Oh, glorious, glorious printemps! We welcome you open-armed. The trees festooned with blossom, the birds a-singin' and a-shaggin', the irises shooting up like great purple phalli - it's all very fizzy and springy and lovely here. Apart from the large coil of shit on my doorstep. I am not speaking in metaphors. A rather large poo-shaped heap of...well,poo...has appeared outside. It’s not actually, right on the doorstep, although, if I were to stride out of the door I would be ankle deep in a second or two. When I say ‘someone’, obviously, I don’t mean a human. At least I hope I don’t, for their sakes.
So, I have taken to squinting through the keyhole, hoping to catch a glimpse of the turd litterer. Yes, I know. This makes me sound slightly unhinged. I’m comfortable with that.
I should relax about this.I live in rural France. Faecal matter is their daily bread. Now that is a metaphor, perhaps a little clumsy and Nutella-esque – but I think you get my meaning. Even if I set up a webcam for 24 hour doorstep monitoring, if I caught the culprit brown-pawed and confronted their owner with the evidence, I would only get a gallic shrug in response.
‘It’s a dog. It shits. What can I do about it?’
The very mention of picking it up and disposing of it responsibly, is met with eye-rolls and muttering. I know. I’ve tried it before. The woman asked me if she was supposed to put it in her pocket? I told her I’d prefer she did that than my toddler son put it in his mouth. I got the familiar ‘You mad fucking
English weirdo’ look, and she wandered off, with her shitbag of a pooch.
But it's not just outside my door. It's everywhere. How can I marvel at the beautiful blue sky when my eyes are forever glued to the ground on crap-avoidance duty?
I think I might start going around the village, crapping outside people’s doors. You know…make a point…and a mess. Start a debate. What do you think? Is it a plan?
Friday, 20 March 2009
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Sunday musings, delusions and dangerous sports
Today has been nice. I didn't get a lie-in, but Spouse did.Admittedly, not ideal. That said, if I get dragged from my nod-pit first by the Sprogster, I can play the martyr for a few hours. So, when Spouse finally emerges, well-rested, showered shaved and spouting things like, 'the rejuvenative qualities of an extra couple of hours sleep compare favourably with a visit to Champneys,' he is on the back foot right from the get-go. I can request favours. Be a little more demanding than usual...extract a few cakes, promises, kisses,household appliances.
Oh, and he's never been to Champneys. But I didn't want to be all curmudgeonly, so I let it go.
This afternoon we took a long walk. We tramped through moss covered labyrinthine forests, scrambled over rocks and under fallen firs. We startled a deer - but it scared the SHIT out of us first! Spouse and Sprog held their pilgrim's staffs aloft and shouted things like 'Behold warriors, the salver of enlightenment awaits at foot of sacred oak yonder.'....while I satisfied myself with manic gnome impersonations and doing surprise ambushes onto their backs from overhanging branches. And ended up chewing lichen.
Oh what larks!
Flora and fauna interlude - anemones in delicate shades of mauve and pink lined the pathways.Wild hellebores nodded their unwieldy heads, like miniature, lime-green, processional monks.I didn't smoke any plant material today, although I'm aware I may be giving quite a different impression.At the dew-filled pond we had a short chat with a charming unicorn on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. He said he was looking forward to a good match and that he had tickets for the member's enclosure. Howzat?
And when we got home, after we'd traipsed six muddy boots all over the kitchen floor, drank hot tea and ate gooey lemon cake, we were well knackered. So, we lit the fire, turned on the TV and collapsed in a heap.
Athletics from Torino.
Perhaps it was just because we were exhausted from our exertions and resented having our noses rubbed in it by such perfect physical specimens. I am one of the world's greatest optimists, but I don't think I could ever, EVER, understand what motivates any sane person to take up the pole vault. I am quite certain that even in my warped, irresponsible and regularly fucked-up reality,I have never been tempted to take up the pole vault.Have you?
Oh, and he's never been to Champneys. But I didn't want to be all curmudgeonly, so I let it go.
This afternoon we took a long walk. We tramped through moss covered labyrinthine forests, scrambled over rocks and under fallen firs. We startled a deer - but it scared the SHIT out of us first! Spouse and Sprog held their pilgrim's staffs aloft and shouted things like 'Behold warriors, the salver of enlightenment awaits at foot of sacred oak yonder.'....while I satisfied myself with manic gnome impersonations and doing surprise ambushes onto their backs from overhanging branches. And ended up chewing lichen.
Oh what larks!
Flora and fauna interlude - anemones in delicate shades of mauve and pink lined the pathways.Wild hellebores nodded their unwieldy heads, like miniature, lime-green, processional monks.I didn't smoke any plant material today, although I'm aware I may be giving quite a different impression.At the dew-filled pond we had a short chat with a charming unicorn on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. He said he was looking forward to a good match and that he had tickets for the member's enclosure. Howzat?
And when we got home, after we'd traipsed six muddy boots all over the kitchen floor, drank hot tea and ate gooey lemon cake, we were well knackered. So, we lit the fire, turned on the TV and collapsed in a heap.
Athletics from Torino.
Perhaps it was just because we were exhausted from our exertions and resented having our noses rubbed in it by such perfect physical specimens. I am one of the world's greatest optimists, but I don't think I could ever, EVER, understand what motivates any sane person to take up the pole vault. I am quite certain that even in my warped, irresponsible and regularly fucked-up reality,I have never been tempted to take up the pole vault.Have you?
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