shewhomust (
shewhomust) wrote2014-03-30 03:33 pm
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Where was spring?
The clocks went forward overnight: another sign of spring. But after several days of sharp, cold showers, today we have mist. Whatever happened to spring? A rhetorical question to which I know the answer:
Spring was on Monday. Luckily we didn't miss it, but took the day off and went to Gibside. It was so sunny that I decided to leave my waterproof in the car - and didn't regret it, my jumper was warm enough.
There have been changes since we were last there: the new car park is now open, much closer to the entrance and down by the river. So our exploration of the grounds started with a stiff climb up, past the new ticket kiosk, then through the walled garden, now completely dedicated to garden plots but with not much happening at the moment (that is, a stretch of fallen wall is being repaired, but there's not much growing). The orangery was a blaze of daffodils. We tried to strike down through the meadow to the river, and were rewarded with some dramatic silhouettes of the orangery against the sun, but hit a dead end, and had to retrace our steps to the junction of the paths, and reach the river past the ice house. We had soup for lunch at the café in the stables, which has moved across the courtyard, been spruced up and lost its second-hand books (they will be back, elsewhere in the stables, later in the summer, apparently). We looped round the monument but didn't detour, paid a brief visit to the old house, and returned along the avenue to the chapel.
I wonder why John Bowes decided to make so complete a break when he built his new house / museum by the Tees?
Spring was on Monday. Luckily we didn't miss it, but took the day off and went to Gibside. It was so sunny that I decided to leave my waterproof in the car - and didn't regret it, my jumper was warm enough.
There have been changes since we were last there: the new car park is now open, much closer to the entrance and down by the river. So our exploration of the grounds started with a stiff climb up, past the new ticket kiosk, then through the walled garden, now completely dedicated to garden plots but with not much happening at the moment (that is, a stretch of fallen wall is being repaired, but there's not much growing). The orangery was a blaze of daffodils. We tried to strike down through the meadow to the river, and were rewarded with some dramatic silhouettes of the orangery against the sun, but hit a dead end, and had to retrace our steps to the junction of the paths, and reach the river past the ice house. We had soup for lunch at the café in the stables, which has moved across the courtyard, been spruced up and lost its second-hand books (they will be back, elsewhere in the stables, later in the summer, apparently). We looped round the monument but didn't detour, paid a brief visit to the old house, and returned along the avenue to the chapel.
I wonder why John Bowes decided to make so complete a break when he built his new house / museum by the Tees?
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This is still winter, til april, april...
Which is tomorrow!
You live way too far up north, how would you possibly know. Btw. Do children in the North put paper fish on the back of those they want to fool? (Can´t seem to remember that one from Viking Land. I find it weird besides French.) Tomorrow.
Or, does TV just tell you that you can change our times by remote control?
...Those are flowers as seen in the shadow of ongoing sunshine, right? Suppose, they do it on purpose.
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Those are daffodils in the picture: once that name meant delicate little spring flowers which danced in the wind and inspired Wordsworth, but now we have cultivated varieties, taller, and with bigger flowers, which fall over when the wind blows, and look surprised that spring could treat them so roughly.
I thought of you this morning, as I read Saturday's newspaper: it seems Bordeaux is now the cool place to be... (http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2014/mar/30/bordeaux-reborn-city)
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Probably something catholically symbolic.
How good of you to think of me there, probably wouldn´t have read that article otherwise, though I often look into Guardian, BBC etc. but not every day.
It´s strange to see someone describe the town one lives in, it always seems to be some other town, only with vague similarities. I recall, having described Bordeaux as a sleepy old lady in an earlier entry without being aware of its reputation as a Sleeping Beauty but I rather meant an aged one with both wrinkles and cellulitis, possibly a stick from the brocante to hit at youngsters with, as I plan to do myself, asap.
Makes me think of the very verbal old lady I adore in Wodehouse´s "Do Butlers Burgle?" (Yes.)
This one has put both rouge and lipstick on but her French is not always the best and of a mixed flavour. Particularly St Michel does not consist of La Tupina except for Juppé et consortes, perhaps.
Locals eat at the Bar Tabac where the cook owns two stars more but the exceptionally ugly plastic chairs from the 1960s don´t say so, one has to know and be prepared to sit down with an array of loudmouthed originals, come rain come shine but the wine is at least as delicious only less expensive. (Jean-M. collects grape juice, buys only what he would drink himself and sells it with no big margin to his guests and habitués... will only be broadcast this way.) There is a big screen TV showing rugby and no fireplace but our 18th century house provides both (with a view) so we don´t mind!
Lately, I read in Spiegel online how Bordeaux is the next most visited city of France after Paris and thought "whoa, we´re getting world famous by now". Haven´t been to Mama´s yet, I feel too old for queuing up to get into the disco (I can have loud on this St Michel Island any night I choose), even with a walking stick. However, my rockstar friend JFG is back in town playing the Wunderbar tonight, I may go there.
Free guided tours by yours truly will be provided whenever you come by for a visit!
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Free guided tours by yours truly will be provided whenever you come by for a visit!
That, on the other hand, does make me want to visit Bordeaux (I have never been there, you know).
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And hardly had I thought of saying that, did they dig up most of the Bar Tabac terrace (unfortunately they´re still working on St Michel which presently has more holes than towers), displaying the sarkophagi we´ve all been sitting on...picture proof to follow soon at another site and I say this, not wanting to destroy anyone´s appetite! However,
M. Cro Magnon was, if I may so say, in his very element, standing smiling on top of everything while I hushed back home to get my camera...and avoid the more morbid cuisine-related jokes, some even worse than mine (imagine;)
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Mmm: sarcophagi...
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But at least I posed with chickens.
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