And about time too! With the UK, and most of France having had their share of the inclement weather, it is now time for us to have a portion. OK. Done. Now the sun can come out and we will be back to normal!
Was supposed to have a trip to Pau today. Out with the girls I was going, having given up with trying to get Hubs to evacuate Labartere for longer than an hour, him having a continual worry that someone horrid would come and do a raid on the contents of our house, which is open to all what with having no doors, or windows, and only a couple of wrought iron gates to deter would-be trespassers but since they are never locked anyway, they are not much of a deterrent.
So: an invite by a new French friend, Francoise, who does much in the way of making me review my mode of attire, her always being in arty clothes and looking très chic no matter the hour of the day or the manner of the weather, so much so that I am knitting myself a lacy pink scarf. Well I have to start somewhere. I mean, if I am going to review my image of mucky boots, elderly cotton trousers, ancient knitted cardis, dull coloured fleeces, hair scunched up out of the way because of lack of showering facilities, and general farm-girl appearance, then knitting a nice lacy scarf should start getting me sorted out.
Played the piano yesterday. Not a proper piano, though. An electric one. My proper piano was donated to the removal men it being too cumbersome an article to park up under tarpaulins. It would have rotted anyway. It was on its way to rotting in the UK.
There was a church in the UK, out on the marshes of the Isle of Sheppey, in North Kent. It had no electrics, or running water, no road leading up to it, only a farm track, but it had an organ. A pedal organ. One which was pumped with air, by hand, so that voice could be given to it. Once a month, for the Sunday service, I played that organ. And pedalled it. At the same time. It was wheezy organ. By the time we had got to the last verses of the hymns, the organ and me would be joyfully wheezing along together, the old keys being stiff and needing some pushing down to move themselves into action puffed out my top half, whilst my two feet would be pumping away on the foot pump which puffed out my bottom half. Meanwhile, the organ gradually got puffed out the more it was pushed into action, it wanting to really, really, stop forever.
In the end it was too much effort, so it was allowed to do just that. And I purchased an electronic keyboard, which produced the sound of an organ admirably well, and minus the squeaks and puffs which accompanied its predecessor. A perfect sound, if a bit soulless. Anyway: that is what was unpacked yesterday. And I got to have a wonderful hour of messing about on the keyboard. Hubs said that he had got me all back. Bless.
It will do for the time being. But you still can't beat an actual piano for being able to evacuate all those pent up emotions. You can really make a piano talk. An electric keyboard, even if touch sensitive, is not so willing to oblige. And here is my temporary music room:
So no going out exploring France today. Looks like it will be an indoors day, of PC work, of knitting, of snuggling up because it's cold outside, and I oh so hope that you have a lovely snuggly day as well if the weather is not so good where you are, and for those of you having a sunny day, well when you are roasting away, just spare a thought for those of us who aren't! Thanks.