tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10706627010299570072024-03-04T20:53:46.384-08:00Ratty and Badger go campingAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-27519876157365426542019-03-04T08:37:00.000-08:002019-03-08T01:29:59.695-08:00A puppies' tale - un petit conte de fées<br />
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Two tiny, 5-week old puppies, covered with glue and left to starve in a pine woods at the edge of a nearby town. That's all we knew about the puppies we were asked to foster in late October 2018.<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Deux petits chiots de 5 semaines, couverts de colle et abandonnés à mourir de faim près de Lézignan.</i></span><br />
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Three days after telling the SPA in Lézignan that we'd like to foster a dog, I had a call asking if we could take these two puppies of indeterminate origin (Pointer, Beagle, Jack Russell?) that the shelter had named Oumpi (the male) and Oumpa (the female).<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>On m'a contacté pour me demander si nous pouvions les prendre en accueil. La SPA à Lézignan les avait nommés Oumpi (le mâle) et Oumpa (sa soeur).</i></span><br />
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They weren't in the least afraid of us or our two not very welcoming terriers, Ratty and Badger and they loved being held.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ils n'avaient pas peur ni de nous ni de nos deux petits terriers, Ratty et Badger. Ils aimaient être tenus dans nos bras.</i></span><br />
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Both had voracious appetites. The problem was knowing how much to feed them, because the amount of food puppies are given is determined by the size they'll be when they're grown and no one had any idea. We were afraid to make them sick by feeding them too much, but soon realized that we had to increase the amount (we weigh the food that we give ours).<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ils avaient toujours faim et il a été difficile de savoir combien de nourriture leur donner, mais enfin, nous avons réussi à leur fair manger à leur faim.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(Note - The videos are best in full screen - click on arrow, then on symbol at lower right.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Les vidéos sont mieux visionnées en mode plein écran - utilisez le symbole en bas à droite après avoir cliqué sur la flèche</i></span>.)</span><br />
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The house filled with their squeals of play, astounding Ratty and Badger and even drowning them out at times.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ratty et Badger ont été étonnés par le bruit qu'ils ont fait en jouant.</i></span></div>
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Anything absent-mindedly left within reach was fair game.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Tout ce qu'on a laissé sur le sol était juste jeu pour eux.</i></span></div>
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Both were happy to snuggle into my bathrobe.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ils étaient contents de se blottir dans mon peignoir.</i></span></div>
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To keep them warm, we ran a small space <span style="text-align: center;">heater close to their bed, day and night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Pour les garder au chaud, nous avons placé un petit appareil de chauffage à côté de leur lit.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ils dormaient beaucoup.</i></span><br />
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And then they played again.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Et ensuite, ils recommenceraient à jouer.</i></span></div>
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Both puppies were quickly adopted via internet (on the national SPA site), Oumpa by a couple in Paris, Oumpi by a family in Lyon but, happily for us, they were still too young to leave. The wonderful staff at the Lézignan SPA were very careful about choosing the best families for both puppies.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">Les deux chiots ont été vite adoptés via internet (sur le site national de la SPA), Oumpa par un couple à Paris, Oumpi par une famille à Lyon. Heureusement pour nous, ils étaient encore trop jeunes pour nous quitter</i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>. </i></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Les merveilleux bénévoles de la SPA de Lézignan ont été très attentifs au choix des meilleures familles pour les deux chiots.</i></span><br />
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Tim made a laptop support so that first Ratty, then Badger could sleep on my lap while I was using my Mac. Oumpi often poked his head up to remind me he was there.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Oumpi aimait dormir au-dessous du support pour mon Mac que Tim m'avait fait pour Ratty et ensuite Badger quand ils étaient petits. Oumpi s'est rassuré que j'étais encore là de temps en temps.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBj5YaPus0QzGhGQSoauMQOGuQnfeIoJtJRAB_5yjDbj1iP5NZy8ikUwzobSarty2N5flQ4LTFzeFS4BosVfOmmQMbG3reTISbbk0vsPkUsSudLX7Q98vCdbIV-sR5RYDlvAz4IyGMNfI/s1600/fullsizeoutput_13f6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1222" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBj5YaPus0QzGhGQSoauMQOGuQnfeIoJtJRAB_5yjDbj1iP5NZy8ikUwzobSarty2N5flQ4LTFzeFS4BosVfOmmQMbG3reTISbbk0vsPkUsSudLX7Q98vCdbIV-sR5RYDlvAz4IyGMNfI/s320/fullsizeoutput_13f6.jpeg" width="244" /></a>House-training them involved reinforcing the gates separating the two sides of our ground floor. Determined chewing and scratching meant frequently having to repair and replace the cardboard.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Pour les former à la maison, il nous a fallu renforcer les barrières séparant les deux côtés de notre rez-de-chaussée. Nous avons été obligés fréquemment à réparer et à remplacer le carton.</i></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Ratty and Badger were willing to share space with the puppies. Sometimes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"><i>Parfois, Ratty et Badger ont accepté de partager le canapé - et nous.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikewOMb9x7f-OXvxTsHyl3lGQjjWA1cQ_yZ-BB4v5oF-YWZ6ncjrS_DG_gJgSPmpxi663PgKs-J6_8p9QlQE8dgpJbS5HpC5E5HPkOyHB-71rV9Gt6jHjBtpo2L8HvNmdxnLMRjRJlr-E/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1495.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1135" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikewOMb9x7f-OXvxTsHyl3lGQjjWA1cQ_yZ-BB4v5oF-YWZ6ncjrS_DG_gJgSPmpxi663PgKs-J6_8p9QlQE8dgpJbS5HpC5E5HPkOyHB-71rV9Gt6jHjBtpo2L8HvNmdxnLMRjRJlr-E/s320/fullsizeoutput_1495.jpeg" width="226" /></a>Then it was time for Oumpi to go and, though I knew he was going to a caring, loving family, I found it SO hard. Didier came by train to get him and we drove them to the station in Narbonne for their trip home to Lyon.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Trop tôt, il était temps de dire au revoir à Oumpi. Même si je savais qu'il allait dans une maison aimante, je me sentais très triste. Voici Didier et Oumpi à la gare à Narbonne pour leur </i></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>rentrée chez eux à Lyon.</i></span><br />
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Oumpa/Cuba (explanation later) was with us for another three days. She whimpered a little the first night, then was fine for the rest of her stay with us.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Oumpa/Cuba (explication ci-dessous) est restée chez nous encore trois jours. Elle a gémi un peu la première nuit, puis tout s'est bien passé pour le reste de son séjour chez nous. </i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQcznJV8g_gTM6Hn-b0pEYOrHf-Xgx4DLRiRl90DHvADzKuea-ThUzaE93pSws6PNR23HicFlATGCVAb9yGZECtLXGHfa5Q0XXrdvmfeUu03gGGgp7tKOl1q7vbvJOQADvLpzfnyH968/s1600/fullsizeoutput_17e1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="979" data-original-width="1111" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQcznJV8g_gTM6Hn-b0pEYOrHf-Xgx4DLRiRl90DHvADzKuea-ThUzaE93pSws6PNR23HicFlATGCVAb9yGZECtLXGHfa5Q0XXrdvmfeUu03gGGgp7tKOl1q7vbvJOQADvLpzfnyH968/s320/fullsizeoutput_17e1.jpeg" width="320" /></a>She did her best to make friends with Ratty and Badger, who eventually fell under her charm. Sort of...</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Elle a fait de son mieux pour se faire des amis avec Ratty et Badger - et a réussi, jusqu'à un certain point.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEpvbOQkoD9IAmbjVbLe9VgUNOd9B9aDIbf6phY1u4nkUOU8PtsDM1PQRQ7L-D_SsoPBi_9lZ2FOb5iqEzItQGR_ZAAe9TZYCN8Bg01NH87rHq4n0URFgmEFJtMBQQwwApA-QXMLriN0/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1488.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1372" data-original-width="1600" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEpvbOQkoD9IAmbjVbLe9VgUNOd9B9aDIbf6phY1u4nkUOU8PtsDM1PQRQ7L-D_SsoPBi_9lZ2FOb5iqEzItQGR_ZAAe9TZYCN8Bg01NH87rHq4n0URFgmEFJtMBQQwwApA-QXMLriN0/s320/fullsizeoutput_1488.jpeg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7lJ1KmM_I3dGwjqgSRm0LE3JnUVxacSfxk63oIjYfP3JUHchyzxgpWotnhKltUIAyTR6d_qUBHxzoRcAW7p88a6ruTCObRtA8Y77IpsGrvFM85EVdX98sPJJrGVgzlcnfnXgegQezBo/s1600/fullsizeoutput_1669.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1447" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7lJ1KmM_I3dGwjqgSRm0LE3JnUVxacSfxk63oIjYfP3JUHchyzxgpWotnhKltUIAyTR6d_qUBHxzoRcAW7p88a6ruTCObRtA8Y77IpsGrvFM85EVdX98sPJJrGVgzlcnfnXgegQezBo/s320/fullsizeoutput_1669.jpeg" width="289" /></a>Opportunities for mischief increased without Oumpi to keep her occupied.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Sans Oumpi pour jouer avec et curieuse par nature, elle fourra son nez dans tout ce qu'elle pouvait voir.</i></span><br />
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Oumpa à mon côté sur le canapé, sa dernière soirée avec nous. J'aime toutes les photos des chiots, mais je trouve celle-ci la plus attachante.<br />
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Then another parting, just as difficult. Fernanda and Rodrigo flew to Toulouse and took the train to Lézignan, where we met in a local restaurant. Oumpa settled down happily with both of them. As they had to wait several hours for the first of three trains they were to take back to Paris, we brought them home with us for the afternoon.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Et ensuite une deuxième séparation, aussi difficile que la première. Fernanda et Rodrigo avaient pris l'avion à Toulouse et puis le train à Lézignan. Oumpa s'est attachée tout de suite à eux. Ils sont venus chez nous pour passer les heures avant de prendre le premier des trois trains pour rentrer à Paris.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivA8EJgmc8u65DOq-38AzgJbMkIONEZ2-10R15DsMqCDITdxNraiMA7miLuer84a5XNl29osw6Ww2Kh2pzl17loKfzLfoSuLB6bJMjObEpSw9LqKEYTwTseEOPBs13QPDCN1yaCXT7tyo/s1600/fullsizeoutput_14d7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1592" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivA8EJgmc8u65DOq-38AzgJbMkIONEZ2-10R15DsMqCDITdxNraiMA7miLuer84a5XNl29osw6Ww2Kh2pzl17loKfzLfoSuLB6bJMjObEpSw9LqKEYTwTseEOPBs13QPDCN1yaCXT7tyo/s320/fullsizeoutput_14d7.jpeg" width="318" /></a>As we arrived at the train station, it came out that, when I'd asked both adopting families by email if they were going to keep or change the puppies' names, Fernanda and Rodrigo had said they'd keep the name because they thought I had chosen them. Oumpa then became Cuba (pronounced à l'espagnol, KOO-bah).<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>En arrivant à la gare, ils m'ont admis qu'ils avaient gardé le nom Oumpa parce qu'ils pensaient que c'était moi qui avait choisi les noms. Désormais, Oumpa s'appelle Cuba, prononcé à l'espagnol, KOU-ba.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7i5u9pIDiAi8jE1jTQPFPI8Rb7IWSWN0HOLvk2q-mbwJEuxZ2nzlzbADCxjVybu1sWqdt8sEdGVwoDH_faSNtV-sgQFr5qoLeYDSIxkze3W5w4GgV7OzX9Yy_nTz0soaYq_4FK4qdR3s/s1600/fullsizeoutput_14dd.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: black; float: left; font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1532" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7i5u9pIDiAi8jE1jTQPFPI8Rb7IWSWN0HOLvk2q-mbwJEuxZ2nzlzbADCxjVybu1sWqdt8sEdGVwoDH_faSNtV-sgQFr5qoLeYDSIxkze3W5w4GgV7OzX9Yy_nTz0soaYq_4FK4qdR3s/s320/fullsizeoutput_14dd.jpeg" width="306" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">Our last view of Cuba. As with Oumpi, we knew this puppy was in the best hands possible. BTW, Rodrigo and Fernanda are both veterinarians.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Notre dernière vue de Cuba. Comme avec Oumpi, nous savions qu'elle était avec les meilleures personnes possible. Par ailleurs, Rodrigo et Fernanda sont tous les deux vétérinaires.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Both families kept their promise and have been warming our hearts with photos and updates.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Les deux familles ont tenu leurs promesses et réchauffent nos cœurs avec des photos et des mises à jour.</i></span></div>
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Morgane training Oumpi who, at only 4 months, had already learned at <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">least</span></i> as much as Ratty and Badger.<br />
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Oumpi, Marie Ange's Valentine<br />
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Marie Ange: "Petit repas avec mon valentin"</div>
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What an amazingly rewarding, busy, entertaining and emotional month that was! Though I'm hoping we'll foster more <span style="text-align: justify;">dogs, this was a magical, probably once-in-a-lifetime experience - and I'm very grateful to Marie Ange, Morgane, Fernanda and Rodrigo for keeping in touch with us.</span><br />
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Quel mois incroyablement enrichissant, chargé, divertissant et émotionnel ! Bien que j'espère que nous pourrons accueillir plus de chiens, c'était une expérience magique, probablement unique dans une vie - et je suis très reconnaissante à Marie Ange, Morgane, Fernanda et Rodrigo d'avoir resté en contact avec nous.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-2313208329100684252018-03-25T07:32:00.001-07:002018-03-26T07:20:49.830-07:00WILD WEST ROOTS<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE ORIGINAL "Wild West" - IN SOUTHERN SPAIN</b></div>
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Note Badger & Ratty and a bit of Tim on the right.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">Of all the adventures we had on our 2016/17 two-month travels in Spain and Portugal (I've wanted to do this posting for more than a year), the most amazing one was a complete surprise. From our campsite at the village of El Rocío </span>in southern Spain, on the edge of Parque Doñana, one of Europe's most important nature reserves, we walked into a village that looked like a Hollywood western movie set, explained in part by many of the original settlers in the southwestern U.S. and Mexico having come from this part of Spain.<br />
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None of the streets were paved - they were all sand (as were the roads in the campsite) and there were horses and carriages everywhere. As we walked along the main street with the dogs, we were astonished and thrilled. Ratty and Badger passed dozens of horses before finally becoming blasé.<br />
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It was the last weekend of January 2017 and this was a sort of rehearsal for the annual religious pilgrimage to the village of El Rocío (<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>la Romería de El Rocío</i></span>). The Romería itself takes place in late May or early June, on the Thursday before Whit Sunday (21st of May in 2018), attracts about a million people and is unlike any of the other religious festivals in Andalucía. (See the link at the bottom for photos and videos of the pilgrimage itself.)</div>
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The tradition of the Romería goes back centuries and is supported by about 120 brotherhoods (<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hermandades</span></i>), the main one and organizer being the Hermandad de Almonte. Most of the brotherhoods are from southern Spain, but some are from as far away as Brussels. The oldest ones date back to the 17th century. Each has its own house, the size and style determined by the status and membership of the individual <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hermandad</span></i>:<br />
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Bars along the main street cater to their customers on horseback - no need to dismount for a <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">copa de vino</span></i>.</div>
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The horses themselves were equipped with traditional saddles and stirrups unlike any we'd ever seen:</div>
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There was evident pride among many of the women and men on horseback - note this elegantly dressed woman sitting sidesaddle and the fellow below just begging to be photographed:<br />
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A woman riding sidesaddle, behind her partner:</div>
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Most people ignored us tourists, but a few invited us to come closer and to participate.</div>
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Impromptu flamenco at one of the brotherhood houses in El Rocío:</div>
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The focus of the pilgrimage is the Catedral or Ermita, where the statue of the <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Virgen del Rocío</i></span> is kept and brought out on the main day of the Romería:</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">From a café table, we and the dogs watched the lively <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">paseo</span></i> of beautifully groomed horses and decorated, belled carriages carrying exuberant families and friends - and tried to imagine what it must be like during the Romería itself, with a million people in traditional dress, no cars and far more horses and carriages participating in the pilgrimage and partying at their <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hermandades</span></i>.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">More information here on the Romería itself, though there are lots of other online details and photos:</span></div>
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<a href="https://rove.me/to/seville/el-rocio-pilgrimage">https://rove.me/to/seville/el-rocio-pilgrimage</a></div>
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______________________________________________________________________________Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-54911006480667802932017-10-28T10:36:00.000-07:002017-10-29T11:15:04.639-07:00MY BRIEF POLITICAL CAREER<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">How complicated could it be to run a village of 300 people? Very, as it happens and typical as everyone enjoyed pointing out - </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">after</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> I’d agreed to be on the mayoral candidate’s list; anyone wanting to be mayor has to gather another 10 people for her/his list in a village our size, the number varying according to the community’s population. Not only are there 11 council members, including the mayor, but 3 of these are </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">adjoints</span> </i><span style="font-size: large;">(deputy mayors), each of whom is paid about 200€ a month. Keep in mind that there are about 36,000 communities in France.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Admittedly, I was honoured (flattered??) to be the first person approached AND to be asked to be the <i>première adjointe</i>, though what I really wanted was to help bring about environmental changes. Knowing I had no business being first deputy mayor, I agreed to be the second. By the way, the term for a municipal Council is a whopping 6 years - even the President is in office for only 5 years - and there are rumours that it might be extended to 7.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Squabbling began even before the elections, with three list members wanting to be the third <i>adjoint.</i> As only French citizens are allowed to be mayor or <i>adjoint</i>, one was eliminated because she had only EU <i>nationalité</i> (I’ve had dual Canadian/French citizenship since December 2007). The more dominant of the remaining two prevailed. Interestingly, the three of them became the core of the opposition from that evening. Even though there wasn’t a second list, there had to be elections. In communities of fewer than 1000 inhabitants, voters can cross names off (!), so the vote numbers varied and, as not everyone had received more than 50% of the votes, there had to be a second round of voting for the entire list, after which we became the Council.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">The first crisis came when the mayor insisted that his son replace the retiring <i>employé municipal</i> (rather like the village caretaker), bringing immediate and fierce opposition from one Council member with whom I silently agreed but, rather than publicly oppose the mayor, I attempted to convince him that, if he didn’t back down, he would incur the anger of both councillors and villagers and that, in any case, nepotism is unacceptable in 21st century France. He assured me there would be no problem and, of course, he was wrong. Things got worse when, carefully and discreetly goaded by the main opposing councillor, he blew up at her during a public meeting, further damaging his credibility and embarrassing me; a mayor needs intelligence and self-control.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Following increasingly unpleasant exchanges about the hiring of the new <i>employé municipal</i>, the mayor leapt out of his chair </span><span style="font-size: large;">at a public meeting </span><span style="font-size: large;">to announce that he was quitting. I’d had more than enough of the conflict and was delighted when he asked those of us on Council who still supported him (he claimed that was my duty as an </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">adjointe</span></i><span style="font-size: large;">) to resign as well. What a relief - until some idiot intending to create further havoc placed an article in our local newspaper accusing the mayor of nepotism and other bad behaviour. In his fury, he decided to withdraw his resignation and asked the four of us to do the same. I blew my second chance to say no and went along with him, as did the others. What the four of us objected to most was the viciousness of the opposing councillors. In retrospect, I know I should have disregarded his request for loyalty and maintained my resignation, but I was still hoping to exert some influence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">As it turned out - and for convoluted reasons - the mayor’s son did not get the position and affairs moved on fairly smoothly for a while, though my disillusionment grew as every request I made for change was rejected; turning off the streetlights 5-6 hours every night, ending the use of pesticides, buying benches made with recycled materials instead of new wood, organising a public meeting to explain how we could all cut down on waste disposal and what materials were recyclable, etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">As a councillor and deputy mayor, I was on several committees and had a lot of long, usually tedious and often quarrelsome local and regional meetings to attend, as well as daily time at the <i>Mairie</i> (in part because the mayor spends very little time there himself), newsletters to put together and publish and announcements to write in French and English and make on the village loudspeakers. For reasons I still don’t comprehend</span><span style="font-size: large;">, several formerly friendly villagers stopped talking to me. </span><span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">French friends tell me it's jealousy,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> typical in small villages, especially in the south</span><span style="font-size: large;"> - why had no one warned me before - and why would </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">anyone</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> agree to be on a municipal election list?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">So, when the aneurysm was diagnosed and I was sent for immediate surgery (details of that interesting experience in an earlier blog posting, called <i>The Ides of March</i>), the silver lining was an ironclad excuse to quit Council. However, the mayor needed my vote and, even as I was recuperating, asked me to stay on, saying that I wouldn’t have to go to the <i>Mairie</i> or attend any meetings whatsoever. This time, it was easy to give him a definitive <i>NON</i>! Knowing I was off Council and relieved of all duties was the best of healers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Since then, two of the opposing councillors have resigned, for a total of 3 resignations and one expulsion (another convoluted story), forcing a municipal by-election that resulted in 4 new councillors, 3 of whom don’t hesitate to let the mayor know when he’s out of line.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">As for me, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself, with a lot more time for Tim, cycling and walking the dogs. We get away in our camper when we can and enjoy friends’ visits when we’re home - and I’m staying well away from the insanity of local politics.…</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Post script: Ours was the only community in the entire department of the Hérault that voted for the Front National, to our very great shame and disgust.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-357034413036524472017-04-18T06:58:00.000-07:002017-05-22T07:12:23.196-07:00AN ADVENTURE IN THE ALPUJARRAS<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>MEETING THE AUTHOR OF DRIVING OVER LEMONS </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Since just-in-time surgery last year for a giant brain aneurysm (August 2016, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The Ides of March</i></span>), I've had the chutzpah to do things I might not have dared before.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After 14 years of renting gîtes in Languedoc and a stressful
two years as a deputy mayor of our village, I convinced Tim to spend a couple of winter months in Iberia</span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> with our two mad terriers, Ratty and Badger</span></span>. In 2003, I’d read and loved <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Driving over Lemons</i></span>, then <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>A Parrot in the Pepper Tree</i></span>, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The Last Days of the Bus Club</i></span>
and, right now, <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Almond Blossom Appreciation Society</span></i>, all by Chris Stewart. Knowing we would
be staying not far from the Alpujarras where he and Ana live and hoping that
just perhaps we might be able to meet them, I packed <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Driving over Lemons</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and a </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">bottle of our village’s Château d’Oupia <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Les
Barons</i></span></span></span> in the limited space
of our camper van and, in late December 2016, we headed for southern
Spain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I contacted Chris Stewart (also known as one of the founders of Genesis)
and asked if it might be possible to meet him and Ana, </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I hoped but didn’t
expect to be welcomed, though, from getting to know Chris <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">through</span> his books, I was
sure that <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">he</span> would let me down gently<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> N</span></span>ot only was the
answer yes, but we were invited for lunch and given directions<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> that</span> included a harrowing drive on a narrow, twisting dirt road cut into the
mountains, with a perilous drop into the void and only the occasional
haphazardly placed stone at the edge. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Som<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">e of you have already seen this</span></span> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">45<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-second</span></span> video clip of our drive<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">:</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When the road ended, we left the camper and the outraged
terriers and headed down to the river, where we knew <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">from his book<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">s</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">that </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">there was a footbridge spanning the river and, from </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Last Days of the Bus Club</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">,</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> that it had recently been re-built
by Chris and his friend and neighbour, Domingo, after being destroyed by heavy flooding.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Having misunderstood the last part of the directions and following the
vague wave of the hand of a <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">fellow</span> we met on the way down to the river, we
headed right and found a ford, but no bridge.
Back the other way, late by now<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span>and beginning to panic slightly,
when Tim spotted the bridge, hidden from the track by a hillock.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bridge is a rather loose term for the plank that <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">perched</span> above
the stream, with a thin mesh fence on one side – an illusion of safety -
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shortly after the bridge we crossed a rill on a tottering board</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">and
followed the track, dwarfed by towering mountains, ignored by sheep in the pasture beside
us, pas<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">sing</span> </span>fruit orchards and olive groves and the occasional outbuilding,
then climbed a steep laneway, where a lovely, lazy old dog barely lifted his head
and tail to greet us as we continued upwards.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was Chris’s old Land Rover, then the stone steps to the house he
and Ana had built, then Chris with his hand outstretched. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Although</span> we were half an hour late by then, <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">we</span>
were greeted warmly and graciously by Chris and Ana, who <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">s<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">a<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">id</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">i<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">t's <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">not unusual</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> for <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">first-time visitors to have difficulty finding their home</span></span></span></span> (reminding me of a<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> non-signposted</span> campsite where we stayed a couple of years ago, whose owner said that<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">'s how</span> he weeded out un<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">desirable</span>s).</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> W</span>e chatted
easily</span></span> and comfor<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">tably </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">on their sunny, plant-draped terrace<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">eating</span></span> the delicious,
creamy wild nettle soup and the amazing salad that Chris had made.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5-UjCLqoy223OA4d9ZwxyZy3OLLlpo4AFdVTZpEe9kAC94_E2DXm1q0DZ3hbbMipvhOb9IHiSDtEjpPnosZBR6iCFom9vQ0uKfYE4R5Na3QZBN9PWE30mjJCwg-EFxFcmn4plxLMY8c/s1600/IMG_2698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5-UjCLqoy223OA4d9ZwxyZy3OLLlpo4AFdVTZpEe9kAC94_E2DXm1q0DZ3hbbMipvhOb9IHiSDtEjpPnosZBR6iCFom9vQ0uKfYE4R5Na3QZBN9PWE30mjJCwg-EFxFcmn4plxLMY8c/s400/IMG_2698.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chris talks as he writes,
with humour, humility, sincerity, enthusiasm and just the right amount of
irony. You'll know how hard they work if you’ve read his books.
They have a large flock of hardy local sheep (unlike the Suffolk/Hampshire crosses Tim and I had
in Canada, where I was often up to my armpit inside a ewe in mid-January,
trying to separate twins or tug out a wide-shouldered lamb), they grow and sell organic lemons, process their own olives and, with the challenges of a dry climate, grow their own
vegetables and <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">a profusion of</span> flowers.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="watch-title" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" title="Chris Stewart at the Nerja Donkey Sanctuary"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">n 8-minute YouTube video of Chris doing a public sheep-shearing of Chuleta:</span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">breathtaking </span></span>view from their terrace and the tranquility made it
easy to understand why they had chosen to live for 30 years on this
isolated farm in the Alpujarras, a quiet, mountainous region in sharp contrast with the overdeveloped,
overcrowded coast of the Spanish Mediterranean.
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">found a lot of common ground</span>, including <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">books</span> and music
(Michael Ondaatje and Leonard Cohen).
When I mentioned having met Leonard Cohen many years ago (November posting),
Chris told me I was the 3<sup>rd</sup> woman in the past month to have said
she’d met him…. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Having well over-stayed our p<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">romis</span>ed one-hour
visit and nervously eyeing the dropping sun,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">we <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">hurried b</span>ack to the camper and </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the relieved dogs </span></span>(who always think we've left them forever) and on to the campsite in Órgiva. Admittedly, the video looks
more frightening than the drive itself and I’ve found no mention of Chris or
Ana, who regularly </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">take </span></span>this route, </span></span>having qu<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">alms about</span></span> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the drive</span>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Everyone I know who has read any of Chris’s books has loved
them. They’re funny (very often at Chris’s
own expense), touching, surprising, at times ribald and completely
enjoyable from beginning to end, with not the slightest arrogance or condescension. If you
haven’t yet discovered Chris Stewart as a writer, start with <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Driving over Lemons</i></span>, which I’ve recently re-read and enjoyed even more than the first time. Here’s a list of his books, all still easily
available:</span></span><br />
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<li><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Driving
over Lemons: An Optimist in Spain</span></span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Parrot in
the Pepper Tree</span></span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Almond
Blossom Appreciation Society</span></span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Three Ways to Capsize a Boat: An Optimist
Afloat</span></span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></i><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last Days
of the Bus Club</span></span></i></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">P</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">lease share this posting i</span></span></span></span>f you know anyone you think might be interested in Chris, his story and his books - and I can't imagine who wouldn't be!</span></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-30034971431504905252016-11-13T10:11:00.000-08:002016-11-13T10:34:32.842-08:00Letter to Leonard Cohen<style>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> </span>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Six years ago, I wrote
a letter to Leonard Cohen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not happy
with what I’d written, I didn’t mail it, but have meant to rewrite the letter
and send it ever since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it’s too
late, but this is what I would like to have said to him:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dear Leonard Cohen,</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>You have been a part
of my life since 1965, when the first boy I slept with read poems to me from The Spice Box of Earth. My own copy of that book has disappeared,
doubtless loaned to a friend years ago, never returned and now out of print.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I bought Songs of Leonard Cohen when it came out in
1967 and I still have it. I attended three
of your concerts; at Massey Hall in Toronto on December 7<sup>th</sup> 1970, Centennial
Hall in London Ontario on June 6<sup>th</sup> 1993 and, the best and most
moving by far, at the Roman-built ampitheater Les Arènes in Nîmes, on August 20<sup>th</sup>
2009. Birds soared overhead while the
sun slowly sank, the sky darkened and the lights came up on stage as you joined the band.
The entire evening was pure magic and the arena was packed with people of all
ages and colours – so many young people.
We didn’t want you to leave us.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In 1973/74, when I
travelled and worked in Europe for a year, I stopped one afternoon to spend the night on a lonely
beach on the Peloponnesus in my VW camper, with the distant silhouette of Hydra
across the sunlit water. I’d known for
many years that you had a house there. I
sang your songs as I walked and sat on the beach until it was dark. (Not quite so idyllic was the attempt that
night by someone to get into my camper as I crouched, shaking, in the dark.)</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In 1979, on a trip to Greece to visit the elderly couple in Crete with
whom my husband and I had lived for 4 months in the winter of 1977-78, we took
a ferry to Hydra, a sort of pilgrimage for me.
As we walked up from the dock and saw Harry’s Bar, Tim said it looked
like the sort of place you’d expect to see Leonard Cohen and I gasped, “And that’s
him!”, but neither of us would have thought of
disturbing you and your friends. We walked around the island for a couple of
hours, then returned to the dock to wait for the ferry back to the
mainland. As we sat there, you came down
to the dock, perhaps expecting someone’s arrival. After you'd paced back and forth for a few minutes, I couldn't help approaching to ask if you really were Leonard Cohen. You couldn’t have been more gracious and
warm. When you said that you had a house on
the island, I realized you were about to invite us there and told you we
were leaving in a few minutes. So many
things I would like to have asked and to have said, but I was overwhelmed by
the very fact of meeting you, my hero and icon, and quickly rejoined Tim.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Thank you for your
music, your poetry, your wisdom and your wonderful, dry, subtle and self-deprecating
humour.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Susan Wallis</i></span><span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-88613172316861278802016-08-13T07:35:00.001-07:002016-08-15T07:18:00.997-07:00The Ides of March<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The Ides of March</span></h2>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A single departure from previous and future postings. It's mainly to catch friends and family up on what some may not know already and it's longer than it should be, though I've taken out a lot of details.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Our friend Susan went with us to Narbonne last March 15th to look at a camper while I had</span><span style="font-size: small;"> an MRI, after about a year of worsening double vision. When Tim came back to get me, we were told I was to be sent immediately by taxi to emergency in Montpellier, so he took Susan home and waited for news, as we were given almost no information. (Susan inspired the title of this posting in an email later that same day.)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In emerg, after another MRI, they said I had a large intra-cranial aneurysm and would have surgery the next day, then was taken up to the intensive care ward of the neuroradiological section, where I was given a towel, a face cloth, a bottle of Betadine (an iodine solution) to disinfect myself from tip to toe,</span><span style="font-size: small;"> a mortifyingly backless hospital gown and - horrors - a single-bladed razor with which I was to perform much more than a bikini shave - or else the surgeon wouldn't operate. The alternative was for the orderly to do the shaving - not a chance.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Then to a bed in ICU, where the side rails were raised and I was hooked up with several stickers to a monitor with flashing blue lights. <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">W</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hat do I do when I have to go to the loo</span></i>?????</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"> I was to ask for a bedpan. Yuk.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">That night was an insomniac's ultimate nightmare</span><span style="font-size: small;">. I was in an open ward with 7 other patients, all of whom </span><span style="font-size: small;">had</span><span style="font-size: small;"> had neurological surgery. Across from me, a man bellowed names, obsenities and gibberish until about 5 am. Every time he shouted, the man beside me rang the bell for the nurse. Alarms sounded, red lights flashed and staff came running and shouting. Just as things had calmed down, the staff changed shifts and began serving breakfast, but not for me, since I was to have surgery that day. Then no lunch. And still no surgery. Like all the meals I had during my stay in hospital, the evening meal was plastic-wrapped, microwaved and tasteless. Some of our friends have rhapsodized about their wine-acccompanied French hospital meals....</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Same routine the next two days, as there was no opening in the operating block. No meals till evening and a Betadine shower each day until the skin on my arms began to peel. But - I didn't have to shave again, the shouter and the flasher were moved out of ICU and one of the aides gave me a second gown to put on backwards, on top of the first, restoring my dignity. Best of all, they left the bed-rails down and let me go to the loo. Apparently, as I was the first person who'd ever <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">walked</span></i> into ICU, they didn't know what to do with me and had followed the usual routine, ignoring my claim that I felt perfectly healthy, except for seeing two of everything. I should say at this point that all of the nurses, aides and orderlies were kind, thoughtful, helpful and often very funny.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">They let me roam the halls and eat lunch in the cafeteria </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> with Tim</span> - until the fourth day, when a stern new head nurse I called <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">la commandante</span></i> sent me back to my bed each time I got up, not wanting me to die on <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">her</span></i> watch. When her shift was finished, a cheery crew came on duty, cracking jokes and entirely changing the ambiance.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The surgeon appeared one day with a coterie of interns and students, none of whom looked older than 20 to me (including the surgeon), to explain the procedure. When he learned where we lived, he enthused about Minervois wine, pulled out his smartphone and bookmarked the names I mentioned of nearby <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">domaines</span></i>. He also said that the MRI showed there was the beginning of a slight tear in the wall of the aneurysm.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><style>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Late on the fourth day, I was wheeled into the operating room, put to sleep, and a catheter carrying a stent was inserted into my femoral artery, pushed up through the blood vessel system, into the aorta and out again, then up into the carotid artery somewhere behind my right eye, where the stent was expelled into the artery to block blood from flowing into the aneurysm, while the surgeon kept his eye on a </span><span style="font-size: small;">fluoroscopy screen in order to propel the catheter in the right direction</span><span style="font-size: small;">. One name for the procedure is endovascular stenting, which avoids the necessity of cutting into the skull to clip, coil or stent the aneurysm.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Another night in ICU, where I woke up to find myself trussed like a turkey, with a snorer going full blast across from me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Next day, into a double room - hurrah! Except - my room-mate was the previous night's snorer, who talked, snored and coughed in her sleep. I called her name, shouted, flicked the lights on and off - no response. I rang for the nurse, who poked a tranquilizer into my mouth. Still trussed like a turkey and hooked up to several monitors, I could <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">just</span></i> reach a roll of paper towels on the side table, tore off and crumpled them with one hand and, one by one, threw them at her. Nothing woke her - I gave up and did a crossword puzzle on my iPod.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">My second room-mate, Margaret, was wonderful. Intelligent, discreet, funny and in great pain from acute apendicitis. There'd been no room for her in the usual ward. She was taken off for emergency surgery next morning and we've kept in touch since.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">My third and final room-mate was in for her second femoral aneurysm, having continued to smoke after the first one. Smoking is a major factor in the development of aneurysms and I was told that my having smoked half a package a day for about 4 years in my 20s might have played a part in mine.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">After 8 days, Tim took me home. Ratty and Badger </span><span style="font-size: small;">had made the trip between Oupia and the hospital several times (close to two hours each way) and</span><span style="font-size: small;"> were becoming progressively more morose and thoroughly fed up with the boredom of the autoroute and the parking lot. I was greeted me with lots of licks. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">At home with my MRI file, I learned that I had a "giant" aneurysm, meaning it was 25 mm or more in diameter.; mine was 27 mm and have been told that it would almost certainly have ruptured if the years of cycling hadn't kept my arteries strong and elastic. </span><span style="font-size: small;">I'd had no headaches, no dizziness, no symptoms at all except, luckily, the double vision,</span><span style="font-size: small;"> caused by the aneurysm being so large that it was
pushing the right optic nerve further and further out of line. <span style="font-size: x-small;">So - keep exercising, everyone!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">For the next couple of weeks, Tim took care of me, the dogs, the cooking (oh the food - real food!) and everything else. He was amazing. The dogs cuddled up to me on the sofa and were unusually gentle - no Jack Russell head butts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here's my favourite get-well card, from the Centre d'Éducation Canine d'Azille - i.e. the dog school in Azille or, as a couple of us with difficult dogs call it, the Field of Humiliation. Ratty and Badger have been going to dog school for more than two years and are still in the beginners' class. Or, more accurately, Tim and I are still in the beginners' class... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbnO_YHhGSKdlcz5TpguhMksdcFbWVa9mHnjB1C5TWwHJA4EpFF0A3hAwy77fXKgQetLJMMF3Er9NjXpVLvHdy-lTFUXpfJoZeg7Rl0MSNebA0QkLiSEWJptaoi0c_jkp_xrhjNOAXBk/s1600/Get-well+card.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbnO_YHhGSKdlcz5TpguhMksdcFbWVa9mHnjB1C5TWwHJA4EpFF0A3hAwy77fXKgQetLJMMF3Er9NjXpVLvHdy-lTFUXpfJoZeg7Rl0MSNebA0QkLiSEWJptaoi0c_jkp_xrhjNOAXBk/s400/Get-well+card.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Just as I was feeling better and stronger, I woke up one morning with a headache that kept getting worse and began throwing up everything I ate or drank. </span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Back to emergency in Montpellier, where another MRI showed a clot had formed in the stent. Three days of injections and drips and home again, though the headache lasted for weeks and weeks. When it finally stopped in early June, I felt great; lots of energy, back on my bike, rides to Minerve, trips to the Tuesday market in Olonzac, walks with the dogs and back to dog school. The double vision began to disappear as well, helped by temporary prisms on the right lens of my glasses.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">I'm still on a couple of anti-coagulants and bruise and bleed easily. My GP joked that if I wanted to sue for divorce, now was the time - I look like I've been in a brawl. I am SO looking forward to stopping the stronger of the two blood thinners in September and not having to worry about falling off my bike...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here are three of the MRI images from before the surgery:</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMulwSDGZLODfNkzxO-yV1uh39ONCLPlA7_PfZkSz4rRA1FNUoR61CrIj-EtdLrZHboYcKT6qQeXCqFU-ILlgJ8FPcGoeXdm4MPtCE2J3cC-TqwoVTcQyfuQ93yQjRqychoGjEp-hztU/s1600/Aneurysm+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMulwSDGZLODfNkzxO-yV1uh39ONCLPlA7_PfZkSz4rRA1FNUoR61CrIj-EtdLrZHboYcKT6qQeXCqFU-ILlgJ8FPcGoeXdm4MPtCE2J3cC-TqwoVTcQyfuQ93yQjRqychoGjEp-hztU/s200/Aneurysm+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Side view</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xs33eL5AV1UNCISSalA4FVBl1RNLMBTHpFzGILTGOsdzCwo6gVsWLVKIQGWY9_2zdPQDfYA14QY9UxCy1bb6ucwCepfrjSevFN7zxLeoP3iL2O-DMsAQBKKPnJUA2g-uO01N9wr895s/s1600/Aneurysm+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xs33eL5AV1UNCISSalA4FVBl1RNLMBTHpFzGILTGOsdzCwo6gVsWLVKIQGWY9_2zdPQDfYA14QY9UxCy1bb6ucwCepfrjSevFN7zxLeoP3iL2O-DMsAQBKKPnJUA2g-uO01N9wr895s/s200/Aneurysm+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Close-up</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3PMHIO6tle7fyGf_oZ9JtXsRIsIJ0vAMbrsAPaWCevkQrhv0DxDJUawW9i3C_eWiP0_6nW2AxK_d3RRda8JiZ8JLTuA8vSugabgRxHcTpLsopjwka0bQL8ruNecMbTJuwoSKVvLQP8w/s1600/Aneurysm+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3PMHIO6tle7fyGf_oZ9JtXsRIsIJ0vAMbrsAPaWCevkQrhv0DxDJUawW9i3C_eWiP0_6nW2AxK_d3RRda8JiZ8JLTuA8vSugabgRxHcTpLsopjwka0bQL8ruNecMbTJuwoSKVvLQP8w/s200/Aneurysm+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Front view - </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">dark spot behind right eye</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Medical care here is incredibly good and, whatever my complaints about meals and iodine baths, I'm very grateful to all the doctors, nurses, aides and technical people who saved my life. All the good things you may have heard about the French medical system are true.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">St Martial, August 7, 2016 - my biggest cycling accomplishment since March (loads of climbing, fabulous scenery and great downhills, for those of you who haven't done it) and one I'll be showing to the surgeon: </span><br />
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<a href="data:image/gif;base64,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" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrHhV8H4Z_YWzThf87DI8WrjuSQ8y1xnhOTCvPJE0kLcmqvkBhbZVuzQ4KpFW9IIZ-HN5BKdaBdrPJX5lUMbiHirLxxwvrceFmM-9-CCW-Vbzoe1uMACtVoR55w-WiiMw_J_oNrO3hg0/s1600/St+Martial+Aug+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrHhV8H4Z_YWzThf87DI8WrjuSQ8y1xnhOTCvPJE0kLcmqvkBhbZVuzQ4KpFW9IIZ-HN5BKdaBdrPJX5lUMbiHirLxxwvrceFmM-9-CCW-Vbzoe1uMACtVoR55w-WiiMw_J_oNrO3hg0/s400/St+Martial+Aug+2016.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Susan above Minerve, August 12, 2016 (also lots of climbing, but easier than the previous ride):</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeJW8oCnuGz8S47VSWyvIg-06KniBbeAQuhB8Ax6r10d2LcoEwShRKT1jRx07ABQic_lz_241nIBXMNLBIrE6zvv55tE0oswfPNJR5QCXaz2Mtz6b6f9F85ZnslMY2D5dD8tyfb9LeS_Y/s1600/Susan+above+Minerve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeJW8oCnuGz8S47VSWyvIg-06KniBbeAQuhB8Ax6r10d2LcoEwShRKT1jRx07ABQic_lz_241nIBXMNLBIrE6zvv55tE0oswfPNJR5QCXaz2Mtz6b6f9F85ZnslMY2D5dD8tyfb9LeS_Y/s400/Susan+above+Minerve.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">No more grim postings from now on, I promise, but more about our adventures with Ratty and Badger and our camper and, sometime in September, notes on my "political career".</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">And, because this is supposed to be about the dogs, here they are, with Tim:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4R0rxmPjabkZc_MSdePYPFDqvxP3PiH6TTbiPRw42QCsOj9Tzs0McVEoDBjFJfEHS01wxTsH6Usx9iWiv0h4go5zjdEek-ds6BUAYbh90RBglHh8nSKsQyqzPAb_wWD3RFMUswoQAW0/s1600/Tim+w.+R%2526B+Jul+23+%252716.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_4R0rxmPjabkZc_MSdePYPFDqvxP3PiH6TTbiPRw42QCsOj9Tzs0McVEoDBjFJfEHS01wxTsH6Usx9iWiv0h4go5zjdEek-ds6BUAYbh90RBglHh8nSKsQyqzPAb_wWD3RFMUswoQAW0/s400/Tim+w.+R%2526B+Jul+23+%252716.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-62580416015901024512016-07-27T08:07:00.003-07:002016-07-31T12:33:03.886-07:00Ratty & Badger at the Tour de France<h2 style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">July 13th - the Tour de France sweeps through the Minervois</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A beautiful day, not too hot and perfect for watching the Tour passing 8 km. from our house. The evening before, I cycled up to the corner where we intended to watch the Tour; Tim drove the new camper van. We hoped to be the first camper at the top of the road from Aigne, between La Caunette and Aigues-Vives, for those of you who've been here and know the area. As it happened, ours was the fourth, with two more arriving later that evening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We now have a converted Citroën Jumper, called a Pössl Roadcamp. Not sure how vehicle names are chosen here; the smaller </span><span style="font-size: small;">Citroën van is called a Jumpy; Renault makes a Trafic and Peugeot makes a Boxer and a Partner. And so on. English words and names are very <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>cool</i></span> - to the French, at least...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Setting up the evening before the TdF was to come by: </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBHlJWh-5F2vzhYmp2ySO3B0rhy5sdJW58ESYB4gLy_4ycnzSzU_362w69hNNQ7jceL7d4NzXTVlqqIagd9TdSajSaHJ2jfYrxjs57VQRaxtVBenkAb8vAQKXirbt9-0JeQcKIDWm5O0/s1600/Camping+eve+of+TdF.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBHlJWh-5F2vzhYmp2ySO3B0rhy5sdJW58ESYB4gLy_4ycnzSzU_362w69hNNQ7jceL7d4NzXTVlqqIagd9TdSajSaHJ2jfYrxjs57VQRaxtVBenkAb8vAQKXirbt9-0JeQcKIDWm5O0/s400/Camping+eve+of+TdF.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The TdF organizers place directional signs along the route. This one was tacked onto the permanent sign warning motorists that they are approaching the local garbage dump. This TdF sign was picked up as a souvenir well before any of the TdF-related vehicles had appeared. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRH1HhtQJMsK5Uk8Mt0xFQ_qsSQhPvmWSZjgvFPMqzgDjqIggiMI4WcHPsYbHRb3Xt4fPWR4xiR-qCtLAIPiN76sxEloOujf_rlrQaN5hKtLnqJL1ZtBLIP58vx1tKWyABCtpDH4A3xo/s1600/Official+TdF+sign+attached+to+sign+directing+people+to+the+local+dump.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtRH1HhtQJMsK5Uk8Mt0xFQ_qsSQhPvmWSZjgvFPMqzgDjqIggiMI4WcHPsYbHRb3Xt4fPWR4xiR-qCtLAIPiN76sxEloOujf_rlrQaN5hKtLnqJL1ZtBLIP58vx1tKWyABCtpDH4A3xo/s320/Official+TdF+sign+attached+to+sign+directing+people+to+the+local+dump.jpg" width="243" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">At the entry to Aigues-Vives, coming from Aigne. Note 3 bikes on pole, the topmost one painted white and red (polka dot jersey for the best climber), the lowest one painted green (green jersey for the most points, by winning sprints) and, of course, the yellow bike for the rider with the best time:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYT2q3EbjXMvMxWB1PKD8PtVArSJdBIFYGWqwqTI3G2BSdIGYHoidCoXXb_k6zaewWenF79CLjiTwl6AFk3pU2yWYPD4rr7LviwcO1tLETzRCIFUk99JnHzLpB5LMJQCO0fwdCkW3GQjM/s1600/Tdf+Aigues-Vives.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYT2q3EbjXMvMxWB1PKD8PtVArSJdBIFYGWqwqTI3G2BSdIGYHoidCoXXb_k6zaewWenF79CLjiTwl6AFk3pU2yWYPD4rr7LviwcO1tLETzRCIFUk99JnHzLpB5LMJQCO0fwdCkW3GQjM/s400/Tdf+Aigues-Vives.jpg" width="375" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The following 8 photos of the caravane, the peloton and spectators are by K.C. and are not to be copied or used in any way.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Our camper is second from the left. The next two larger campers to our left were from Picardy and had been following the Tour since its beginning at Mont St. Michel. The minute the last of the Tour vehicles had passed, the other motorhomes departed to find a good spot to watch the next stage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPuaqY3oaaFVJ5odSBdYuW481JS14yL5YATODkHR_3zc1v6dp4geK4alXpg2WIPBhDJmSU0D7NJs-9tJBXnmctqTq8fei1IUTaTl6D1b7XacEhs2xKyI0aT35aXruG9nkDw-uk0dJKlo/s1600/TdF+float+w.+us%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPuaqY3oaaFVJ5odSBdYuW481JS14yL5YATODkHR_3zc1v6dp4geK4alXpg2WIPBhDJmSU0D7NJs-9tJBXnmctqTq8fei1IUTaTl6D1b7XacEhs2xKyI0aT35aXruG9nkDw-uk0dJKlo/s400/TdF+float+w.+us%252C+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqp1PgsICcxJ5KirN-2iwI3uS_YIOGnVXtBYy2e2kpMy7SVi6HlQM-w3yy67nHucP8Ck-sPB1xjnr22gyVNIvlKTTTimLhzWRCuEMzcrOc4Sb_0TOFpvxMIuqjsUBPMSNXuJZyYHVDrc0/s1600/TdF+McCain+float%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqp1PgsICcxJ5KirN-2iwI3uS_YIOGnVXtBYy2e2kpMy7SVi6HlQM-w3yy67nHucP8Ck-sPB1xjnr22gyVNIvlKTTTimLhzWRCuEMzcrOc4Sb_0TOFpvxMIuqjsUBPMSNXuJZyYHVDrc0/s400/TdF+McCain+float%252C+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ukopdubosENaOE_DxcJYlvYxNlqL6mF-c77ZhT_hYBWRyTomTcOndmmiyZ6ZVg847kKCPTwxOjQ-EsNtqppreMypbF21StBxCj3wlGmXsJBFXnTpkMeJewANkhNEosq9J7CTYzdAtBs/s1600/TdF+float+vineyards%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ukopdubosENaOE_DxcJYlvYxNlqL6mF-c77ZhT_hYBWRyTomTcOndmmiyZ6ZVg847kKCPTwxOjQ-EsNtqppreMypbF21StBxCj3wlGmXsJBFXnTpkMeJewANkhNEosq9J7CTYzdAtBs/s400/TdF+float+vineyards%252C+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Part of the fun of watching the Caravane pass is trying to catch the souvenirs and samples (hats, food, scarves, toys, etc.) tossed out by people on the float. </span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbG37ErcmWhz1Skw9qRrVnOqFPDaLg0sDbVGXQqiMixSNYOvZrYfUCrGHCWNcWu0VKHxN-4zfEH4fdjjO46BJa-CrrbTzuFMpTKJoFdrve69Mb6DViUds3Vkgl7tIDUnImuuiV_0j-WA/s1600/TdF+chicken+float%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbG37ErcmWhz1Skw9qRrVnOqFPDaLg0sDbVGXQqiMixSNYOvZrYfUCrGHCWNcWu0VKHxN-4zfEH4fdjjO46BJa-CrrbTzuFMpTKJoFdrve69Mb6DViUds3Vkgl7tIDUnImuuiV_0j-WA/s400/TdF+chicken+float%252C+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQkuziVwkQadSKaIaG4IXq4lYsyzDzAomHPYeMxYuKCnZO3IFfPeYqyWUbTDODBtXsz7mZXI0QiUP1QyHI4mf_MJQ44n12cLCmDpX4VS-spZigTwWvp7Ll49EI5M7awVPu9tH7XO8_QY/s1600/TdF+kid+w.+vouvouzela%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQkuziVwkQadSKaIaG4IXq4lYsyzDzAomHPYeMxYuKCnZO3IFfPeYqyWUbTDODBtXsz7mZXI0QiUP1QyHI4mf_MJQ44n12cLCmDpX4VS-spZigTwWvp7Ll49EI5M7awVPu9tH7XO8_QY/s400/TdF+kid+w.+vouvouzela%252C+Keith.jpg" width="266" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Climbing the hill east of La Caunette: </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42u9sHLDi08n5To5afc7VDUTYXNnYkf6RWod_3BVtZ2gnSuWX20wEu8w-SGYTyfVoyStwMjQKcsLWJCWmZchUnwOyIpfUR6_sN1If2ZIS5VNg4ES-Gn0NMWRhaE4j1T3XfmncbyY82b4/s1600/TdF+climbing%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42u9sHLDi08n5To5afc7VDUTYXNnYkf6RWod_3BVtZ2gnSuWX20wEu8w-SGYTyfVoyStwMjQKcsLWJCWmZchUnwOyIpfUR6_sN1If2ZIS5VNg4ES-Gn0NMWRhaE4j1T3XfmncbyY82b4/s400/TdF+climbing%252C+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The peloton as seen from the hill above the road (by those of us who were energetic enough to climb up for the bird's eye view - that didn't include me...)</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkMGcKOOZHLzPgwSGRX5YiZBYUhbjWOYruoEAwvXXpz2jh6d8XnXz8nJNjCKymWOkA3ZHZtlYnQjb9RQYfPkoA518ScDWrYmYKbAAemSkwkfvv5LJKyt3X2bjd0Zi1iGJDxc7IaroOvM/s1600/TdF+peloton+side+view%252C+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkMGcKOOZHLzPgwSGRX5YiZBYUhbjWOYruoEAwvXXpz2jh6d8XnXz8nJNjCKymWOkA3ZHZtlYnQjb9RQYfPkoA518ScDWrYmYKbAAemSkwkfvv5LJKyt3X2bjd0Zi1iGJDxc7IaroOvM/s400/TdF+peloton+side+view%252C+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just to the east of us, between Mailhac and Bize-Minervois, raged a huge fire that any of you who watched the stage that day would have seen. It burned 350 hectares (865 acres) of pine trees and garrigue.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VhujUoByMJyFYhx6aN_KApiq9k2Kj6WtGwGkalSxHZy8AymjIMkYaY1JVg8Iw1lDnmRkEjbkWyLPhZfZ70BWBDeMXk8q_SFFgFbXZsnwRHCETWNp8VNuveONNwiLVPsKn35-dVBxoms/s1600/Fire+by+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VhujUoByMJyFYhx6aN_KApiq9k2Kj6WtGwGkalSxHZy8AymjIMkYaY1JVg8Iw1lDnmRkEjbkWyLPhZfZ70BWBDeMXk8q_SFFgFbXZsnwRHCETWNp8VNuveONNwiLVPsKn35-dVBxoms/s400/Fire+by+Keith.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">My photo, taken just before I was dragged away from the road by a friend who preferred not to see me mowed down by the peloton (or the peloton mowed down by me?).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the meanings of the word <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>peloton</i></span>, by the way, is "small ball of wool", so the <i>peloton</i> is the tightly-grouped bunch of riders often preceded by a "breakaway" of one or more riders.</span> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yMUdt7mlo5Rq8rSrHoOpvKR1bqR_B9u-8cIAzuBUF_DkOX1lTLZ9s5njvrtpVXTI-1dwVDUy8-MwEEqnlw0LBmXxRwGtYw7JP4jJbOxXUByeVs7JpPlJY6PML52y2xebD6G2M138xkg/s1600/The+peloton+approaches.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yMUdt7mlo5Rq8rSrHoOpvKR1bqR_B9u-8cIAzuBUF_DkOX1lTLZ9s5njvrtpVXTI-1dwVDUy8-MwEEqnlw0LBmXxRwGtYw7JP4jJbOxXUByeVs7JpPlJY6PML52y2xebD6G2M138xkg/s400/The+peloton+approaches.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The next 3 photos are also by K.C. and not to be copied or used in any way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>This Tour de France was a lot more interesting before they put us back in the camper - there was so much to bark at</i></span>...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzVqvBdY72wBaX_PG1kaYSsQY7zqVd35CPC6LWCE1aiPlMiqX_4mdbJ3ards3ko2Lm1IEk08YtUGagSZknH3mUp7sOftvfbIru9aNcG07BHzleSKBogPho_vMna4lqKfrwSwakNm_gV4/s1600/R%2526B+by+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzVqvBdY72wBaX_PG1kaYSsQY7zqVd35CPC6LWCE1aiPlMiqX_4mdbJ3ards3ko2Lm1IEk08YtUGagSZknH3mUp7sOftvfbIru9aNcG07BHzleSKBogPho_vMna4lqKfrwSwakNm_gV4/s320/R%2526B+by+Keith.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>You think I <b>like</b> having to wear a collar and a harness and be buckled into the camper</i></span>??</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqogicaHkeD38N6I_Ply5_szLR1MYQzcelPbZxwi_JZ8jDQEFe2iNlva5RCzs7s12GatD8BbIk7tqDh298I8SAXOg4BEDvMtKAglCFdq3c0ymjFcIq9fpk0yX5dTnIXooLWBMU20zupFE/s1600/Ratty+by+Keith+2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqogicaHkeD38N6I_Ply5_szLR1MYQzcelPbZxwi_JZ8jDQEFe2iNlva5RCzs7s12GatD8BbIk7tqDh298I8SAXOg4BEDvMtKAglCFdq3c0ymjFcIq9fpk0yX5dTnIXooLWBMU20zupFE/s400/Ratty+by+Keith+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Sporting my so-called prize from the Caravane. At least it was yellow</i></span>...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcqdbgQoJgzi4FnNDVOm89Bz4AU-R9faBiEsCLvZ5rSEQ2m742gXK588Pm-OCK9VK2ntxWESZ2JTQ7BT42BtqyKsNvmtyNjIHV4qxen1JDuvY3uvpNnJQRiywCncfOUe9S_RoIjKfYec/s1600/Badger+by+Keith.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcqdbgQoJgzi4FnNDVOm89Bz4AU-R9faBiEsCLvZ5rSEQ2m742gXK588Pm-OCK9VK2ntxWESZ2JTQ7BT42BtqyKsNvmtyNjIHV4qxen1JDuvY3uvpNnJQRiywCncfOUe9S_RoIjKfYec/s400/Badger+by+Keith.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>This is more like it - we're heading home and I'll make sure he takes the shortest route</i></span>...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NYMtjoR9HFBW8sGdmsab_UzzyCyKdmewdPPmhH_nMqiOk0lXZK5Jd0Fcs3plX3gUigYRWRR8Wg1_ti-kk7onun6UrQlxHJ-0pc6miXgYI3qXcrrZ0FFHwC0UjQ5WbDnqhTy0mWvrvVw/s1600/Ratty+navigating+homeward.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NYMtjoR9HFBW8sGdmsab_UzzyCyKdmewdPPmhH_nMqiOk0lXZK5Jd0Fcs3plX3gUigYRWRR8Wg1_ti-kk7onun6UrQlxHJ-0pc6miXgYI3qXcrrZ0FFHwC0UjQ5WbDnqhTy0mWvrvVw/s400/Ratty+navigating+homeward.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Not sure if anyone outside France can access this site but, if you'd like to try, here's a link to full live coverage of the July 13th stage. If you know the area and, especially if you've cycled the roads between Carcassonne and Montpellier, you'll enjoy it. Our camper was parked with the group immediately after the sign to Aigne and Olonzac, at minute 54:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.francetvsport.fr/tour-de-france/etape-11-carcassonne-montpellier-1625-km-342661">http://www.francetvsport.fr/tour-de-france/etape-11-carcassonne-montpellier-1625-km-342661</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Turns out that a lot of people weren't able to subscribe to the blog or to make comments. My friend Mindy suggested a way of doing it, so I hope it works; once you type in your email address, you're directed to a security check pop-up. The list is private but, even so, if you'd rather just be on my list to be notified whenever I do a new posting, please let me know.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1070662701029957007.post-82204701551704433132016-07-17T07:30:00.000-07:002016-07-18T02:13:28.907-07:00Learning to live with terriers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOnQj38cnKp8C1uNIivF0lptDbUg7EWi-SECBQ-pdJ9CJcvEDKEP3QA1vCYQstTg7xAxxeXHQGVvU8wXIxZsaNu2Xqlp6C6eu-QpNKuS_v23VE0T_Qxlm4uarZstQjObQcTCNb-l_To0/s1600/R%2526B+in+camper+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOnQj38cnKp8C1uNIivF0lptDbUg7EWi-SECBQ-pdJ9CJcvEDKEP3QA1vCYQstTg7xAxxeXHQGVvU8wXIxZsaNu2Xqlp6C6eu-QpNKuS_v23VE0T_Qxlm4uarZstQjObQcTCNb-l_To0/s320/R%2526B+in+camper+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ratty and Badger, in our old camper</div>
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">Ratty is the little dog on the left; we adopted him from a shelter in Carcassonne in January 2014. </span><br />
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">When I saw this notice on the Carcassonne SPA (Société Protectrice des Animaux) website on January 25th, I knew we'd take him - we went that same day - but no way were we going to call him Piglet. He was so small that he had been boarded with the cats. When asked there what we would call him, all I could think of was Ratty (in French, he's a <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>ratier</i></span>, a rat-hunter). </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVtHaeRMidgG2Dq3KR8GXPNfTqBADcW8Ihyphenhyphen3TcB7KX2S45faJXDagDnoOIxejSv6FkJfMUcBIKF3LEteRFOwrVsZK5k2IulPdXHZObpTEIc0vKPNyMgwrfYyRl1Dw7WqfsGMElThyhtKY/s1600/Piglet%252C+Carcassonne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVtHaeRMidgG2Dq3KR8GXPNfTqBADcW8Ihyphenhyphen3TcB7KX2S45faJXDagDnoOIxejSv6FkJfMUcBIKF3LEteRFOwrVsZK5k2IulPdXHZObpTEIc0vKPNyMgwrfYyRl1Dw7WqfsGMElThyhtKY/s320/Piglet%252C+Carcassonne.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">He had been abandoned and, from the way he
reacted to us the first few weeks and to others for several months, it was obvious that he had been
mistreated. Eventually, he learned to trust us completely
and then not to fear visitors. Now, he snuggles up to trusted friends and
barks in outrage when they leave.</span><br />
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">We were told in Spain that he was a "<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ratonero Bodiguero Andaluz</i></span>",
translated roughly as an Andalusian wine-cellar rat-hunter. As far as
we know, he hasn't yet met any rats, but he does chase anything that moves...</span><br />
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">A few weeks later, friends with a springer spaniel came for dinner. Ratty was ecstatic and they ran and played together until both dropped, exhausted. When Tim suggested that Ratty needed a companion, we went to see a couple who had bred their female Jack Russell with a friend's Jack Russell and now had 5 male puppies. Badger was the runt of the litter but, at the age of 3 weeks, was already eating solid food. We were asked to take him two weeks later, when the first-time mother refused to nurse her pups any longer.</span><br />
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">Badger at 3 weeks (the lower two hands aren't mine - they belong to a rugby player!) </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL90NCYXjyYOXs2zyJ_i_XH6M41CON-qLR2d8QgcEFYNzwnh27ag53azGP3CffRTFiQrF9AX15SGtbBrjPaRXG2553syLGH71M_obUXyRoaw60AWw-Irhv2Efq5SzteaMh2Ghj88Qjwew/s1600/New+puppy+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL90NCYXjyYOXs2zyJ_i_XH6M41CON-qLR2d8QgcEFYNzwnh27ag53azGP3CffRTFiQrF9AX15SGtbBrjPaRXG2553syLGH71M_obUXyRoaw60AWw-Irhv2Efq5SzteaMh2Ghj88Qjwew/s320/New+puppy+1.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Holding Badger on my lap for the first time:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMl0gOq9Ee59E-knB657GlV_FIJuxiePAkM1zw-bR7l885WzUCi23LdfvZLFCewYBnE0_eu_VVi2rlru10gb7YoYxvO2Br95SUp0Xxw9bWU-RBlkhiSh1mPMhtnXVHAE5e_UxJTdm1dA/s1600/Holding+Badger+for+the+first+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMl0gOq9Ee59E-knB657GlV_FIJuxiePAkM1zw-bR7l885WzUCi23LdfvZLFCewYBnE0_eu_VVi2rlru10gb7YoYxvO2Br95SUp0Xxw9bWU-RBlkhiSh1mPMhtnXVHAE5e_UxJTdm1dA/s320/Holding+Badger+for+the+first+time.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">At 5 weeks, wearing one of my socks. He still shivers with cold, lies in the hot southern French sun in summer and as close as he can to the wood stove in winter.</span><br />
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<span id="goog_1174532288"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaKTrMYBSY3SQhdpQONOKHDQ-zixA8-K_KZJCuYOnmrZzCTCSI2Hjq1UYr2B8AXzREM1pKVIcDO0cHjQ6try5uhrjMsq1QTg8Q4Yd9R28q980L9ef5UYTiPADFvyqf8joKzatVjbUQ0M/s1600/Badger+in+bed+Apr+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaKTrMYBSY3SQhdpQONOKHDQ-zixA8-K_KZJCuYOnmrZzCTCSI2Hjq1UYr2B8AXzREM1pKVIcDO0cHjQ6try5uhrjMsq1QTg8Q4Yd9R28q980L9ef5UYTiPADFvyqf8joKzatVjbUQ0M/s320/Badger+in+bed+Apr+2014.jpg" width="238" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We wanted a French name for him. The custom here is to name dogs according to the year of their birth; born in 2014, his should have begun with the letter J, but I couldn't find a name I liked, so we called him Copain (Pal in English), as he was meant to be Ratty's buddy. After a week, we knew it didn't fit him and, seeing how feisty he was, we called him Badger, with only the slightest tip of the hat to <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The Wind in the Willows</i></span>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Getting acquainted:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlNiaMGb2AHT4QNxe_CiX-g8iBpWlJpoIPHp6pq1V1t5wVSRRdYz_UcMUj9v37WOU6uZSWCADw5WSvyocMyGFdZigC9pR9xmqOYTf-68YWKvbhG-7BKnQDh0GuI5YBdzTnWxX9rOHUlo/s1600/Getting+acquainted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlNiaMGb2AHT4QNxe_CiX-g8iBpWlJpoIPHp6pq1V1t5wVSRRdYz_UcMUj9v37WOU6uZSWCADw5WSvyocMyGFdZigC9pR9xmqOYTf-68YWKvbhG-7BKnQDh0GuI5YBdzTnWxX9rOHUlo/s320/Getting+acquainted.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">At first, Ratty only tolerated Badger who, having been removed too early from his mother and four brothers - and seeking warmth - snuggled up to his new companion:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9u_kczCqo00jUSDT01y6oKTqbhwatgHYkjGXOECThhFBlShSsagqEg9_M97-0OAfYcPzoZ9pIYuW52UL9UqFDrblrHsT6alWu1cJl6x1A0l6kw4mLenP9wx173BlQO1EaxRlhx-Jutk/s1600/R%2526B+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9u_kczCqo00jUSDT01y6oKTqbhwatgHYkjGXOECThhFBlShSsagqEg9_M97-0OAfYcPzoZ9pIYuW52UL9UqFDrblrHsT6alWu1cJl6x1A0l6kw4mLenP9wx173BlQO1EaxRlhx-Jutk/s320/R%2526B+photo.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Badger at 5 months, with muddy nose (he <u>is</u> a terrier and there are lots of moles in our garden):</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZO9bIHlCy6mTCMnczl9BxOvDxFQp_WQSu-PYtVgZs7ysAO_HWT29NCK_lGkOYNmlaHcbmXI63ejEkNvDEBxgZLpg6mxccd5UJOhqAU55q7kUogWeaXGnUDTCwyq0VO1yLHsTKnJpdNc/s1600/Badger+at+5+mos..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZO9bIHlCy6mTCMnczl9BxOvDxFQp_WQSu-PYtVgZs7ysAO_HWT29NCK_lGkOYNmlaHcbmXI63ejEkNvDEBxgZLpg6mxccd5UJOhqAU55q7kUogWeaXGnUDTCwyq0VO1yLHsTKnJpdNc/s320/Badger+at+5+mos..jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">At 5 months, he could still fit next to Tim in the armchair, sort of...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIQD-eSEZmb8JBuaoE7iDz03gB-788DfxRu9Qmp8eZffzcCFuKFqtdWQm5h6W6tvV6l5zVQ9-lgRV8qFUlIn4bzKK55mXDjYzcJM_HQiZwUGYXeuWnfN_78BxZHESBSNKCEdTfkTXgLE/s1600/Badger+%2526+Tim+Aug+%252714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIQD-eSEZmb8JBuaoE7iDz03gB-788DfxRu9Qmp8eZffzcCFuKFqtdWQm5h6W6tvV6l5zVQ9-lgRV8qFUlIn4bzKK55mXDjYzcJM_HQiZwUGYXeuWnfN_78BxZHESBSNKCEdTfkTXgLE/s320/Badger+%2526+Tim+Aug+%252714.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">Badger didn't stay a runt for long;</span><span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;"> he's now 9 kilos of solid muscle</span><span id="goog_1174532288" style="font-size: small;">, while Ratty is a wiry 6 kg. Don't be deceived by their innocent looks in the photo at the top...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5Eq8pQEX0pX7lpV6ToZLUd0_6R7eiz8bqzKf0McE5ngegRfhRZ9KABEZRLsKomRuRzK-3nYiGiBvgWcERPx2E0QNHfW9ogOtON7mlxE4_x2zQXL1sYMBqFiGikJJk2EFqmuGoNGsaFM/s1600/R%2526B+on+pool+cover+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5Eq8pQEX0pX7lpV6ToZLUd0_6R7eiz8bqzKf0McE5ngegRfhRZ9KABEZRLsKomRuRzK-3nYiGiBvgWcERPx2E0QNHfW9ogOtON7mlxE4_x2zQXL1sYMBqFiGikJJk2EFqmuGoNGsaFM/s320/R%2526B+on+pool+cover+.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Photo by Wilf Noordermeer</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">but there are still lots of sweet, peaceful moments:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZKtSAxyBNpgUk3IHyDiRhbzQ2g-crUHEEhhol-WYZV6gTs2o2sCc3ijrOa0EZEhJm_KcXZ4_iUS5JGePZeqT8xMT5L6av7VHrejqPTLD2aFeqGsg_cWIMO_rsPj9Fv7thZ1EaEpzdn8/s1600/R%2526B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZKtSAxyBNpgUk3IHyDiRhbzQ2g-crUHEEhhol-WYZV6gTs2o2sCc3ijrOa0EZEhJm_KcXZ4_iUS5JGePZeqT8xMT5L6av7VHrejqPTLD2aFeqGsg_cWIMO_rsPj9Fv7thZ1EaEpzdn8/s320/R%2526B1.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Walking on the Serre, just above Oupia, April 2015. They're much calmer at the <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>end</i></span> of a walk...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n7r4j6ia2NSvidNiZ-HJZ8bply6N4gKbXxzz6tTwOt_EfDzWZUSeoa5n_kTaIEsOuiMyUnLCE-znBl3IQYF-HiUl83sJ4FSN3j3Y9u7ztvkGXF6_RlAtlpJrUCWAQD7loZyfe7t_s6o/s1600/Tim%252CSusan%2526dogs+on+the+Serre+by+Wilf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n7r4j6ia2NSvidNiZ-HJZ8bply6N4gKbXxzz6tTwOt_EfDzWZUSeoa5n_kTaIEsOuiMyUnLCE-znBl3IQYF-HiUl83sJ4FSN3j3Y9u7ztvkGXF6_RlAtlpJrUCWAQD7loZyfe7t_s6o/s320/Tim%252CSusan%2526dogs+on+the+Serre+by+Wilf.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Photo by Wilf Noordermeer</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">More to come - and it won't <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>all</i></span> be about Ratty and Badger. I'll catch you up on what we've been doing as well, in irregular postings; if you'd like to receive notifications of new postings or make comments, please see below.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12162667999695795197noreply@blogger.com14