RPP: Random Paris Pics

We were in Paris three weeks ago, renting an apartment in the 15th. It's the first time we have ever stayed somewhere that you could see the Eiffel Tower from the accommodation, which was kind of nice in a clichéd way.

The view from our bedroom

It was a bit cold. I wonder who built this snowman in the grounds of a convent hospital?

In fact it was so cold the cooking oil had solidified on the supermarket shelves

The Seine was running a banker, and all the houseboats and

restaurant boats were making temporary arrangements*

I didn't notice the funky clouds until we were home and I looked at the photo

*Note from Susan: The day after we photographed the houseboats there was an attempt to rescue the Le Corbusier designed Salvation Army hostel boat moored not far away, which had washed up on the bank. Unfortunately they punched a hole in it and it sank. We were 100 metres away at the time, but had no idea, so I found out too late (and we were catching a train so couldn't have afforded to be distracted anyway). Read the story on Invisible Paris. By coincidence I'd also read William Wharton's Houseboat on the Seine recently, which has a long description of flood mitigation efforts by houseboat owners (I didn't understand a single word).

Refereeing in the Merde

Recently I got to referree in an extraordinary argument between my friends Elisabeth* and Théo*, both French. Elisabeth has just moved to Preuilly and I introduced her to our Deputy Mayor, Gérard. She joked with him that he must be the person she complains to about the amount of dog shit in the streets. I backed her up on this comment as it seems to me that the dog shit has been particularly bad this winter. I suspect that because it has been wet much of the time people are letting their dogs out to wander the streets for half an hour early in the morning. These dog owners are probably perfectly content that their dogs are defecating away from home and out of sight is out of mind. Unfortunately too often it is outside Elisabeth's front door or in our courtyard.

Elisabeth then remarked that she was getting to the stage where she was going to start photographing offenders and sending the images to the town hall. It was at this point that Théo, who knows me, but not Gérard or Elisabeth, chipped in. He informed Elisabeth that this smacked of collaboration in the Second World War and that she deserved to have her head shaved.

 Elisabeth was understandably extremely taken aback. Gérard was extremely uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation and tried ineffectually to moderate, but was inhibited by not knowing either of the two people involved. Elisabeth, who is rather sensitive and timid, immediately backed off and went to seek sanctuary by talking to Simon.

It was left to me to take Théo aside and ask what the heck that was all about, and to point out, as forcefully as I could, in French, that telling a French woman that she should be treated as a collaborator was too much and not on. I pointed out that I like both Elisabeth and Théo and expect them to be able to be in the same room together at social gatherings that I organise.

Théo told me that he feels that dobbing people in to the town hall for relatively trivial breaches was the sort of thing that could easily escalate to the detriment of community life, and that especially in the unstable political times we live in we do not want to be encouraging Fascists. He told me his grandfather had worked for the SNCF (French railways) during the Second World War. The Germans seconded all the SNCF workers to repair and maintain the train lines, so they were essentially working for the German war effort. At night, Théo's grandfather and some of his co-workers would go out and destroy the work they'd done during the day. Eventually someone dobbed his grandfather in and he was arrested. He was very lucky to escape being executed. Thus, the possibility that Elisabeth was considering reporting her neighbours to the authorities was completely abhorrent to Théo and he could not let it go unchallenged. Théo is a dog owner and perfectly prepared to pick up after it, but Elisabeth had pressed one of his buttons.

Elisabeth's point was that dog owners who do not scoop the poop are selfish, anti-social and unhygienic and need educating. Gérard pointed out that the town hall supplies bags for picking up dog poo, but Elisabeth felt that there were too few dedicated bins and without some means of quickly getting rid of the bag of poo, dog owners will continue their bad behaviour. I suggested Gérard mention the issue in the next town annual, but he said he already had.

Anyway, the upshot is that after a suitable breathing space Elisabeth and Théo both claim that they won't hold a grudge, and stick to the weather if they find themselves in conversation at a social gathering. Gérard tells me he sympathises with Elisabeth's response to the dog poo problem and he has now spoken to a couple of offenders.

*not their real name.

February Apero Soiree

The February 21 apéro soirée was held at the Salle des Fêtes (village hall) in Preuilly sur Claise. I decided to ask to rent the Salle des Fêtes because I needed a space that would be big enough and warm enough. Finding venues is easy in the summer, but winter is much more limited. Luckily, when I went into the mairie (town hall) to ask about the Salle des Fêtes, the mayor and the deputy mayor were both there. They had a brief conflab and then Gérard, the deputy mayor, came out and offered it to me for free. I am obviously running a public service with these gatherings!

Alan and Dotty enjoy Melvin's smoked mackerel toasts.

People are very generous with their contributions of food and drink. There were some excellent wines offered (you can tell because French people pick up the bottles and exclaim or indicate they know and approve of the winery). On the other hand, there is always someone (not necessarily the same person each time) who brings a wine that's been in their cellar just a bit too long. It's never undrinkable though -- just a bit past its best. And nobody minds, because otherwise it would be wasted, and this way it's shared along with some really good wines. 

Some of the food. Babeth's savoury cake is the loaf third from the left. 

I'm told the cheese puffs (first left) were amazing too but they disappeared before I got one.

Many people go to the effort of making something homemade. We had cheese puffs and several quiches (Nathalie's trout and leek was especially good). Babeth made a savoury cake that got a lot of praise. Melvin, who was attending for the first time, and on his own, consulted his wife (a professional caterer) about what he should bring. She advised smoked mackerel toasts and gave him detailed instructions on how to prepare them. They were excellent. And Tim's pork scratchings went down a treat with French and English alike. Zita and Clarisse, the small daughters of Dauphine, kept themselves occupied with taking platters of food around the other guests and were a terrific help at keeping things circulating. We had virtually no food left at the end of the night, and had consumed 14 bottles of wine. Clean up was easy because there are no plates or cutlery, and everyone takes their platter home. Plastic glasses and paper napkins were chucked in the bin (if we'd been at home it would have been real glasses, in the dishwasher, and paper napkins composted).

Gérard offering Melvin a drink.

The venue, the entry foyer and bar on the ground floor of the Salle des Fêtes, was ideal for the gathering. There was enough space, plenty of chairs (although most people chose to stand), a fridge, sinks, toilets, heating and a cloakroom. I picked up the keys mid afternoon and Gérard stayed to help clean up at the end, and took the keys and locked up for us. I was amused that he mopped the floor 'because the cleaning lady complains if the place is left dirty'.

French and English mingle.

Nobody remembered to count how many people were there, but afterwards Gérard and I estimated there was about 45 people present. There were at least eight people who were attending for the first time. I forgot to take my camera, but luckily André and Louisette had theirs and took lots of photos. The photos in the blog post are Louisette's. André has put his online and they can be seen here.

Me and Gérard dealing with drinks.

I'm really grateful for all the support I receive from people attending these apéro soirées, and they are working to creat a community social network in just the way I had hoped.

Monday is Queens Day: 21 is too many

The Jardin du Luxembourg has statues of 20 French Queens and Illustrious women. The subjects were chosen by Louis-Philippe I in 1843 and have been blogged about. It also has forty-four other statues, none of which is my favorite, mainly because (for some strange reason) my favorite wasn't counted amongst the 64 listed statues.

My favorite is the memorial to Eugène Delacroix, painter, illustrator, diplomat and possible illegitimate son of Tallyrand. His most famous painting is "Liberty Leading the People", but that's not the reason I like this sculpture. I was first taken by the iconography, none of which I understand, at the foot of the statue, and then...

Looking at old photos  I suddenly realised that the symbolism at the foot of the statue has been moved. But why, and when?. If forced to guess I would say that the statue was removed and hidden during the second world war to save it from being recycled as a weapon, and reinstated differently once the war was over - but that is pure speculation on my behalf.

What does this mean, and why has it been moved?

A Good Innings

The late 1980s was one of the few times in my life when I had properly disposable income. I was in my late twenties and interested in costume and fashion. Naturally I bought myself a few interesting pieces, usually from independent women's wear boutiques in Toowoomba. After 30 years not many of these garments are left in the wardrobe, but one of them in particular has been regularly worn and always packed when I head off for somewhere warm and sunny.

With Villandry owner Henri Carvallo and Californian garden designer Sue Pearlstine at Villandry in 2011.

One of the garments I bought in my affluent period was the only item of clothing I have ever purchased because I saw it in a fashion magazine and actively set out to buy it because I liked it so much. The magazine in question would have been Vogue, to which I had a subscription.

With Simon at our friends Rick and Helen's former house in Canberra in 2014.

The garment is a long loose fit T cut shirt, with sleeves that are an extension of the front and back body pieces, not set in. There are non-functional dungaree style straps which cross at the back and come over the shoulders. The print is a vaguely Mexican themed irregular stripe in blue and lilac pastels and egg yolk yellow. There is no collar, just the collar stand, and the buttons down the front are hidden by a placket. The sleeves are finished in a band which buttons. The hemline is a classic curved shirt tail. It's made of a smooth lightweight 100% cotton poplin, with flat two-hole lilac plastic buttons.

With Liselle at Ferrière Larçon in 2011.

The Australian fashion label Mark & Geoffrey designed a range of garments using this print, which were featured in Vogue I remember. I can't find out who the textile designer was, but it might have been Mary Shackman, who they often worked with. Mark Patrick and Geoffrey Williams were a promising young pair of designers who worked together for about 10 years. Mark Patrick now owns a homewares store after working for many years as a journalist and PR consultant. I can't find out anything about Geoffrey Williams.

At the cricket in Sydney in 2018.

This shirt has been a favourite of mine for 30 years, but I wore it for the last time when we were at the cricket in Australia earlier this year. It was perfect in the 47C heat, teamed with white cotton fishermans trousers (a gift from Rosie, my sister in law). However, 30 years of washing and drying had taken their toll. I moved in my seat and the fragile fabric ripped in several places on the back. It was irreparable, and with some sorrow I threw it out.

Surfer Girls

Out the back, waiting for waves.

Look at all those surfers (4 of whom have wiped out on the wave in the foreground).

The surfer on the left is female.

During part of my misspent youth I was a surfer chick. In my day it was unusual for women to surf. I didn't but I lived with a house full of young men who lived for surfing. They had jobs, mostly, but their real aim in life was to surf as much as possible. Surfer chicks were lifestyle accessories, who watched the action admiringly from the beach. Back at the house, the girls cooked and cleaned while the boys sat round smoking dope.

These days, women are still greatly outnumbered in the surf, but at Manly last November, there was probably five women in a crowd of about 50 surfers. That doesn't sound much, but it's a big change from seeing a lone female surfer no more than once a month.

The Manly Ferry

Manly is seven miles from Sydney, and a thousand miles from care, according to the advertising for the Port Jackson and Manly Steamship Company in the 1920's. Although the Steamship Company no longer exists (it ended up in government hands in 1974), Manly is still the place that millions of Sydneysiders head to every year to relax.

Being on the other side of the harbour to the city of Sydney there is really only one logical way of getting there, and that's by water. You could catch a bus, but that's about an hour of hauling through suburbs (before you factor in traffic), whereas the Manly Ferry takes 30 minutes and gives you one of the best views of a large city you are ever likely to get. I have mapped the Ferry route (and some of the sights) here.

The ferries themselves are 1980s replacements for various classes of 1920's and 30's ferries and are 70 metres long, 12.5 metres wide, displacing 1,140 tonnes. They are capable of carrying 1,100 people at 16 knots. They may not be as stylish or as fast as the boats they replaced, but they still make for one of the world's best commutes.

When the weather is very rough the ferry sometimes gets cancelled, which must be a bind for people who rely on it, but even on the hottest of days you get a cooling breeze. The most "exciting" section is when the ferry crosses the gap between South Head and North Head, and experiences waves that have rolled across the Pacific Ocean. The rest of the time it is just amazingly scenic, with views of some iconic constructions.

The temperature was 47C the day this was shot

We love the Manly Ferry, and when we stayed at my brother's apartment in Manly we used the ferry as much as we could. Even when the weather is dull or wet it is an experience, and on the coldest or wettest of days you can always sit inside the cabin and make use of the free Wi-Fi.

And no matter the weather, you can always take some photos.

La Foire au safran 2018

One thousand two hundred people visited the Saffron Fair in Preuilly sur Claise on Saturday 17 February. Nearly 200 lunches were served by chef Jean-Michel Chedozeau, with a menu based on 'red gold'. Eight hundred delicious free little tasting samples were handed out by four other local chefs (including Michelin starred Fabrice Dallais) to titillate the taste buds of local foodies.

Christophe Aubier and his very tempting leather handbags.

 He and his potter wife, Magali Desroches have opened a shop in Le Grand Pressigny.

The Foire au safran is organised by our local Comité des fêtes, and the chairman said she was delighted with the success of the fair, now in its 19th year, despite it being on a weekend full of other events. The Saffron Fair is traditionally on the third Saturday in February, but she had feared that another event, which was organised for the same weekend, on the same theme, in the same département ('county'), would have a detrimental effect. As it turned out, she had no need to be concerned about from the rival Truffle and Saffron fair at Saint Cyr sur Loire.

Mid-morning at the Saffron Fair (held in the town gym).

The dairy co-operative from Verneuil sur Indre introduced their new lines and packaging and I took the opportunity to stock up on top quality vanilla from Madagascar as well as some of Abi's chocolates, some duck sausages from Maison Perrin and some saffron tuile biscuits.

Jean-Michel's lunch menu (trout and leek starter, chicken tagine main, rum baba dessert, 

all with a hint of saffron).

Simon and I had lunch at the fair along with friends Rosemary, Lisa, Pauline, Tim, Simon and Jean-Michel.

Abi Bond, a young local chef, patissier and chocolatier. She made the lovely chocolates in the first photo.

Chef Mickaël Renard's Croustillants ganaches

 (chocolate crackles with the creamiest saffron white chocolate and whipped cream topping).

Big Berta is Restored to Health

It comes as a bit of a shock when stuff in your new house starts to wear out, and the past couple of months have been a bit depressing when you realise that stuff has started to wear out before the renovations are complete.

First to go were the light switches, then just before we left for Australia the bottom element of the oven gave up the ghost. Big Berta obviously knows when we are planning a break - she did the same sort of thing in 2012. Luckily we still have the mini-oven, and we weren't having to cook Christmas dinner, so repairs could wait until we got back.

So, a couple of weeks after we arrived back from Australia we called on Alex and Nicole to give us a hand sliding the beast out and trying to figure out what the problem was. Once the back sheet was off we could tell that the element had been overheating somewhat - the little plastic covers on the electrical tabs were singed and brittle. Alex used a multi-metre to test the old element and it was obvious that was where the problem lay, and that the previously replaced controller was OK. Removing the bottom plate of the oven gave confirmation.

You can see the element has sagged, and also blown out by the right hand end.

Susan contacted the manufacturer to ask about ordering a new element, but then I did some research, and found and ordered a new element from an online store. It arrived a few days later - and then a few days after that another parcel arrived, this time from Bertazzoni, and containing... an element.

Old and new - you can tell which is which

I have now replaced the old element with the new official part, meaning I have a brand new element spare (hoping I will never need it), and an oven that works.

Next step is replacing the kitchen tap, which has started leaking, and for which Ikea no longer make spare parts. Which is really annoying.

Retromobile 2018

Since 2011 the dynamic team behind Loire Valley Time Travel (that's us, folks) have visited Paris in February to go to Retromobile. It falls at just the right time of year for us to get away from winter at home for a few days, explore the bright lights of the big city, and do some networking.

This year was no different, so on the Friday of the second weekend in February we hied our way to the exhibition halls at the Porte de Versailles. This year's show was the biggest we have been to, but for me there was no "wow" moment where I saw a piece of exotica or something historically important I never expected to see. Maybe I have become jaded by all those over restored vintage cars being sold at over half a million euros that appear to have been hardly driven at all, and will probably never be driven properly again. You could tell how it was bad when I came over all "ho hum, another shiny Bugatti".

Having said that, there was some interesting stuff:

Not our usual style, but both Susan and I would like this for days when

driving with your arm out the window seems appropriate. A 1956 Buick Special

A Delahaye 135M. Susan really likes this, I prefer mine with more patina

We both agreed we were disappointed that the 21st century hasn't turned out
as stylish as Fiat were promising. A 1953 Fiat Supersonic V8.

I am currently on a bit of a 1950s Lancia kick. A Lancia Aurelia B25 from 1958

There is a Facebook album with more photos here.

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The weather forecast says we have 3 more days of cold, but on Thursday it magically gets about 10 degrees (C) warmer. Let's hope they're right - It's been bightingly cold here

Monday is Queens Day: 20 Sainte Bathild

Saint Balthild of Ascania may have been an Anglo-Saxon, and a relative of Ricberht, the last pagan king of East Anglia. She may then have gone from noble born (in 626 or so) to slavery as a young girl under Erchinoald, a nobleman who served Clovis II, King of Burgundy.

When Erchinoald's wife died he is said to have attempted to marry Bathild, but she ran and hid until he set his sights on someone else. She then suddenly married Clovis, by whom she had three sons. She was famed as queen for her modesty and humbleness (a common claim for early medieval queens), and for endowing abbeys across Burgundy,

When Clovis died, Bathild acted as regent for her eldest son, with a reputation for ruthlessness particularly when it came to dealing with the Church. She had a reputation for placing tame bishops (after having - maybe - disposed of the previous incumbents) in troublesome towns. But her main claim to fame is that she pushed hard to make owning Christians as slaves illegal, and spent large amounts of money buying and freeing Christian slaves.

Bathild died in 680 and was buried at the Abbey of Chelles, east of Paris. A tunic, said to be her burial shroud, still exists.

The Jardin du Luxembourg has statues of 20 French Queens and Illustrious women. The subjects were chosen by Louis-Philippe I in 1843. This statue was created by Victor Thérasse in 1848. To see Bathild you have to go here.


All 20 statues are now featured here. Yup - I've finished!

Manly Tidal Pool

The Manly rock pool is at the northern tip of Manly beach, on Queenscliff heads.

Barely deep enough to swim yet, but the tide is turning.

In tidal swimming pools like this one at Manly the contents are refreshed every time the tide comes in.

A wave breaking over the top of the pool.

Although some wag has got the L out of there...

There is a Reason the Beach is Closed

This is Manly Beach. The 'Beach Closed' sign means that there is a dangerous rip running and there are no lifeguards on duty. Surfers (you can see them out beyond the break) can afford to ignore the sign because on a surfboard you are never actually in the rip, which is the water from waves flowing back out to sea under the surface.

Unfortunately, it appears that some people over-estimate their abilities, and a person dies every second day during the Australian summer due to rips (more here).  Not only is it dangerous for the swimmers, but of course it is also dangerous for the lifesavers, many of whom are volunteers.

The Manly rip is known as the Manly Escalator. Many beaches have an almost permanent rip as an unwelcome feature: the rip at Bondi is the "Backpacker Express", although that may be unfair. There appeared to be as many ignorant Australians as ignorant foreigners on Manly beach, which is probably why this lifeguard appears so annoyed.

So if you go the the beach in Australia read the signs, and swim between the flags on a patrolled beach. You never know when it might save your life.

The Palm Beach Run

Action Stations!!

What could it be that is so important a man in his 50s should feel the need to run in the blazing hot mid-afternoon, mid-summer Australian sun?

My brother is not only the most generous of chaps, but he has genius ideas too. Any inkling of what was so urgent?

Blazing hot sun, post lunch snack.

And yes, they were the best gelati I have had outside of Italy

Regeneration

This block of flats in the 15e arrondissement of Paris has been recently renovated and given trendy living walls. It forms one street frontage of a big urban renewal project currently underway in the Métro Ligne 12 railway workshops that occupy the triangle of land behind. However, according to the plans of the project I've looked at it falls outside the railway workshops regeneration boundaries. I assume an independent developer has piggybacked onto the project but I can find nothing about this building. It has certainly been restored in the spirit of the railway workshops, which are promising extensive tree planting and roof gardens.

Further down the street (rue de la Croix Nivert) you can see the building where we rented an apartment for our Rétromobile long weekend. We were on the sixth floor with no lift.