I heard the news today – Oh boy, they’re gonna sell New Scotland Yard. Yes, they are going to sell the iconic HQ of the Metropolitan Police, the centre of Detective Inspector Anna Leyton’s world. Who would buy it? Perhaps a couple of Mexican drug cartels have the cash? Sometimes I cannot believe what I hear. Earlier this week they sold Admiralty Arch to a hotel chain. We have already sold our energy and water companies, all our public housing, our railways and airports. All our automotive brands have gone and all our ships are built abroad and mainly sail under foreign flags. Maybe there’ll always be an England but for sure, we’ll have no democratic control over it. You know what will control it don’t you….yes MONEY.
|Sold! Perhaps her majesty may pass.|
|For Sale. No parking issues for owners|
Still, why should I care today? I am at my own home in France. As far as I can tell, the French resist all attempts to lure them into the total fluidity of globalised moneydom. In my village, you need the local accent to buy a baguette. They tolerate me because I am a cranky old Doris who knows enough local people to be seen in public kissing clinches.
|sun sets over CharenteMaritime|
So, I went out with my camera and took some postcard shots of autumn in rural France. Although I’m fairly much in work ethic melt down, I have been writing. Just between us I’m getting to that lovely state with my current book where I’m kinda in love with the hero. This sent me into a frenzy of poetic remembrance of past amours and you’ll soon see the ripe fruit.
Today was calm and mellow with the river full and reflection rippled. The shots are from the river bank at Taillebourg. This place is truly paradise.
Emma Thinx: Romance is not a love story. It’s a fictional truth.