Honestly

The cynical hypocrisy of Lance Armstrong continues. No dignified Profumo-style retirement for him. His disgrace as cycling’s biggest-ever cheat is now compounded by his carefully orchestrated, tearful TV  ‘confession’, already billed as the greatest show on earth, with the clear objective of seeking sympathy and even more millions of dollars from the hoodwinked public. Pass the spittoon.

On Holidaying in Germany and England.

Landing in Paris on the 27th of December was a bit of a relief. My fears of flying Air France were unfounded as it turns out. The service was polite and pleasant. The flight departed San Francisco on time and arrived, if anything, a bit early. This made the connexion to Luxembourg all the less stressful. Passport control was simply. There was only one person in the EU/EEA/CH passport queue ahead of me. To say that the officer was indifferent would be to lend him more credibility than he perhaps deserves. He could not be bothered as he was chatting happily with his mate. I handed him my passport which he grudgingly picked up, glanced at, and promptly tossed back at me hardly looking at either me or my passport. Security was also reasonably quick, it being an intra-Schengen flight. Perhaps the most annoying part of the entire passage to Trier was a very slow cleaning woman who insisted on taking her time to clean the men’s WC after I had drunk a quart of water and 3 coffees. After giving a performance which could pass as a reasonable performance of Irish dance the WC reserved for parents with small children finally opened. The flight from Paris to Luxembourg on Luxembourg Airlines was a bit surprising. There were under 10 passengers including myself and almost all seats were empty. That we were able to fly at all was surprising. Even more surprising, then, was that my aunt who is generally as punctual as the Royal Mail actually arrived at the same time my suitcases were delivered. Her sons, my cousins, were there as well. One recently turned 18, the other will turn 10 next month. My uncles were there as well, one having driven up from Baden-Württemberg for the purpose of visiting my mother and myself. Continue reading “On Holidaying in Germany and England.”

Be careful for what you wish!

I know I have mentioned buying a house here with less land to which to retire. Well, we did.  I had sold my house in Wales the past summer and wanted to tuck up the money, no point putting it in the bank, that’s for sure! The bastards want to charge you to keep your money these days round here.

So, we buy this house, about the same size house as here but on a small town plot.  The plan being sell this and move into that.  Well, when we viewed several times the place was as quiet as the grave, suited me fine, I hate noise.  Immediately we made the purchase and handed over the filthy lucre all hell lets loose!  The hard rock music from next door vibrating the walls of our place and then another time bloody bongo drums!  One could be forgiven thinking one had been transported into the Congo basin and missionaries were aboiling!!

Continue reading “Be careful for what you wish!”

Beyond my Reach

Just as the frost bound night gives way to dawn
dark silence echoes still across the tranquil lake
some early glancing sunbeams seem to wake
those placid waters as a mirrored, golden lawn,
and fleeing darkness all despond does take.

My fond, frail happiness, born so coffee hot
by morning fire of light, if not yet heat
must soon, before the waking day, retreat
and leave behind a vision which will not
until the next bright dawning e’er repeat

But I will know you when we meet again
lit only by the glowing eastern sky
before some first bird’s early morning cry
more lasting pleasure to perhaps attain
to fail perforce, but always, then to try.

European City of Culture

I have often wondered how the choice of the European City of Culture is made and by whom. Sometimes I really wonder about the choice.

Today Kosice in eastern Slovakia takes its turn centre stage for a year.  It’s the second largest city in Slovakia and I haven’t visited it myself, but it seems to have quite a few things going for it.

But this year the title is shared between two cities and the other one is Marseille.  Marseille is not a city I like, particularly its over-ornate basilica, Notre Dame de la Garde.  There is a new Museum of the Mediterranean being built for this year of glory, but it won’t be finished till June at the earliest, half-way through its reign.  Over the past year Marseille has become notorious for murders, usually one lot of drug-dealers taking out a rival bunch.  No loss there!  But is it really a good idea to have a lot of visitors coming to a place where drive-by shootings have become the norm?  Some of the local people are hopeful that the culture accolade will improve the town’s image,

” De quoi, espèrent en choeur les Marseillais, corriger l’image de la ville, particulièrement mise à mal ces derniers mois après une série de règlements de comptes.”

Would it not have been better to postpone this City of Culture title for Marseille for a bit, until the new museum was fully open and  the police and gendarmes have managed to clear up some of the drugs racket though that will take a while, since corruption has eaten its way into some of the forces of law and order?  The North African ferries continue to unload their cargo of HGVs, many of them with hidden extras.  So who on earth thought it would be a good idea to nominate Marseille in the first place and to carry on regardless in the second?

The War Journal: Frozen wastes

My old granddad always used to say “There’s two types of people in this world. Those that keep stuff and those that don’t keep stuff.” Me, I could hoard until the cows come home and as the song goes, I’m not the only one. My mate Chibber is also a hoarder. Continue reading “The War Journal: Frozen wastes”