two aspirin, lunch outside and a walk in the mistral
Last night our neighbours came to us for dinner so of course today I have a whopper of a hangover. I must do something about finding a balance between the enjoyment of living in the middle of Cote du Rhone vines and the pain of having yet another beautiful day obliterated by alcohol fug.
After lunch outside ( I thought it was pretty amazing in late October, pictured here, but in January¦.!) watching the de-balled Oscar glint blue in the hot sun my head was still throbbing so I decided that a couple of aspirin and a walk in the mistral was the only answer. Pacing through the architectural rows of vines renewed order to my fuddled brain. The wind picked up and roared down the path like a jet plane ripping through the blur and clearing my thought paths. I began to see again: pewter blue lichen and lime moss. I smelt the mat of thyme and wood burning stoves from other hamlets, returning home to ours thinking "I am alive!".
Or, as Julian said last night:
"Je suis en vie"
I thought it sounded like "Je suis envie" - I am desire, and corrected him. Then Nadine said that Julian would still be speaking French like a Spanish cow even after 30 years of living here. It was meant to imply that Julian would always be charming, but for a person who rarely speaks even his own language, after a whole evening of heroically making himself understood in a language he has never learned on subjects ranging from God through adoption to removing a cat's testicles, he was understandably hurt.
Nothing that a good slice of last night's chocolate cake couldn't help,along with the pleasure of finally packing up and sending off Adam Glover's huge still life. As a celebration he came home with a cabbage saying "Don't say I never buy you flowers".
After lunch outside ( I thought it was pretty amazing in late October, pictured here, but in January¦.!) watching the de-balled Oscar glint blue in the hot sun my head was still throbbing so I decided that a couple of aspirin and a walk in the mistral was the only answer. Pacing through the architectural rows of vines renewed order to my fuddled brain. The wind picked up and roared down the path like a jet plane ripping through the blur and clearing my thought paths. I began to see again: pewter blue lichen and lime moss. I smelt the mat of thyme and wood burning stoves from other hamlets, returning home to ours thinking "I am alive!".
Or, as Julian said last night:
"Je suis en vie"
I thought it sounded like "Je suis envie" - I am desire, and corrected him. Then Nadine said that Julian would still be speaking French like a Spanish cow even after 30 years of living here. It was meant to imply that Julian would always be charming, but for a person who rarely speaks even his own language, after a whole evening of heroically making himself understood in a language he has never learned on subjects ranging from God through adoption to removing a cat's testicles, he was understandably hurt.
Nothing that a good slice of last night's chocolate cake couldn't help,along with the pleasure of finally packing up and sending off Adam Glover's huge still life. As a celebration he came home with a cabbage saying "Don't say I never buy you flowers".
posted by ruth at 3:59 PM
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