Posted by: kathandroger | March 20, 2016

Spring Birds and the Blue Angel.

It was Kath’s birthday on the 17th, and to add to the joyous festivities of that day I saw the first swallow over our little farmyard. The next day a pair sat on the telephone wire and chatted away as swallows do. I had to take the winter window out of my workshop so that they can fly into my workplace and cover it with their excrement, not that I mind too much, I would rather clean up the mess and see those lovely creatures all around me. This is the earliest the swallows have arrived, and the earliest in the UK for me has been my birthday, on April 7th. I tried to get a photo but the bird flew away, leaving only my old wind vane, made many years ago by a friend and showing me at work with the old boxer dog leading the way.IMG_3324The other birds are looking good as well. The chickens have got over the ugliness of their moulting and are now looking very healthy and are in full production. We have yet to teach them not to dig up the garden, but life is swings and roundabouts, and what damage we do have is compensated by the little tribe roaming the grounds and enjoying themselves. Kath has just informed me that she is convinced that our counou chicken, known as the turkey because she is a great big ugly girl, is egg bound and will need my attentions. Lucky me, there can’t be many animal orifaces which have not encountered my inquiring digit on some occasion. IMG_3322She did not make it into the picture due to her trying in vain to squeeze the obstructing oval whilst hiding behind the abutilon bush. I hope we have some chicks this year, and will be surprised if at least one of them does not go broody.

Yesterday was a visit to the “ANGE BLEU”. The Blue Angel club is situated just north of Bordeaux, and is a massive nightclub, well known in the west and south of France. Our dance club decided we needed the education it would provide, and so about eighty of us visited yesterday. I was the only non native, the wife not liking the bus and the enormity of the enterprise, but she missed a treat. I thought I was early to meet the coach, as five minutes were in hand, but was the last to arrive, to much glee and shouting from the chums. 300 kms along the motorway in a modern coach is no problem, and the 7.30am start did seen a little too early. No matter, in typical French style we stopped at a Motorway cafe for a good half an hour to chat, eat and drink coffee. We were still early for the matinee performance, and entered what looked like a huge warehouse building, with no windows and only a flashy, pillared entrance with blue neon signs to show we had found the right spot. That and the many other coaches which had arrived. It was a bit like turning up for the footy at Wembly. Once inside, we sat at long tables, all set for lunch, but could not touch anything because we were half an hour early still. The club can seat 1500 guests at one time, and even for the matinee the place was nearly full. Once we got going, the show was spectacular. After a short lunch of two and a half hours, with fois gras and a bottle of local wine to myself (surprisingly, my French friends do not drink!), with some dancing, the real show began. Alcohol and dancing are a tricky couple. Just the right amount and the performance is enhanced. Too much and it is not enhanced. I should not have had the bottom half of the bottle. Never mind, the dancing girls in the show diverted the attention, and the slick stage settings were wonderful. My companion on the long journey home would not stop talking about the third girl on the right, but to me they all looked good. We arrived home in time to see England win the Grand Slam against the French, and a good day had been had.


Responses

  1. What a fantastic weather vane!


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