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.

Election Blues

The day is nearly upon us. The French nation is about to go to the polls and start the process of electing the new President of the Republic. I can't vote, as I'm Irish

and not about to give up my own nationality to take that of my lady wife. Our kids are for the moment of both nationalities but I believe that on their majority they will have to choose one or the other.

The prognostic is that one of the 12 candidates will be elected. Ha ha, I hear you say, but to tell you the truth each and every person I have spoken to has been incapable of giving an indication of the 'right' person to choose. Who ever it is is going to have his/her work cut out for him/her as the whole system here needs to looked at seriously. I am of course, 'extreme centre', I never discuss politics or religion either in a bar or on my blog. The reform of the institutions of the Republic and especially the crippling civil service is a must, the disasterous 35 hour week as it exists needs to be scuttled. The European central Banks strong Euro policy is distroying the fabric of the Union as much as the hiatous of the French and Dutch NO to the late silly and enormous European constitution.

Whoever gets in better be able for a fight because there are large numbers of people who want no change and that my friends would be the most disasterous thing for everyone.

After that little bit of self expression I better post a painting to soften the page.

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.

Major Expo in minor city

Does anybody ever read these musings?

I'm letting you know that I will be exposing some work at the chapelle Saint-Sauveur here in Saint-Malo, intra muros (inside the city walls to those non latin scolars amongst you). Saturday and Sunday the 14 15 April.

Calm Weather for the Fort National, St-Malo

The sea
calm
The sky
criss-crossed
by
travellers
in the air
The rock
solid?
The sea soft?
Little do you know!

The Family

In thinking about the events of the last few weeks in my family I was taken by the continunity which is 'the family'. That is why I have made this compilation of photos including my grandfather, my mother and my own wife and children. In reality we all co-exist within each other and even if we do not feel inhabited by the ghosts of those gone before us they are as much a reality as we are. This is what we mean by 'the communion of saints' which we speak about in church.

Family get-together

The four boys and the four girls who constitute our family, the DUHAN'S of 12 Wolfe Tone Street, are gathered here to celebrate the funeral of our mother. I say celebrate because it was an occasion of relativly gentle and careing communion. We were, where possible, seconded by our husbands, wives, boyfriends or girlfriends and especially our own children whose task in the future will be to do as we have done and put each of us to rest as the time comes. The children enjoyed each others company and while effected by our and their own loss helped us to relativise the situation and sense the continuity which is 'the family'. My mother was a raven beauty in her day and her physical traits were written in the eyes and faces of many of her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Her legacy to our world is not without merit, she has left music, sculpture, writing and painting to say the least, but more importantly a careing tribe of individuals who survive in the chaos which we call modern living. The common link is the family, her family. God bless you Christina, and as we say in Ireland, may he keep you and our Dad John, in the palm of his hand until we meet again.

Just for the record; John, Barry, Eric with little Kay in front, Joan the eldest, Mick d'artist, Patty and Sue.