Posted by: kathandroger | June 16, 2019

New Potatoes.

The first of our new spuds have been  dug. Another landmark date in the relentless progression of mother natures’ world.IMG_0825 The cuckoo is still cuckooing, and the chiffchaff is chiffchaffing and the longest day is rapidly approaching. The winter wheat is now ready for harvest and the crest of the new year is upon us. I don’t like it. To me the awakening of spring and the first flush of flowers is the highlight of the year, and after next week we will be rolling downhill into winter again. And it all happens so quickly!

But it is time to be positive, and the fishing permit will soon be purchased, and the relentless pursuit of the local whoppers will be in full swing. I only wish I could catch some of them. Wily buggers, these French fish, and I reckon they know when a useless Englishman is on the bank, and all just shoal together and giggle. To make it worse, one of my friends in the village has been regaling me with reports of the monsters being taken out of the river at the bottom of his garden. Today is the 16th of June, the start of the fishing season in the UK, and millions of like minded idiots like me will be making their way to the waters edge. But how things have changed; I was in our local Decathlon store yesterday, and happened to find myself in the angling department. Now when I was a lad, all that was needed was an old rod and reel, some hooks and line, a bit of bread and maybe some worms. Not nowadays! There were rows and rows of all sorts of essential kit, like bite detectors and catapaults for firing out the stack of groundbait. I often see chaps making their way to fish carrying what looks like their whole worldly possessions with them, often pulling them on trolleys. Problem is, they probably catch fish, and I don’t.

The twin grandsons have made their way back to the UK, with the aid of mum. It was a real pleasure having them here, and although the weather was not good, the pool was well used. Strange how little ones can deny feeling cold when they are shivering and their lips are blue! The cherries on one of our trees are in full ripeness now and all within reach have been eaten. By the end of the trip I had even got used to the noise that young boys make, and it all seems very quiet here now. We had several nice walks in the surrounding woods, and although not identical, it was interesting how the call of nature seemed to affect both at the same time.IMG_0812I hope they will come again soon.

The new chickens have settled in well, and one has gone broody. No amount of dissuasion would convince her that the eggs are not fertile, so she has been put in a cage and is sitting on some fertile eggs we swapped with neighbour Claude. He is an interesting chap, who lives mainly in his caravan, and has countless little goats. His fowl are an interesting bunch and, if they hatch, it will be fun to see what sort of mixture we have.

After the cold and rain of the past weeks, hot sun is forecast, so maybe with some new chicks, and the garden producing nice fresh vegetables, life is not really too bad!

Posted by: kathandroger | June 9, 2019

French News.

I always listen to the news in French. Not only is it good for my paltry language skills, but it does give some insight into how the nation here differs from our own in the UK.

The most insignificant things often feature as the most important in French life. A couple of days ago was a good example. The worldwide conflicts, latest political decisions, and notable deaths were all secondary to the fact that some bad tasting beef had been imported from Poland! It was in no way dangerous, but was apparently made from the skin of the animals rather than the flesh, and did not have the flavour so important to the population. Quelle Horreur! The product was in tins and had been widely distributed, mainly to local needy. I have little doubt that anyone desperate for a good meal would eat anything, but here it has to taste correctly! And last year the death of the singer Johnny Halliday was a national catastrophe. Endless boring details day after day to the detriment of all other news items. OK he was like the king of France, but not so much for so long please! The national team won the footy World Cup last year, a great achievement, but surely not enough to suppress all other news items for a week. But there we have it; each nation is different, and it is fascinating to learn how the French tick.

To be fair, there was a good and complete coverage of the 75th anniversary of the D day landings. What a salutary experience to remember those thousands of young men being mown down on the beaches of Normandy. My generation have no idea of the suffering it must have caused to the countless families at home. I was thinking about it on my second rehabilitation bike ride when I came across this field not far from home.IMG_0777The poppies are in full bloom now, and what a lovely sight they are. It is just so sad that they will forever be associated, at least in my mind, with those beaches and all those deaths.

But on to brighter thoughts. The swallows in all the outbuildings have raised their first broods and in the evenings the sky is full of the lovely birds swooping and chattering. They are very protective of each other and when Dennis shows himselfIMG_0770they make high velocity attacks in his direction. He used to duck, but is now wise to the events, and just looks at them. He taunts the poor little birds just as he taunts the dog.

The twin grandsons have arrived from the UK. It was an interesting journey to pick them up from Limoges Airport, given that we were in the midst of the worst wind of the year. The storm had brought down some trees, but with the paucity of traffic it was easy to avoid them and our journey home was uneventful. Naturally the pool has become the centre of attraction.IMG_0783Polly the dog loves to play but thankfully will not jump in herself. The weather has not been all that hot, but Miller has found the joys of warm sun on the buttocks something to revel in.IMG_0787 (2)Wouldn’t it be lovely to be that age again?

Posted by: kathandroger | June 2, 2019

One week, two countries.

We live in an era of cheap and easily available travel. I worry about all the pollution we cause, especially travelling by air, but have to admit it has not made much difference to my own plans.  I went back to the UK last week to attend a friends’ funeral. Sad occasion, but beautifully done and a pleasure to see some very old chums. This time I drove to the ferry at Caen, left the car, and traversed as a foot passenger. Very much cheaper than taking the vehicle, and a mate picked me up from the terminal to spend the night at his nearby house. I love the ferry. Six hours of doing nothing, except watching the sea, reading, eating and generally people watching. Lots of schoolchildren on trips, and lots of jollity.

Rejoining the country of my birth is strange nowadays. I know it was my home for many happy years, but it now feels a bit alien and so totally different to France. My friends in Hampshire have a wonderful house and gardens, and I was awoken by the dawn chorus of birds, something which happens rarely here. We traveled to London for the ceremony, taking a succession of trains then Uber taxis. Nowhere did we have to wait for more than ten minutes in what was a very complicated journey; oh the wonders of the smartphone! All around was the familiar bustle of London which I knew so well, as well as the looks of frustration and annoyance of passengers having to stand on the trains. But we made it on time, the ceremony was dignified with some beautiful professional singers, and my lovely lady friend was laid to rest with her friends and family all around her. IMG_0749The reception was held just outside London, and the photo reminds me of how I feel about my home town now; murky and very much in the distance.

It was good to get home: the ferry was full of American visitors to the Northern Beaches for the war anniversary, but again there were lots of youngsters behaving like youngsters do. I drove back without a stop, and was pleased to find the car covered in squashed insects the next day. We hear so much about the fall in the insect population, another worry, but the remnants of the species seemed to have made Kamikaze attacks on the vehicle. Sorry about the killing, but it reassured me that all is not lost yet.

 

Yesterday was another new experience. A “semi nocturnal ramble”. Apparently they are quite common here, the local walking clubs organising a route of varying distances, with a stop just before the end to eat a meal. It began at dusk, on what was a very hot evening, and at about 11 km we stopped at a renovated farm for a typical French “snack”.IMG_0753There were about a hundred walkers for the very pretty route around Chaumussay, a local village. The pace was leisurely, the company good, and I even had time to remind myself of the power of nature, this tree, tangled in the fence, had obviously been too much for extraction.IMG_0755And then the meal! As always in France, eating is both important and not to be rushed. We started with the apero at about half past nine, and left after coffee not long before midnight, and it was just a simple affair in an outside marquee. That is the France that I have come to know and love!

Posted by: kathandroger | May 26, 2019

Early Morning Meadows.

One of the great joys of living here is that nice walks, off road, can be taken in all directions, straight from the house. And having a dog means there is a disciplined routine of exercise that needs to be followed to prevent the animal becoming frustrated and naughty. The same goes for the dog walker.

Early mornings recently have been delightful, fresh enough to need some good clothing to start, but soon warming up in the morning sun. The uncut grass on some of the tracks is now up to waist height, and jeans become soaked through with the morning dew when ploughing through them. IMG_0737Polly the dog absolutely loves it, although in most places she can only see a few inches in front of her. It must be like being in a dense forest of grass and brambles. The first orchids are waning now, but the spring flowers are all around, and this year there seems to be more nightingales than ever, singing their melodious songs all around us. We rarely see anyone else, but if we do it will be a well known neighbour we can stop and chat to. Yesterday seemed to be the annual outing for hares. Polly can scent a hare, and immediately takes off on a wild hare chase. IMG_0745I could see nothing in this wheat field, but the dog hared off after her hare. I could see the blades of wheat bending wherever she went, and could hear the rustle of activity. At last the rustling seemed to come back my way, and I was just about to congratulate the returning hunter when a big hare came out at my feet! I don’t know who was more surprised. It didn’t stop to say hello, but took off up the track where another hare was waiting for it. The dog came back, exhausted, a few minutes later. Happy times.

Another feature this week was rehearing a play to be performed in a nearby village. Lines are still not properly learned, but some progress is being made. I am playing the Black Prince, during the Hundred Years War, and for the first time had to appear in costume, something that just made me laugh. We were performing in the back garden of the producers’ house, which has lovely views of the church and local chateau.IMG_0727The chap with sunglasses is not in costume, but the tinpot on the right is the Constable of France, who I oppose in the play and have aggressive dialogues with. It really is very difficult to keep a straight face, especially when holding a big plastic sword and wearing a cardboard crown! And as the only Englishman in the cast, my amusement is not always understood. It will be all right on the night…I hope!

The club walk this week was around a local village that I know not at all. One or two new walkers were with us, and I always try to say hello to everyone. This particular lady spoke with an American accent, and I politely inquired, in English, what part of the States she was from. “Berlin” was the answer I was not expecting! She was German, but had lived in the States, and also in France, married to a Frenchman, and was fluent in all three languages. Makes my stumbling efforts seem a bit frail. But we did come across a lovely natural spring, something I can’t remember seeing before.IMG_0743It was a source of the local river Esves, and the crystal clear water that could be seen coming from the iron stained stones below was a complete contrast to the more murky waters of the river itself. Polly loved it as well, and bathed enthusiastically. The walkers were less enthusiastic when she shook herself dry all over them!

Posted by: kathandroger | May 19, 2019

The Musical Dog.

My shoulder still gives me pain at night. For that reason I have been taking an assortment of medications with varying results, sometimes slumber, sometimes altertness, and frequently dissatisfaction. But one night last week there was another sensation. At about 3am I became aware of distant classical music. Just loud enough to recognise the tunes, but not loud enough to identify the origin. We live far away from any organised music center, and our few neighbours, to my knowledge, are not classical music fans. It was pleasant and soothing, taking my mind off the nagging pain, but not knowing the source of the melodies was a frustration. To get out of the nice warm bed or not. Torn between relaxation and the thirst for knowledge, I levered myself up to open the nearest window and identify the culprit. Nothing, no noise, only the inrush of cold spring air. And then the realisation that the melodies, now Bachs’ Air on a G string, were coming from within the house. Surely a burglar would not have put on some classics to help in his endeavours? With one floppy arm at my side I crept downstairs, not putting on any lights. Sure enough, the music was coming from the kitchen, but there were no other noises, and all was in darkness. The useless dog was not in her bed, but not showing any sign of activity either. And there it was. The bloody animal had crept up onto the sofa, something she is forbidden to do, and must have bashed the start button on the music centre on doing so. She did manage to open one eye when accused of the crime, but showed no remorse. I crept back to bed with a mixture of amusement and displeasure, but slept!

It is still cold and nasty here. We have had a few nice bright days, but with a cold wind.IMG_0699A walk around our local resevoir was unremarkable except for a load of carp playing on the surface. This photo is pretty useless, as they did not wait for me, and stopped jumping around with each other before I could get the camera out. I am not sure if it was some sort of mating ritual, but they seemed to be having a good time. Perhaps it was a carp dance.

I was reminded of what France is all about in our local supermarket a few days ago. The lady cashier likes to try her English with me, and I knew she was a football fan. With the European Football competitions being dominated by English teams, I goaded her into a tirade about the failures of the French teams. She was not able to express her dissatisfaction in my native tongue, but was very good in her own. The reaction went on for several minutes, players and their attitudes to the game were discussed, and she made herself very clear about her views. But what is typical is that behind me the queue was becoming very long and not happy. No matter, chatting is important in France, and business must wait. Lovely.

We had a beautiful walk with the club around a local historical site on Thursday.IMG_0717 (2)I have never seen so many different species of orchid, and our local expert was able to enlighten and educate me. We even saw a slow-worm which cause much excitement, IMG_0721 (2)especially trying to explain that it was not a snake but a lizard which had lost its legs! They looked around for ages, but could not find any.

Posted by: kathandroger | May 12, 2019

Bits and Pieces.

It is  a funny old time of the year. It should be hot and socks off time, but my shorts are still in the wardrobe, and the heating in the house is still being used intermittently. Because of the broken arm the garden has been delayed and the tomatoes are still being confined to the greenhouse, with bulging roots that are trying to break their way out of the pots. But Kath has planted lots of roots, and I managed one arm onion and shallot insertion a few days ago. Loads of pretty flowers have been purchased and our courtyard is looking pretty again after the ravages of the wind and rain.

We have a large garden to look after, which is not always fun. But there are always bigger and more impressive sites around us.IMG_0666 (2)This magnificent gate is at the entrance to one of the minor chateaux locally. We have walked by it several times over the past weeks, and it seems to be nearing completion. All the ironwork is hand made, and it will be an impressive way to enter the building which can just be seen in the background. God knows how much it costs, and he’s not telling. I must be getting a bit more left wing in my old age, but I reckon the amount paid for this extravagance would go a long way to buying a house for a hard up young couple.

The walks with the two clubs have been lovely the last few weeks. It means we can see in detail some of the other villages around, and walking means frequent stops to admire the scenery, which certainly does not happen with the bike rides. St Sauveur is a local village we visited last week.IMG_0672 (2)Lots of lovely old buildings and a local commune which obviously likes to look after its flower beds. Well done. I have no idea where we walked around the village, but the local wild flowers are at their peak now, and thanks to our local botanist, Susan, my frail knowledge was regularly refreshed.IMG_0674 (2)We noticed several clumps of this Solomon’s Seal, which I have not seen locally before. An interesting plant which we used to have in Dorset in the UK, and which was known as “sows tits” because the flowers on opening look like the underside of a lady pig. I love pigs and this plant will now be one of my local favourites!

But another great difference between the UK and here is the lack of fencing around the fields. I guess the pressure on agriculture is not so great, and there are less animals to be confined. But it also means that there are less hedges than at home with all the contained wildlife. IMG_0678Having said that it has been a pleasure to hear several nightingales warbling away locally; they are apparently now rare in Britain.

Back to village life. Yesterday was spent erecting tents for todays flower festival in Le Grand Pressigny. Lots of people with no experience trying to fit together frames and covers and usually doing it wrong the first time, but getting it right in the end. The village has a large English speaking population, and the mixture of anglo and French cussing was a joy to behold. But before we could start our efforts, a local car group had to finish their lunch before driving off.IMG_0680 (2)And all the cars were English! It took me back to my prime, when I owned a few MG’s over the years, and wished I had kept them. Though on reflection they were all noisy, thirsty and slow by modern standards, and it is better to see other people making expensive efforts to keep them in good shape. I prefer by little rust resistant kit car!

Posted by: kathandroger | May 5, 2019

Commotion in the countryside!

Wow, taters in the mold here today. A widespread frost to greet the day, and a good job the arm is broken, or the tomatoes may have been planted. Not until next weekend is the “St Glaces” celebrated; the traditional end to the frosts, and when any self respecting Frenchman plants his vegetable garden. Here we have some broad beans almost ready to eat, and the flowering peas won’t mind the cold, and otherwise the garden is bare. Final rotavating and planting can wait another couple of weeks until the soil is warmer.

But the peace and quiet of our lovely region has been troubled by the relentless noise of several bird scarers in the surrounding fields. Bloody gunshot explosions from the gas fired devices which are supposed to keep the birds off the sprouting crops. Nobody seems to think they work, even the local gamekeeper I spoke to yesterday, and they only serve to annoy the local residents. Me particularly. And yesterday I had to change my intended dog walk route because of yet another hunt.IMG_0621And there were dozens and dozens of them! The route to the west was infested with chaps with guns and red singlets, all milling about and mumbling. The hound man blew his horn endlessly, the hounds bayed, the bird scarers were going off, and it was not the peaceful tranquil morning I am used to. The dog and I went off to the east, away from the melee, only to meet up with the hunt again an hour or so later, when having drawn a blank, they decided to come and harass my walking area! They shot nothing; apparently the wild boar have been causing lots of crop damage locally, but I have not seen any. Except on this newly planted field near us.IMG_0613This is not the wild boar and I reckon it is Brock the Badger who had been nosing around. I don’t know if he likes maize seed; maybe he was just looking for some worms.

Oh and the other intrusion into our peaceful wanderings around here was that Kath was apprehended by the local Hunt Police! One local wood has been bought for hunting by a local bigwig, and he has installed lots of raised platforms to shoot the poor animals from, but also installed lots of hidden cameras! These are monitored by the “Guard du Chasse” and anyone straying from the allowed pathways is in trouble! Kath was seen straying off piste more than once, and apparently four chaps tried to catch her on one occasion, but she apparently unconsciously evaded her pursuers! She was politely told about her sins and has promised not to be a naughty girl again. So our peaceful countryside is not as natural and calm as we sometimes think!

The cold of today only reflects on the warm sunny days we have had recently. Even the grass snake has appreciated the morning sun, and this lovely animal was basking just behind our house.IMG_0616 (2)I reckon he was over a metre long, but they are harmless and a real pleasure to see. Likewise the donkey we passed on our walk on Thursday. I challenge anybody to not laugh when one of these beasts sings.IMG_0619Come to think of it and it is another loud countryside noise, but one which makes me laugh, unlike those bloody bird scarers!

Posted by: kathandroger | April 28, 2019

Facial Hair.

Having had a few weeks without shaving because of the broken arm, facial hair has become something of a fascination for me. Predictably my own beard has that very blond, almost white appearance that must be something to do with maturity. Slightly different to that of son Jim.IMG_0573 (1)Now beards seem to be all the rage nowadays. But so does shaving the head. What is it all about? A delve into evolution seems to indicate that we were a lot hairier in ancient times. I guess it was to keep us warm whilst we were hunting mammoths, but it seems our womenfolk were less hairy than us even in those long gone days. Why was that? Perhaps they stayed in the caves and tended the fire whilst the men shivered outside, who knows, but I must say I prefer hairy people to be of the male gender. Now, in general, excess hair is eliminated by the fairer sex and celebrated by males. Do we think that modification of our natural excrescences makes us more attractive, or do us hairy ones just like to keep warm? Shaving the beard has been intermittent over the centuries, but shaving the head seems to be a more modern feature in males. I can understand some chaps wanting to disguise approaching baldness, but to shave the head and leave the beard seems to me to be like women keeping their bikini tops on and leaving off the pants! Maybe that will be all the rage on the beaches next year.

But back from theory into reality. What a lovely time of year, with the swallows chattering outside and the flora bursting with beauty all around us. Kath has been back to the UK for a few days and was amazed at the difference. The early purple orchids always do well around here, and in one field, which is largely left uncultivated, there is literally a carpet of flowers.IMG_0591And as usual our Wisterias have been magnificent. I heard on the French radio this morning that they are the least demanding of plants, that will find moisture with the help of various fungi, and that need only the poorest soil to thrive. IMG_0580We have several plants that have self seeded in the garden, and all are now in flower. I would like to give some away, but the roots are difficult to dig out.

The Honeywort which self seeded from pot grown plants in the courtyard has benefited from the hens not digging them up, and certainly do attract lots of  bees.IMG_0577 Incidentally there do seem to be lots this year, and also there were lots of dead insects on the windscreen recently, so hopefully the insect world is not in as bad shape as we suspected.

The vegetable garden has suffered with my disability, but I had managed to rotavate two rows before the accident. Broad beans are now forming, and the peas are in flower. I have planted the early spuds, and may sling in some maincrop this afternoon. In the greenhouse the forty or so tomato plants are looking good and will go out after St Glaces, the date in mid May after which frosts are forbidden under French Law.

Dog and Mog continue to amuse. Naturally the feline has the intelligence, and delights in being chased by Polly until he has had enough and hides. But unlike our old Airedale, there seems to be no competition for food.IMG_0598 (2)I have to say, that much to everyones disgust, I find the latest dry dog food delicious, and have to sample a few nuggets myself. Maybe we need a bigger bowl that we can all share!

Posted by: kathandroger | April 21, 2019

Back in the UK.UK.

`Last week was spent in the land of my birth. I have fallen in love with France, but it is always nice to go home. This trip was to be with the twin grandsons on their 4th birthdays, an event sure to be calm and serene. I joke.

The family live in Frome, a west country town now much loved by the DFL’s (Down from London), and I can see why. A pretty old town centre with lots of interesting shops, and steep and narrow roads.IMG_0553There are lots of small individual and unusual places to buy small and individual things; I don’t like shopping but managed to buy some bright red old fashioned wiring flex for making lamps… don’t find that in Bricomarche! And I wish I had more luggage allowance on the plane as the charity shops (which again we don’t have in France) were full of the sort of old junk that I love. There is also one little street with a stream running down the middle; if it were here in France I can guess what the chaps would use it for! IMG_0549Pubs are everywhere in Frome. One of the few things I miss here is the pubs and the good old fashioned British beers. I was dragged off one evening with some of the locals on the street to sample the ales. It was a difficult evening, but I managed it, although the old bladder isn’t what it was and capacity for endless pints had sadly diminished. I wonder why the French have not embraced the ambiance of the pub culture? Incidentally time was called at 11pm, but that only seemed to mean that a bell was rung for the clients to order more drinks; we left around midnight and things were still going strong!

But back to the reason for the trip. Twin boys have lots of energy. An ageing geezer with a broken arm less so. And the noise! Normal, excitable, emotional chaps on the main day of their year are a bit of a handful. Not me, the twins that is. Load of presents, all ripped open with delight and then discarded for the next gift, a seemingly endless parade of goodies. Then off to Bristol with both sets of grandparents and uncle Jim, to a hands on science set up.IMG_0566Two floors of buttons to push, things to pull (including a cows udder!), things to make, and even a space trip to visit the planets. The boys loved it.IMG_0558 (2)And outside was a paddling area to get soaked in, which really made the day. Well arranged parents!

So the short trip soon ended, after a cinema visit to watch the latest Mary Poppins film, which I loved. Ryanair was typically efficient and crowded, and the flight back to Limoges over in little more than an hour. Two hours in the car with Kath the Taxi ( I had planned to drive myself and leave the car at the airport) and we were home to the peace and quiet of rural France again. I took the dog up to the little building on top of our land and sat for a few moments in the peace and quiet; the silence only perforated by the cuckoo. Lovely trip, and lovely to be back in France.

Posted by: kathandroger | April 14, 2019

Bits and pieces!

Well I guess it is progress. I am managing to type with two hands this week. With the keyboard on my lap and not being able to reach all the keys it is still a bit of a struggle, but progress nevertheless! And only having one functioning eye doesn’t help either. What a miserable old blogger!

Last week some friends took me to a new brewery locally. Run by Tom, an escapee from the UK like the rest of us, it seems to be making some inroads into the local beer trade. He has set up his enterprise in a little barn next to his house, and at present is making a few thousand bottles a week of three different brews.dav I first met Tom one freezing morning at our local market, where he was trying to sell cold beer to cold French people without any success. Naturally I had to put him out of his misery, and I have to say it is a pleasure to sample something other than the local gassy bottled rubbish. Tom has brought his wife and two young children to France to start a new life and we all hope it goes well for them. I am not sure his advertising slogan on the back of his old delivery van will be universally appreciated, but it is certainly a bit different! Good luck Braslou Beers.dav

We have had more trouble with Brock the Badger. There are no chicken for him to take at the moment, but he managed to break the metal clasp on the back gate and gain entry to the orchard where he digs for worms. Bloody mess too, but it looked better after mowing, and I seem to have disuaded him from coming back with a rag soaked in Jeyes Fluid. Stinks like a smelly thing, and would certainly stop me from entering! But I like to see old Brock, so hope his still remains in the area.

The French seem to be very efficient at looking after and harvesting their woodland. Several little plots of trees locally have been felled and cleared over the winter. I guess we forget that trees are a crop just like the others, and need to be harvested when ready. This area shows the stages of the process, the logs, the twiggy bits and the huge shredded portion.IMG_0475 The landscape changes enormously, but it is all part of the charm of our local countryside.

Everything is growing like Billy O. I have no idea where the expression comes from, but it certainly applies to my grass, the flowers ( the early purple orchids have appeared this week), and to the lambs. The triplets are all doing well, but have been dwarfed by the singleton ram lamb who must now weigh at least double the smallest triplet. They all seem to get along well together and Polly holds no fear for them; it is wonderful to see them all gamboling together.

As an aside, my neck hurts a bit and I have just taken a paracetamol pill. The difference here is that my paracetamol also contains opium!! It doesn’t exist in the UK, and maybe that is why the French think the drug works so well. Certainly makes me feel better!

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