At the End of the Day

I had a wonderful time in Cahors over the weekend, driving along the south bank of the Lot river as far as Puy L’Eveque, where firm friends Carol & Hugh entertained me royally. I regard this as a huge compliment given they have been confirmed republicans (in the European sense) all their lives. When the company is stimulating enough, I skip the siesta and drink about two-thirds less: thus did I sleep like an oak beam left at the bottom of the Bristol channel following the rescue of a Henry VIII warship.

Driving back along the other bank this Sunday morning, I took a shot of the river at Fumel, with the Cathedral in the background:


When I got back to Slogger’s Roost, Number 1 priority was clearing the old wood and broken roof tiles from the old barn area. But wasps are what happen to you when you’re busy making other plans.

Almost every tile and plank lifted released a swarm of angry guepes infuriated by an obvious attempt to effect radical slum clearance without informing the residents. I beat a hasty retreat, and spent the rest of the afternoon nursing stings to the left ear, right bicep, left thigh, right ankle and both shoulders.

A day of otherwise gentle pottering followed: some grass cutting, some cutting watering, some chicken cooking, some creeper trimming and some pool dunking. It was 38° here this afternoon, and higher temperatures lie ahead this week. The skies are clear, and the veg are ripening:

DSCN1193The entire aubergine crop in all its glory

Tonight I sat and thought for a bit, and then I just looked:


I kept looking for Rhett Butler driving the coach for Scarlett as the Yankees burned old Dixie down, but he was nowhere to be seen. Frankly my dears, I didn’t give a damn so long as nature continued on its fiery dance.

How hugely removed this normality is from the bilge being baled out from the SS Eunatic. I don’t share the politics put forward by the left-end of the Syriza spectrum; but I do cleave wholeheartedly to this extract from the Yanis Varoufakis blog today:

Can democracy and a monetary union coexist? Or must one give way? This is the pivotal question that the Eurogroup has decided to answer by placing democracy in the too-hard basket

This weekend at The Slog: Sources say Syriza is printing Drachmas

11 thoughts on “At the End of the Day

  1. When planning slum clearances, it is always a damn good idea to give the residents the bums’ rush first. Having been on the receiving end of several enraged wasps, and had allergic reactions to their stings, I have now come to the conclusion that the best defence is a good offence.

    Derris dust, an extremely concentrated form of rotenone, is generally the best option here. Although supremely poisonous to wasps and fish, it isn’t all that poisonous to people and degrades in the environment reasonably quickly. You get plenty in a packet so it can be squirted around with gay abandon at wherever the wasps are going in and out. A good dose early in the day, a repeat around lunchtime and a final coup de grace around tea-time usually sees the little buggers off, and done with care one does not get stung.

    Wasps do not have good eyesight, but do respond to carbon dioxide; they don’t like dark moving things with mammalian breath, so slow movements whilst wearing a white or light blue shirt, holding one’s breath when close to the nest tends to do the job.

    On the other hand, one might take the accidentally highly amusing approach my father tried some thirty-odd years ago. To destroy a wasp nest in a Leylandii tree (planted by the neighbours, damn them!) he approached with caution, newspapers and a bottle of petrol. A funeral pyre was constructed for the wasps, and lit from a safe distance. Petrol, when sploshed onto newspaper on a warm summer evening, burns remarkably well as does a petrol-soaked wasp nest. Most amusingly of all is how flammable a Leylandii tree is under such circumstances. The wasps never stood a chance. Neither, unfortunately, did the tree.


  2. ‘Twas a beautiful day here in Blighty too, and sunshine gladdens the soul, but it doesn’t eradicate the gnawing feeling I have that Germany is somehow achieving , by financial warfare, that which it failed to do with tanks and armies. We should be concerned for Greece.


  3. Sorry Bill, the dangers of thinking aloud. Actually, the last time I was in Fumel/Cahors was on a rattly old Triumph about fifteen years ago, it really is a staggeringly beautiful part of the world.


  4. Do envy you that scenery, JW, tres jolie.

    Very good article on Greece:
    “Europe being morphed into a dominion of Finance.”
    The more I read, the more I realise that politicians are not acting in the best interests of their people or their countries.
    All seem to be working for the interests of Big Money: The Banksters & their crony Multinationals.

    I remember a clip where George Soros, Rothschild bagman, said: “Germany had better behave or…”


  5. Lovely pic John. We are madly in love with this region of France, from Tarn in the east to the west Dordogne. It is like time has stood still and the oppressive forces above are at bay there. Be there again in 8 weeks.


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