Notting Hill Carnival-Batala Band de Percussao

Notting Hill Carnival-Batala Band de Percussao
Originally uploaded by Daniel_C_C

We were at the back somewhere, but we were there! And it was the best.

Braveheart

Braved the market in Brioude this morning, with a view to finding out why this Clermont-Ferrand based samba band got a gig instead of us. Beats me.

OK OK I left the camera in the car, so I'll have to post it later.

Batala Samba Massif

Some recent photos on flickr here
And one or two video clips on youtube here
Alex took some at rehearsal a few weeks ago, and they are here

More window frames

It's a variable activity, blogging, for me. Like other things, there are phases and periods of activity and quiet. Anyway, here's the latest photo window frame project I've been working on. It's been a bit of a case of two steps forwards one step backwards. But with a final revised bit of wood bought this morning at the market we should be ready to see if we're going to keep the glass in the window frames or not. We could keep these original, old, cloudy frames, replace them with new clean ones, or leave them out altogther. Any thoughts? The photo was taken in the village here about 50 yards from the house. It's printed onto canvas, but not mounted onto stretchers because it is going into the window frame.

You wouldn't believe it if you didn't see it

Photos

A while ago I produced my first photos in window frames ... this one as a present for a friend. Since then I've done a few more, mostly sunflowers.



I've just received a commission for a series of my sheep pictures that includes a window frame triptych. It also includes four images printed onto canvas by contrado, who I can happily recommend based on my experience with them to date. Quality, speed and value for money.

The sheep canvasses have come out nicely. What do you think?

Photos, sun and elections

That's a pot pourri of recent days.

Some few years ago, shortly after landing in this corner of paradise, we had a run-in with a local politician. He was arrogant, offensive, and a disgrace to local politics. Since then, his (hopefully) unique combination of charms has led him into other conflicts, some much larger. Well, the recent local elections have brought out all the people he's upset over the past 10 0r 12 years, and they've voted him out of all but one of the three offices he held. Hali %$£$% luliah! We've drunk a toast to the new folks; let's hope they can bring some badly-needed resonsibility, credibility and humanity to their communities.

We've had a fairly wet time so far this spring. Which is a good thing, don't get me wrong. But when the sun came out for a couple of days, the collective rise in morale was everywhere palpable. It's raining today.

But the greatest pleasure has been spending time with l'il lamb out on the bikes, taking photos, sharing them on flickr, and gardening together. Apples ... eyes ... all that.

the best cover song & video EVER. I mean EVER

The Leningrad Cowboys with THE Red Army Choir sing Sweet Home Alabama. Priceless. Anyone remember the cold war?

Robot - in principle

I've had a hard time convincing li'l lam that you can make a programmable robot out of string and wood, but finally proved my point with this video from New Scientist on YouTube.

I can't believe it

So much going on to rant about, and nor franceranting going on. What's the idea!!!

Local elections of a medieval flavour for a start. The bribery through abuse of power in the community of communes over the past few years has ensured a few votes for one of the most unpopular constituents, and despite coming third has elected to go ahead to the second round. What's he got up his sleeve then?

In the local commune, so many of the old (sic) councillors left after soooooo long that the local population were shocked into apathy. It was hard going to get the required 11 names on the list; achieved just in time for the paperwork. But at what cost? No second round here, but the choice of Mayor to be made on Saturday night. There are rumours about how that's going, but I'm keeping shtum for now. Good luck bunny is all I'll say for now.

Our pursuit of a property to buy has already been a roller coaster, and there's no change there. I hate estate agents. No, really.

New Blog or should I say Blogue

A website for one of the new Batala kids on the block last year - Samba Massif - never quite happened. So to make a start I've got a wee blog with an introduction, some photos and video clips, and links to some of the other Batala groups around the world. Have a look. Please. Leave a comment. Pretty please.

Back at the ranch

I've been back for a week or so, getting stuff organised after my trip and straight back into developing plans for a children's environmental activity centre. Snappy title! Anyway, more of that at a later date.

This is just to say that all the free books have gone to good homes; the ones left in the box going to Oxfam in Romsey.

On the road again

Probably quieter than usual here for a week or so as I hit the road tomorrow for a week or so. twittering will continue here.

I used to work out how many miles I'd be doing on these trips, but I've given up. Trying a time-free non-linear view of travelling over the past year or so. It seems to lead to less stress.

Poem 4 - Limerick

Limerick

A limerick's cleverly versed-
The second line rhymes with the first;
The third one is short,
The fourth's the same sort,
And the last line is often the best.

John Irvin

Poetry book 3

Leisure

What is this life, if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies

French Farmhouse Doors

Our old, lovely, twisted french farmhouse doors have been squeeking for a while, so I thought I'd give them a drop of oil. Worked a treat; no more noise. Only problem is that they are so twisted that it was only a sticky mechanism that allowed us to shut them. Now they're smooth and oiled, they pop open all the time. Ever heard the expression, if it ain't broke don't fix it?

Forming, Norming etc. ...

I don't know if this model is still popular, but it occured to me yesterday during a few issues raised before and at our samba rehearsal. It's a nice idea if it now means we can get on with the music. Not guaranteed it seems from the explanation, but I'm optimistic, as ever.

Poem for a deat poet - Roger McGough

Not that it's about him, but he's one of my favourites. For obvious reasons.

Poem for a dead poet

He was a poet he was.
A proper poet.
He said things
that made you think
and said them nicely.
He saw things
that you or I
could never see
and saw them clearly.
He had a way with language.
Images flocked around
him like birds,
St Francis he was,
of the words. Words?
Why he could almost make 'em talk.

Roger McGough

Another book

To add to the complete list of books here is The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends by Peter Beresford Ellis, in excellent condition. Only postage cost or call by and collect.

Could be fun if anyone wanted to call by with a swap. It's a way to go from anywhere.

Poetry book 1

Me an Li'l lamb are compiling a poetry book one at a time, and I thought I'd share the first few here. Turn about. Down to you to guess which are my choices, and which are hers...

Warning - Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me,
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children
We must have friends for dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.