Election hangover

Well the first part is all over, Royal or Sarko?

Personally I'm frightened of both but not for the same reasons. If you want my opinon then feel free to ask me by contacting this blog, then I might have a notion if anyone ever does read these or if in fact they are a secret plot to get people to talk about themselves and divulge the intimate secrets which make them... well, themselves.

While waiting for the next installment in two weeks have a 'decco' as we say in Dublin at the painting herewith.

Spring has sprung

The mighty Belem, three master, in the port of Saint-Malo. Its a dream to paint.

Mont Saint-Michel

The most beautiful site and sight in a world occupied by man and women must be the fabulous monastery/city of the Arch-Angel Saint-Michael. The winged angel covered in gold leaf is crushing the dragon/serpent. The beautiful medieval armoured warrior protects the bay and the surrounding salt marches. If you ever get over to this area don't miss it. A visit to the city without going as far as the monastery is a bit like having a wonderful lunch but not having the desert. The lamb is particularly quoted and is 'pré salé' because of its feeding grounds.

ON THE EDGE IN IRELAND

A pal of mine called Eoin O'Brien told me of one of his relations who passed away recently in Australia, he was by all accounts a bit of a 'tare-a-way', and his mother had carved on his toombstone.

"Unless you live on the edge you are taking up too much room".

What do you think?

WEEKEND Pen-hir, Finister

The weekend is upon us and people are rushing around looking for value in the winter sales. The value for money syndrome is evident and the wise words of Oscar Wilde ring in my ears as I remember his dicton, "people who know the price of everything and the value of nothing". I am a fan of hand-made tweeds, fine wools and mohairs, clothing of impecable cut and quality. These days few and far between alas, (I don't want to sound like an old fart but I love the attention to detail) we are surounded by the consume and throw-away attitude. Most of the clothing looks as it could after months of hard usuage when it is bought. Enought bile now, hope you likethe painting.

Cameret Sur Mer:

This morning the wild west wind tugged at my hat as I walked round the ramparts, so much so that I took it off and carried it in my hand. The sea was emerald flecked with white, and the waves crashed themselves on the rocks with a thunderous roar. The moon looked like a half-a-crown buried in the light blue sky, clear except for the air-line trails criss-crossing the sky making a tartan pattern. The sea-gulls kept a low profile standing in the lee of the corsaire mansions nestling together inside the ramparts and awaiting the tourists who would be pleased to trade a bit of their morning bagette or croissant for a photograph.

Monday morning

The girls went back to school this morning with the sun only just comming up over the eastern horizon. The storm of Christmas and New Year is over and yesterday we celebrated the coming of the three wise men in French fashion by having a Galette des Rois, a sort of tart with fangipan inside in which is placed a miniature figurine. When sliced, my younger daughter who was under the table called out the name of the person to recieve each part of the tart. It was very strange but she managed to choose the right one and was given the paper crown.

Tro Breizh

Each year there is a pilgrimage from one of the cathedral cities in Brittany to another. This celebrates the founding saints of the Breton religous calender. The sight of hundreds of people of all ages and social conditions moving in silence or singing hymns with their parish banners flying in the wind is unusual these days but this 'protest' is happy peaceful and colourful. The Impressionists liked to paint the 'Breton pardons' and did it much bette than I but my humble effort which you see here shows the arrival at Saint-Malo of this manifestation last summer. I hope you like it.

Sailing ships at dock in Saint-Malo

The Sailing ship is still a reality here in Saint-Malo where the tradition of sailing and maratime activity goes back to the founding of the city in Roman times. The corsaires and filibustres who frequented the taverns of this port were well known and feared names on the high seas even more so than Capt. Jack Sparrow who is so well known by todays cinema goers. Some of the stories are worthy of a Holliwood production or two. My father was a seaman and I was born not far from the docks myself 52 years ago so my love of all ships sailing or Cargo is unconditional. By the way if you want to buy it don't hesitate to get in touch.