The French Renovation

My son-in-law is a newt whisperer. When he was here recently, he discovered at least two newts in the big stone water trough, secretly keeping tabs on the the midwife toad. It seems that wherever he goes, newts appear. This is by no means the first time this has happened; maybe he keeps them in his pockets. The midwife toad still peeps in the afternoons, but there were several days of silence after we introduced a second midwife toad to the trough, rescued from under the Olympic sized paddling pool. For a while, after normal peeping service was resumed, we enjoyed two-toned peeping from the pair, but I notice today that there is only one peeper again. Ships that pass in the night. On the Chris Packham front, we have been visited this week by the following wildlife: giant jays, red squirrels, deer and a hoopoe. There have also been two identical earwig incidents. Once while mowing, and then the next day while hammocking, I felt a sharp nip on my arm then ankle, only to be confronted by

As a Brit living in France, the referendum outcome is devastating. I embrace being part of a united Europe, but, clearly, there are fellow Brits, around half of them, who would prefer to retreat from unity and collaboration, supporting what I see as a giant step backwards, fraught with obstacles and difficulties. And without a plan. I simply cannot understand how this has happened. I seriously did not imagine that the 'leave' movement could ever gain the majority, as I genuinely cannot see one good reason for leaving. I know that it's far too soon to know how this will pan out, and we may yet remain in the EU, or something similar, but diluted, despite the referendum result...  But, oh my goodness, what a shock! If we do leave the EU, it could mean either selling up (but who will buy?) and returning to Britain (but why would I want to?), or going through a potentially complicated process to become French. Our British pensions, when we eventually receive them (the s

I love living near Tulle! There are so many arts events throughout the year, and they attract people of all ages and persuasions. Tuesday brought us the annual Fete de la Musique.  While we sat with friends on the terrace of Alfredo's, eating pizza and drinking cold beer, we were entertained by Lina Modika, a petite French woman with a soulful voice, ditsy in an orange polka-dot dress, accompanied by an acoustic guitar. The situation was idyllic... until Raw Blood over the river started up, drowning out her dulcet tones! This chap was making some un-human beat-box sounds alongside a whumping drumbeat. He seemed able to make an impressive range of different sounds all at once. Although... he seems to be getting some help from that fellow crouched down at the back. And there is some fiddly electronic equipment in evidence. As you can probably see, Rue Riche is decidedly poor-looking... Or is it? This narrow alley is resplendent with medieval buildings and intriguing no

Today, I saw a video on Facebook of a young woman gathering hay.  (The Hay Pusher at https://youtu.be/fIVAlV8YVF0)  No, it's not me in the video, silly, but the viewing was timely, as we've just watched our farmer next door do precisely that job using an amazing machine. I actually said to Kevin, 'I wonder how they did this job before machines...'. And I've now been presented with the answer. These were our two lower fields on Monday, after the very long grass was chopped off low down, then lain out in one direction. There was a special attachment on the back of the tractor that did this quickly and efficiently. The farmer returned the next day to whip it up and over to expose the underside of the lines in order to dry it out. On Wednesday morning, the hay was pushed into heaped lines using another tractor attachment. And yesterday evening, a very neat little attachment did the gathering and bailing. Ours were not the only fields that were wo