Raining like it was England

Yesterday it was very windy.
Today it rains.
Where is Summer?

Yesterday was another very high tide, along with the wind. There has been work on strengthening and raising dykes since Xynthia, and as far as I know there were no big disasters.

Christian the butcher, in his shop at the gate, was discussing the unusually miserable weather. I mentioned driving to Dresden next week to sing with the marvellous Monica Buckland: he said I'm going in the wrong direction for the sun, and I should re-plan the trip. Then he asked how the weather is in England, where I shall be going next. Apparently it's snowing again there.

Well, the weather in Dresden may be cool but the welcome of the other singers will be warm, and the music will be magnificent.

Singing in Saint-Maurice-de-Tavernole

Saturday's Arc en Ciel concert (pre-gig report here) was in an interesting venue: the church of Saint-Maurice-de-Tavernole, a very small town east of Jonzac. The church was demolished in the big storm of 1999 and rebuilt in the same style, so it looks like a very spruce medieval building, much as it might have appeared when first constructed except for the beautifully-coloured frescos which are decidedly modern post-impressionist. Unfortunately I didn't have a camera and can't find any photos online. It's a simple rectangular shape in the same kind of stone as my house, but with white rendering, beautiful deep arched windows with stained glass, and a dinky square bell-tower. The interior is how I imagine the Atelier would look (minus frescos unless perhaps we run a painting workshop), if I can afford to have it done.

The town has about 100 inhabitants; there were about 80 people in the audience. So different from the turn-out for a small-town English concert! They were enthusiastic, too, but we only sang one encore.

Mauricette, a soprano who comes from Oléron area hit by Xynthia, managed to organise a collection for the oyster...um, what is the word in English... anyway, the oysters weren't affected but the ostréiculteurs lost their boats and equipment in the storm and high tide. After the concert the mayor of the little seaside town to which the money is being donated gave an almost tearful speech, and people signed concert flyers with encouraging messages to go to the ostréiculteurs. I've done fund-raising gigs many times, but this was curiously immediate.

The wine and cake partying was still going when the three of us from St Genis/Lorignac/St Dizant left.

At last!

Woken just after 7 by the birds doing a full-chorus Hymn to the Sun. At 8:30 was hanging out the washing in warm sunshine. Sky is fierce blue. All windows are open (I warily listen for the approach of loud buzzing). Nectarine blossom is bursting, wildflowers bright everywhere and the grass is a foot higher than it was yesterday.

Here comes summer.

Checking the Estuary

The little ports are looking a bit muddy and bedraggled and some houses had recent repairs to the roofs, but there didn't seem to be too much damage. Around here the houses are mostly out of reach of the highest tides. However, at the Port du Charon where my favourite carrelets (fishing huts on stilts) are... well, they are no longer. Only the ancient one that reminds me of the Flying Dutchman is still much the same; most of the others are reduced to poles sticking out of the mud. The newly-painted one with the curtains is completely gone; the one where we watched the the fisherman pull his lunch out of the sea and slap it on a barbecue is still there in part, looking very sad.

Even the area where I usually park is no longer usable because its sheltering stone wall is scattered around. Two disconsolate fisherman were wandering around it, examining the wrecks and reporting on a mobile. By the end of the call they seemed to gather some energy and purpose and stomped off in a determined fashion, giving me hope that the huts will rise anew very soon.

Buzzing, blooming, warbling

At last Spring is etcetera, tra-la. In the bright sunlight the land looks strangely drab without its usual March display of leaf and blossom, but no doubt it will rush to catch up.

It's warm outside, bees are getting into the house, and it's almost time to look for mosquito-nets. Birds are warbling their nesting-songs; the redstarts are back on the terrace shouting "Get Orf Moy Lahnd!" every time I go into the kitchen.

A snake has sloughed by the steps outside my bedroom.

Godin flames

Photos of the new woodburner

Ipswich to Newcastle, the wet route

I'm a fan of the Curiosity Collective, and am happily followiing their adventures in walking from Ipswich to the Maker Faire via the Netherlands. Google does love its ferry routes.

Stars and sea

Last night was cold again, though unlike the south-east there was no snow. The sky was completely clear. On the way home from rehearsal I stopped the car in the vineyards and turned off the lights, to look at the mass of stars without getting frozen.

On Sunday Ginette went to Port Maubert (5 miles away) to see how the flood is receding. This stretch of coast didn't get into the tv reports because no-one died, but the water came right up into the houses. It wasn't so serious here, as there are no houses right on the sea's edge. The marsh was completely under water, and the roads to the ports were impassable: roads and ports are still being drained.

Is that a daffodil I see?

I'm sitting on the front steps and can't see the laptop screen for the bright light. It's warm! It's Spring! The forecast is back-to-winter at the weekend, so I'm not leaving this patch of sunlight until it leaves me.

Rant

There's a lot of discussion on the news reports about the flooding in the Vendee where people drowned.

It seems incomprehensible that sea-marsh should be used for building in an area with so much land (and so many empty houses just inland, both in towns and hamlets). Apparently the mayor was put under pressure by developers - no surprise there - but also by his electorate. People wanted a pretty little villa by the sea. It's not as if they had no choice about where to live.

There will probably be stronger rules and legislation in future so that mayors and planning committees will be supported in refusals. Meanwhile, so many people have died and so many more are still in difficulty, and of course there has been all the risk to those who work in the emergency services. Imagine being out in that storm in a helicopter, trying to rescue people from roofs.

The cost to the country is huge, and next there will be the insurance claims and consequent rise in everyone's premium, so we'll all share a little of the damage. I wonder if there will be any attempt to take back their profits from the developers?

Educating people in better risk assessment wouldn't be a bad plan, either.