New room! Ooh!

Ex-housemate and ex-housemate's husband were staying at my place for the first week I was back in UK, with two of their friends. In return for cheap holiday they offered to Do Stuff, and we thought it was going to work out well with the builders on Plan C[0].

However, it didn't work out. I was rather disappointed. Builders emailed on Friday (while I was offline in York) to say they could start yesterday, and were my friends available to help... oh well. I read the email when I got back south, and replied to say no but there's a key with Really Friendly Neighbour.

Today they sent photos of the beginning of the work. It's so exciting! :)

[0] Plan A was to start work at the beginning of August. Plan B, after discovering they couldn't get the necessary materials, was to start in September. Plan C was after they found a place which would sell them some of the materials in August.

Listen Again - we love it

I've discovered The Blackburn Files, one of the mislaid pearls brought back by BBC7. Rapid, deadpan wordplay; interesting and very varied musical comments (Philip Glass, Mozart, Zambian reggae, and John Cage figure). And the main character is played by Fine Time Fontayne. I'm really looking forward to Monday's episode.

"And a cravat like a tortured gecko". Reminds me, the terrace lizard ran over my bare foot last week. Not as exciting an incident as having an iguana run over one's foot, of course. These small lizards move too fast to be seen properly, so it wasn't until later when it sat in the window to watch me wash up that I saw its colours. It's green and gold. Of course :)

[ADDENDUM]
"Is he a post-modernist?" "He is now."
"... art school... You were asked to leave. Non-attendance." "I was always a bit of a minimalist."
"Pull yourself together, man! We're in an Oxfam shop!"
"He's gone to London. Shark-infested waters. And him in a rubber dinghy."

Gardening

I didn't get round to watering the herbs and tomatoes and courgettes yesterday evening. No matter, we had Storm. It was very wet and very loud - so loud that insects and spiders were trying to take refuge in the kitchen. One huge moth was so desperate, it knocked itself out bashing on the door.

Earlier, when it was still dry and sunny, I was sunk in a deep pit of xml, trying to unravel my nested lists. There was a very noisy vehicle outside. I almost went to see what kind of agricultural behemoth was going up and down the lane, but didn't dare risk breaking concentration. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and m'neighbour asked me to move my car from under the tree... because he'd brought his new toy round and was cutting my lawn^Wweeds with it. Cross between a small quadbike and a mower. Looked great fun. I do like my neighbours :)

Town en fête and a brief ponder on national culture

I took a late lunch-break last night, after 11pm, to see some of the party. It was warm, and very pleasant in the little picnic area down by the river, all prettily lit up. Food was just being cleared and the players were about to start, so I saw the show. Stromboli are three jongleurs, to use the medieval term, doing music, juggling, some tumbling, and a lot of visual comedy and eyebrow work. Very good, though I had to look away during the mouth-juggling because the thought of a pingpong ball stuck in the throat... *shudder*. Oh, and there was a chainsaw. A real one.

Stromboli finished well after midnight; the small children and over-80s and most of the Brits left, and then the dancing started. I had to return to work, leaving the party bouncing. Next year, I'll make sure I can attend these jollifications.

The Anglo-neighbours said how very French the Stromboli were. This made me wonder - I'm accustomed to similar things from fairs and Fringe street theatre, and have never thought about it, but I suppose I'd consider acts like this as European-including-UK. hm. No, hang on, we get it in panto! And how English is that? Well, ok, originally Italian, but definitely several-generation English and naturalised :)

And then I went back and built my very first Help project.

Another town party

Today was the first time I've been to the market in the next-little-town-north. There's not much in it: mostly a big fruit and vegetable stall. Suits me; though I glanced briefly in the direction of the clothing stall and averted my eyes before temptation struck.

Then back to St Dizant, through the ripening grapes and sunflowers. Some of those seedheads are enormous. Coming out of the little supermarket, having bought milk and cheese and a packet of breton biscuits (oops), I was greeted by the mayor. Odd, I thought, why is he wearing old jeans and a scruffy tshirt on a work day? Is it like BT managers showing that they've come in to the office on their day off? But no, he was part of the team building the stage for tonight's Spectacle.

I worked this morning so I ought to be able to sneak out for an hour this evening. It starts at 10 and doesn't finish until 1am.

Support your local superette

The owners of the general shop in the town are friendly, helpful, and - it being a very small town - struggling. The shop is spacious, beautifully-presented, clean and polished... and the merchandise is carefully spread across the shelves. We know what that means: not enough trade to keep a lot of stock.

To boost trade, they organise and host events in the parking area. This summer they're doing shellfish suppers on Fridays and Saturdays (shame I can't eat shellfish because they're from the estuary here and apparently very good, but there are a few other things available).

I'm working on Friday evenings so I planned to go down there today, to be sociable and support my local wossnames. Then, in the late afternoon, the sky fell on our heads. When it rains here it really does come down like a waterfall. I looked sadly out of the window and got bread-n-cheese with some of friendly-neighbour's surplus tomatoes, which she brought round yesterday. Just as I finished supper, the rain stopped, the clouds moved inland, and the sun came out. Too late to get dressed and go out now, even if I weren't full.

Bother.