Seize the Moment

As anyone who knows me will tell you I am the sort who plans their days well in advance. However today I was caught out, Marion had gone to York and I had planned to have a lazy afternoon reading. The best-laid plans came to naught. This was all because of misplaced enthusiasm on my part. We had completed weeding and flattening part of our front garden. I was deputed to order the decorative stones to place on the flattened piece. In a well-planned way I was going to do this in plenty of time, as there is normally a lead-time of at least a week. So I place my order and as I am driving to the next shop to purchase some safety shoes (really an exciting day that I have) the builder’s merchant rang to say that they would deliver the stones in the afternoon, yes this afternoon.

Now as I had planned to have a lazy day I had undertaken a particularly strenuous session at the gym this morning. I certainly would not have done that with such alacrity if I had known that I was to carry large volumes of stones from a builders bag to their final resting place. It was really hard work and when I finished around 7pm my body really ached. This was not what I had planned at all. I suppose though that it was the opposite of deferred gratification. I would have had to shift the stones, only next week, now I have the pleasure of having completed a job early.

It is a lesson for me that sometimes planning does not work and that you have to go with the flow. That taking opportunities as they come along is intensely satisfying and less stressful. I am now do not have this job hanging over me and instead of reminding me that the job needs doing Marion is full of praise.

So from this small moment I say cease the moment!  

A Summer Ritual

On the first weekend in July we start a three-week summer ritual that lasts for three weeks. We first started this ritual some twenty years ago. We follow the Tour de France through the hour-long highlights programme that is shown every night on UK television.

I do not know why we first started; it was probably because we were interested in the scenery. Even then we had travelled to France a lot so could regal the television with shouts of “we’ve been there”. Back in those days we were fairly ignorant of the finer details of the sport. We certainly did not know our peleton from laterne rouge. Gradually through the very informed commentaries on first Channel 4 and now ITV 4 we gained in knowledge.

I look back on those first years of watching realising now as to how naive we were. This was of course the era of mass drug taking cumulating in the exposure of Lance Armstrong. Almost right to the end Marion could not reconcile a cancer survivor taking performance-enhancing drugs. We wanted to believe that Marco Pantani was a special talent. Alas the sport always disappointed us.

However we persisted and probably now enjoy it more than ever, perhaps it is because of the increase British involvement. Little did we think all those years ago that we would see not one but two British winners of the Tour. Also we are always trying to spot our daughter and her husband as they watch the tour in northern Europe, unfortunately comments like we are on Section 2 of the cobbles are simply too vague for coverage motoring along at in excess of 40 kilometres per hour. We never spot them, perhaps they should wear distinctive costumes.

Lastly there was the privilege of watching and supporting the Tour live when it came to Yorkshire in 2014. This was great on so many levels, on the macro scale for the benefits that it brought to the local economy. On a personal note for the great day out we had in a field in the Yorkshire Dales waiting for the Tour to pass.

So for the next few weeks our evenings take on a ritualistic air, around 8pm we always watch our recording of the day’s highlights. But to do that successfully we have to avoid knowing the day’s result. So that means no looking at news websites after 2pm, or tuning into rolling news programmes. Sometimes we just make a mistake, you know the day is just not the same.

There was no second half

As my readers know from previous blogs on the Friday evening after arriving back from holiday we went to the West Yorkshire Playhouse to see a production of Little Voice. We were looking forward to this as the play had received excellent reviews, and Marion had enjoyed the film.

We usually go to the theatre with our friends Sylvia and Ian, with whom we have seen many plays of many different genres. It usually transpires that I am a dissenting voice, often failing to see the merit in plays that the other three have riotously enjoyed.

So at during the first interval I thought that it would be best if I held back my slightly negative views. Not so Marion and Sylvia. They thought that the play was awful, citing its lack of pace; one-dimensional acting and crude humour aimed at stereotypes. They were vitriolic!

These were sentiments that I agreed with, but I thought that it was poor for more fundamental reasons; it neither entertained nor had a serious point to make. It was a sponge that took you in and spat you out again with no change.

So rather than eat an ice cream at the interval there was a serious discussion as to whether we should return for the second half. Everybody was unanimous; it was time to go, so we had an earlier night than we anticipated.

I have never before not seen a play or a film through to its conclusion, but I think that as I get older I believe that there is no point in compromising just for that sake of appearances or because you have paid anyway.

Unfortunately my readers you cannot see this masterpiece in Leeds as it’s run ended last Saturday. I would have like to have some contrarian views to have started a debate. Of course it could have been that we were just tired after our return from holiday.

Back Home

A few problems with writing blogs over the last few days, firstly on the ferry there was no Wi-Fi, then on the day we returned we went to the theatre (more about that in a future blog), while yesterday we visited Thomas and the grandchildren and did not get back until almost midnight. I hope that I will more than make up for it over the next few days.

It was quite late before we left the bed and breakfast on Thursday morning in the small Marne village of Oyes. I wanted to visit the memorial to the First Battle of the Marne in the First World War. It is an imposing pinky/grey column built on a small rise that was a focal point of the battle close by Oyes. I found the site very moving, as it was possible to see graphically the landscape over which the battle was fought. This was a watershed battle as it was the last one in modern European warfare where the battle was directed by general overlooking a battlefield. If you like it was the last descendent of battles like Waterloo. It was also a battle where there was the final clash of the ancient and modern, where cavalry faced machine guns, and where the French soldiers still wore blue coats with red trousers. What made me think was the awful fact that 180,000 French soldiers were killed in this battle. The photo below shows the battlefield laid out in from the small rise.

Co-incidentally we visited the memorial to the Second Battle of the Marne later in the day. The two battles effectively book-ended the First World War on French soil. The memorial at Dormans was of a completely different ilk, being a classic chapel and memorial situated in parkland. They were contrasting memorials; interestingly both were almost deserted of visitors.

After this look at history we found the champagne house that Barbara and Iain introduced us to three years ago. It is a small family run business that produces excellent champagnes at very reasonable prices. The lady who runs the shop remembered us from last year and we had pleasurable time sampling champagne before purchasing some cases to take home. It was a small miracle how we fitted forty-one bottles of wine into the mini that was supposedly full when we left for France. All I can say is that for the last leg of our journey the car’s performance was severely compromised.

On that final leg there was nail-biting moment when we were stuck in traffic while driving round Lille, otherwise the journey and ferry crossing were uneventful. We arrived home to find that the wet and warm weather had caused the garden to explode. Still we were so refreshed that a couple of day’s hard work has made a huge difference. Some reflections on the holiday in a later blog as well as the story of our explosive night at the theatre on Friday.

Holiday Day 26 – Some Early Reflections

It seems a good time for some first reflections on our holiday as we drive from the South to Northern France. Tonight we are about 120 kilometres east of Paris in the small village of Oyes. For you historical buffs it was a key location in the first Battle of the Marne. Today this area has been very hot topping out in the car at a very warm 39.5 degrees, despite us watching it the readout never made it to 40 degrees. It was so hot that we decided to put the hood up as we were afraid of either sunburn or sunstroke and also wanted some air-conditioning.

So back to the first reflections, I will glad to be home after nearly thirty days away. I want to see what has been going on, I want to get back into the routine of life refreshed after our break. I want to apply the new ideas and resolutions that I have had while we have been on holiday. Peculiarly that is not to say that I want the holiday to end. For instance tonight we are in the Marne, and area of huge historic significance but one about which I know little. I would like to have time to explore and find out about the byways and the little towns. `I suppose that this is the perfect state of balance.

Without exception I have enjoyed everything that we have experienced, the cottage in Provence was perfectly located and allowed us to relax while enjoying local life without the use of a car. We have eaten well and in the main simply. That is another reason to get home; I need to get myself back in shape with the diet and the gym.

It will be a shorter blog than usual because we have stayed up talking with hosts of the B & B where we are staying. We strayed along way from the politically correct, oh before you wonder about our gift of tongues, Glenis and Mike are New Zealanders.

Well tomorrow will be spent at the champagne house followed by a leisurely drive back to the ferry.