Flower Power

I cycled through empty untroubled roads from Saint Savinien to the nearby town of St.Jean D’Angely. The cereal harvest is in and ricks of straw create a temporary landmarks of corner and shadow. In France, when a field is fallow, self-seeded wild flowers are allowed to bloom. Just imagine if we left people fallow now and then and let them bloom! 


This truly is a wonderful land where growing things grow and grow as if with joy to be pushing up and yelling out their beauty. So, I’m putting up some flower power pix to pass on their cavalcade of ecstasy. 

In the town I saw a young guy making a film. Being the nosey old moo that I am, I went and asked him what was going on. It turned out that he was a Brit doing a promo for the village and its attractions. We had a bit of a chat and he told me he had just finished a music video for a fantastic yet unsigned group from North Carolina called “Steel Standing”. It seems there is some competition to choose the best edit. Anyway, I checked out his film.  The music has stuck in my head and is driving me crazy because I keep singing it (wrongly I think). The problem is that on first hearing I thought the lyric went “A naked man is on this train and I don’t think that I can make it through….” Have a listen and see what you think. If you like the show please click the LIKE button and help out all these young folk. Do you ever get song lyrics wrong? Does anyone ever get them totally right?

Emma thinx: Will the flowers always bloom their forgiveness?


Colin and Coline

Colin (wearing the rings) and Coline in post coital pose

Anyone who read my recent post about the lost racing pigeon must be wondering what has happened since. The first thing is that I named the pigeon Colin because French for a dove is une colombe. I am sure that Colin is English because he’s got that kind of sandals and socks Brit abroad look about him. 

Fellow bird lovers – I have great news. Colin has found Coline, a young local pigeon who was born here last year. Today, I spotted them shagging on a 15th century rafter in my barn. My guess is that pigeons have bobbed, cooed and spread their feathers in a mating flap on that beam since the time of “Green Gallant” king of France Henry IV.

A bird called Colin


At first it was just regular cooing but you get to know the sounds of love when you hang about in old French barns. So, I climbed up with my camera to be certain that it was indeed Colin. In the end I managed to get a shot of his rings, which of course, are not worn by local peasants. It looks to me as if he’s gonna  see out his mortal span in Saint Savinien. And I sure don’t blame him! Somewhere in’t north of England, a pigeon fancier is scanning the darkening dusk willing his bird to clock in. Colin shrugs and shags.

Now, I am a francofilly if ever there was one. All the same, I’m not sure that they always drive as safely and wisely as possible….need I say more? A couple of days ago I was on my bike in a nearby town and spotted the driver of a car about to pull off. It’s all done by smell…..


Emma thinx: When you get tired of flying – wing it.











Postcard from Saint Savinien Sur Charente

Postcard from Saint Savinien

Just as I was thinking that I could live with the idea of being properly English, I arrived back at my home in France. I feel unpatriotic – like one of those reviled rebels who do not stand up for the National Anthem. I want you all to know that I do stand for the anthem. I also stand up for the Star Spangled Banner (I have family in the USA) and for La Marseillaise because I love France and it is a great song. I know I should be in England for the jubilee – but here is my home and I can only come when I can get away from the bus.

And now for the big big question. I have French guests for dinner on Wednesday and I want to serve something very English. I am tempted to go for Sausage Toad – otherwise known as Toad In The Hole. It is delicious of course, but I cannot think of it without flashing back to factory canteen self service queues. Toad, beans n’chips fed Britain when we were Great and still made our own clothes pegs. I do smile at the idea of enormous fuel guzzling ships carrying huge containers from around the world filled with plastic clothes pegs. There must be some mistake. I’m sure that somewhere all this waste, greed and exploitation results from some simple mistake.

Going back to the meal, I am always a bit worried when cooking for French folk. At the breast it is common for infants to ask if goat’s milk is available with a little more ground pepper s’il vous plait. They are born as gourmets. The other problem is a translation ..”Crapaud Dans Le Trou” does not quite do it somehow. All the same I’m gonna go for it. I’ll put the recipe on Pinterest.

Rebekah Booked

Being home in France I have entirely lost the will to talk about anything momentous. Back in the UK all manner of show trials are shaping up and the entire police force is now working on Rebekah Brooks and the affairs of Mogul Murdoch. These folk are an unapproachable  social class to me but I do feel sorry for her. When we get a bit closer to the self righteous legal carnival I will wade in with some Blistering Sistering. All I will say for now is that when my lawn mower and bike were stolen last year, a police officer phoned to ask me if I knew who had done it. Since I did not, the case was closed. Hundreds and hundreds of cops are trying to nail one woman who might or might not have known about some celebrity phone hacking. It will cost millions – and who will pay? OK – you have guessed – you tax paying powerless non celebrity suckers. I do want to say that if you watched the Whitney Houston clip above and know her tragic story, – just remember that the “gutter press” attacked again and again the drug barons and hacked their phones while the police were sitting on their on hands. 


Rebekah Brooks would wince at being called comrade….But Comrade/Sister Brooks – we do know that this a show trial and for what it’s worth I am on your side as a woman and as a dispossessed News Of The World reader.

Don’t rush
Bridge over untroubled water


Big sky postcard day to take home
Venice – eat your heart out

Step This way
Roof and River

All I really want to do is share with you some images of my lovely town of Saint Savinien sur Charente in France. In this case public money has been spent on guys who know how to cut stone to create beauty. France is still a land of tradition and respect for the artisan.  The local mayor, Monsieur Jean-Claude Godinot is something of a visionary and has set about building works to make the place a joy to the eyes. A clumsy 1960’s concrete “Brutalist” old folks home blocked a view of the church. In the UK we would have had 10 committees, 4 bishops, a professional atheist, a protest group, a pro group, an undecided liberal/green coalition and two public enquiries. Here, we have one man, several earth moving machines and a vision. All the old folk were re-housed properly by the way. In less than a week, the view was restored. If you want a holiday or a break in France you should put this place on your list. Take a look at the photos of ce village de pierre et de l’eau.

Emma thinx: Let not the weight of Law extinguish the light of Justice.