfing
with seagulls is cool.
A fathers grief lacks the class of a major tragedy
when it has an easy platform.
Still, I guess the shoppers princess would have loved it.

*** All of which is gracelessness on my part. I tried to get
funding for a huge pyramid made of crushed, cubed cars
scratched with the names of human road deaths of living memory
which number a deal more than the last two European war deaths.
I wanted to set it in toxic land on the site of a car factory in the
estuary - a place of pilgrimage for the families. Safe to light candles
on and for the homeless to shelter in.
Number of sponsors? Ha!

Something of a rant there, probably because it is so very good to
be back in France. I shall set about being calm tomorrow.
Where is everyone, whats been going on?

news from elsewhere

When in London I saw Martin Creeds piece, work number 850 -
and watched the video of him talking about it.
So - guess the question;

'Arts just a word, y'know'
'Artists do not make art. They make stupid objects that get used
as art by human beings.'
'People like to get angry.'

He is clearly lovable. As is his work.

I was too early for the Frankie Bacon show at Tate Britain.
In Paris I was too early for the Emile Nolde at Le Grande Palais.
In Toulouse I was between hangings. As it were. Everywhere.

Nothing that was interesting to me anywhere really...
begun to wonder why those that have informed
my taste can't capitalize on it.