Look

Looking out to sea
you see what I can see
between you and me
it is quite lovely
which is certainly more
than we can say about
this bit of poetry

Beautiful day for a storm.

It's stormy here with the wind ripping through the city, the sea is more than wild but the sunshine is vivid, the visability sublime, and the colours exquisit. The wind tugged on my hat as I made my way around the ramparts this morning. It's still blowing a storm and a door is banging in the distance. I feel the wind stealing in and creeping around my ankles through the cracks in the windows and doors of the building. Eventually I will get up and close the door correctly but first I have to finish writing this for you.

Lunar Eclips

The moon, like a camembert being attacked by group of French diners, disapeared little by little last saturday night.

Old Faithful

My sister Patty giving time and much affection to the auld ones, Mother dear to the left and Nancy O'Brien RIP to the right.

Nancy O'Brien RIP

Seldom do we come into contact with someone who exudes affection, good humour and patience for a short time but over an entire lifetime it is practially unknown. Nancy was one of those people, never a cross word or a bad tempered jest. My daughter Lucy asked me about her relationship to me and it took me some time to explain and what I said is not even adequate. Nancy was a second mother to me. Someone who was always there, ready to listen and help, she often spoiled me and took my defence when I did wrong. A song was never far from her lips and even now I an hear her singing 'Sean South from Garryowen', or 'The Galway shawl'.

She was the most gentle of ladies and will always be with me, I know that she is up there now looking down and wondering what all the fuss is for as her funeral is planned. No doubt she will enjoy the wake much more than the funeral service and I will be surprised if the above mentioned songs don't get a tearful airing.

The return of Lucy

Lucy is back from Grenoble and her skiing holidays with her cousins, we collected her from the airport yesterday and brought her back to Saint-Malo where she dazzeled us with her beauty and personality. She wrote a poem/song to celebrate her return to the family. The four of us had dinner and I think we all realised how wonderful it was to be back together.

Birmingham oh Birmingham

Just in the door literally from a 5 day trip to the megalopolis of Birmingham where I saw great things, to be precise we, (my daughter Louise, my wife Colette and myself that is) spend some time in my sisters house in Solihull from where we made forays into the hinterland to visit the birthplace of Shakespeare in Stratford upon Avon amongst other place. The weather while bright was too cold for me to ply my watercolours thus I came back with photographic memories only.

The scones with jam and clotted cream were good but not as good as those from Cornwall. My sister insisted on having a family Christmas on the Saturday 17 February and had my nephew Kevin and family as well as my niece and her Richard de Dejay (sounds almost french). Tony my first Cousin and Wife compleated the picture. The evening was a sucess with my sister trying to kill us all with her splendid cooking and baking. It will certainly take me a week to loose the kilos attained while a guest in Solihull.

I'm amazed at the relative discipline of our Anglish neighbours as they Q'ed, the friendliness while walking in the park and the relative absence of 'dog shit' on the streets. The driving on the moterways was civilised, painless, polite and efficient. The return to France revealed Presidential candidates worthy of a comedy sketch, tons of 'Dog shit' on the streets and morose people with the sunshine gone out of their hearts (at least for the moment). I hope things get better soon and that the winter/election desperation depression is shrugged off as quickly as possible. Live and let live.