14th August 2010
French Petrol Station. Aire de Chatellerault, Usseau.
The French petrol station on the way home. As you may expect – the weather is turning, it’s all turning grey the closer we get to the UK. Bit unfair but it’s drawing close to the end of an amazing holiday.
We’ve done nearly 2000 miles and met some fantastic people. Laughed our asses off and been poor kings on the run from our lives. Here we are, in the place that’s made it all possible. At least the 2000 miles in 12 days part.
The magic potion station. Where flammable dreams are sold. Apparently there’s equivalent energy in 4 years of a man’s life as in a tank of fuel. We are the lucky ones. The lucky bastards. Until it all back fires on us. Live it up while we can right?! Fly and gorge while we can. Had an amazing time but at what price? I’m coming down again off the high. The smog is clearing or coming in – to remind me. But really – I don’t believe in the poisons we’ve dropped into the atmosphere round Europe. I don’t believe in climate change – just at the moment … so as not to spoil things. So. Without wanting to end on a dour note – thank you world. The potion was amazing. And my apologies for using it so decadently.
13th August 2010
Interview with Adrien to follow.
This fantastic tree is being supported on stilts. Welfare for trees.
After the interview there was a brilliant interventionist clown show on the roundabout. One of the best comic challenges executed perfectly. They were amazing. Here they are in action:
12th August 2010
Le dun de PILA, France.
Jungle jumble. Get some order in this mess! … (imagine it) rows … of trees in the right places. Assist the growth … (number the trees). EU bananas but forests. What would become of things if bureaucrats carried on taking over. Uniform trees and forests. Of course for example much of Finland is grown in this way… at least grown as a harvest for the wood. If you fly over Finland it looks like natural forest and tons of it but it aint.
But what about genetic trees that grow perfectly uniform. It could conceivably become fashionable. A world of people brought up as OCD where a natural forest – one you might visit in a arboreal museum looks untidy and the visitors can’t believe a forest used to look like this. Dead fallen branches and rotting vegetation and everything competing for light – reaching to the cracks of light and adapting/surviving by growing a unique shape. Fitting into the available resources. Finding a niche.
We all know the beauty is in the chaos. The crooked and windy and broken. A properly unmanaged forest has something totally calming. Conversely – apparently a managed forest grows better/mor effectively. So perhaps a McDonalds forest is what we need. Efficient, cheap and the leaves swept by teenagers. However, if McDonalds started planting forests instead of cutting them down then … Hazaah.
Encroaching desert … water shortage/cypruss … (Sorry to bang on …).
A crap load of sand.
Start looking like my holiday snaps – they kind of are … I’m on a holiday.
11th August 2010
Seems serendipitous that I should write about rose tinted glasses and then pass a city called Roses. Rose glasses over Roses … And the perfect tree.
I’d hoped to get up one of these – I’m not sure, maybe – cork? They have cork-like bark. Was one of my grandmothers pie in the sky ideas back in the day – to buy a cork plantation in Portugal. That would have been a different life. My brilliant Danish grandmother. One of the first people I would have met and the first person I saw as no more than a shell laying in her coffin, with her dream of cork.
It was about making a place for the family to meet up and an investment. It never happened. I once heard the richest place on earth is the graveyard. Because dreams are the riches of a person. He warned us not to take our dreams to our graves … etc. So I’m heading out of Spain via Roses. I hope it doesn’t look like these are my holiday snaps. They are in a way – but … it’s a pity. It was holiday mode and as a result I missed climbing with a troupe of Austrian scouts and a family guy shaman – also from Austria. I’m hoping to redeem myself by visiting them in Austria.
I’ll confess I was a bit hung over and had trouble communicating first thing in the morning – let alone the prospect of climbing a tree - with a group of eager scouts. The night before I had been the fascinating artist with a twinkle in his eye. The morning after – as they waited for me to get up I think I looked kind of pathetic. Very pathetic. Think of Oliver Reed, after a heavy night.
10th August 2010
Mohammed wrote in his book that one should learn other languages so you know what they think about you. I may have misquoted but the point is communication. This fiesta in the square is part of the language round here. I don’t want to blame the climate or attribute it to climate that families are together late. They came together here and dance to music. It’s a beautiful setting of course by the sea – romantic but this has to do with culture. A culture we should learn from.
There’s an innocence in this place. A joy. It’s a gentle sound from the band – not thumping along and so everyone is into it. People are holding hands as they dance in concentric circles. It’s country dancing. Of course it helps if the wind and rain aren’t whistling around you, trampling round in mud trying to enjoy yourself but … what can I bring back from this – to my life in England. What words in this cultural language can I memorise (look up Sardang). I remember going to a barn dance when I was a kid and had a whale of a time. How did we separate ourselves into nightclubs for the young, restaurants for the older and bed for children? Nightclubs are rarely a brilliant time. It’s all hyped up for a good time. All about booze and throwing yourself around a sweaty dance floor. I don’t know how I got onto deriding the nightclub. It’s become our alternative to a good old knees up round a campfire. Perhaps I should read the Koran(?) Find out what all the fuss is about. I’ve read most of the bible but apparently the Hebraic actually sings. The battle scenes can be heard in the choice of words.
Could a brain handle knowing every world language? A guy called Mario Pei apparently knew over 30 languages. You’d think if you followed the line of thought he’d be incredibly enlightened – able to understand and commune with most of the world in their own tongue – it seems he had paleo conservative principles – something I’ll have to look into. It sounds like something I’d be against but on a closer look I’m not sure. Ha! I just read that he was opposed to collectivism … the priority of group goals over individual goals. Amazing! This guy who could interact effectively linguistically with more people than anyone else believed in individualism. On the other hand he was into internationalism – economic and political cooperation for the theoretical benefit of all. Ok I’m confused. Well, I’d like to find out how I’d change if I could – with more than body language and hand signals and smiles and frowns. This fiesta is a good start. Dance our way to world peace?